#and whoever wants to can go next i guess?

[imsofreakingtired]

touch starved sevika </3

content warning(s): none

"can you see me? i'm waiting for the right time i can't read you but if you want the pleasure's all mine can you see me using everything to hold back? i guess this could be worse, walking out the door with your bags"

~~~

The first time: Sevika was sitting in the corner of the Last Drop, fixing up her mechanical arm. Pretending she wasn’t watching you move around the crowded club, from one person to the next, collecting intel with a professional smile on your lips. You were looking good today, a light dancing in your eyes, a spring in your step. Whenever you laughed at something someone said, Sevika would feel an inexplicable rush of anger at whoever you were talking to. 

And then all of a sudden there you were in front of her, elbows on the table, huffing a sigh.

“These fucking boneheads,” you said. “I’m going insane. Not a single piece of reliable information.” 

Sevika only gave a grunt in return, twisting a screw in her arm with renewed vigor to cover up her surprise at the fact that you were speaking to her. Only thing was, the force caused the screwdriver to slip out of her hand and clatter onto the table. 

“Well don’t go ahead and break your other wrist,” you joked, picking up the tool and handing it to her. 

“Something you needed to talk to me about?” Sevika snapped. Her tone was rough, and anyone else in your position who didn’t know her would have been scared away. But you were undeterred. 

“Small talk is an essential life skill, Sevika,” you said airily. “At least, so I’ve heard. It is a doorway to getting what you really want from people.” 

“And what the hell is that?” 

You only laughed, and stood up. “I’ll tell you later. Clearly you’re busy now.” And as you passed by you rested a hand on her shoulder momentarily. 

Sevika would think of the warmth of your hand for the next few days. 

~~~

The second time: It was past midnight. Silco had sent you to accompany Sevika on a trip down the Lanes to oversee the Shimmer packaging. She walked swiftly, wordlessly. Silco was in a mood; Jinx had gotten into some scrape or another and he was determined to spend the night trying to reason with her. Because of that he had moved his entire agenda for the night to Sevika’s task list. The two of you were already behind schedule. 

But as you walked over a high line between buildings, taking a shortcut to the warehouse, you looked up at the sky and gasped. 

A wind had blown away the smoke from the chimneys, briefly clearing the sky. A multitude of stars glimmered above the tops of the buildings. 

“Sevika, look at this,” you said. 

She didn’t hear you; she hadn’t even noticed you stopped walking and was already near the end of the street. You ran after her and grabbed her wrist. She turned around sharply, startled, automatically looking around for a threat. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

You pulled her back a few steps. “Look,” you said. 

Sevika saw the stars, but her thoughts were on your fingers clasped tightly around her wrist, as if to keep her from breaking free and walking away. You looked up at her, smiling, expecting a reaction. “Isn’t it pretty? When was the last time you saw stars in the Undercity?” 

She felt your hand slip down, your fingers finding hers, but before you could lace them together she pulled away abruptly. “We gotta keep moving,” she said. “There’s no time for this.” 

She pretended to ignore the disappointment in your face. She also pretended that she didn’t give a shit about the stars, that she didn’t wish she had let you hold her hand. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her like that, as if they wanted her, as if her presence meant something to them. It didn’t matter that maybe she wished time had stopped for a few moments, so that the two of you could stand together and watch the rare clear sky. 

~~~

The third time: You found Sevika in the backstreet behind the Last Drop, leaning against the wall and trying to light a cigarette. She had been in a fight: her face was mottled with cuts and bruises and her lip was still bleeding. You went up and took the lighter, flicking it open and lighting her cigarette for her. 

She gave you a brief nod, mumbled “thanks” around her cigarette. 

“Who did this to you?” You asked. 

She just laughed dryly, blowing smoke. “The question you should ask,” she said, “is what did I do to them.”

“Witty. Who’s after us?” 

Sevika shook her head. “No one. Just some street punks.” 

“Hm. Wait here.” You went back inside the bar and returned with a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Pulling a clean cloth out of your pocket, you took her chin in your fingers, turning her face toward you. She froze. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hold still, dummy.” You wet the cloth with alcohol and started to clean the cuts. She winced as you pressed the cloth to her skin, but didn’t pull away. She could smell your scent, this close to you, and she blamed the dizziness on the punch she took from the street rat, even though she knew damn well it didn’t do shit to her.  

“There,” you said, “good as new.”

But you lingered, reluctant to let go of her. Tentatively you reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. And inwardly, Sevika cursed herself, because the gesture made her forget every single conceivable excuse to flee the scene. 

thank you @beatdariceee for the prompt <33

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Candy Cane Lane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You only have one night to plan four parties and a special Christmas light show. Dean knows how important it is for you to see the lights, and he makes sure he keeps his promise when he tells you you’ll get to see the lights.

Square Filled: candy cane (2022) for @spnchristmasbingo

Author’s Note: yes, this is inspired by season 1 episode 9 of new girl

x

Four different Christmas parties and only one night to do them. The invitations are spread out on the table for you to look at, and you have your notebook spread open for you to take notes. The first of the parties doesn’t start until the late afternoon, so you still have time to plan for them. This is the only weekend everyone in your friend group has off from work, and you’re going to make sure you can hit every party before the night is over.

You’re not big on parties but you’re only going because you want everyone to do your thing at the very end of the night.

“What are you doing?”

You look up and see Dean walk into the kitchen wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. You blush and look back down at your notebook so you don’t ogle him.

“I’m just trying to plan out how this evening is going to go. If we’re going to hit every party before the end of the night, I need to plan it out.”

“Why not just wing it? I’m good at that,” he grins.

“Winging it isn’t my thing. Plus, I am going to make sure I get to take you all to Candy Cane Lane this year.”

Candy Cane Lane is the name of the light festival a neighborhood puts on for whoever wants to come and see it. Everyone decorates their houses to the fullest, and they have small booths that offer popcorn, corn dogs, snow cones, and other things that families and kids can enjoy while they look at the lights. You’re impressed every year because they always seem to outdo themselves from the year before.

It’s magical.

“I look forward to it,” Dean smiles.

Not long after you craft the perfect plan, your entire friend group comes over. Charlie, Donna, Jody, Garth, and Castiel come with small gifts for you, Sam, and Dean who are roommates. You have a Cadillac Escalade that can fit all eight of you, so Sam will be the DD if anyone else wants to drink the night away.

“Gather around everyone,” you call out. “So, we have four parties to hit, and only six hours to do it in. After that, we can spend whatever time we have left at Candy Cane Lane which is conveniently next to Charlie’s party. So, we’ll be hitting that one last. I figure if we spend at most an hour and a half at each party, we’ll have one hour to spare to go see the lights.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Charlie grins.

The first party you hit is uneventful. Castiel warned you his party with his friends wasn’t going to go well, so you passed the time by drinking and talking to Dean. Jody and Donna’s police party is next. Their precinct transformed into a hangout spot for the officers and their loved ones. It’s more lively than Castiel’s party, but you can’t seem to get into it.

Dean breaks off from conversation with Jody and swipes a fresh glass of eggnog from the table. He walks over to you, and you turn to him with a smile.

“Eggnog?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“So, having fun?”

“I guess. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Why did you come?”

“For you,” Dean looks surprised but he covers it with a subtle cough, “and for Sam and Donna and everyone else. I know this is what you guys wanted to do.”

“Honestly, I can’t wait to see the lights.”

A bright smile forms on your face. “I know right? All of the houses are decorated with thousands of lights. There are two neighbors who try to outdo the other which is always funny to see. They even put up fake snow machines everywhere so that the kids can enjoy it.”

“You enjoy it, too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gush. “One house always makes delicious hot chocolate. I keep trying to get the recipe from them but they never want to share it.”

“I can’t wait,” Dean smiles.

The third party you attend is on Garth’s farm. Beth’s entire family is there with a ton of kids, and she’s set up a bunch of different games for everyone to enjoy. They live more north so it’s snowing by the time you reach their farm. There is a thick blanket of snow on the ground which makes you happy. You love snow and everything about it, especially snow that’s away from the dirty city.

Some of the kids are already in a snowball fight while others are making snowmen on the other side of the farm.

“Snowball fight! Come on, Y/N!” Dean exclaims.

An “oof” sound comes out of your mouth when he drags you away from the group. As soon as you throw one snowball, you’re officially in the game. You haven’t done this in so long and your aim isn’t very good, but you have fun. Snowballs come rushing at you from all directions as if the kids are all ganging up on you.

You squeal when a snowball hits your face, and you run away while laughing. Dean is hidden in the shadows, determined to take out as many kids as he can as quietly as he can. He hides behind a tree and notices you walking away from the group. What you don’t see is an older kid creeping closer to you with a huge snowball in his hands.

You pass by the tree Dean is hiding behind, and he reaches out to grab you. You yelp in surprise not from the snowball that whizzes past your face but from Dean pulling you flush against his body. He turns and presses you gently against the tree before throwing his snowball at the kid.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

“No problem.”

Dean looks down at you and you’re suddenly aware of how close he is to you. He glances down at your lips which look a few shades lighter from how cold it is. It’s just you and him in this moment. Have you thought about kissing Dean? Yes. More than you care to admit. He’s your best friend and roommate. If things go wrong, you still have to live with him.

Still, you find yourself leaning into him. Right before your lips touch, someone calls your name. You jerk away from Dean and look at Charlie who is waving you over.

“Excuse me,” you whisper.

Sam waits for you to leave before jogging over to his brother.

“Did you do it?”

“No.”

“Dude.”

“Charlie called for her. She left.”

Sam slaps his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. You’ll get the next one.”

“I should stop being a pussy and just kiss her already. I shouldn’t have to use Christmas as an excuse.”

Dean and Sam leave the snowball fight and join the rest inside the barn. The fourth and final party is at Charlie’s office. She works at a data center, and they’re throwing a get-together on the main floor. You’re already over tonight but there’s alcohol so you’ll stick around for a bit longer. Garth’s party took longer than you would have liked which puts you behind schedule. Candy Cane Lane ends at midnight and it’s already ten. Candy Cane Lane is forty-five minutes away from Charlie’s office so you’re hoping everyone wants to leave a bit earlier than planned.

Forty-five minutes come and go quicker than you would have liked, and you’re only getting sadder at not being able to go to see the lights.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dean asks.

“I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We spent longer at Garth’s party than we should have. If we don’t go soon, we’re going to miss the lights.”

“Let me take care of it.”

“How?”

“We’ll leave now.”

“Really?” you smile.

“Let me tell Sam and Cas. Be right back.”

Dean leaves and you stay where you are so that he can find you when he gets back. After ten minutes pass, you decide to search for Dean. Maybe he got held up. You push past the crowds to get to the other side of the office where the breakroom is. That’s where they have the food, and that’s where Sam most likely is.

You’re about to enter when Dean catches you in the doorway.

“I got Sam and Cas on board.”

“Where are the others?” Dean’s silence causes you to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Much like the tree, he’s very close to you. You get caught in his green irises, so much so that you don’t notice him leaning toward you.

“Y/N!”

You look to the right and see Charlie waving you over.

“Charlie!”

You leave Dean’s side and rush over to hers to discuss the possibility of leaving. Dean groans and rests his head on the doorframe before looking at the mistletoe Sam taped right before you walked in.

“Dude,” Sam chuckles.

“Shut up.”

It took ten more minutes but you got everyone to agree to leave the party early. Luck is not on your side because everyone is leaving their parties to head home, so the streets are filled with bumper-to-bumper traffic. You don’t let that get you down, though, because you have hope of seeing those twinkling lights you love so much.

“Hey, I hate to cut the party short, but I got to get back home. A couple of the kids are getting sick from eating the snow,” Garth says. “I can call an Uber if you let me off here.”

“Sure,” Dean says.

As soon as one breaks off, the rest drop like flies. Jody and Donna have work in the morning and Charlie has to see her mom before the night is over. Castiel is staying since he’s spending the night with you, Dean, and Sam. With most of the party gone and the fact that you’re still in traffic, you don’t have high hopes of making it to Candy Cane Lane.

“We should just go home, Dean.”

“No, you wanted to see the lights.”

“Dean, it’s nearly midnight and we’re still thirty minutes away. It’s fine. I can go next weekend by myself.”

The entire car ride is silent as Dean continues to drive. He looks at you and hates seeing you disappointed. He promised you that he’d get you to Candy Cane Lane, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He quickly makes a U-turn and heads toward the lights.

“What are you doing, Dean?”

“I told you we’re going to see the lights, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Dean, it’s almost one in the morning. We’re too late.”

Dean pulls into the empty neighborhood. All the lights are off, the inflatables are in puddles on the ground, and the place looks creepy with strings of unlit lights. He gets out and walks to the middle of the road. 

“Turn on your lights!” he yells.

“Dean!” you gasp.

“Turn on your lights!” Sam and Castiel get out to do the same, but you stay inside the car with a shocked look on your face. “Come on! It’s Christmas! Turn on your lights!”

“Turn on your lights!” Sam yells and jogs closer to one of the houses.

“I got a girl out here who’d like to see the lights! Turn on your lights!”

You smile at the thought of Dean doing all this for you. At one in the morning. Even though they might call the cops on you. Dean doesn’t care. All he cares about is making you happy. You step out of the car and watch three men run around the block trying to get people to turn their lights on.

The lights on the house behind you turn on, and their inflatable snowman starts filling with air. More lights come on and more inflatables come to life. The snow machines start spewing fake snow onto the street, and you gasp happily at seeing the private show.

“Dean! Look!” you exclaim happily. “Look at the snow!”

Dean walks up to you and pulls you into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

You run your hands down his chest as you pull away from him. This is it. This is the moment, Dean declares. The fake snow falls all around you, and the lights twinkle in your eyes. He leans in and this time, there is nothing stopping him.

You meet him halfway and kiss him with passion. Sam nudges Cas with a smirk, and both of them head back to the car to give you and Dean a moment alone.

“You did this all for me?”

Dean reaches for your hair and tucks a strand behind your ear. “I’d do anything for you.”

You pull down Dean for another kiss, feeling the Christmas magic.

x

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[jupiterthesmart]

Overanalyzing the FNAF fandom's view on Fanon Henry - a result of Toxic Masculinity?

Just know if you like Fanon Henry I'm probably not referring to you. I'm referring to the people who make him a one dimensional OC who's happy and cheery all the time, the 'stereotype Henry' if you will. And no I don't care about his weight or anything like that, only how people viewed him to change him so much in Fanon. Disagree if you want but I'm not looking for hate or debates here! (Though Tumblr is the least toxic place to share this opinion XD)

TL;DR Fanon Henry is a caricature of what happens when a man reaches out about his emotions, he's seen as ""weak"", no matter what, and people will always insist he's weak because of his mental state. It happens to celebrities, to historical figures, and even to FNAF characters because toxic masculinity is and always will be in everything!

609 words, 3,336 characters ;-;

My reasoning/rant V

What's the appeal of Fanon Henry for people in the FNAF Fandom?

Let's think of the traits Fanon Henry has - He's a good father, depicted as weaker than William Afton, with softer colors, usually shorter, more emotional, and overall every "not manly" trait you can think of dialed up to 100.

I've noticed the same people who prefer Fanon Henry seem to love Canon William. It seems like an OC next to a FNAF character which is fine, but I'm looking for the reason why people feel the need to change Henry so much?

It could be passed off for some sort of ""understandable"" fandom reason for him being turned into an OC and all his canon personality ignored (like if he was POC or a woman) Because then the reason would be obvious and I wouldn't have to question it. But he's a conventionally attractive white man! He's a father with two kids and a blonde haired blue eyed wife! What did this character go through in this fandom to have so much change done to him for seemingly no underlying or discriminatory reasons?...

Well! My theory is people see him as 'weak' because of his depression, and so the fanon version represents that. Like, think of it. He lost his entire family, his business came crashing down, his friend turned out to be a child murderer, and Henry got so emotionally unstable that he killed himself. FNAF has some pretty one-dimensional characters but not Henry, in fact I think he's one of the more well written in early FNAF. But... why dumb him down to just 'William's friend' or 'Charlie's dad'? Why recognize his depression as the only thing that matters?

I don't hate the people who make him fat but this is one of my points too. Fat people in media are typically seen as weak and depicted as overly emotional, (especially fat men, because rounder features make them seem, you guessed it, less manly.)

Not to mention the way people on the 'Fanon Henry' side tend to describe him as pathetic or always point out how sad he is all the time, and every other character trait is perfect. It's weird! He has more character than that but people forget... I wonder why. This doesn't happen to William because he's the more 'stoic, smarter' one despite him being WAY more emotional than Henry. William wasn't infantilized because he abused his family, killed children, and gaslit his closest friend. Those are ""manly"" traits to the fans, and even seen as attractive. Henry, the one who has more written about his personal life and family in flashbacks than William has so far, the protagonist of this story, is babied because he's a depressed man. He killed himself to avoid help, and the fandom treats him exactly how he would've been treated if he reached out. He's 'weak' because of his emotions.

He never said how he felt out loud in the books, and in FNAF 6 if you listen to the tape where he is venting out his frustration and saying his plans, you get a game over and get falsely sent to a mental hospital. This man did not want help for his issues, he told no one, and would get whoever knew how he felt institutionalized or burned! But ultimately his verbal suicide note in FNAF 6 came back to bite him. Fans took this as a sign that he was extremely verbal about his emotions, thus making him "weak." Now that's all he ever will be in the eyes of about 80% of the fandom.

...And that's why I will ALWAYS prefer Canon Henry.

[puppppppppy]

if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

[seventh-district]

.

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (3) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 3 (9.8k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence (this part contains graphic depictions of gore + murder + minor character death), military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1 ⏤ PART 2

The mirror betrays you. There’s someone staring back, but it isn’t you. You don’t recognize her. Whoever is there, she’s a traitor. A liar. She stole what used to be your body, and now you can only stare back as she lifts her hands to your face and touches your skin.

It’s warm. Your cheeks are warm to the touch, skin bouncy and firm. When you pull on the apples of your cheeks, they bounce right back, elastic almost. You’re glowing, too. Your skin has never looked so soft, so smooth.

Something’s different.

You bring your hands up and cup your own breasts. When you squeeze, you shudder, realizing how sensitive you are. They ache a little, feel heavier than normal. Your bra feels a little tight, too. Your hands drop and grip the sink firm, and you swallow hard before turning to face the door.

Your body is telling you something. It’s trying to talk to you. It’s natural, you know it is, and it is inevitable, and you shouldn’t hate your omega for it because she can’t help it, but you do. It’s what’s happening to you because you’re off your meds. Your hormones are firing like they never have before, and the voice in your head is starting to talk to you in a way that sounds way too appealing. She’s starting to sound right. You like the way she’s talking to you, especially after…

You haven’t spoken to him yet. You haven’t talked about it. It’s only been a few days, but you don’t think you can sleep next to him for one more night and pretend like you don’t know what it’s like for him to be dick-deep inside of you and satiating the shrill insanity that lives under your skin.

So big. So capable. Isn’t he so strong? I bet he tastes good. Let’s find out.

You open the bathroom door slowly. Simon is sitting there on the bed, phone in his hand. He’s typing, eyes narrowed in thought, and you make the door creak so he knows you’ve come out.

“Everythin’ olright in there?” Simon asks. He doesn’t look up from his phone. You decide to be mean, because you can be. You want to be.

Fuck off, you tell her, try to. All she wants to do is get Simon on his back on that bed.

Can we just suck his dick already? It’s right there.

“What do you care?” You mumble. You go to the closet to pick out something to wear. It’s a Sunday, which means there won’t be much to do today besides relax and eat. Johnny invited you to Mass, which you promptly declined, and you didn’t much feel like spending time with Captain Price or finding out which beta would be underneath Gaz tonight (more than one, would be your guess, but it could’ve been another alpha, too, he doesn’t seem to care as long as he can devour something whole).

You don’t turn around to see Simon’s reaction. Maybe he doesn’t react at all. You grab a pair of jeans and drop your sleep shorts. Ever since Simon had taken you on a roof, you decided it was no use trying to change in the bathroom anymore–he’d seen everything, anyways. You step into the jeans and pull them up, jumping a little to get them over your hips, and just as you’re about to adjust the waist, you feel him come up behind you.

Simon grips both sides of your jeans and hikes them up around your middle. You suck in a breath as he slides his hands around, zipping them up, deft fingers finding the button and fastening them. You huff as he keeps walking, forcing your front flat against the closet doors until he can press his chest up against you from behind.

Remember how good he felt? Let’s do it again. Take them off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss. Your omega purrs. She softens your insides. You grip the closet, irritated, but you can’t help the way you bend at the hip and push back into him. He snarls as he puts his hands on your hips, holding you there. You can feel her, pushing against you. It’s getting harder every day to shove her backwards–there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to.

Is that part me? Or are we drifting together?

“Wot does it look like?” Simon murmurs. “I smell you.”

Yes, yes, yes, let him. Take it off. Take them off. Let him have it.

“What did I say before?” You let your arms fall, and you smack his hands off of you. You turn around to glare up at him, grinding your teeth. “Boundaries, Simon. You need to ask for permission.”

“I don’t have to do anythin’,” Simon bites back. “I said some things before, too, didn’t I? Y’r mine.”

Oh, that’s how he wants it to be. You can see it in his eyes, the way his alpha is feeding him lies. Feeding into his ego. He’s got tendrils that are choking him from the inside-out, trying to tell him to be the bigger species, the more dominant figure. Your omega wants to let him, but that isn’t you. Fuck submission–it’s just not your style. You’re a taker, not a giver, and your omega will need to learn that the hard way.

You lean up on your toes, pressing your forehead to his. You meet his alpha in the middle, not backing down. You can be nasty, too. You can be dangerous. You might not have his build nor his strength, but omegas have teeth, and they are sharp.

“Then you better sleep with one fucking eye open, Simon. Cause I’ll kill you if you put your hands on me without asking.”

You make sure you hit him on your way around him. You open the drawers of the dresser angrily, ripping a shirt out. You slip your pajama shirt off, tossing it onto the floor, and you fit your bra straps over your shoulder before turning around. Simon is still staring like a dog–eyes watery and intense, staring right at your tits, and you grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him.

“Oh my god!” You cry, and he sucks on his teeth under the mask.

“Mmm…” He puts a hand over his chest, rubbing there. If he didn’t have it on, you have a feeling he’d a smug grin on his stupid face. “My mate is fuckin’ naked, wot you want me to do, look away?”

“Yes, exactly, you pig,” you mumble, clasping your bra and fixing it to cover yourself before slipping your t-shirt on. You frown as you pick up a clip to tie up your hair. “And we’re not mates.”

“Tha’ right?”

“That’s right,” you say curtly. You turn to give him a hard stare as you slip your boots on. “As far as anyone else can tell, I’m not claimed.” You run a few fingers over your scent gland. Soft. Unmarked. Pulsing.

It’s like you’re taunting him. He snarls a little at that, something low and territorial under the mask.

“Tha’ wot you want? Me to claim you?”

“No,” you stand on your toes, faces barely touching. The air in the room is humid and thick, curling, competing scents making you a little dizzy. “I want you to drop dead.��

It’s half of a lie. It would be funny, you think, to see Simon eat a bullet or catch on fire and perish in a frenzy of equal pain and misery, but you know Kate would just do it all over again to you. There are no shortage of alphas at her disposal. With a swipe of her signature, she can have you moved halfway across the world again, and you’d like to not end up on the CIA’s bad side because you keep spending all their money on flights and bribes to get you some kind of mate that will tolerate an indifferent omega such as yourself.

An unruly one. A terrible one. A decisive one.

You don’t really want Simon dead. Better the beast you know than the one you don’t, and from the time you’ve spent with Simon, he is all bark, no bite.

For now.

Meals are always awkward. You feel like all you and Simon do is snap at each other lately. Call each other names. Spit nasty insults. Maybe it isn’t fair to be angry with Simon; you have a feeling he didn’t have much of a choice, same as you, but it doesn’t matter, because nothing really changes in his life the way it changes in yours.

Simon isn’t the one that loses himself. Simon isn’t the one that has to wear a brand on himself, a permanent reminder of his submission. Simon isn’t the one that has to succumb to things he can’t control about himself–the heats that last for days, the ones that will burn you from the inside out until it gets that nasty fill that your omega was born for.

Ruts just aren’t the same, you don’t believe it. They can swallow them down. Save them for later. It isn’t a comfortable thing to do, but if an alpha is missing their omega, they can satiate themselves with a lazy hand or a soft mouth until they get what they’re searching for.

Omegas aren’t offered the same luxury. If you don’t get what your omega feeds off of, she might kill you–and you don’t need to be reminded that you and your omega aren’t exactly on great terms.

The boys are quiet at breakfast. John has secluded himself in his office for the day, but Simon’s sergeants are pretty quiet for how much they usually babble. They are, however, shoving their faces in with food in a matter that makes you scowl.

They’re dogs, really. Johnny looks positively famished. He’s got his cheeks pillowed with eggs and toast, and you look away from Gaz as he tips his head back to wash down a mouthful of ham with coffee.

You jump when you feel a fist hit the table. It rattles the trays, and Johnny’s orange juice splatters a little outside of the cup. Simon is back from the kitchen, sliding your own tray in front of you. Your mouth waters a little at the smell of the freshly baked croissant and moka pot of coffee that waits for you, and the sergeants grumble a little as they look up at their lieutenant.

“Would you both fuckin’ eat with y’r fuckin’ mouths closed?” Simon snaps. “Bloody rats eat more proper than you lot.”

“What’s the matter, LT?” Johnny gulps down his food, wiping his mouth with a wet thumb. He smiles at you with teeth, and you pick up your fork to busy yourself. You can see feel his crazy eyes on you, trained on your face. He licks over his teeth as he does. “Want us to be proper gentlemen around yer bonnie girl?” He wiggles his tongue at you. “What’s proper about knotting a pretty little omega like tha’, aye? Can smell ‘er from ‘ere…Smell like taffy.”

Simon takes a seat on the bench next to Johnny. You stare wide-eyed as Simon cocks his head to the side. Your eyes water a little as you see Simon slide a big hand up Johnny’s neck. He leans into it, clearly comfortable (you’re going to try and forget this observation), but his face contorts from contentment to sheer pain as Simon wraps his gloved fingers into the curls of his mohawk and pulls. Johnny’s neck snaps back at a hard angle, making him hiss and kick his legs out. They bang against the table, shaking it, and Gaz looks down at his plate as Simon tugs Johnny close to him.

“You listen ‘ere, Sergeant. I’ll say this once, and I won’t repeat it,” Simon growls. “If I hear you say one more word about my mate’s cunt, I’ll rip your throat out with my own teeth. Don’t care ‘ow many times you’ve covered me or saved my arse on the field. My rank is her rank, so from now on, I want you to drop y’r eyes when she looks at you, and I want you to say, yes, ma’am, and nothin’ else, you ‘ear that?” Johnny grits his teeth as Simon shakes his head violently, holding him firm. “And if I hear about it when I’m not around, I’ll let her cut y’r dick off, yeah? Or maybe I’ll let her shoot you in the head again. And trust me, mate, she won’t miss–”

“Simon,” you interrupt gently. Simon’s face turns, and you meet his eyes. You shake your head a little. “It’s…it’s okay. Johnny’s just a huge flirt, and it came out wrong. Didn’t it, Johnny?”

Simon closes his fist, letting out a sharp breath. His eyes are a little darker than you’re used to. You’re not sure he’ll listen to you, but when you see his fingers start to loosen, you relax a little. You don’t understand why he’s defending you, anyways, but maybe Simon has some twisted moral code when it comes to insulting his mate.

That only he gets to, and no one else.

“Yeah–” Johnny spits, and when Simon lets him go roughly, Johnny just laughs a little. His cheeks are rosy, and he tries to shake it off, but you can tell by the way he averts his eyes and the smell that wafts from him–Johnny is terrified of his lieutenant.

Simon stands, making the table rattle again. Johnny’s cup spills over the edge, and your cutlery falls to the floor as he makes his way out of the mess hall, throwing the doors open and letting them slam shut behind him. You scoff, rolling your eyes, and you swipe Gaz’s fork from his tray before continuing to eat.

“What the fuck is his problem?” You stab your sausage with the fork, cutting it angrily, and Johnny clears his throat. His rubs the back of his neck, rolling it out carefully.

“Yer serious?” Johnny scoffs. “Fuckin’ big man is in love with ye.”

Not me. He’s in love with…her.

“He’s just mad because he thinks he’s the only one entitled to say anything derogatory to me,” you explain. “He’s such an asshole, I swear. So are you, Johnny, by the way–I’m not gonna wet your dick for you, go flirt with someone else.”

Gaz snorts, shaking his head, and you pour him a little more coffee from the pot Simon left for you and some for yourself.

“Kind of sweet, innit?” Gaz murmurs. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. “Has a real funny way of showing it. You don’t see him when we’re alone. He’s mean. I don’t know what goes on in your heads, but your kind jump to conclusions. And you assume. And you’re too aggressive.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Gaz asks. He turns to look at you, shrugging. “That’s how we’re made.”

“I try everyday to be anything but how I’m made,” you say lowly.

It’s a lousy excuse, especially for an operative like him. Kyle and Johnny are no strangers to aversion or high-stakes. There is combat, and then there is what this team does. You’ve peeked at the papers on Simon’s desk. You’ve read the files you have no clearance to read. For the air-headedness that Simon radiates, he’s excellent at writing post-op reports, with fine detail. He doesn’t miss anything. This team isn’t something like SWAT–they don’t carry big guns for show and break down suburban houses. They hit foreign targets without a trace and eliminate threats before they blink. They are in and out of a building in thirty minutes, and they leave no man behind and no target alive. Each of them are experts in their own subject, and even with Johnny’s big, disgusting mouth, you cannot deny what makes him special.

He could make an explosive out of regular kitchen supplies; maybe even out of the toiletries you keep in a go-bag. His affection for chemistry is as equal to that of a good, protein-rich meal. Kyle is no different–you’ve seen him just for fun program an auto-correct feature into John’s laptop that replaced every word that he typed that started with a vowel to shitfucker. You saw him do it remotely. Over Bluetooth. With a Blackberry.

These aren’t just operators. These aren’t just idiot, self-engorged, misogynistic and animalistic men that panted and waited for orders like lovesick puppies, they are much too intelligent and way too self-aware. You won’t take that’s how we’re made as an excuse–it’s beneath them, if you’re being honest, and it’s infuriating. They aren’t a normal pack, and they never will be, and so you need them to stop using stereotypical excuses as reason for them being just like the rest.

It is conscious. It’s disgusting. It’s exactly as you thought it would be.

“Well maybe if ye tried that less, tried just being what ye are…things would be easier for ye,” Johnny mutters, picking up his overturned cup and sighing sharply through his nose. You drop your fork and lean forward on your elbows.

Oh, alright. If Johnny wants to play rank, then you can play rank.

“You know, you both have a lot of nerve,” you say lowly. “I would start being very fucking nice to me from now on. Simon and I may not get along, and maybe we never will. But he sure as shit won’t stand aside if tuck my tail between my legs and blame one of you for something you didn’t do.”

“Thought you said he hated you?” Gaz mocks. “Thought you said he was mean?”

You stand up and shove your tray towards them, starting to walk. You lean over to murmur in Gaz’s ear.

“He is,” you threaten. “But he’s still an alpha, my alpha, and pussy talks, Gaz. You’d know. You’ve been drooling for it since I sat down. I can smell you, too.”

You pat Gaz’s cheek a bit too roughly, and he snarls a little. You smile to yourself as you make your way out, and down the hall, you see a familiar shadow disappear around the corner into the darkness. You cross your arms over your chest, sighing, and then you start towards it.

When you round the corner, he’s standing right there. Leaned against the wall, big arms crossed over his chest. His face twitches under the mask. You move to stand in front of him so you can get his eyes.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to babysit me, you can’t seem to leave me alone.”

“I have others to answer to if something happens to you.”

“Don’t act like you care what other people think. Especially your superiors.” You roll your eyes. You don’t have much more time to talk to him. Or berate him, you were still deciding. A shadow comes up next to you, and when you turn, Captain Price is staring at you both, nodding his head behind him.

“I need to have a word. With both of you.”

You give Simon a look, but he doesn’t give one back. He merely slips a hand down your back and puts you in front of him, ushering you to walk. You’ve never been reprimanded by a superior, not because of a mission or anything of stake, so you can’t help the feeling that overcomes you–something of failure.

Had you done something wrong? Surely you had.

John’s office is bigger than Simon’s, but just as messy. Messier. There’s a pretty beta secretary out in front of it, and she smiles at you and waves. She’s too cute–too sweet. She probably puts sugar in John’s tea to make him smile or draws little smiley faces on messages from missed calls. You pity her and wish you were her all the same. When she notices your solemn face, she shrinks and dips her head, picking up her pen and continuing to fill out some forms.

John waits for both you and Simon to sit before shutting his office door behind him. He sucks on his teeth before tossing his hat onto his desk, nodding towards the two creaky seats in front of him.

“Sit.”

“Rather stand,” Simon counters, but one hard look from his captain, and Simon is begrudgingly taking a seat. The metal creaks under his weight, and you take a seat next to him. John sits on his desk in front of you both, and he looks at Simon before ending on you.

The scents in the air are driving you insane. You take a breath to try and keep your eyes from watering, but it’s difficult.

“You know, Kit, our team isn’t known for…following the rules,” John begins. “But I was assured that…if anything went wrong, that my lieutenant here would be responsible. He vouched for you.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You prepare yourself for the beratement. You sit up a little straighter, squaring your shoulders. The neutral expression your face falls into seems to irk your captain. He scrunches his nose a bit, smoothing a palm over the papers in front of him. He’s trying to establish his air of dominance, but it’s increasingly easy to stare him back down when your alpha sits right beside you.

There’s comfort in his presence, and your omega feeds on it.

“I saw you shoot. Got a good eye for those kinds of things, I’ll admit,” John nods. “And you did well in training. Followed Simon. His orders. Saw you clearin’ rooms like you’ve been on this team for years.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Blue, but empty. “He was right. Fast learner. You know your place.” You narrow your eyes at that, and he hums. “But it doesn’t change what this is. What you are.”

You’re surprised at the way your omega curls in your gut. Angry. There’s an alpha insulting you, but this one isn’t yours. She warms your hands, and you dig your nails into your chair to keep her calm. She wants to bite, and she’s confident with Simon at her side.

“An asset?” You try talking instead.

“A liability.” John leans forward. “You put my men in danger. Going into heat like that.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s alienation. You are an outsider. Not part of his pack. John draws a circle around himself, and you are not included in it, and the sentiment leaks into his words like a flood, and it hits you through the chest. Your lip trembles just slightly, but you swallow down the rejection, keeping it close. Your omega whimpers–an alpha, though it is not your own, is isolating you, and it hurts her.

“She didn’t–” Simon is interrupted by John’s laughter.

“You were off comms for 15 minutes and 37 seconds, an amount of time that during an op is fucking critical and could’ve blown the entire operation!” John snaps. “I told you to be fucking careful, I told you both to take precautions, and you failed me. I can understand you–” He points at you, and omega lingers unsaid, “but you, Simon? You–”

“It wasn’t his fault, it was mine,” you interrupt. “I should’ve known.”

“He’s your alpha, it’s his fuckin’ job,” John clarifies. “But Simon has more than one job, and on that day, it was keeping the target in his sight and waiting for my fuckin’ say.”

“Don’t reprimand him for making the call,” you tell him. “I’m the one who misread what I was feeling. I’m the one who distracted him from what he was doing. I’m the one who was projecting so badly, he had to help. It’s me. I screwed up. I’m just as much of your team as they are, so hold me accountable, not Simon.”

“You are not on my team, you are my problem.”

She wails. She grips your heart in both hands and hangs on, crying, wailing, begging you to say something to make him approve of you. She so desperately wants to be included in Simon’s pack, and it aches inside to be pushed away. You dig your nails in further, and you don’t realize how much your scent is flaring. Simon gets one whiff of it and snarls. His hands close into fists.

You goin’ to let tha’ wanker talk to your mate tha’ way? You goin’ to let another alpha walk all over her? He’s challenging you, tha’s wot this is, innit?

“Choose y’r next words wisely, Captain.” Simon finally speaks, and his tone rattles you. His voice dips low, and you can hear his alpha soaking into his words, and the bitterness in the air has to be him deciding whether or not today would be a good day to stand up to his captain.

“Tha’ right, Simon?” John murmurs. “Is that an order?”

Simon stands. Immediately, the humidity in the room expands, and you nearly choke from the sting of their scents in the air. Simon is much larger than John. He’s so much bigger, so much wider. You stand, too, and when Simon feels your hand along his bicep, his shoulders loosen just an inch.

Your omega may beg for approval and inclusion, but even she stands down when you remind her of the importance of pack bonds. You are not mated, and Simon has his own to keep, so you must appease. It hurts to do it, but you know you will thank yourself later.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” you say softly. “I-It won’t happen again. I swear…I promise.” Your eyes water, and you try to hold in the cough you’re holding. “First time…and the last time.”

Simon’s task force is a unique group. Four alphas–a lot of ego and fighting dominance in one bunch. It’s normally not done. They like to have a nice mix of betas and alphas to keep groups balanced, but Kate needed an exceptional group, so she built one. Four alphas in one pack is not common, but it works–and she has the stats to prove it.

You wonder if she knew what would happen when she threw you into the mix. How each of them might react when an omega tried to slip in between them. If Kyle would try to sink his teeth in. If Johnny would pass out from panting so fucking hard. If John would let his resolve slip for just long enough to blur the lines between a commanding officer and his subordinate.

Maybe Simon reacted just as she expected. That he would see what was meant just for him and pull her apart so he could slip under her ribs and stay right there. You have not been claimed, and yet–it is truth. They know it, Simon knows it, you know it, and so does your omega.

Simon paces in his room. A slow pace, but paces, and you observe him from your place on the bed as he breathes deeply. His alpha is leaking through the cracks, and you can smell his anger. It fumes, makes your nose curl. It’s a bitter scent. Your omega purrs in your chest–she wants to soothe him.

We will do no such thing. Shut the fuck up.

“You need to let me handle things when we get cornered like tha’.”

“I’m a big girl, Simon,” you say softly. “And it was my mistake.”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Simon explains. “I’m your alpha.”

“I don’t care,” you shake your head. “You don’t speak for me.”

“No, I speak for us both,” Simon points a finger at you, coming closer. “For you and for me, and you need to understand tha’.”

You glare up at him. In all the time you’ve spent with him, he’s still letting his alpha bleed when he’s angry. You need to understand nothing–Simon needs to learn. He needs to learn that the omega they write about in textbooks isn’t reality. You fight your omega tooth and nail for control, and you are still on top for now. Simon needs to learn this. He needs to learn that you are not easily influenced by command. You may smell like an omega. You may keen like an omega.

But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I submit like an omega.

“Fuck you.”

Don’t talk like that…you know you want to.

“Ya already ‘ave, kitty,” Simon spits. “Would you like to go again?”

“I know this is hard for you to get through your thick head,” you whisper. “But just because I fucked you doesn’t mean anything. What happened between us was clinical. Your dick is medicine, and there was nothing I could do, and that is where this ends. You can tell yourself over and over again that you are my mate…that you’re my hero, that you saved me, but maybe next time, I’ll just let my omega kill me. The thought of you inside of me ever again makes me physically fucking sick.”

You’re a bad liar.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say lowly. He leans closer, until his face is nearly against yours. “You’re a pathetic, insecure, waste of space. I will never be your mate, and I pity every omega that might come after me, that has the unfortunate mistake of thinking you could claim them with any sense at all. You use and you abuse, and you have your head so far up your ass, I don’t think you know what’s real and what isn’t.”

Simon stares. You stare back. Your chest heaves, and so does his, and you keep your eyes on each other as you stare back and forth. His eyes are so dark. Beautiful, but so dark, it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking. It’s not long that you notice his lashes fade to blonde at the end of them. His skin, where it bleeds from the eye-black he wears to the pale color of his face, has freckles scattered around the eyes. You can see the raised, white line of a scar that is just peeking from under the mask.

Isn’t he so pretty?

“On your knees,” Simon murmurs.

It’s whiplash. One moment, your entire body is buzzing. Angry, fiery–you can feel it shaking you. You hate him with ever fiber, want to smack the smug look you know he wears under that mask. You hate the power that he has over you and how much he relishes in it. The next moment, in a few slow words, it vanishes.

Like it was never even there at all.

“Excuse me?” You breathe.

“On your knees. Lose the pants. ‘n y’r knickers.”

“What makes you–”

“Won’t ask again.”

We need this. We need this. We need this.

It’s just that easy. For all the resolve that it feels like you have, maybe you really have none. You blink, but then he hears the sound of you toeing off your boots. They hit the floor, and then your cargos are falling on top of them, and then you’re turning over, sliding along the warm sheets of his bed until you’re lying on your tummy, ass up, and you’re closing your eyes as his gloved hands push your panties down your thighs until they’re around your knees.

You don’t really know who’s doing it. You’re afraid to think about it too hard, because you know that it just might be you.

He eats nasty. All tongue. He spreads your ass with big palms, and you gurgle when he kisses your folds with tongue. Your brain starts to fog, and you relax easily. He kisses soft and slow, but wet. You fist the blankets, pushing back, and he slides a thumb down to smooth over your puffy clit very gently. He hisses when he sees your hole flex in response, a drop of slick falling onto his palm.

“Kitty, why didn’t ya just say so?” Simon asks, stupid and fascinated by you. “Why didn’t you just say you wanted y’r pretty pussy kissed, hmm?”

“Because I hate you–” You whine, and Simon slips his tongue inside of you. You babble, your mouth dropping open, and he hums as he gets a taste of you before pulling back, smacking his lips. The taste of you spreads across his tongue, and his alpha howls. He’s never spoken to him this way, not really. The only time his alpha has ever really come to the forefront like this was the times he thought he was close to death; but Simon’s never been this close to life, either.

“I know,” he coos. “I know ya do. But this isn’t personal, is it?” He uses his thumbs to open you up, growling when he sees your hole pucker a little. A dribble of slick falls, and he catches it with his tongue, swallowing it down. “How’d ya put it, luv? ‘s medicine?”

“Your dick is medicine.”

“My mouth, too, I reckon.”

“Shut the fuck up, and eat me, baby,” you whimper, and he opens his mouth wide and licks with a thick tongue. He presses his mouth to your cunt and eats, bobbing his head as he alternates between slobbering licks and eager sucking. His tongue slides between your folds occasionally before slipping into you, and you curl your toes every time he brushes against your clit. His thumb will sometimes circle it, or his tongue will suck softly, but he never stays there too long. Simon likes to tease. He likes to make you a little desperate, likes to get you soft and drippy and dizzy, and then he gives in a little. He gives you two fingers, gloved still, and you push back against his face with gentle grinds as he fucks you softly with his hand. It’s agony and relief all at once.

“Like tha’?” He asks. He sounds amused. You hope his hard cock gets pinched by his zipper.

“Mmm–” You try. You arch your back, getting up onto your elbows, and Simon uses his free hand to give one side of your ass a nice smack, jiggling it gently before kissing where he hit. You giggle at that, soft and airy.

“Answer me, omega.”

“Fucking love it,” you gasp. “Big fingers–”

Simon laughs at that. You can smell his ego, but you don’t have it in you to say something smart. It’s true. Even with his hand, he fucks good, hitting deep. His mouth did wonders, and you’re dripping along his hand. His glove is soaked, and his forearm is wet, and when you glance down at the sheets, they are damp and dark with the mess you made. Simon doesn’t seem to mind. He leans in to eat more, pulling his fingers out so he can use his mouth again, tongue deep as he sucks and hinges that big jaw to get a mouthful of you and groan. You taste good–nice and sweet, thick juices wetting his chin, and he squeezes your ass in appreciation when you throw it back and smother him. He likes this. Likes the lack of air, the wet pussy, the soft whines. He’s content here, and he doesn’t seem like he wants to move anytime soon, and he doesn’t complain. He just opens his mouth and swirls and tongue and fuck–your clit is in his mouth, and you’re crying.

It’s too kind. An alpha kneeling for their mate. Taking pleasure in their pleasure. It’s not unheard of, but it’s…unorthodox. It confuses you. Your omega cries with happiness, but she’s confused, too. She doesn’t expect pleasure just for pleasure–but she wants it, she wants more of it, she’s digging her nails into your skin to try and get you to convince Simon to give you more, more, more.

“Give it to me,” Simon murmurs. “‘s olright. Give it to me.”

“Simon–”

“Mhm,” he nods, cocking his head and taking your clit into his mouth again. “Give it ‘ere.”

Your orgasm hits hard, but it’s nice and slow. Your thighs shake, but Simon sinks into you, breathing out through his nose as he delicately laps at your clit. He doesn’t stop, swallowing as you come into his mouth, keeping the pace to make sure your orgasm fizzles just as good as it hit you.

You sink to your tummy when he pulls away. Your knees give out, and he slips your panties completely off, and you flop onto the dry side of the bed. You start to cry. Not tears of relief, but tears of pain. Of what is inevitable. Of the hard truth that you loathe more than anything.

Simon can never force you. You will always want him, you think. There will always be something in the back of your mind that aches for him, and you try and you try and you try to fight it off, but you want him so viscerally, it cuts you deep where you’ll never notice it.

“Say wotever you want about me,” Simon mutters. “Tell yourself wotever you want that helps you sleep at night, hate me oll you want. But I take care of wot’s mine.” He strokes your hair out of your eyes, leaning down, and you cry harder. You clutch a pillow, hug it tight, and your eyes flutter open as you look at him. His mask is still hiked up just under his nose, and you can see half his face. Scars that cut across him like paintbrush strokes, adding texture and depth where there shouldn’t be.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you whisper. “You have no idea what it’s like for every single part of yourself to betray what you want. You don’t get it. Y-You don’t understand, you never will. You will always have the upper hand, and y-you will never know what it’s like to not have a choice.”

Simon continues to brush through your hair with his fingers. Soothing you gently, coaxing you into a headspace that feels like white noise. You whine, and Simon comes closer. He presses his mouth to your forehead, soft, gentle, his scent close enough that your beating heart slows down considerably just in response.

“No, I won’t,” Simon agrees. “But that’s what you are. You’re an omega.”

He says it like it’s so simple. Like it explains everything in the entire world. Being an omega is the simplest answer he could ever give, and it explains every variable, every nuance, every quirk that makes you you. It explains every time you sink to your knees for him. It explains how easily you let him fuck you on a rooftop in a foreign country. It explains how even though you hate him with every fiber of your being, there is somehow no one else you want standing over you now.

“I’m still me.”

“No,” Simon shakes his head. “You cannot change wot you are. You’re fighting her, and you will lose.”

You wonder, for just a second, if Simon is speaking from experience. Have there been times when his alpha takes over? Does it take control? Are there times when he looks in the mirror, too, and doesn’t know who is staring back?

“I hate her, too,” you spit. “I hate her, and I hate you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his terrible face. The first one you’ve ever seen. You hate the urge you have to lean forward and kiss it.

“She is you.”

“Then I hate me. I hate myself.”

Simon changes the sheets silently. He picks you up and moves you when he has to–two big, burly arms picking you up like you’re a feather. You cling to his neck, studying him, and you find yourself not being able to look away. He’s so capable. He’s so independent. He’s so reactive to your needs, it infuriates you, how could one man be so in tune with you, more than yourself?

He drapes all new blankets over you. He turns out most of the lights, except for the low glow of the yellow lamp on his desk. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm, and then he bends down to say something to you, in your ear.

“Dunno wot you think,” he tells you, “but there will be no omega after you.” His voice drops low, and when you close your eyes, you hear his alpha. Threatening, affirmative, exact. “You are mine. I’ll not ‘ave another. The sooner you accept tha’, the easier things’ll be for you.”

Mine, mine, mine–

“Eat a dick.”

Mine, mine, mine–

“Much prefer y’r cunt, kitty.”

Simon’s protection is instinctual. It’s not really a choice, it’s subconscious. He watches you braid your hair in your room, observes as you tuck it behind your ears and tie it off your face. He hovers as you gear up. Watches you buckle your belt, strap your tact vest, adjust your helmet. He comes over after you’ve laced your boots, tugging on your vest to make sure it’s secure and fastening your helmet for you. You let him as you clip your watch on, closing your eyes as he smooths a thumb across your cheek and turns you towards the door.

It’s a long flight. You fall asleep, your face smushed against his arm, and when you wake up, Simon is still sitting there, hands on his knees, staring straight ahead. John smokes, Gaz has a folded up little book in his hand with what seems like sudoku pages, and Johnny is twirling what looks like a fidget spinner in one hand. You blink awake, but it’s dark out, pitch-black.

That’s the job. Dark, where you can use night as cover. Stealth. You and Simon have been tasked with clearing out one building on your own. Several stories, possible targets inside, presumed armed and dangerous. You were given the clear to eliminate any threats on sight–the op is capture or kill, and John made that very clear in a small room that reeked of his authority.

The bird drops you a few kilometers from where your target building lies. You flip the night-vision down, flicking it on, and you stick to Simon like glue as you follow him silently through empty streets. You’re somewhere in Eastern Europe, somewhere cold and unfeeling and just on the border of Russia. You aren’t privy to any more details; all you know is that your mission is to be Simon’s cover, and you have the face of your target memorized and burned into the back of your eyes.

You spot your target building at the end of the block. The streetlight flickers, and it looks like a low-income apartment building. It’s very small, dilapidated, with a peeling entrance door that has the window broken, hastily patched up with duct tape. It’s no trouble for Simon to stick the scope of his rifle through the duct table and shred the remaining glass to pieces, putting his hand through the window and unlocking the door easily.

The first few floors are clear. Simon always enters a room first, with you in quick succession. You are silent, touch and go, soft taps on shoulders that the both of you can read immediately. You’re in tune with him. When he steps left, so do you. When he turns, you cover, when he sweeps up, you sweep down. It’s a dance, a very well coordinated one, and it lets Simon breathe easier when he realizes how well you’ve adapted to each other over a short period of time.

Just a few weeks, and you are two sides of each other.

Simon swallows down the prideful purr in his chest. Now isn’t the time to get distracted.

When you make your way to the top floor, just below the roof, your chest starts to feel warm. You pause at the top of the stairs as Simon keeps his rifle trained at the first door in front of him. You swallow hard, widening your stance to keep yourself upright. You shake your head, trying to toss the jitters off of you. Your throat hurts as the saliva goes down.

Simon clears the room with you shuffling close behind. You blink rapidly when you see two of Simon, and he whips around suddenly. You can see him through your night vision stiffening in front of you. Shoulders tensing, fingers gripping his rifle tighter. You pause as he comes close to you, and your eyes water when he lifts one hand from his gun to cup your face gently.

You know what he’s asking. You nod shakily, and he taps his wrist with two fingers.

Give me two minutes, is what he’s saying to you.

You don’t get two minutes.

The door behind you slams open. Two men breach inside, and they come at you with a force too strong, and you go flying towards the far wall. Your back hits it hard, and you collapse onto the ground. Your whole body aches, and you know there will an array of nasty bruises under the skin. Your helmet took the brunt of the hit, but you still feel dizzy as it falls off your head, clattering to the ground. You cough, scrambling for your rifle that is a few feet away from you now, and Simon drops one of them with a few easy bullets, but the second man uses his dead companion as cover, throwing the body at Simon until he can lunge at him.

Simon swipes the blade out of his boot and goes for his weak spots. He manages to get him under the arm, across his thigh, but Simon is wearing a lot of gear, and with the weight of a dead alpha getting tossed at him again, he gets moved backwards enough to lose his footing, and then it happens.

The man’s gun fires, and it goes straight for Simon’s head. A flash of light that seals some sick sort of fate that you know can’t be yours. It’s not you that screams in response.

It is your omega.

You launch yourself at him. In your daze, your omega finds clarity, and she seizes her moment. You slip the blade out of its place in your thigh holster, and you toss a nearby chair at him to incapacitate his gun. It gets trapped underneath it, enough time for you to jump and land on him from behind.

He’s an alpha. Physically, you should be no match for him given your size differences, but something else is taking over. Your nails don’t just grab, they pierce his skin. Digging it, shredding flesh, and you bring your blade down over and over again against his chest. He screams in pain, trying to wriggle you off. You lock your ankles around his middle, keeping your hand coming, tearing with your nails and slicing with your knife, but he manages to get an arm underneath you and throw you off.

You hit the ground again roughly, but it doesn’t stop your omega. She gets right back up, but he tackles you. He uses his weight to pin you down, and the knife rings as it slides across the room, but your omega doesn’t let it stop her. He got too close, and she will make sure he regrets it.

He went for your mate, and she cannot have that. She won’t survive without him. Unclaimed, but she doesn’t care–Simon is hers, and she won’t let him go without something all-encompassing and violent. He’ll have to pry Simon out of her dead hands. You feel like you’re watching from the sidelines. You’re not yourself. It’s the first time that you don’t really care.

You scream, leaning up, and he doesn’t get a moment to think before you sink your teeth into the plush of his scent gland and rip it clean out.

Fuck. There’s blood gushing everywhere, spurting from where you’ve severed the gland. The gland is precious, anatomically–it provides most of the oxygen to the brain, and it’s what seals the bond. While it can’t be marked the same way an omega’s can, an alpha can’t survive without it. You’re finding out just how precious it is as you watch an alpha cough and sputter once he realizes what’s happening to him.

He crawls off of you, trying to use his hand to put pressure to his neck, but it’s no use. He leans against the wall and chokes, blood filling his mouth, and you spit out the flesh from between your teeth as you watch him gurgle and kick his feet out. He reaches out for you, pleading in his eyes, but you feel no mercy. There’s tears coming down his face now, and you watch with a scowl as the blood spills between his fingers instead of bringing his brain precious life.

Good fucking riddance.

You turn over once you’re satisfied he won’t get up. You see Simon still sprawled on his back behind you, and you scramble to get to him. You grab his helmet and throw it off, and you start to cry, feeling around and realizing there’s something sticky oozing and pooling onto your fingers. You can’t see very well in the dark, but you put pressure anyways, unsure of what you’re dealing with. Your heartbeat is loud, and it echoes in your ears.

“No–No!” You gasp. You grab Simon’s radio, hands shaking as you press down onto the button.

“Bravo-6, d-do you c-copy?” You cry. “Bravo-6, answer–please–”

“Kit?” John’s voice comes out surprised, low. “What happened?”

“Si–Ghost–” You sob, “W-We need a medevac! Medevac–top floor–”

Your hands continue to shake as you reach for the bottom of his mask and rip it off. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without the mask, but you need to know. You need to know.

His face–it is a little ugly. The eye-black is smeared across his freckles, bleeding across his face from the sweat. He has scars everywhere; they criss-cross along his cheek, cut his lips, but you ignore that as you lean down and put your ear to his mouth.

His breaths come shallow and slow.

You cry with relief, feeling around with your fingers. When all you feel is blood, you pick up his helmet and cry harder when you notice the side of the helmet has been grazed, and the bullet casing lies near his head.

He had missed.

He missed.

You cup his face, tapping his cheeks gently, trying to wake him up.

“Simon?” You whisper, sniffling. “Simon, wake up. Please wake up. Please–”

You can’t carry him. Even if you tried to get your omega to help you, you aren’t physically strong enough to pick him up and carry him out. He’s too big and too heavy, and you wouldn’t be useful anyways; you’d be without cover trying to haul his ass to a bird that’s just too far away.

“Simon–”

He coughs. You gasp, wrapping an arm under him and trying to sit him up. He’s so much heavier with all of his gear on, but you do it anyways, lifting him up and laying his head in your lap. You lean down, pressing your forehead to his, and you cup the back of his neck.

“I thought he killed you–” You sob. Simon hums, his eyes opening and closing, and you smooth a few fingers down his cheek, relieved to hear him breathe. In and out, in and out, low and slow as he blinks away the spots in his vision.

Your eyes meet. It’s not a look you were expecting. You expected him to be angry, but he’s not. He’s looking at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. You must look a sight, you think. There must be blood on your face, staining your teeth, but all of your senses are dulled as you try and read him.

Your hands shake as you brush a bit of dust off his face. Your fingers are trembling, but it’s grounding to touch him and see him blink those dark eyes up at you. God, he’s not ugly, no, he’s gorgeous. He’s so beautiful. He’ll never be prettier than the way he is now. Raw and vulnerable–Simon is most himself here, you think, stuck in the in-between of an operation. This is where he must feel everything the most. You open your mouth to say something else, to ask him if he’s okay, but then his face scrunches when he finally realizes where you are.

“On the door,” Simon mutters. “Get y’r gun on the fuckin’ door.”

“Simon–”

“Now!”

You scramble to reach for the handgun in your thigh holster, turning to get up on your knees and cover the door. You will your hands to stop shaking, gripping the handle of the gun tight to keep them steady. You can hear Simon getting himself together behind you. Shuffling onto his feet, picking up his rifle and his helmet. When you look over your shoulder for just a second, you notice his mask is back on.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, east building clear,” Simon rasps. He shoves his way past you, rattling you a little, and you stare at his back, defeated, as he clears the rest of the floor before making his way up the last flight of stairs. You hear your captain responding on comms, but you’re not paying enough attention. Simon slams the roof door shut once its behind you, and you wipe your eyes as Simon gets situated for overwatch as you cover the door.

“Simon, are you–”

“I don’t want to hear another word outta you unless we got contact on this fuckin’ roof,” Simon interrupts.

“I saved your ass!” You cry. “I did that! He would’ve killed you, you fucking asshole, so for once in your life, can you just look at me and say a fucking thank you?!”

Maybe Simon’s right. If you fight your omega, maybe you will lose. She might just kill you. You know she can. You’ve seen it happen before. Omegas that didn’t listen, losing themselves to the insanity of their inner struggle. It’s a violent end. It’s like they electrocute from the inside-out. Their minds betray them, and they let it take over, and with no alpha to soothe them, they’re just gone. If they drift too far, you can’t get yourself back.

Use me. I know what to do. I can get him back.

You do the only other thing you can try; you let your omega do the talking. The sweet, syrupy voice. The soft lilt. The edge that glides, doesn’t cut, the one that will hit his ear just right and hopefully get his alpha tick-tick-ticking inside of his head. The one that didn’t work on Kate–but Kate was not your mate. Kate never responded to you at all, not the way Simon does, and Kate has never tasted your cunt. Her alpha doesn’t know what she’s missing.

I can do it. Let me in.

“Please, Simon,” you beg. You see his fingers twitch as he adjusts the scope on his rifle. They falter, adjusting it just a few degrees too far. Simon doesn’t make mistakes, but then again he’s never had his omega purring in his ear like that. “Please.”

You make your way to him, curling a hand around his bicep. You tug him closer, trying to get him to look at you. He resists, but it’s a pathetic kind of resistance. The kind that you can overpower with just another firm tug. You can sense it, his hesitance, and your omega giggles in your head.

I have him. I can do it. Don’t worry.

“John was right,” Simon breathes. “You’re a problem. A liability.”

A liability because he doesn’t belong to anyone but you, maybe. He’s John’s liability. Not yours. Simon may be a part of their pack, but they should’ve picked up a fucking book when they knew you were coming. Submissiveness might be an inherent “trait” of your kind, but you realize now that is just a lie that alphas tell omegas to keep them quiet.

To keep them soft. To keep them begging. It’s probably something that your kind have learned over time, so distinct that you inherit it from someone that came before you, but you’re convinced that this kind of obedience and docility can be unlearned. It can be used.

If an omega cries, it would be stupid for an alpha to ignore it. It’s in their DNA–with just a soft whine, you can make Simon drop that rifle and bend you over any surface. They say it is for your sake. They say it is because omegas must be serviced or else they will succumb to themselves, but that isn’t what this is, and that’s not why omegas aren’t allowed in the field.

They’re not allowed because you can make Simon defy orders; because John can tell Simon something, and you can tell him something else, and you’re almost certain you know which way Simon will lean.

“Please just look at me, Simon,” you whisper. “Please.”

You cradle his face when he finally does. Your palms touch his wet mask, likely soaked with his own blood. You stand on your toes and draw his face closer to yours.

Fuck them for making you feel small. Fuck them for making you feel less than. Fuck anyone that ever made you feel like you were anything but in control, including her. If she just explained what she could do, this could’ve been a lot easier. If she just told you what she was capable of, you could’ve worked together. You could’ve given her what she wanted, and she could’ve given you what you wanted, and it could’ve been so much simpler.

“Gonna get me fuckin’ killed,” Simon growls. You start to cry again. Not because what he’s saying hurts you, but because he’s still bleeding, and all you can see when you close your eyes is that gun firing right at his head.

This is your ticket. This is your way out. Fuck Kate for making you believe that all you were meant for was being in his bed. You’re so close–aren’t you? You didn’t realize how close you were, but now you do, and you know exactly what to do.

You’re going to make them very, very sorry. You’re going to make them regret ever letting you inside. Your divisive, spitfire nature was not your line of defense. It was the indication of the future you always dreamed of, the future that is one bite-mark away from being tangible. You can taste it, like you taste what Simon wants in the air.

I can do it. I can help you. Let me in.

There was never a reason to be afraid. If anything, they should’ve been afraid of you.

You kiss him. It’s not a proper kiss, because his face is still covered, but you kiss Simon anyways. His cheeks warm, and his lips part, and you kiss him softly over and over as you take his face into your hands. When his arm slides around your waist, your omega is comfortable letting your knees buckle.

She knows already that Simon will catch you.

NEXT

[classyrbf]

HE'S SUCH A (HOT) LOSER! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...nsfw and sfw headcanons about loser!choso bc I can’t get him out of my head after righting that drabble about him

INFO...loser!choso x fem!reader, socially awkward, virgin!choso, jerking off, virginity loss, sexual acts, creampie,

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

loser!choso who literally has no friends, is the epitome of socially awkward and always ends making the conversation weird when he opens his mouth

loser!choso who has never seen a woman naked in real life, he just goes on porn sites and jerks his dick until it feels like it’s about to fall off, cum painted on his toned stomach

loser!choso who has sex toys in his closet, fleshlights, pocket pussies, whatever you call them—he has at least two, one of them even vibrates

loser!choso who is (you guessed it) a total virgin, he’s never even gotten close enough to lose it, yet alone have his first kiss

loser!choso who is forced by yuji to go on a dating app and try to find a girlfriend, and he ends up matching with you

loser!choso who stays in his room, playing video games, or goes to the gym, otherwise the poor boy has no social life (like I said, he has no friends)

loser!choso who finally goes on his first date with you and he’s sweating, stumbling over his words because you’re smiling at him, grabbing his hand and making jokes all while looking like some sort of goddess. He was starting to wonder if he’s dreaming

loser!choso who is absolutely stunned when you express how cute you think he is, how nice his hair looks, and he doesn’t know how to react so he just stands there and smiles at you like a complete idiot

loser!choso who drives home after the date and he genuinely can’t wait to get home to jerk off to the thought of you, so he pulls into an empty parking and pulls his pants down right there, tip already leaking precum when he remembers the way your tits were popping out of you dress

loser!choso who thinks the date went horribly wrong until you’re texting him the next day, already planning the next time you meet up, weirdly inviting him over to your place

loser!choso who is obsessed with titties (clearly) no matter what size. He imagines himself getting a hold of pair and just grabbing them, sucking them, it turns him on so bad

loser!choso who thinks nothing of going over your house until he gets his one wish, getting a hold of your tits in his hands, and he’s star struck, just groping, squeezing and without thinking he’s sucking on them

loser!choso who ends up losing his virginity a few minutes later with you bouncing up and down on his cock, pussy gushing around him. He’s in literal heaven and can barely think, brain turned to mush

loser!choso who realizes real sex is better than porn fairly quickly, and lets just say he becomes more obsessed with you than ever cause it’s so much more intimate when you’re holding him, praising him, calling him a good boy

loser!choso who cums in your pussy so many times that night, and the aftermath leaves him stuck in the same spot on your bed while you cuddle up to him and tell him how much you like him even if you’ve only known him for two days

loser!choso who now has his first ever girlfriend, his first everything with you and he can’t wait to brag to yuji about it because you’re absolutely gorgeous

loser!choso who shows you off on his social media despite the twenty followers that he has, he just want to show off his girlfriend to whoever he can

loser!choso who gets weird stares in public from other men when he’s out with you because he knows you’re way out of his league, but just to make them jealous he grabs you and kisses you in front of them

loser!choso who doesn’t develop a sense of fashion until he meets you, going to countless stores as you pick out outfits that’ll look good on him, and he won’t lie, you’ve done a very good job because he’s gained much more confidence in himself

loser!choso who goes on and on about his special interests and you sit there smiling at him, listening intently. He’s lowkey a nerd but you love it

loser!choso who hangs with no one but you, missing you constantly and randomly showing up at your house when he feels like you’ve spent too much time apart

loser!choso who wants to learn how to pleasure you more so he looks up videos on how to eat pussy and watches all the porn he can to study their movements, but when he tells you, you just laugh and say how silly he is, showing him a hands on tutorial, instructing him on what to do and what you like

loser!choso who constantly asks if he made you cum, poor baby doesn’t want you to go around unsatisfied so he doesn’t everything in his power to make you feel good no matter what

loser!choso who is (obviously) the quiet type, so he studies what you like and what you do by watching you and when he grabs your exact fast food order without you saying anything, you’re standing there confused and he’s looking down at you like “what?”

loser!choso who has a glow up because of you, and girls that have rejected him come crawling back into his life not knowing about you, so he just hits them with the “my beautiful girl who I love very much does not like you talking to me bye” and blocks them

loser!choso who is actually very sweet despite his awkwardness, he might look stand offish in person and act weird around others, but when he’s comfortable with you hes a different person

loser!choso who gets you anything you ask for, spending countless amounts of money on you even if you don’t ask for it, he just loves you so much he wants to show his appreciation in every way whether that’s spoiling you or making you cum

[scented-morker]

When you catch the bouquet at a wedding !

Inspired by pooks @luvyeni … this was so easy for me to write for some reason. 1.1k words, FLUFF, pet names and a couple smooches, fem!reader, mentions of an older sister in won’s part

Heeseung

He might be more excited about it than you were

Actually crazy because the other girls were shoving each other and jumping and it just happened to fall into your hands 😇

You look at the bundle of flowers in shock while all the guys at your table start nudging and elbowing your boyfriend

“You know what that means~”

When you come back over to the table you still look vaguely surprised, but you just set the bouquet down and go to take your seat like nothing happened

Meanwhile hee has spent the last five minutes planning your wedding

He pulls you into his lap before you can even sit in your own seat and whispers in your ear

“So we’re getting married huh?”

Now you’re both blushing messes 🤭

Jay

Bro has been ready to marry you since about the day you met

He’s the one that tells you to go with the other girls when they announce the bouquet toss in the first place

So when you actually catch it he just lights up

The proudest, most lovesick smile on his face

While the other girls fawn over you he turns to the guys at his table

“Guess who’s getting married!!”

The boys jump up and down with him and shout

“Do you even have a ring?”

They all shush sunghoon bc that doesn’t even matter 🙄

You’re flushed when you make your way back to him, fresh off of being mercilessly teased by your own friends

“So what size ring do you wear?”

“WHAT?”

Jake

He hypes you up before the toss, rubbing your shoulders like you’re a boxer about to go in the ring and not a bridesmaid trying to catch a bouquet

“Go get them baby!” He yells as you walk over, placing a light tap on your bottom while you roll your eyes and try to pretend you don’t know him

But he really really wants you to catch the flowers, so who are you to disappoint your man 🤨

Some girl almost knocks you down, but you catch those flowers !!

You can’t even bask in your success because Jake is running to the dance floor to pick you up and spin you around 🥹

“The wedding gods have spoken! You have to marry me!!”

You’re laughing like a maniac because he’s still spinning you and he’s so happy

“In what world would I ever say no?”

Hoon

He’s lost it

Like they called all the girls up to the floor for the toss and he was so confused when you winked at him before running up 😭

He asks Jake what you’re even doing before being told that whoever catches the bouquet is the person to get married next

His eyes get so wide as he watches the giant group of girls wrestle for the bundle of flowers

“They take this seriously huh?”

The boys let out actual cackles when the crowd disperses and you’re standing there with the flowers in your hand 😇

“Wait so that means-?”

He gets nothing but nudges and teases in response

“Hoon I caught it!!” You yell excitedly when you rejoin him at the table

His ears are pink, but he sends you the prettiest smile

He slides one of his rings off and slips it gently onto your hand

“Good job baby.”

Sunoo

“You have to catch that bouquet!!” He tells you excitedly. “It’s fate ok! Catch it!!”

You laugh as you join the other bridesmaids on the dance floor where the bride is

It’s silly, you know you’re gonna marry him anyway, but if he tells you to catch the bouquet then you’re gonna catch that bouquet 🙂‍↕️

Sorry to the girl you accidentally elbowed… this ain’t about her

The first thing you do when you catch it is turn to look at your boyfriend

While normally the guys look slightly embarrassed or shy, your boyfriend is jumping up and down and cheering

“That’s my girl!! Look she caught the bouquet!! We’re gonna get married!!”

You laugh at his reaction and run over to join him

“We’re gonna get married!” You join in with him

He takes the bouquet from you and kisses your lips

“Dang right we are.”

Jungwon

“You’re gonna go?” He asks when you stand up to participate in the bouquet toss

His ears are already red, and you let out a soft laugh

“Won there’s like fifty girls, I’m not gonna catch it. It’s just tradition!”

It’s your sisters wedding and she’d actually murder you if you didn’t participate, which Jungwon realizes is a valid point

“Ok, well have fun! Don’t get knocked out!”

You roll your eyes and stand on the outside of the crowd, not that interested in catching it

You swear your sister does it on purpose because explain how the bouquet is flying straight at you, completely away from every other girl on the dance floor 🤨

You barely have time to grasp it before she’s running over to you

“Oh it’s fate!! You’re next little sis!!”

You hug her with the flowers and turn to find your boyfriend, expecting him to be hiding his face or not paying attention

Instead he’s got the biggest smile on his face, deep dimples poking into his red cheeks while the other guys wolf whistle

He walks up to you and gives you a kiss

“I guess we can’t argue with fate.”

Riki

He’s laughing at you

“I hope that mean bridesmaid trips you when you try to catch it.”

“Shut up!” You smack his arm before walking away, sticking your tongue out when the mean bridesmaid he mentioned walks straight past you and to the front of the group

You didn’t care that much about catching the bouquet, you just wanted to annoy your boyfriend 😁

So when it actually lands right in your hands (knocked off its original course by the mean bridesmaid who hit it so hard it almost hit you in the face) you are SHOCKED

People immediately start cheering, and you don’t even have to look to know it’s coming from the table your boyfriend is still standing at

When you finally spare a glance to him, he’s gone entirely red and is being jostled by the rest of the guys at your table

You set the bouquet down nonchalantly on your table, pressing a kiss to his cheek before whispering “I wear a size 6 ring baby.” And then running to the bathroom to touch up your makeup

He will never recover (and is secretly making a Pinterest board of every size 6 ring he finds)

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[mclqren]

ME AND MY BROKEN HEART ★ CL16 ( & MV33 )

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!ex girlfriend!reader ; max verstappen x fem!reader

SUMMARY ✦ when charles leaves you heartbroken, you end up letting a certain red bull driver help mend your broken heart [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ reader is a model for dior. for the timeline of this, reader & charles broke up in august 2023 and he got with another woman (choosing to leave her unnamed because there will be NO alex slander) in september 2023. as per request, the fc i've used is hannah harrell, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed at the moment.

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liked by yourbsf, anyataylorjoy, and 691,221 others

yourusername had to learn that the hard way 👎

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user1 THE LAST SLIDE WHAT.

user2 NO WAY ARE HER AND CHARLES BROKEN UP NOOO

user3 MY FAV COUPLE 💔

user4 the way im so upset rn is not healthy.

user5 real like THEY WERE PARENTS

user6 okay but y/n is still glowing??

user7 righttt!! enough about the guy who drives in circles all day, lets talk about HER 😍

user8 he fumbled.

user9 realll!

yourbsf making that cake was wayyy too much fun 😋

yourusername breaking it apart was even better 😉

anyataylorjoy 😍😍

yourusername who needs a man when i have you 🩷

liked by yourbsf, maxverstappen1, and 651,212 others

tagged yourbsf

yourusername greek air to cure the breakup blues 🇬🇷💙

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user14 OKAYYY MISS Y/N YOU ARE SERVING AS PER!!

user15 she's living her best life and im HERE FOR IT

user16 her and her bsf are actually everything to me

user17 so trueee i need a friendship like theirs!!

user18 NOO I WAS JUST IN GREECE I CANT BELIEVE I MISSED YOU

user19 NO I WAS AS WELL I WAS SO UPSET WHEN I SAW THIS

user20 bet charles is missing you rn!!

user21 who cares abt charles? she's literally getting over him rn, he's so yesterday's news 😴

user22 what part did you go to?? im planning on going over the holidays in october, and i desperately need some recs!! 🫶

yourusername crete!! it was so so beautiful, can confirm 🩷

user23 one driver out of her likes, another (max verstappen) in her likes

user24 okay but they'd be such a good couple??

yourbsf GIRLS TRIP WAS THE BESTTT

yourusername NEXT ONE PENDING FOR SUREEE

mariloublg_ absolutely gorgeous gorgeous girlies 😍😍

yourusername MARILOU MY ANGEL 🩷

user25 i came here from the instagram gossip website and can i just say in that interview you SERVED

user26 REALLL

user27 wait what are you guys on about?? im so lost HELP

user26 go on @/f1wagnews and you'll see!

liked by user28, user29, and 871,291 others

f1wagnews NEW: Y/N L/N breaks her silence on the circulating paparazzi pictures of Charles Leclerc & his apparent new girlfriend. When asked by the media what she thought, she said: "Charles being in a new relationship not even a month later is naturally a shock, seeing as I assumed he would treat me and the times we shared over the past three years with the same dignity and respect that I am treating him. I don't know, I guess these sort of memories aren't as priceless to him as they are to me. Still, I hope he's happy in his new relationship."

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user28 OKAYY MISS Y/N IS BACKK!!

user29 THIS is what i was waiting for.

user30 she is actually handling this really maturely to be fair to her!!

user31 realll!! i wish i would've been like this with my ex

user32 okay so a lot of the comments are saying she handled this w grace or whatever but is it just me who disagrees? like she's literally being rude to him and his new girlfriend, and you're all hyping her up?? like huh??

user33 honestly this comment makes no sense to me; she didn't say anything rude about charles in this, she simply said that she was shocked to see him in a relationship when they were together for three years, and honestly she's valid for that! i don't think many girls would enjoy seeing their ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend all over the media, and so y/n is honestly handling this so well.

yourusername

( caption one: crazy huh 😉 | caption two: compensation acquired ✅ + tags )

liked by mariloublg_, maxverstappen1, and 667,891 others

tagged mariloublg_

yourusername america with my girl 🩷 (& her boyfriend...)

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user37 THE CAPTION LMAOO

user38 Y/N REMAINS HILARIOUS

user39 ASTON MARTIN SWITCH UP HELLOOO??

user40 I KNOWW marilou and her are so cute though i loveee

user41 it's so weird to see her in green after having seen her in red for the past three years

user42 i knowww but she looks like she's happy now and that's all that matters tbh!!

lance_stroll thanks so much for the shoutout y/n, appreciate you too i guess

yourusername listen stroll if you hurt her i'll be at ur doorstep.

lance_stroll im actually sort of scared of you at times y/n.

yourusername good! 😊😊

maxverstappen1 so you liked seeing me win then?

yourusername you've been winning since like the prehistoric ages mate i think ive gotten used to it by now 🙄 (yes)

user43 so like is it just me or is this flirty...

mariloublg_ MY GIRL FOREVERRR 🫶

yourusername 🩷🩷

liked by yourbsf, maxverstappen1, and 702,192 others

tagged maxverstappen

yourusername second slide is me when i finally manage to get my shit together

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user44 OKAY BUT ARE MAX AND Y/N DATING ORRR

user45 MAYBEEE!! honestly they'd be so cute i just KNOW he'd treat her right

user46 y/n you are my everything.

user47 the flowersss?? did miss y/n get herself another man?

user48 has to be max.

maxverstappen1 the second slide was uncalled for. ☹️

yourusername I COULDNT STOP LAUGHING IM SO SORRY IT WAS HILARIOUS 😭

maxverstappen1 the flowers 👀👀

yourusername yeah!! wonder who got me those 😍

anyataylorjoy you have a man now? ☹️

yourusername nooo ur the only one i need baby i swear 🩷

liked by mariloublg_, user49, and 921,933 others

f1wagnews NEW: Y/N L/N is a WAG again...but for a different driver on the grid! In a recent interview during the Las Vegas Grand Prix, Max Verstappen confirmed to the press that he and Y/N had entered a relationship a couple of weeks prior, after pictures circulated of the two in his car in Monaco: "Well obviously she came to the COTA grand prix and I had already known her before and we were good friends, so we fell right back where we left off, and here we are now! [...] Yeah things are going great, she's truly one of the best people I've ever met."

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user49 Y/NSTAPPEN LETS GOOOO

user50 MY GIRL IS A WAG AGAINNN I LOVE

user51 is it just me who misses charles and y/n ☹️

user52 yeah. 😊

mariloublg_ ❤️❤️

user53 MARILOUUUU?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!

user54 ONE OF Y/N'S BEST FRIENDS AND FELLOW WAG COMMENTING OH ITS SERIOUS.

user55 they are seriously adorableee 🫶🫶

yourusername

( caption one: third time's the charm? 😬 | caption two: wtf is this man thinking about now. )

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 934,219 others

tagged maxverstappen1

yourusername MR WORLD CHAMPPP!! so so proud of you maxie, my winner always 🩷

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user59 Y/N AWWWW

user60 i have a feeling this one's working out idk

user61 oh absolutely

user62 so happy to see you happy again y/n!! 🫶🫶

user63 lost some race driver and came back with a world champion 🏆🏆

user64 ADORABLEEE

mariloublg_ MY CUTIES

yourusername OUR BIGGEST FAN

mariloublg_ well as your fairy godmother it IS an obligation to be ur biggest fan ever 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

maxverstappen1 love you ❤️

yourusername my champ 🏆

charles_leclerc so happy for both of you ❤️

yourusername thank you so much charles, hope ur doing well w ur gf 🩷

user65 charles and y/n are talking again, i can officially sleep in peace.

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[starkwlkr]

just a girl | f1

an: this is me asking for your letterboxd pls i need letterboxd mutuals 🤭 my account is deadpunks also made the reader have glasses because we need more glasses representation in fanfics 😔 (to the girlies that wear glasses, this is for you!!!)

Las Vegas Grand Prix Weekend

“What movie did I watch?” Y/n read the comment that a fan left on her instagram live. She adjusted her glasses and smiled. “I just finished ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ it’s so underrated. The cast is so iconic like you have Kirsten Dunst, Brittany Murphy, Denise Richards, Amy Adams and Allison Janney in one movie. It’s definitely in my top four.”

It was hours after qualifying and Y/n was exhausted, but all she wanted to do was finish watching her movie. Unfortunately for her, the movie she had just named wasn’t anywhere on streaming so she brought her portable dvd player and a stack of dvds. When Lando saw her watching a movie and crocheting a scarf for herself in her garage, he laughed at the scene. He actually found it adorable.

“What’s my letterboxd? Okay, listen. . . I don’t give it out to just anyone so this is between you lovely people and me, okay? My letterboxd is ilovecillianmurphy420 and please follow me, I am desperate,” Y/n laughed. She then took her phone and saw all the new follower notifications from letterboxd. “I’m going to ask the social media admin to ask everyone on the grid for their four favorites. Lando is definitely going to name animated movies. That or he’ll forget what a movie is and say nothing.”

What’s your four favorites?

“Whoever your asked for my four favorites, I’m blocking you. How dare you ask me that question . . . Paddington 1 and 2, Saw and Mamma Mia. I know I said drop dead gorgeous was in my top four, but I lie all the time.”

The next day, her letterboxd account had become the second most followed account.

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, letterboxd and others

yourusername just watched the masterpiece that is jackass number two

formulaupdating can i ask why you don’t post about f1 that often?

yourusername no you may not

oscarpiastri i was there too

yourusername ok

landonorris didn’t you watch that last week?

yourusername this is my own private domicile and i will not be harassed

landonorris ?

yourusername bitch

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After The Race / Interviews

Y/n hated being interviewed, it was the absolute worst thing on earth. No wait, forgetting her AirPods was the worst thing, but interviews were right behind that. She was exhausted and now she had to deal with reporters asking her what she thought about the championship battle.

Her fingers brushed the strap of her cap nervously as the interviewer’s voice cut through her anxiety.

“Y/n, P7 today—solid result. How are you feeling?" The reporter asked.

Y/n blinked, her eyes flicking around as she tried to process the question, and then her gaze landed on her own shoes. She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking up only to meet the camera for a brief, uncomfortable moment.

“Uh, yeah. It, uh . . . it was. . . good. I mean . . . yeah, I’m happy with it, I guess," she mumbled, her voice faltering.

The reporter smiled kindly, already used to the shy responses. “What do you think made the difference here in Vegas?" He waited patiently for Y/n’s answer.

Y/n’s lips parted as she prepared an answer, but the words tangled up in her brain. She shifted from foot to foot, adjusting her grip on the cap. Fuck, why can’t you think of anything?!, she thought to herself. “Uh . . . I don’t know . . . it’s just . . . uh, a little . . . weird, with all the lights and, you know, the . . . Strip, and, um . . .” Her voice trailed off.

The interviewer gave her a soft chuckle, understanding that Y/n’s awkwardness wasn’t lack of confidence, but rather a product of her introverted nature. Before the interview could go on, two figures appeared behind Y/n.

Oscar had cut in, Y/n’s pair of glasses in his hand. He placed a hand on her shoulder and handed the glasses to her while Lando ruffled her hair. She happily accepted them and placed them on her face.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve tortured her enough, mate.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh as she turned to Oscar, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, really,” he said quietly, his tone meant to ease her nerves.

Lando then spoke up. “Are we done with the interrogation? She's literally about to disappear into her own head if we keep this up."

The reporter chuckled. “I was just asking Y/n about her performance today.”

Y/n hadn’t even noticed that she had completely abandoned the interview. She had started doodling on Oscar’s hand. The Aussie had given her the pen he had used from a fan when he was signing autographs. It was their thing. Whenever she would get nervous and Oscar was around, he would let her draw on his hand. Somehow the hand doodles calmed her.

“Right, Y/n?”

That’s when she picked up her head and noticed Lando was staring at her. “Sorry, what?”

“The race,” Lando reminded her. “She was brilliant out there. Absolutely nailed it.” Y/n didn’t have the words to argue. Instead, she ducked her head, feeling both embarrassed and grateful.

The three drivers said their goodbye to the reporter and walked away. Lando threw an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, grinning. “You know, for someone who hates interviews, you’ve got a hell of a lot to say . . . just not when it’s on camera.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she felt a brief wave of gratitude for her friends’ protective camaraderie. She glanced at Oscar, who gave her a knowing nod, his usual quiet confidence offering her a sense of calm.

“You guys are unbelievable.” Y/n laughed lightly.

“Yeah well you’re the idiot who’s going to have to deal with us.” Lando replied.

“Unfortunately.” She teased.

“The idiot with the crocheting skills and silly little film reviews that are very popular on the box app.” Lando added.

“What?” Y/n stopped walking and stared at Lando. She looked over at Oscar for an answer, but the Aussie just shrugged his shoulders.

“I do believe our dear Y/n wants a hot priest?” Lando teased, bringing up Y/n’s lastest letterboxd review about Fleabag. “That’s a bit scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Hot priest?” Oscar couldn’t believe Lando had just said those two words together.

“You two don’t get it! Come on, we’re watching Fleabag!”

[rose24207]

Hello. Can I request something where mafia Lando and reader have only been fasting for a few months but Lando knows she’s going to be the one and while the reader is out shopping she’s bumps into her ex who was toxic to her and told her she was clingy and boring before they broke up so reader distances her self from Lando and when he starts noticing he confronts her and reassures that he loves her and she not any of those things. And maybe Lando at the end planing a murder 👀

Yours to protect

Summary: After your toxic ex shakes your confidence, Lando reassures you of his love—but secretly plans to ensure your ex never hurts you again.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia, plotting

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome! 

Masterlist

The boutique was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as you flipped through racks of dresses. Shopping used to calm you—a distraction from your thoughts and an indulgence in a moment of self-care. But today, your mind was restless.

Things with Lando had been… incredible, almost too good to be true. You’d been dating for a few months, and he’d swept you off your feet in ways you never imagined possible. From the candlelit dinners at restaurants you couldn’t pronounce to the mornings spent tangled in bed, he made you feel special, loved, and seen.

But as the glow of new love settled, doubt began to creep in. It wasn’t him—it was you. Your past had a way of clawing back into your present, reminding you of all the ways you’d once been told you weren’t enough.

You reached for a soft blue dress when a familiar voice froze you in place.

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

Your stomach twisted. Slowly, you turned to face him.

Liam.

It had been over a year since you’d last seen him, and yet the sight of him made your skin crawl. He stood there with that same smug grin, hands shoved casually into his pockets as if he hadn’t once torn you apart piece by piece.

“Liam,” you said, your voice flat.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, his eyes scanning you in a way that made you feel like shrinking. “You look… different. Not bad, just… different.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the hanger tightly. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Relax. I’m just saying hi. Can’t I say hi to my ex?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the rack.

But he wasn’t deterred. Stepping closer, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that familiar condescending tone. “Still as feisty as ever, huh? Tell me, are you still clinging to whoever’s unfortunate enough to date you now?”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?” you asked, though you’d heard him clearly.

“Come on, don’t act surprised,” he said, smirking. “You were always a bit… much, weren’t you? Always needing attention, always so… boring. Like you couldn’t handle being on your own.”

His words hit you like a slap. You could feel your chest tightening, your confidence crumbling under the weight of memories you’d tried so hard to bury.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, stepping away.

“Hey, don’t take it so personally,” he called after you. “Just giving you some friendly advice. Guys don’t like that, you know. Being smothered. I learned that the hard way.”

You didn’t stop to listen. You walked out of the boutique, the dress forgotten, your heart pounding as his words replayed in your head.

Over the next week, the cracks began to show.

You told yourself you were being cautious, that it was better to give Lando some space rather than risk suffocating him. You stopped texting as much, replying with short, impersonal messages instead of the playful banter he loved. When he called, you kept the conversations brief, always finding an excuse to hang up early.

And when you were with him in person, you held back. You hesitated before reaching for his hand, second-guessed your jokes, and overthought every word you said.

Lando noticed.

He wasn’t one to let things slide, especially when it came to you. One evening, after a quiet dinner at your place, he leaned back in his chair and studied you.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said, his voice careful but firm.

You looked up from your plate, startled. “Different? What do you mean?”

“You’re pulling away,” he said simply. “And I want to know why.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the look in his eyes stopped you. Lando wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was smart, observant, and unafraid to confront a problem head-on.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’ve just been… busy.”

“Busy,” he repeated, clearly unconvinced.

You nodded, hoping he’d let it go.

But Lando wasn’t the type to back down.

“Love,” he said, his voice softening as he reached for your hand. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You tried to pull your hand away, but he held on, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that made your resolve waver.

“It’s stupid,” you said quietly.

“Try me.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Finally, you took a deep breath and said, “I ran into Liam.”

Lando’s expression darkened instantly. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It does,” he said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “What did he say?”

You swallowed hard, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “He said I was clingy. Boring. Too much.”

Lando’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as a dangerous edge crept into his expression. “He said that to you?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “And maybe he’s right,” you added, your voice trembling. “Maybe I am too much for you. Maybe you’re just… putting up with me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Lando stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he stood, pulling you to your feet. Before you could say anything, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he said, his voice low but filled with emotion. “You are not too much. You are everything.”

Your breath hitched. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “Listen to me. That guy? He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know how smart, funny, and strong you are. And he sure as hell doesn’t know how lucky I am to have you.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“Do you know what I thought when I first met you?” he continued, his voice softening. “I thought, This is it. This is the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. And every day since then, you’ve only made me more sure of that.”

Tears streamed down your face as his words sank in.

“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I’ll spend every day proving that to you, if I have to. But I won’t let you believe those lies about yourself. Not for one second.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as sobs wracked your body. He held you tightly, whispering reassurances as he stroked your hair.

Later that night, after you’d fallen asleep in his arms, Lando slipped out of bed.

He stood by the window, his phone in hand, the cool night air brushing against his skin.

“Mateo,” he said when the call connected.

“Yes, boss?”

“I need you to find someone for me,” Lando said, his voice cold and calm. “His name is Liam. I want everything—where he works, where he lives, who he knows.”

“Understood,” Mateo replied. “What do you want me to do when I find him?”

Lando’s lips curved into a dangerous smile as he glanced back at you, asleep and peaceful.

“Leave that to me.”

Thank you for reading!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Eddie loads the dryer but leaves it open for now; Steve’s asleep on the couch, his pup on the play mat on the floor next to him. Eddie checks the pup every few minutes; he’s pretty content right now, making a concerted effort to get his romper covered foot into his mouth.

He’s a pretty good pup, as far as Eddie can tell. Eddie’s apartment is a mirror of Steve’s, sharing the lounge wall, which means Eddie doesn’t really hear anything at night, their bedrooms are as far apart as they can be.

He’s heard him once in the day though, mid afternoon, crying. Just that once though, and Steve says he only wakes up once in the night for a feed and a change, and apparently that’s pretty good. Or at least, Steve seems happy with it, Eddie has no clue what's normal or not for new pups. Or any pups.

Steve’s still taking the opportunity to nap, though, and Eddie’s letting him. The pup is only ten days old, after all.

Eddie figures he can do their lunch dishes too, so he heads into the kitchen to tidy up. It doesn’t feel weird, letting himself help out around Steve’s place. Feels like home. Feels right.

Eddie likes it.

His Alpha definitely likes it.

Eddie’s done the dishes, dries them, puts them away, and decides it’s time for another loop of the apartment to check on Jamie. He’s fine. He’s waving his arms about and making happy pup gurgling noises.

There’s a knock at the door. Sharp. Very confident; also very fucking annoying. Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve and, yup, whoever it is has disturbed Steve and he’s stretching on the couch, starting to wake.

Eddie answers the door, finding the most petite female alpha he’s ever seen in his life. She frowns spectacularly at the sight, and scent, of Eddie, “can I help?”

“This is Steve’s apartment.” It is not at all delivered as a question, and Eddie guesses if she knows Steve well, she can scent damn well that this is his apartment.

“...can I help?” Eddie repeats, trying his damnedest not to let his hackles rise at the strange Alpha pushing on their boundaries. There’s a new pup in the apartment, and Eddie’s Alpha is the most alert it’s ever been right now.

“Eddie, who is it?” Steve calls from inside, and the Alpha steps closer.

Eddie has to resist the urge to just slam the door, but he can’t stop himself from swinging the door tighter to himself, blocking the doorway with his body, when the Alpha takes a step forward.

“Steve, it’s Nancy,” she calls.

“Oh.” Steve says, and Eddie can’t work out that tone at all, “okay Eddie, she can come in.”

Eddie still pauses for a second, having a mad glare off with this tiny Alpha, before he backs down and makes just enough space for her to pass.

She ignores him, going straight in and hovering near the couch, clearly pausing when she catches sight of the pup, “I heard you’d had a pup but…”

Steve sighs, bending down from where he’s sitting to scoop Jamie up into his lap, “his name is James.”

Eddie can feel how fucking awkward this is, the atmosphere between these two palpable. Eddie debates leaving, for a split second, this isn’t actually, anything to do with him.

He doesn’t though, he can’t, he shuts the door, and then hovers awkwardly behind the couch, and behind Steve.

Nancy eyes him again, and Eddie stares right back. Steve sighs. “If you two want to have a pissing contest you can do it some place else. You’re making it stink in here.”

As if on cue, Jamie starts crying.

“You’re right, he should go,” Nancy says.

“Excuse you?” Eddie can feel his eyebrows dragging his whole fucking face up into a scowl.

“Oh no,” Steve stands, “we’re not doing this, Eddie, do you mind taking him a sec?”

Eddie swells with pride that Steve would trust him with the pup, right this second. He probably actually puffs his chest up like an idiot, but he can’t make himself care. He takes Jamie into the nursery, bouncing him and holding him so he can scent at his neck, making nonsensical shushing noises. Unfortunately he can’t hear Steve and Nancy talking over Jamie’s half formed warbling in his ear, but it only feels like a couple of minutes before the pup settles and the front door clicks shut.

Steve comes in, looking tired suddenly. Tired and worn, “you okay?”

Steve shrugs, “she just came to remind me that I’m a stupid omega.”

Eddie has to bite back a growl, “she what?”

Steve laughs, but it’s empty and there’s no humor in it, “she didn’t actually say that. She said I would have been better to have a little more security before I had a pup. That having an Alpha I’m not mated too around the place is a bad idea. She asked if you were the father.”

For a second, Eddie’s heart feels like it tries to beat twice in one go, “what did you tell her?”

“That I don’t know who the father is. Technically true, but I put it like that to get a rise out of her. She always thought I was...flighty.”

“That’s a very polite way of putting that.”

Steve shrugs, coming close and scenting the top of his pups head, “I just wanted a mate. A family. Someone serious,” he shrugs, “I guess you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs or whatever. Just never...found the one that turned out to be a prince.” And Steve scents sad. He scents so godamn sad, “but I’ve got Jamie now, and we don’t need anyone? Do we pup?”

Eddie excuses himself, and goes home.

The knocking at Eddie’s door could be described as fucking obnoxious, so Eddie knows it’s Robin before he yanks it open.

“Steve said he hadn’t seen you for a couple of days.”

“Uh hu.”

“He also said Nancy had been over, was she a bitch? Did she say something to you?”

“No-”

“So why are you avoiding Steve?”

“I am not avoiding Steve-”

“Great, so you won’t mind coming over then. Me and Chrissy brought take out.”

Eddie sighs down at his adventure Crocs, listening to the happy chatter from inside the apartment. He really needs to get it together. He forces himself to think about that fact that he’s just made an amazing new friend, and that he gets to be a part of Steve’s life, and that he should be happy with that.

He really, really needs to be happy with that.

He’s just, he thinks, gotten his shit under control enough to knock when Robin drags the door open, “oh, figured you’d gotten lost, was just about to mount a search and rescue."

Steve and the girls are piled onto the couch, so Eddie takes the armchair. Jamie’s in his Moses basket, off to one side where Steve can look over him. The coffee table is covered with take out.

“Eddie,” Steve smiles all happy at the sight of him, “we missed you, you been busy?”

“Uh, yeah, work, you know, got busy,” Eddie says lamely. He can feel Robin eyeballing him, so he ignores her in favor of duck rolls and chicken chow mien.

They go back to the conversation they were clearly having before Eddie arrived, “I’ll definitely go out with you,” Chrissy is saying, “I mean, I won’t be any good at it, I’ve literally never played basketball, but you can teach me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you have cheerleader reflexes. I just need to practice with someone to get back in shape before I go out with the guys again, you know.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy agrees, “just getting out there will do you good.”

Steve hums, “I’m already getting really restless, you know?”

“I’d be climbing the walls, have you been out for a run yet?”

“Couple of times, but was more of a brisk walk, with the stroller, but I felt so much better afterwards.”

“Well, when you do get out for one, let me know, I can come with you for the first few while you find your feet?”

“Yeah, that would be great, I don’t know how far I’ll manage, but I’ve really got to get moving.”

“Eddie, help me with the coffee?” Robin distracts Eddie away from Steve and Chrissy’s, quite frankly, horrifying conversation. Sports? Running?

“You look like you’re going through the seven stages of grief, or whatever,” Robin laughs at him.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I went though the same thing with Chris.”

“What...thing?”

She turns to him, rolling her eyes, “you just realized that you’ve fallen in love with a jock?”

“Oh. I-Oh no.”

“Oh, sure, I can watch Jamie,” Eddie finds himself agreeing easily.

Steve’s wearing...well. Eddie’s not sure. He can't look. They’re shorts, Eddie’s pretty sure. They’re...green, maybe? But the most important feature is that they’re so tiny as to be practically indecent. Hence Eddie maintaining fierce eye contact.

Behind Steve, Chrissy is...stretching? Eddie guesses that’s what that is? Steve’s already got a little color in his cheeks and he’s bouncing on the spot a little.

“I’m real out of shape so we won’t be gone long, okay? Like, half hour, max.”

“Sure,” Eddie grabs his keys and slides into his adventure Crocs.

“He’s literally just been fed and had a change, he should sleep the whole time. Obviously help yourself to anything,” Steve is saying as Eddie follows him down the hall, "I've got my phone, so just call if you need and we can come straight back."

Jamie is there in his basket, the TV playing something quietly, and Steve kneels and scents his pup real quick before he goes.

The curve of Steve's ass is peeking out of the bottom of the shorts, the milky skin inside his spread thighs- Eddie stares at the ceiling. Nope nope nope, “sure,” he tells Steve, and the ceiling, “we got this.”

Eddie waits for the door to click shut before he moves again, looking down at Jamie, who gurgles, "what the fu-I. Sorry. I shouldn't swear in front of you but, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with your dad, is the thing."

Jamie farts, and then starts to cry.

Eddie sighs.

Part Six

[neowonderland]

Summary: Jeno never truly understands why his boyfriend, Jaemin sticks next to you

Pairings: Poly! Nomin x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Jeno never truly understood why his boyfriend stuck around you.

Jaemin's free to do what he wants, free to spend time and sleep around with whoever. Jeno is free to do the same, but it doesn't stop him from judging Jaemin's decisions.

To Jeno, you were like a caricature of a human being, too sweet, too innocent, too naive. Jeno swears there isn't a thought behind your eyes when you gaze at his boyfriend, Jaemin with your doe eyes, wide, filled with admiration and listening intently to what Jaemin would say.

Jeno never understood why Jaemin would let you touch him, Jaemin letting your fingers card through his hair while he laid his head on your lap, your head resting on his shoulder or your arms wrapped around Jaemin while you two sat on the couch together.

To Jeno, you were a nuisance to both him and his boyfriend, an annoying moth that was drawn to Jaemin like a flame, a fly that could never seem to leave Jaemin alone. Jeno wished that Jaemin tolerated you out of politeness, but the shopping sprees, countless gifts, gentle words and affectionate glances seemed to say otherwise.

Maybe Jeno was jealous, seeing his precious boyfriends attention on someone else other than him. Maybe it was because Jeno wanted to monopolize Jaemin and have Jaemin dote on him the same way he dotes on you.

Either way, Jeno never understood why Jaemin spent so much time with you.

It didn't hit Jeno why until he stumbled upon you and Jaemin together in Jaemin's room, tied up in pretty pink ribbon underneath Jaemin.

Jeno supposes you're pretty in that moment, helpless under Jaemin with pink ribbon tied in knots and bows traveling on the expanse of your body. It's a pretty contrast against your skin and Jeno knows Jaemin probably picked that shade of pink with the thought of wrapping you in it.

You're crying too, large tears rolling down your face as you tell Jaemin to let you go, that you don't want this, that he can stop anytime he wants and that you won't tell anyone about this. Of course, Jaemin ignores you, opting to bully himself further into your walls, eyes fluttering and groaning as he feels you around him.

Jeno knows you're warm and so tight, almost too tight for Jaemin by the way Jaemins groans and how he tells you that you're "too tight" and that your insides are "not letting go" of him. Jaemin calls you his "little fucktoy" and how you must've been acting that way to get fucked by him.

Jeno guesses it's cute when you shake your head profusely at what Jaemin says, more tears spilling down as you try to form a response from your red, swollen lips. You're struggling against the ribbon, against Jaemin and that brings out a chuckle from him.

It isn't until Jeno bangs his fist against the doorframe that his presence is known and Jaemin invites him to come join him.

It isn't until Jeno is sinking himself into your heat that he truly understands exactly why Jaemin sticks around you.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi!! I love your work so much!!❤️❤️

Can I order pepperoni pizza, chunky treat bars, pumpkin sangria and white claw with Carlos Sainz from the fall/halloween bakery special??

Thank you and I hope it’s not too much to ask🥹

halloween menu - bakery menu

the halloween/fall menu is open until nov 2nd! fics will be updated daily! these prompts are special for the halloween season so get those orders in!! thank you so much for the submissions and i hope ya'll love what comes next! and thank you to @gguk-n for submitting this order! i hope you enjoy it!! <3

pepperoni pizza: "i wonder if that mascara will run when i'm finished with you." + chunky treat bars: "i'm getting you pregnant." + pumpkin sangria: pregnancy + white claw: slutty costumes served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, slutty costumes, pregnancy & kids, dirty talk, flatiron position, collars/chokers, large chested!reader, marriage, fun sex

maybe it was the slight language barrier, but it had never affected any other parts of your lives. so he couldn't blame it on that. when you told him what you were going for halloween, he had something totally in different in mind.

he was expected a funnier costume. you were a funny woman, you always made him laugh. that was part of your charm to him! so, when you said the word cow in relation to your halloween costume, he wasn't expecting what you walked out of the bedroom in.

whoever said it was a costume was a liar. it was a cow print bra and matching shorts (very short shorts, mind you), a headband with cow styled ears, clip on tail and a collar with a bell on it.

"my love." he said as he stepped closer, taking in every inch of you. he could feel the tightness in his jeans, "you said you were going as a cow? did i not hear you?"

you looked at the bra you wore then back to him. the bra was a push up and made your large chest look even bigger. that didn't help the situation in carlos' jeans worse. he loved you to pieces, and he was happy you were confident in your body.

"i am a cow."

he raised his eyebrows at you, "i haven't been to a farm in a while, but i don't remember cows looking like this." he took you by the waist and chuckled.

you held onto the front of his shirt, "do i look bad?"

carlos replied, "no, no. no way." he licked his lips. he then reached for your face and rubbed his thumb under your eye, "i wonder if that mascara will run when i'm finished with you."

"what about the party?"

carlos shrugged, "i think they'll survive without us." he eyed your breasts, "we can eat candy and make love tonight instead." he pressed a hot kiss against your lips. you moaned against it and wrapped your arms around your lover.

both hands reached to the shorts and groped your ass. his hands dug into the soft round flesh of your ass. the fabric felt nice under his hands, but he wanted what was in your shorts.

"fuck, carlos."

he pulled away and took you by the wrist to bring you to your shared bedroom. he sat on the bed and got his cock out of his jeans. he leaned back a little and stroked his cock as he admired you. he swallowed, "do a little turn before i tear it off of you."

you blushed, "i didn't know this would turn you on this much! i thought i was just being... cheeky."

he leaned forward a little, "well you're cheeky in another way." then licked his lips as you did a turn. your body on display for him and it riled him up. he didn't feel practically possessive over your dressed like this, but he did feel a rush of pleasure through him at how beautiful you looked.

when you did your spin, the bell rang and it only fueled the sexual fire in your husband's belly. then when you started to undress he piped up, "don't take off the collar, my love. it looks good on you."

you gave him a sly look, "oh, does someone like the cow look?" you giggled a little.

carlos took his hand off his cock to take off his white t-shirt. he said, matter-o-factly, "well, i'm getting you pregnant tonight. so, i guess i do love it." his words excited you.

you two had been trying to start a family for almost six months. with carlos' racing career was starting to slow down, it was time to start the next chapter. and that meant adding to your little family. and maybe that was a small reason why you chose such an outfit to wear tonight.

once you were nude, save for the choker with the bell on it, you got into bed with your husband. carlos quickly got his clothes off, and then joined your costume on the floor. you giggled as you laid on your stomach, carlos leaned in to kiss you on the neck. all the spots that made you squirm.

"beautiful, beautiful." he said lovingly as he got behind you. he rested on top of you. your legs were spread a little, letting your cunt be exposed to him. he continued to kiss your neck lovingly. he placed his hands on either side of you and raised his hips a little to get better access to your sex.

you moaned, "shit, carlos. honey." you replied. you made a soft noise as he pushed himself inside of you. you held onto the pillow under your head and kept your hips down onto the bed. the angle hit all the right places and it made heat bloom in your chest.

he shuddered, "that's it. that's it." he felt a knot in his chest for a moment from the excitement as he started to move against you. it wasn't particularly rough. carlos was very rarely rough with you, his movements were punishing.

he never wanted to hurt his wife.

you whined a little bit, "fuck, carlos. the feels good. your breasts rubbed against the soft covers as you arched your back a little from the pleasure of it all. your husband knew how to take care of you in every way he could.

you never went without, not in love, physical items or orgasms. carlos sainz adored you, loved more than words could describe. from a smile that pulled him in like a bee to a flower. to your powerful laugh that was infectious. you were his beloved, his angel, his wife.

you could be in rags and he'd still want to capture your lips in his and fuck you until you both felt amazing. he worshiped you like a higher power who improved his life every day. he loved you, it was as clear as that.

"mmm, my wife." he said as he continued to move against you. his thrusts were powerful, but slower. he wasn't bouncing you on his length, but rather feeling up every inch of you. his lips were close to the side of your neck where he knew you were ticklish.

you buried your face up against the pillows. you knew that you were getting your make-up on it. but it could all be cleaned later. it wasn't the first time you had gotten mascara all over the covers. carlos sometimes didn't know the meaning of patience to let you grab a make-up wipe.

the bell around your neck made noises from the movements of your husband's thrusts. it excited both of you, it added to the noises the two of you were making while you fucked.

"you feel amazing." he groaned.

you blushed. you then continued to make sweet noises as your husband fucked you. he thrusted in and out of you and it made everything run hot inside of you. he was painfully amazing like that. the kind of husband that made most jealous. someone so attentive and loving.

you were a confident woman who could carry her own, but carlos was always there to support you. he wanted to make you shine, he wanted to show the world how amazing you were. he would consider himself a fool if he tried to dampen your sparkle. ruin your shine.

"fuck, my love." you moaned as he brushed his lips against a particularly soft spot on your neck. your nipples grew hard and your cunt clenched around him. which made carlos groan from the feeling. you were beyond perfect.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

the bed shifted a little under your movements and the noises got louder. a happily married couple in the sheets together. the heat shared between you two. you felt a leap in your stomach and the heat in your core. the bell around your neck clanged with each of the movement and it turned carlos on even more.

you felt your climax come onto you. you held onto the pillow tighter and arched your back a little further from the feeling of it all. but carlos quickly kept your hips back onto the bed as he pushed further, as deep as he could go. you whined, "i'm cumming." as you finished around him.

he picked up the pace a little bit and really got to working your achy cunt. he made sure he had every inch inside of you. when he moved he still kept himself inside of you. his groans got louder and quickly after he finished inside of you. he cured under his breath and said that he loved you deeply.

you both laid there for a moment before carlos pressed a kiss to the center of your back before he pulled out and cuddled you up in his arms witha vast number of kisses against your heated skin.

"happy halloween, my love." he said, "keep the costume, but don't wear it to any parties."

-

this year, the costume you picked was a little different. when carlos said you were going as a cow, he liked what he saw a lot better. it was one of those character onsies made to look like a cow.

"i should've gone as a farmer." carlos chuckled while you gave him a look.

"i don't want to think of the implications. plus, i have my partner for this costume this year." then turned back to your five month on on the changing table, "isn't that right, you're my little cheesy boy this evening!" you beamed at your son. your comment made your husband snicker.

you were going as a cow and your son was going as a piece of cheese for his first halloween. which was just a yellow onesie you stuck spots onto to give the impression of cheese holes.

carlos had a matching cow costume too, but it was too hot to put it on at that moment. he had to admit, you looked as equally hot in that costume as you did from the year prior. especially as you held onto your son and peppered his little face with kisses.

the previous halloween wasn't one to forget, and he hoped this one would be as exciting to. even if you were much more covered up <3

[wandaslittlebird]

Alright, another professor Wanda drabble because I’m utterly whipped for her.

“I think spoken Russian is going to send me to an early grave,” You complained. “I’m good on the written and comprehension sections but the oral pronunciations…” You groaned dramatically, tossing your ‘Russian 101’ book out in front of you and dropping your arms so you were laying prone on bed.

Wanda picked up the book, reading through the dog-eared page you had been studying. “Is this the one you’re struggling with?” She pointed to one of the longer words at the top of the page. It had been twisting your tongue for hours.

You nodded. Wanda placed the book back in your hands and sat down next to you. “You know all the syllables. Just say it slowly, don’t try to cram the sounds together, just say them one at a time.”

You propped yourself back up on your elbows, squinting and bending forward to study the page. You sounded out the word slowly. Each syllable felt like an entire word of its own. It was by no means an elegant attempt, but it was technically correct.

Wanda slide down on the bed so she could press a kiss onto your lower back. “See?” She said, nuzzling the downward curve of her spine. “You’re getting it. Keep going. Try this one here.” She reached around you to point out a sentence at the top of the next page.

You spoke the words awkwardly and slowly, mentally trying to translate the foreign lettering into sounds. Wanda started tracing her way back up your spine, placing gentle kisses along each ridge.

“You’re a lot better at this than you think you are,” Wanda assured. “I could’ve never guessed this was your first semester taking Russian if I wasn’t the one teaching it to you.”

“Thank you, professor,” you teased. “I believe you’re to blame for my accelerated studies.” You could feel Wanda’s smile curl against your back.

“I suppose that is my job,” She teased, “making sure you excel.”

“Well then you’ll be devastated to know I have someone who’s serving as a terrible distraction to my studies.” You smirked, arching your back against her mouth.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed. “I’m sure whoever it is knows that you work too hard. And I’d bet she knows that you’re brilliant and you could’ve passed with flying colors without even opening the book.”

“As if she herself isn’t known for working herself to the bone,” you retorted.

“All the more reason to provide her with a wonderful distraction.” Wanda bit gently at the spot your neck met your shoulder. You rolled your head back, mouth falling open in a silent groan. “We can continue your studies, if you wish. Repeat after me: YA ves' tvoy.” (I am yours.)

You reached one hand back behind you, burying it in Wanda’s thick brown hair. You drew her ruby red lips back to your neck, encouraging more kisses and nips from the older woman. “YA ves' tvoy,” you repeated with easy confidence. These words came far easier to you than the long and complicated ones you were pulling from your books.

“You speak beautifully, sweet girl.” Wanda sucked at the skin behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered at sensation.“devochka milaya,” you said. “Sweet girl.”

“Mhm.” Wanda did not pull her mouth away from the soft skin of your neck. Your words weren’t entirely accurate, as the adjective came after the noun in Russian, but she was in no mood to be pedantic at the moment.

She adjusted her position on the bed, moving to straddle your hips rather than lying beside you. You whined when she pulled away, already missing the warm breath against your neck. The whines turned into moans when Wanda ground against her hips your ass. “I want to hear you say it again. Tell me you are mine,” she demanded.

You obeyed. “YA ves' tvoy,” you said again. The words came even more natural the second time around. “I am yours. I am all yours, my love.”

“YA ves' tvoy, moya lyubov,” She translated, adding in the ‘my love’.

You giggled. “Do you plan to fuck me until I can recite the entirety of the Russian language?”

Wanda chuckled mischievously, bending so her mouth was mere inches from your ear. “My love, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember English.”