#but then it’s just tense the whole time

[lady-of-endless]

"Veiled Intentions" (Hwang In-ho/Player 001/Front man x player!reader)

Summary: No game of cat and mouse ends well.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this fic to be done first. I'm happy to provide. He might be a little obsessive, but you should've expected it by now. Don't worry; I got a softer, heartfelt, and angsty fic on the go for tomorrow. Hope you'll enjoy this one until then, darlings!

(Squid Game masterlist here)

Whenever he flashed a smile to the team, no one noticed how the coldness of his eyes was somehow still persistent. The charm of his smile always eclipsed that detail. It was enough to successfully manipulate most players, except for you. The only one who seemed to see the bigger picture was you and he could sense it. No amount of calculated smooth-talking, apparent encouragement, or fake short smiles could trick you too.

The others seemed to accept him easily, either for the calmness that made him seem reliable or for the vital need to have more people with the same vote. Not you, and it was clear to him.

In-ho had a plan going on; he had no intention of wasting time and trying harder to trick you too, letting you do your silent judging. But still, you were slowly becoming more and more present in his mind. You weren't warming up to him, weren't impressed like the others. Why not? More importantly, why did he like it that way? You were smarter and he enjoyed watching you analyzing everyone around, including him. Yes, you were a problem for him, but he was almost proud of having such a fascinating problem to take care of.

In-ho was too good at looking relieved, and joyful whenever the other players from player 456's team made it during the games. You noticed a strange spark in his eyes whenever you also completed the games. Was he really relieved or just glad that with each game he was getting closer to taking care of you personally?

Even now, he was watching you silently when the speakers announced bedtime. You all remembered what was the plan Gi-hun came up with to stay safe and looked around for a lonely bed bunk. Your constant doubt pushed you to come up with a plan to figure him out and now it was the perfect time to strike.

In-ho was ready to make a strategic choice when your voice interrupted his thoughts again.

"Join me?" You asked bluntly, with a warm smile on your face. A fake smile, a reflection of his. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at your proposal. "For bonding time, getting along." You added, encouragingly, almost playfully, not to stir suspicion in others.

All the other teammates noticed how you kept your distance from him and were glad to see you try to get along.

In-ho almost wanted to chuckle at your reasoning but his expression remained composed. He could tell that you were trying to convince him with your charm and that you only played a role. And he was doing the same.

"Lead the way then." In-ho responded calmly, as always.

In-ho had a small, almost imperceptible smirk on his face the whole time following you, and his eyes were glued to the nape of your neck. How could he ignore you?

You crawled carefully under a bed that was placed closer to a corner no one else chose. A shiver ran down your spine when he joined you effortlessly, making almost no sound at all. The lights dimmed. However, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the space from under the beds was not enough for two. Both of you were lying down on your backs, staring at the bed from above. His shoulder was pressed against yours, the feeling was impossible to push aside.

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing the tight space and sighing deeply. Why didn't you think this through? In-ho was amused by your frustration and how your body tensed next to his.

"You seemed so sure about this." He teased with a mocking tone he didn't even try to hide.

The way his voice sounded so intimate in the dark and how his warmth surrounded you, were making it hard to stick to the plan. You grew a little hotter under your clothes but you had to go for it. You took a breath in and spoke in a whisper.

"I can see right through your tactics." You said bluntly, still looking at the bed from above to avoid his gaze, knowing how intense it gets sometimes. You were almost proud of the sternness of your tone. "What are your intentions?"

He didn't respond right away, taking time to just look at your expression. In-ho was a meticulous man, he was expecting that question sooner or later from you.

"Wasn't I clear from the start?" In-ho asked calmly, almost innocently, switching his position to lay on his stomach and elbows, never losing sight of you. That position forced you to look up at him, exactly the way he liked it. He was getting too comfortable for someone who was cornered. Seeing how there was no sign of panic or surprise on his face, the previous boost of confidence was starting to slowly diminish in you.

"I think we both know what I mean." You added coldly, letting him know you've had enough of his games. He could feel your patience running thin and he was enjoying it.

Your assumption was true; you were so close to figuring it out but, at the same time, so far away, so clueless about what he really wanted, what he really was capable of. It gave him the freedom of acting anyways he wanted for a little bit.

"Indeed." He said, seeing an opening and moving a hand to the opposite side of your face on the floor, making it look like he was just supporting himself and not caging you. "And that's because you're playing the same games, don't you agree?" He asked smoothly. He watched as you rolled your eyes and looked away to hide your real reaction, taking you longer to respond. In-ho didn't insist, wanting to take his time exposing you bit by bit. When you turned your head back at him to answer, your heart halted, words dying. Your eyes met intimately, his face was even closer than expected.

"It won't work with me." His breath touched your lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear to see your face better. He frowned when he caught himself giving in to his instincts, his fingertips caressing your cheek and stopping on your lower lip without thinking.

"But your tries were..." He added, applying pressure on your sensitive skin and moving his lips even closer to yours slowly. "Entertaining, to say the least."

In-ho watched your expression closely, observing the details of your face in the dark. He couldn't get enough that moment but his face didn't betray any sign of the greed that was coursing through him. So he didn't stop there, using the momentum of your shock.

"Was it fun?" He asked, mercilessly but blissfully tormenting and playing you. "To feel like you had the upper hand?" He whispered while his hand descended to the base of your neck.

In-ho looked at your parted lips again, waiting for your answer and not moving away. There was a storm of conflicted thoughts in your mind and the warmth of his palm on your pulse point was not helping you find a good answer in time.

"Answer me." His grip tightened slightly, his tone smooth yet demanding. "And look at me, darling"

You looked up at him and nodded, admitting silently. Finally, you understood what you got yourself into and felt more than exposed. It was frustrating how easily he switched the roles from being the one interrogated to the one asking whatever he wanted.

You shivered at the sight of his subtle smirk. It was nothing like the bright fake smile he offered to the team. One corner of his lips curled upwards while the rest of his expression remained composed. His eyes glinted with icy, calculated sharpness. Finally, you could see him, whoever he was, and not the simple player 001.

In-ho was studying her, thinking about how you weren't aware of the effect you had on him from how well he was concealing it. Still, none of your questions were answered.

"What are you going to-"

"Hush." He murmured against your lips, cutting your words. "Don't wake the others."

In-ho slowly traced your collarbones through the thin material of the shirt with your player number and placed his whole palm on your chest over your racing heart. He paused, just to feel your heart, taking credit for its hectic beating. The silence that surrounded you was not helping either, you could hear every breath, every move, enhancing the intimate feeling so much you had to remind yourself that you were still in the middle of a sick challenge with daily deadly games.

He looked back into your eyes and spoke softly, seeing your inner conflict, wanting to distract you from it. "I've caught you staring at me so many times."

"I was just spacing out." You whispered, not hesitating this time but still telling him another lie.

Even the always calm, rarely out of character In-ho chuckled at that. It was a pleasant, unfiltered but still strange sound.

"Liar." He said while caressing your hair again but making sure to tug gently at the roots as a warning. "You had so many opportunities to push me away since we got under here." He whispered, almost tenderly, meaning it. His eyes were not locked on yours. Was it because he was letting himself think out loud? "But you don't want to do that..." He added, pausing his touches, giving you time to object. But the truth was that your denial ended with him calling you 'darling'. That waited objection never came and In-ho understood.

With that, he allowed himself to take what he wanted. He thought to himself that it was inevitable. His lips found yours with an unexpected gentleness despite his restrained hunger. The hellhole you were trapped in seemed to fade away with the way his lips explored yours. His fingers tightened possessively against your skin as the kiss deepened. His warmth was embracing you blissfully but his tongue was making you dizzy with each breath he was stealing from you.

After what felt like time, bending to his will, In-ho broke the kiss slowly. Even if you didn't say a word, he still covered your lips with his finger for a moment.

"I'm expecting you to still be smart about this and keep it private." He spoke in your ear, an expectation or a warning. "Do that and you'll be safe no matter what."

What you couldn't understand was that this was a hidden promise. If you kept whatever he gave you a secret for yourself, he would pull all the strings to get you alone with him, away from that game.

[penwiper26]

Present tense has been a mainstay of literary fiction for, I'd say the past 50 years -- which is not to say that it's the only or most common choice, just that particular schools of writers have been going to present tense for a sense of dramatic immediacy for the past generation or so.

I confess I have found it an annoying trend, especially as it developed a mirroring popularity in fanfiction at the exact same time that I was developing my own style which is, well, quite different though maybe more traditional.

Tense is an inextricable part of perspective, what we usually call POV; I have encountered other writers who think that first person POV and third person POV should have the same goal -- that is, to exclude the author's voice as absolutely as possible and have the character's perspective occupy the narrative space all the way to the margins. This is just as dogmatic a view as past ideas that serious writing needed to have a stable and authoritative narrator, and in my experience, it seems even more dogmatic, which has added to my frustration. I think you can write vivid and true-to-life characters without using skin-tight third person POV, and it's sad to me that you can't write an omni narrative like Richard Adams anymore and expect to be taken seriously. I mean, I fully acknowledge that this is me shaking my cane at the sky, but literally so much contemporary fiction is written in first person/tight-third POV and present tense that I think it's developing new writers into thinking that all other kinds of perspective are obsolete in the way that technology becomes obsolete.

In any case, I have stubbornly stuck to what I call wide-angle third person POV -- not really omni, but not dedicated to establishing one character's voice as exclusive to any other shades of perspective -- and will use present tense for certain effects. But I use present tense sparingly for the most part. It's like planting mint, you just want it for your summer iced tea and before you know it it's taking over the whole chronology and you find it among the dahlias or something.

(Since English as a language has a very analytic tense system -- verbs are present tense and modify to a simple past, and all future or progressive tenses are either past or present tense with different helping verbs (when you stop to think about it, how weird is it that "will have been eating" is a single future-tense verb conjugation?) -- I wonder if it's less fraught to choose a narrative tense in more synthetic (in the linguistic sense) languages. But I'm not as fluent in other languages as I'd like to be and can't report on the writing there.)

Robert Alter's The Pleasures of Reading in an Ideological Age has a great chapter on perspective, and I credit it for a lot of my understanding of how writers evoke narrative nuance. I don't share Alter's opinions about everything, but as a book about reading it's a great resource for writers!

I am thinking about fan fiction writers, but anyone who writes any kind of fiction can answer. (As far as I’m aware, non-fiction is usually written in the past tense - but if I’m wrong do let me know!)

If you like, explain why in the tags!

When I was young I gathered that all serious works of fiction were written in the past tense (past tense third person to be precise) so that is what i did when I started writing. However my mind was blown by the power and immediacy of Margaret Atwood writing in the present tense so I started to experiment with it myself, and now i strongly favour it. I get the impression that past is still the most commonly used, but I’m prepared to be surprised!

Please share!

[yutarot]

ride or die. l.jn smau

018 — for her, i am.

(a/n: u might wanna grab some popcorn for this one.)

JENO POV

“i know who leaked my secret.”

he had said it so quickly that he forgot the words had even come from his mouth.

jaemin stares at him, eyes wide in a mix of shock and weirdly, sadness.

but then jeno realises why. he had let jaemin be bullied, staying silent as all of his friends attacked him. he had done nothing.

jaemin didn’t care that jeno knew who it was, he didn’t care who had ruined jeno’s life, because jeno had ruined his. he thought that jeno thought it was him, he had assumed that’s why jeno did nothing, out of hatred, out of anger. but now, now it made no sense. jeno was meant to be his bestfriend.

jeno became angry at the thought. not at jaemin, but at himself. and he hadn’t even explained to him the whole story yet, he hadn’t even told him who it was.

jaemin spoke first after their silence.

“you better start explaining.” jaemin says, and rightfully so. jeno feels as if he should had done the explaining a while ago, he wanted to. but it all happened too quick. he never got the chance.

he doesn’t know why, but he feels like jaemin and him aren’t going to be the same after this. not after what he’s about to tell him.

jaemin grows inpatient, angry even.

“come on, jeno, im not gonna sit here and wait for the fucking grass to grow!!”

jeno says nothing still, and this only makes jaemin’s anger worsen. but he just doesn’t know what to say, how to word the sentence that will ruin their friendship.

“WHO WAS IT JENO?” jaemins grabbing his shirt at this point, and there’s nothing he can do but close his eyes and take it. “WHO WAS IT YOU HAD TO PROTECT SO MUCH TO THE POINT WHERE YOU HAD TO LET ME GET PUSHED AROUND, HUH? WHO SPILLED YOUR FUCKING SECRET, WHO DID YOU FEEL WAS SO SPECIAL TO YOU THAT YOU COULDNT SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE?!! WHO WAS IT, JENO?! WHO W-“

jeno’s heart races. his fists clench. his arms tense.

he snaps.

“IT WAS ME!”

jaemin stills.

he lets go of jeno’s shirt.

his eyes never divert from his, his last breath never leaving. they both stand in the apartment lobby, the cold air of outside, breezing through the window, half cracked open, the distant buzz of the vending machine whirring in the corner and the deep hue of the midnight sky absorbing the light from around them.

they’re silent, they’re still.

neither of them dare to speak.

until jeno notices jaemins face.

it’s not anger, it’s not sadness. it’s pity.

“it was me.” jeno’s voice is lower now. “i leaked my own identity.” he looks at the floor, in both solemnity and shame.

“why?” jaemin asks. “why would you do that to yourself?”

“i didn’t know it would spread so fast. i posted it on an anonymous account before my race. i wasn’t expecting it to be spread so quick, let alone on national news. i thought it would be slow, i was going to tell you, i was going to tell everyone. i had decided i didn’t want to be samo anymore. but the speed of it all… i wasn’t ready yet, i hadn’t prepared yet, i hadn’t told her.”

jaemin stills at the mention of you.

“so that’s why.”

jeno nods.

“you’re an idiot.” jaemin says, throwing jeno’s words back at him.

but jeno isn’t laughing.

“for her, i am.”

that’s where he realises the gravity of it all. that both of their deception had all come down to the route of one thing, of one person.

you.

jeno continues. “do you know what she told me when we first got into that fake relationship?”

jaemin shakes his head.

“she told me that she didn’t understand why i liked living as samo more than jeno. and usually, i did. i loved living as samo, it was the only time that i was able to really be myself. but when she came along, i realised something. i realised that i didn’t want to be samo anymore, i wanted to be the person that she knew. technically, she knew samo, yes. but it was me, as jeno, that she truly knew. and when she told me that i should just live as jeno, avoid all the public attention and just go outside without a mask, i realised that she was right, that that’s who i wanted to be. i wanted to be me, because of her. so when she told chenle who i was, i should have been mad, i should have been pissed. but, truly? i was relieved. she had done the first step of my journey herself, i could break off the deal. i could explain that i didn’t care about it anymore. i could explain that i wanted to date her for real. but i didn’t do any of that. i was still angry, i was angry at the reason why she had told chenle. he ruined it all. i couldn’t explain it to her, what i really wanted. because she liked him. and it only confirmed my suspicions when i found that stupid fuckers hoodi-“

jeno realised he had be talking for too long when jaemin began to smile.

“oh man i’ve been waiting for you to say that for the longest time, that you want to be yourself.” he pulls him into a brief hug as he speaks, as if he hadn’t even heard the second half of jeno’s rant.

after a second, jaemin pulls away before stating the obvious truth of what’s staring them both in the face, “if only it wasn’t because of her.”

reality dawns on him, pushing on him like an incoming storm. “im sorry jaemin, but ive made up my mind.”

jaemin nods, expecting jeno to say more. but he doesn’t, he just walks to the elevator, clicking the floor to their dorm. jeno hopes that jaemin forgets all about you, that he puts his feelings for you aside. but he knows jaemin too well, he knows no matter how much he tries, jaemin will never forget you.

“you getting in?” jeno says, a smile plastered on his face.

jaemin grins back before running to the elevator to join him.

jeno was going back home.

well, he will be once he fixes things with you.

jaemin lets out a sigh, seeming deep in thought. “you sacrificed everything for her.”

jeno looks at him, an understanding of what he means by this.

“jaemin-“

“i’ll take the fall for it.” he says, a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t have to tell them it was you yet, if you’re not ready.”

jeno panics, “i can’t let you do that. not anymore.”

“please let me.” he fidgets, watching the numbers on the elevator screen climb up, and up, and up. “it’s the most i can do.”

jeno doesn’t know what to say, just like before. so he does the easiest thing. even though he knows he shouldn’t, he does what he knows he’s going to regret.

the elevator dings to a halt.

he lets him.

a sacrifice for a sacrifice.

previous : mlist : next

notes; it’s been so hard tryna keep this secret guys u have NO idea

taglist — open! @jenohyun @jirsungs @do-you-remember-summer-127 @ddolbyong @stqrgr7 @thatsatricky1 @sunghoonsgfreal @nattan127 @ssweetreveries @flamingi @chenlesfavorite @peterm4rker @snoopyjimin @akunoeyebrows @junviadinho @slayhaechan @f6llsun @multifandomania @cookiehaos @catecita @mrsjohnnysuh @luv4jeno @hyuckies18 @dreamiestay @tangerinelovelees @jjaegyeom @https-yeonjun @nanaxwi @yukisroom97 @nosungluv @mrkleelvr @neocrashed @jaedgemental @apolloxxivmin @kyubing @catdonut657 @dudekiss3r @juyeonshour @hamjwis @antifrggile @mmjhh1998 @thegracerammy @jenocity23 @honeynanamin @bluedbliss @lampcults @yyangj3lly

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[mothekko]

Her woman.

Where Ambessa demands your attention after a long trip.

Ambessa Medarda x fem!reader Warnings: alcohol drinking, buff reader, reader is implied to be lesbian, slightly sub!ambessa, fluff, no-smut, kisses<3 mwah mwah. Word count: 968.

notes: ambessa my beloved (not just mine but of course my best friend's beloved too), i had this idea yesterday when she cried cause every reader is always the girly girl type, never a big woman with big everything (including her arms 😛), anyway, enjoy reading as I did writing :3 xoxo

MEN AND MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ambessa was not a fragile lady, no. She was far from this. First, she was the type of mercilessly war dog everyone heard about. Her fingers were not as delicate as some women tried to imagine.

Oh, and you knew it. You knew her hands were stronger than any other woman you ever had an affair with. She was delicate, but rough. She was firm and strong, and for God’s sake, you could listen to all the girls and boys in the whole Noxus almost moaning for her, just by seeing her walk on the streets. She didn't pay too much attention, she had her business with you. She came back from war, her fatigue was noticeable in her letters, and you analyzed them perfectly, all of them.

As much as you knew about her weariness, she always asked you for a visit, and how could you deny the woman who gave you your position as high guard in Noxus? The more time passed, your attention was drawn to the dark streets of Noxus, scantily clad women didn't attract you, even though it was the complete opposite for you and they sometimes tried to attach themselves to your belt, along with the axe and sword that were in the hem of your pants and back. The icy wind touched your hair, two braids made by the war general framed your face. It wasn't usual for you to leave your hair loose, but after weeks, or months, without seeing each other, the braids were Ambessa's only request.

You looked across the horizon, all the tents closed and quiet, but that one... that central one, which you knew who was inside; the candles flickering in the air were warming someone. Ambessa was waiting for you. As you approached the place, your muscles tensed in suspicion as you entered the tent. You sighed and Ambessa looked back, a smile from her brightened up her face. A woman like her? Smiling? You're lucky.

“Night, ma’am…” You said, the smell of alcohol around the place was a little too much this time, but well, it’s Ambessa, after all. “Too much to handle this time? Or drinking for fun?”

She didn’t answer you, not like she usually does. She silently invited you to sit next to her, moving the wine bottle to the side on the floor. Cautiously you walked through the tent, until you reached her side, and before you could even sit down, she settled her head on your waist. Her mind was heavy with thoughts.

Ambessa without her usual clothes, smiling, and laying her head on you? Of course something was wrong. But this kind of wrong is not so bad, not at all. At least she was showing some affection. 

“Listen, darling… don’t ask any questions today… I just want you to be good for me.” She said, she doesn’t look drunk. Does she? “These months without you made me so bored, you know…”

You kindly touched her hair, asking yourself what you should do in that situation. 

“Ma’am, you’re not drunk, are you?” You laughed, looking a little closer. You touched her face, checking her eyes, and suddenly, she removed your hand and sighs deeply. 

“You know me too well, sugar. Maybe I should pretend harder next time…” You finally felt like everything was okay, she was lying and that’s all. “Are you gonna sleep here tonight?” she took a sip of wine “Or will I wake up with a boy calling me out for being too sleepy?”

A sigh escaped your lips, a frustrated sigh now. You looked straight at her, sitting by her side. 

“Listen, ma’am, I always told them to send a woman to wake you up, look at me, do I look like someone who likes any kind of boy here?” She shook her head. “That’s what I thought. And, who said you’re too sleepy? These boys around here have no fucking respect for you…”

You pulled the woman closer, holding her tightly. She was warmer than you, obviously because you were outside thirty minutes ago, but still, that makes your heart skip a beat. Again you move your hands to her cheek, and she looks at you with those shining eyes.

“What a beautiful woman I see…” You said. And then, you gently kissed her lips, in a simple way. You used to kiss each other, nothing new. But it was definitely special this time. You felt like it was. Her hands, which had been resting on her thigh, now moved up so that they could rest on your waist. “Won’t you tell me about your…”

She shut you with a finger to your lips, kissing you again calmly, caressing your war scarred face. Your arms, which were a bit stronger than hers, held her against your body, feeling how fast her heart was beating.

“I have to be careful… or you’ll become stronger than me, imagine if they put you in my place?” She made you chuckle softly, moving a hand down to rest on her back.

“You’re making no sense, ma’am. I could never replace you. But I’m happy you noticed…” 

“Well… I always notice, sweetheart.” She gave you a peck on the lips, snuggling into your chest. “You’re my woman, and I know when you get stronger.”

She said it so casually, with her closed eyes as if she was almost asleep; you wouldn’t doubt it. She had just arrived from a long trip after all.

“Your woman…? Mhm… yeah, you’re definitely sleepy. Goodnight, ma’am… I’ll wake you up tomorrow…”

You could hear a “finally” coming from her as she snuggled into your body. You picked her up, taking the woman to the bed, blowing the candles, pulling the blankets over you, finally spooning her from behind and nuzzling her neck.

[mimiii-3]

Saboteur

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: typical yandere themes, darling is gn too

Imagine being a batsib but not the family’s platonic darling…

���� - Bruce rescues some poor, defenseless young adult during an armed robbery

🦇 - Bruce and the rest of the batfam become obsessed and begin their relentless pursuit of the darling

🦇 - You have no clue why they’re so obsessed with this person but you’re desperate for validation & attention so you join in

🦇 - After several months of recon and stalking, they kidnap the darling and bring them home

🦇 - Cue the usual yandere shenanigans where the batfam is desperate for the darling’s love and for them to willingly join the family

🦇 - The darling can’t help but gravitate towards you, the outcast and most calm one of the group

🦇 - You begin a tentative friendship with the newcomer despite your burning jealousy

🦇 - One day you notice the darling sneakily grab a kitchen knife and stuff it in their pocket

🦇 - You go to Bruce and tell him about the knife

🦇 - Bruce pats you on the head and tells you “good job” before running off to find the darling

🦇 - You feel your chest puff, beaming with pride at your father’s approval

🦇 - This is what starts the new toxic push and pull between you and the darling

🦇 - Every time the darling breaks one of Bruce’s rules, you are the first to go and snitch

🦇 - All while maintaining your friendship with the darling

🦇 - The darling’s escape attempts die down as they get caught over and over again

🦇 - You, desperate for even more of your father’s affection, begin to set up the darling

🦇 - You leave a rogue nail under their mattress or remove one of Tim’s trackers from their room

🦇 - Anything that you can get the darling in trouble for

…

The darling sits at the head of the table, hand lightly shaking as they quickly down the hearty meal. The atmosphere is tense and you can’t help but slip your hand over your mouth, suppressing a giddy smile.

Bruce sits on the other side of the table. His tense shoulders give away the storm brewing inside. He’s angry and no one knows why. No one but you.

Just before dinner you had revealed to Bruce that darling was harboring a sewing needle. Claiming that they must have taken it from Alfred’s kit.

Bruce nodded solemnly before giving your shoulder as small squeeze. Bruce let out a pointed sigh, “Thanks for keeping an eye out kiddo.”

You respond with a quick “Yessir” and make your way to the dining room.

…

Bruce suddenly breaks his silence at the table and throws the sewing needle in the center of the table.

The darling inhales sharply and casts their gaze down onto their meal. Praying that he wouldn’t interrogate them again.

Their eyes begin to dart up and down between their food and you. They give you a desperate, pleading look in hopes that you would back the up.

You press your lips together and shake your head. You try to look as upset as them, like the whole thing makes you sick.

You can practically see the darling’s stomach drop as Bruce clears his throat, “We need to talk.”

Extra notes: I love shady, desperate reader😈 Hmmm but what if Bruce and co. suddenly realize they’re yandere for reader too

[amiaclone]

begging on my knees pls write se-mi (player 380) x reader where se-mi is flirting with reader but she’s completely oblivious!!!

love ur work!

Thank you! And yes i will I’ve gotten so much se mi 🥲 can’t blame you though she’s gorgeoussss

Se-Mi x gn! Reader

“Wow the money is as worth to me as being by your side”

“Aw really? Thanks!”

Se-Mi mentally sighed this was a very obvious pick up line too!

It’s not like you were stupid when Nam-Gyu tried to insult you in a complimenting way you weren’t afraid to talk back and call out the insult you were just……oblivious about flirting that’s all

Se-Mi immediately took a liking to you the second she started talking to you and decided to protect you in the games so….she could have some fun with you when we’re here and maybe even communicate outside the games

Luck was not on her side as you barely reciprocated her flirty gestures

Maybe you just aren’t into her? Could be it hopefully not maybe she should just confess?

I mean she’s tried everything comparing you and your beautiful looks to random objects hand holding just simply being nice and those lovey-dovey qoutes rarely……Does she have to go Thanos level for you to realise your flirting with her?

She’d never do that as that would make her lose all respect for herself

Anyways here she is hanging out with you away from her annoying team just talking to you

“Soo-“

“Huh?” *She suddenly turned her head to you she was daydreaming….about you*

“Nothing you seemed tense that’s all. You’ve been spacing out a lot today does this mean we’re getting closer?” *You smiled sweetly Se-Mi honestly couldn’t tell if you were flirting or not*

“I suppose so” *She smiles* “Just thinking about important stuff that’s all”

You quirked an eyebrow smiling “A strategy for the games? It better be that cause honestly we barely survived this game someone smart and pretty like you definitely knows what to do…”

Se-Mi smiled a bit maybe she wasn’t being dense but to her you definitely had feelings for her which is a relief but she has to be sure “Yeah sorry not that when i do i promise I’ll tell you first you’re probably my favourite person here”

You smiled “Aw don’t be cheesy….you’re definitely my favourite person too”

It cues to you all with your team you formed! All alliance Se-Mi can barely tolerate but atleast you and Min-Su were on it

You left to go to the bathroom so then Thanos turned to Se-Mi “So when are you gonna tell them?”

Se-Mi quirked an eyebrow frowning “Tell them what?” Thanos leaned back “Senorita it’s so obvious you’re into her….you think we’re all as dense as her or something?”

“Don’t call them that”

“Ooh! She so does like her!” *His annoying friend Nam-Gyu giggled like a preschooler*

Se-Mi sighed “And what if i do? It’s not like it’s any of your business”

Thanos smirked a bit “Well i for one don’t care about whatever you do with your relationships but the flirty mushy stuff is killing my vibe…..besides what if you or her died?”

She rolled her eyes “Hypocrite” she thought to herself

He was right about one thing though if you did die she’d be pretty upset in general but especially not confessing…..what if you don’t feel the same way? Honestly she doesn’t even care she’ll confess….after the next game she promised that

Cues to mingle it was the second round Se-Mi has been holding your hand the whole time you swear it’s stuck to her

“Uh Se-Mi-“

“Quick!”

The number was five Thanos kicked out Gyeong-Su and she dragged you and Min-Su barely

You breathed heavily while barely making it into the room you stared at Se-Mi she sighed “Well atleast we were stuck together the whole time…..like mates or something”

You sighed smiling “Yeah mates…..good friends”

Se-Mis grinded her teeth

You ended up losing Se-Mi during one of the later rounds as Thanos kicked her out and eventually you and you’ve been barely trying to survive

Eventually it was one of the last rounds before you could even process who grabbed you and dragged you into the room it was locked

You signed in relief that Se-Mi was alive “Se-Mi..”

She smiled back in relief that you were still alive thankfully it was the last round “Atleast we’re alone in this together…..”

It was true we’d be in room for about 30 seconds till the hoodies took the bodies

You thooght for a second “Yeah….I’m glad it’s you though and not some creep….”

Se-Mi didn’t even care that you didn’t get gesture since atleast you both were alive

The two of you walked out in time cue Se-Mi avoided Thanos and dragged you away incase they tried to bother you

You and Se-Mi were then eating your food here she was pondering in thought again

You frowned she’s been thinking a lot lately is something bothering her? Is it someone at home? You were gonna finally ask that

“Hey Se-Mi…..are you okay?”

She snapped her head towards you “I’ve just been thinking about……something really important”

You smiled sweetly “Well you don’t have to tell me I’m just worried that’s all”

Se-Mis heart warmed over it “Well…..It’s you”

You laughed a bit “Me? Seriously do you have a crush on me or something”

Se-Mi could barely process what you just said is she supposed to laugh say she loves you in tears? It came off as “Well….Yeah i do like you”

“Oh why didn’t you make it obvious?” You quirked an eyebrow “I like you too”

[yoitsjay]

hi hi! Ok ok hear me out… what if we and Jason went out clubbing together and we end up somehow forgetting we’re a lightweight and get drunk drunk. Im just craving some fluff of him taking care of usss. Ok anyways thank you so much!! Drink some water :)

-🦇

I love this! Thank you 😊

Take care of me

Summary: Your drunk, and he takes care of you. (Could probably make a short pt 2 blurb too)

Word count: 2721

A/n: i needed some fluff, thank you anon! Can be red as female or gn, I put both in the tags but there is a mention of tits so, mostly fem.

This was one of the rare times that Jason actually got to act like his age. He just turned 21 (not like he actually obeyed the drinking laws) but he had never been to a club before, and your birthday was right before his, so you both decided to go together, as 21 year olds, having fun.

And despite the amount of people flirting with him, he stuck by your side throughout the whole night, though not even halfway through, your draped across his arm, obviously *very* drunk.

Now he's helping you outside towards the Uber he just called to take both you and him home.

"Dude you're drunk, come on let's go home. I'll take care of you." He muttered softly, helping you into the car.

You let out a soft groan as he helped you into the Uber. You slumped into the back seat, holding your head in your hands as Jason climbed in beside you.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to pause when all you felt was vomit rising to your throat. At least you had enough decency to close your mouth and will it to go away. Instead, you rested your head on Jason's shoulder, groaning again.

He chuckled quietly at how out of it you were, patting you gently on the shoulder as the car began to move. He glanced down at you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" He murmured gently, though you shook your head. He snorted "You better not throw up in this car or I'll make *you* pay the guy." His tone was gently teasing as he poked you.

You let out another soft groan, turning your face and pressing it into Jason's arm, like you were trying to hide it.

"Shut up." You grumble quietly, feeling the Uber begin to drive through traffic to your apartment. Your arm immediately gripped around Jason's, as if grounding yourself so you didn't vomit. This was definitely going to be a long night, in his opinion.

Soon enough however, you arrived at your apartment building. With Jason's arm around your waist, you made your way up to the elevator, and to your floor of the building.

He chuckled silently under his breath at your drunk mumbling as he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you upright. He was silently glad you were holding onto his arm, if you leaned on him anymore he'd probably fall over too… though not really, he was like a brick wall.

"Come on, let's get you to your apartment before you pass out in the hall." He teased, helping you keep your balance as you walked down the hall. How he *didn't* feel drunk bewildered you, though you didn't say anything.

He leaned you against the wall as he fished your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and opening it for both of you. You didn't mind, in fact, your sober mind was probably grateful that he even knew what pocket your keys were in, so he didn't have to frisk you to find out.

That would be awkward.

Once the door was open, you tried to push yourself up, though you could feel your knees begin to buckle, and you quickly grasped on to your brick wall of a friend, groaning.

"I'm never drinking again." You murmured, letting him lead you inside, up the stairs of your loft to where your bed resided.

You laid down, hugging the pillows close, before tensing up. "Jason-" you choked out, looking at him as you sat up, clutching your stomach. "Trash can-”

Jason's eyes widened slightly and quickly scrambled, searching your apartment for a trash can, which he quickly found, and dashed back to your side. "Here." He said quickly, holding the trash can in front of you just as you started tossing up your birthday shots.

He cringed slightly, holding up your hair and rubbing your back as you hunched over. Why couldn't you have just drank water like he told you to?

though, those thoughts were not the ones running through your mind right now, rather:

Jason was a good friend. That was the only thing really running through your mind as he held your hair up with one hand, and rubbed your back with the other as you clutched the trash can and threw up all the alcohol, and what little food you did eat that night.

You knew he told you to drink water, but that was the night for you to act like a reckless 21 year old.

Boy did you fucking regret it.

Once you finished vomiting, you groaned, lifting your head up slowly as you grabbed some tissues from your bedside table, wiping your lips before tossing the tissue into the trash, slumping against your friend.

"M'sorry" you whimpered out, tears welling in your eyes. Ah, here come the drunk tears. "I'm a bad friend, s- shoulda listened to you." You sniffed, trying to blink away the tears.

Jason couldn't help but chuckle at your drunken tears though, he could already tell you were going to be hung over the living hell tomorrow. *he'd keep you company though.*

He rubbed your shoulders as you slumped against him, shaking his head gently.

"You're not a bad friend, just a bit drunk." He teased you. *And maybe a bit of an idiot for not listening to him.*

"Why don't you get some rest, yeah?" He mutters softly, you hummed in response, looking up at him with teary eyes before you blinked, and nodded.

"Okay." You muttered, nodding your head again. "Can you grab me... water... please?" You asked him, trying your best not to slur your words. "I'm gonna change." You grumbled to herself. *or at least try too*.

Jason nodded, slowly helping you sit up and then standing up on his own, walking down the stairs, looking around your kitchen before finding the water.

He filled a glass full and then grabbed a couple of painkillers for when you woke up, heading back up the stairs.

"I'm back, here's your water." He said gently, handing you the water and the painkillers.

When he had come back, you had managed to get the back of your dress unzipped, and down to your hips, but you were face planted on your bed, sobbing, because you couldn't get the zipper down the rest of the way to get it down your legs.

When you heard Jason come back, you turned your head and extended your arms to him and made grabby hands in his general direction, not really caring at the moment that he was seeing her in your bra, just grateful for the painkillers and water, which you took somewhat clumsily, still laying down, before setting them down on the nearby side table.

"Need your help." You pleaded, looking up at him with the classic puppy eyes, like your favorite emoji ‘🥹’. "Zippers stuck.” You whined out.

He couldn't help chuckling at the sight of you crying on the bed, face down on your mattress as you tried to unzip your dress. *Why did you pick today to be drunk?* he asked himself. Though, the answer was quick to follow. The big 2 1 birthday.

He sighed and walked over to you, holding back more of his laughing as he looked down at you, before nodding. "Yeah, alright, turn around." He said to you, his voice holding suppressed laughter.

"Don't laugh at me!" You cried out, grasping at his arms as he helped you up to your feet, before helping you turn around. You gently brushed your hair over one shoulder, showing off how the dress was bunched up around your hips, the zipper just needing to be tugged down a bit more so you could get the dress off.

"Your mean." You grumbled to yourself, though you didn't mean it, of course.

He just smiled and rolled his eyes as he got you up and turned around. You looked so pathetic, but he couldn't help finding you cute like this. But now was not really the time to be thinking dirtier thoughts. You were his best friend, and he needed to take care of you.

"Sure." He agreed sarcastically, looking at your back, admiring the smooth skin, the few healed scars that littered it, thinking to himself *damn.* only to mentally slap himself in the face.

He grabbed the zipper with one hand, and braced his other on your shoulder blades and carefully tugged it down lower, then stepped back to give you room to kick it off, glancing away as he did so.

You let out a little huff of relief, and you shoved down the dress, kicking it off your legs, along with your heels as you sat down on the bed, glancing up at Jason.

"Jayyyy." You whined out, nigh on pouting as you stared at him. "Can you grab my pajamas... they're in the top drawer with my panties." You snickered at the choice of words, falling back on the bed with a little smile, grabbing a pillow to hold onto as you waited.

"Yeah yeah." He sighed, walking over to your dresser and opening the top drawer.

He found the pajamas you asked for and a clean pair of your underwear, and after grabbing them he walked back to the bed. "Here." He muttered, dropping the pajamas on the bed beside you.

"Need anything else?" He asked you, leaning against the wall and looking down at the very drunk you. *He can't help but smirk.*

You sat up and you grabbed the clothes, smiling lightly to yourself before turning your gaze up to Jason again. "Don't think so." You replied, holding the clothes in your lap. "Can you turn around though?" You asked, your words still somewhat slurred. "Gotta take this bra off." You grumbled in addition.

Jason nodded and rolled his eyes, turning around and facing the other way to give you privacy like you had asked.

"You know I've seen ya in a bikini before right? So it's not like this is really a big deal." He pointed out, his hands resting on his hips as he waited for you to change.

"Yeah but I haven't flashed you my tits." You replied, and once he was turned around you reached back, fumbling with the bra clasp, letting out a few curses before the clasp snapped open, pinching your skin for a moment which made you curse again before you tossed off your bra, which flew over Jason's head and into the wall, bouncing off and landing in your laundry basket. What a throw.

You tugged off your old underwear, then changed into the fresh ones and the pajamas he grabbed for you. It took a minute to figure out which way to pull on the top, but once you figured it out, you grinned in victory, and took another sip of water. "We gud-" you called out to him.

Jason couldn't help but laugh when he heard your cursing and swearing, followed by the sound of your bra slapping against the wall and into the laundry basket, obviously it was a good throw, even when drunk your aim was impeccable

Once you said that he could turn around again he turned back around, facing you. He smirked and stepped towards you, poking your forehead gently. "You are so drunk.” He teased you.

You looked up at him, though when he poked your forehead, you immediately fell back into your bed, erupting into a fit of giggles, despite the now dried tears and puffy eyes that decorated your face.

"And you're not, so unfair." You whined out, shifting around your bed, pulling one of the sheets up your body, resting back against the pillows. "Will you stay?" You asked, tilting your head up at him. "I'm not gonna feel good tomorrow…” you trailed off with a slight pout.

"Yeah, I know, I'm taking care of your drunk ass now." He teased, ruffling your hair gently with a smile, he rolled his eyes jokingly at your comment, walking over to the other side of the bed and dropping onto it with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah yeah, I'll stay.”

you smiled happily at his words, glancing to the side for a moment as your eyebrows furrowed while you thought. "I think I have some of your spare clothes stashed away." You muttered, looking up at him. "If you wanna change too, you're still in your club outfit.. super hot by the way." You rambled on, grinning up at him as you poked his chest.

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the headboard of the bed as you rambled. It was funny to see you like this, just rambling and barely making any sense.

"Thank you, thank you." He teased as you complimented his outfit. "And you also looked very pretty in that new dress. Not that you didn't in the old ones too, you always look pretty." He trailed off, pursing his lips for a moment as he stared down at you.

He then nodded. "You can get me some of my spare clothes, if you remember where you put them.” He spoke up.

You hummed and smiled at his words, before letting out a slight groan. "Fineee." You dragged out your words, clamoring out of bed, having to hold your arms out to balance yourself so you didn't fall, before shuffling over to your wardrobe, thinking back to where you put them before crouching down and opening up a drawer, pulling out a shirt and clean boxers.

The shirt was ginormous on you, pretty much like a dress too, which you'd know. You wore his shirts before, you was a little thief when it came to his clothes.

You then tossed them at his face before climbing back into bed, burying your face into the pillows with a soft groan.

"I sleep now." You stated, your voice muffled thanks to the pillows. However before you drifted off, you looked up at him, reaching out to rest your hand on his thigh.

"Thank you for taking care of me Jason." You breathed out, smiling up at him. "You've always taken care of me... one day I'll take care of you too." You muttered, your words getting slower, and slower, and quieter, before your eyes fluttered closed and you started snoring, your hand still on his thigh, lips parted slightly as you slept.

Jason smiled down at you, watching and listening as you got quieter, sleepier, before passing out. He gently reached out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek before he tucked your hair behind your ear, lifting your head slightly as he brushed your hair behind you, making it more comfortable for you.

“You take care of me more than you think, gorgeous.” He muttered to himself, gently grasping your hand and lifting it off his thigh, moving it onto the pillow beside your head.

He grabbed the blankets, and he pulled them up and over your body, tucking you in with a light smile that he hadn't even realized was splayed across his lips.

He then got up, making his way into your bathroom as he changed. Though as he looked into the mirror, he caught himself smiling, and his cheeks flushed slightly as he looked down at his scarred knuckles, which gripped the sink.

“The things you do to me…” He trailed off, shaking his head before he quickly splashed his face with water and dried it off, making his way back out to the bedroom, glancing over at you once more before snatching an extra blanket from your closet, making his way downstairs to sleep on the couch for the night.

He was in for a busy morning tomorrow, that was for sure… but he set his alarm early enough so he could get up and make you breakfast before you woke up, so you could just stay in bed and relax while you nursed a hangover.

He had a special egg cocktail for that.

For now, he got comfortable on the couch, staring up at your tall ceiling, the way fairy lights were strung up, making your place look so mystical. So- homey.

He fell asleep like that, thinking of you.

When was he not thinking of you.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi @only-my-unexistent-fiances

Batfam:

JT: @ilaiise

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension, suggestive, bickering

I sat on the edge of my freshly assembled bed, staring at the space that would be my "room" for the foreseeable future. Nick and I had spent most of the evening putting the bed frame together, with Chris lending a hand to drag the mattress up two flights of stairs. It had taken all three of us and a lot of complaining, but at least I had a proper bed to sleep on now.

Matt was gone off on some date, not that I cared. His absence, honestly, made the whole moving in process a lot less tense.

My little makeshift room was.. cosy, to put it nicely. A double bed took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for a small mirror, a desk, and a clothes drawer tucked neatly against one wall. With the tight layout, I had a single straight path to walk from my bed to the stairs. Functional, sure, but not exactly homey.

Nick was already in his room, snoring loudly enough that I could hear it from here. Chris, on the other hand, had retreated to his own room, probably wiped out again after hauling the mattress. I envied how easily they seemed to relax. My muscles ached from acting like Bob the Builder all evening, and my brain wasn’t far behind.

I flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was strange being here, surrounded by their world but not fully a part of it. Still, the alternative, being out on the street or scrambling to find a new place, was far worse.

I sat scrolling aimlessly on TikTok, letting myself unwind after the chaotic day of moving in. The glow of my phone screen lit up my little area, the sound of videos a comforting distraction. I figured I’d give myself a few more minutes to relax before heading downstairs to do my skincare routine and brush my teeth.

I kept scrolling until a rustling sound from one of the lower floors made me jump. My heart raced for a moment, my body on high alert. I wasn’t used to the random noises in this house yet, the creeks of old wood, the zing of appliances, or the occasional thud of someone moving around.

Then, I heard Matt's voice, accompanied by the distinct click of heels on the floor. My stomach dropped.

He brought the girl home.

I glanced at my phone. 00:40. God, that meant she was staying the night.

As they made their way up to the living area floor, their voices carried loud and clear through the paper thin walls. I cringed.

Their conversation was casual, punctuated by fake giggles from her. “Your room’s so nice, it’s like a cabin.” she gushed, her voice sugary sweet.

“It’s alright” Matt replied, his tone dripping with smugness.

Ew.

I muted my phone and sat still, debating whether I should head downstairs now or wait until the coast was clear. The thought of running into them made my skin crawl. They were clearly standing at the doorway to Matt’s room. So much for brushing my teeth anytime soon.

I lay there, my phone clutched in my hand, frozen between irritation and discomfort. Their voices were loud enough to hear every word. It felt like I was listening in on something I shouldn’t, but I didn’t exactly have a choice.

Then came the sound of heels again, clicking closer this time. My heart sank as their voices drifted toward the living area, closer to me. Great.

A soft laugh escaped the girl, followed by a low murmur from Matt. Then, silence.

But it wasn’t silent for long.

They’re kissing. On the couch.

The unmistakable sound of kissing reached my ears, loud and clear. My eyes widened in disbelief. I sat up, my head spinning with secondhand embarrassment and irritation. Did he not realize I could hear this? Or worse, did he just not care?

I clenched my jaw, trying to drown out the sounds with a pillow over my head. It didn’t help. Every smack of their lips was like nails on a chalkboard.

I groaned softly to myself, debating whether to storm downstairs and remind him I lived here now, or just endure it until they either moved to his room. Either way, this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be the peaceful, comfy evening I had hoped for.

I grabbed my airpods from the drawer and popped them into my ears, desperate for some form of escape. Nothing. They were dead.

Great. Just perfect.

The obnoxious sound of their smooching was still banging in my ears like an unwanted soundtrack to my night. Even Nick had stopped snoring now, so I had nothing else to drown it out. I glanced around my room, trying to figure out what to do. There was no way I was going to lie here and endure this.

My eyes landed on my skincare bag and toothbrush. If nothing else, I could make a point of walking downstairs and acting like I had no idea they were there. Maybe the sudden interruption would make them move it along, or, at the very least, stop.

I stood up and grabbed my things, taking a deep breath. My airpods may be dead, but I could at least pretend they weren’t. As long as I looked convincingly oblivious, I could save myself the embarrassment of outright acknowledging the situation.

Before walking down the stairs, I mentally rehearsed my best surprised face. My heart was thumping louder than I cared to admit as the sound of them kissing, and other noises, grew louder.

I rounded the corner into the living area and stopped.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, forging surprise as I pulled out one of my airpods. “Didn’t realize anyone was here.” Being honest, I didn’t even have to pretend to be shocked, since the sight of this girl straddling Matt on the couch was enough to horrify me.

Matt froze, his hands still draped on the girl's ass. The girl on top of him looked equally startled, her lipstick slightly smudged.

“Uh, hey..” Matt said, his tone clipped. “Didn’t think you’d be up.”

“Just doing my skincare” I said innocently, holding up my bag and toothbrush. “Don’t mind me.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked toward the bathroom, not making eye contact, ignoring the tension radiating from the couch. My heart was still pounding, but at least the obnoxious kissing had stopped, for now.

I quickly got to work on my routine, splashing water on my face and scrubbing at my skin like it could wash away the awkwardness of the situation. My movements were brisk, my toothbrush scrubbing furiously as if speed could get me out of here faster.

As I brushed my teeth, I heard the distinct shuffle of footsteps outside the bathroom. My stomach tightened, anticipating another run in, but the sound moved away, followed by the soft click of Matt’s bedroom door.

Finally.

Relief washed over me. At least now they were behind a closed door. I no longer felt like an unwilling participant in whatever was going on. I finished my routine in record time, putting my things back into my bag and sneaking out of the bathroom as quietly as I could.

By the time I made it back to my room, I could feel the tension leaving my shoulders. I placed my skincare bag back on the desk and sank onto my bed, letting out a long exhale.

I grabbed my phone, intending to scroll until the remaining awkwardness faded. But as I stared at the ceiling, the muffled sound of laughter drifted faintly through the walls. It wasn’t nearly as intrusive as before, but it was enough to remind me of the thin walls around me, and how much I’d need to get used to.

I clenched my jaw, pulling the blanket tighter around me as if that could somehow block out the sounds filtering through. The muffled laughter had shifted into something unmistakably intimate, and my stomach churned at the realization.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to focus on anything else, the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the fridge downstairs.  But it was no use.

Every sound was crystal clear.

I could hear them, the creak of the mattress, soft whispers I couldn't quite make out, the moaning. God this was worse than the kissing. So much worse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered under my breath, sitting upright. My pulse was racing, not out of embarrassment anymore but sheer irritation. This wasn’t just awkward, it was infuriating. Was this intentional? To make me hate living here?

It was like they were testing the limits of how much this house, and I, could take.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips. This was my first night here, and already, I was questioning if I’d made the right decision. It’s temporary, I reminded myself. Just temporary.

But as the noises continued, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of resentment. For Matt’s complete disregard, for the lack of privacy in this house, for the way my life had taken such a turn that I now had to endure this.

I was in and out of sleep all night long. I woke up feeling like a zombie, my body heavy and my eyes barely staying open. I checked my phone, barely three hours of sleep. One hour for each round Matt and his guest had last night. The memory of it made my skin crawl.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. Dark circles hung under my eyes like a badge of exhaustion, and my hair was a mess from tossing and turning all night.

The house was eerily quiet now, almost as if mocking me. Of course, Matt was probably passed out after his marathon night. Lucky him.

I grabbed my phone and typed out a message to Nick:

"Do you guys keep earplugs in this house, or is suffering a rite of passage?"

I hesitated for a moment before deleting it. No need to drag Nick into this. It wasn’t his fault.

Instead, I sighed and decided to make the best of the morning. I could unpack more, maybe take a walk, or even look into noise canceling headphones because there was no way I could survive another night like that.

But as I turned to leave my room, that tinge of resentment hit me again. This was Matt’s fault. He could have been a little considerate, knowing I was just down the hall, or whatever you’d call my little corner.

I walked down the stairs into the kitchen, the house feeling too big and too empty in its silence. Coffee. I needed coffee before I even thought about dealing with anyone today.

I sat at the kitchen table, my head resting in my hands as the Keurig gurgled behind me, the sound of coffee trickling into the cup almost soothing. Almost.

Chris waltzed upstairs, his energy a stark contrast to my sluggish state. He was as fresh as a daisy, a casual smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. “Morning!” he said, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “How’d you sleep?”

I looked at him, deadpan, and decided on sarcasm. “Wonderful. Like a baby.” I muttered, my tone laced with just enough edge to hint at my actual feelings.

Chris raised an eyebrow, catching on. “That bad, huh?”

I shrugged, not wanting to dive into the details of Matt’s activities last night. Instead, I turned around and grabbed my coffee, taking a sip hoping the caffeine would kick in soon.

Chris leaned on the counter, his tone shifting to something more focused. “So, about the new drop for Fresh Love. Think you can come up with some sample ideas for patches by tomorrow? I’ll work on the colorways. I’d like to get it sent off before I go to Vegas.”

Vegas.

The word snapped me out of my haze. Right. Chris and Matt were going away for three nights, then coming back to LA for just one before jetting off to Hawaii for two weeks with Nick.

I blinked, the weight of everything hitting me at once. Between moving, the sleepless night, and now this, I’d completely forgotten how much pressure I was under with work. My mind raced through ideas, trying to piece together something coherent.

“Yeah” I said, nodding despite the slight panic rising in my chest. “I’ll figure it out. Patches by tomorrow, right?”

Chris smiled, his confidence in me evident. “Knew you’d have it covered. And hey, don’t stress. We’ve got this.”

Easy for him to say, I thought as he grabbed his soda and strolled back downstairs, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts and a mountain of work.

I grabbed my sketch pad from my room and set up at the kitchen table, my hand slightly trembling as I flipped it open, the faint lines of the new designs already starting to take shape.

It was quiet in the house, Nick and Chris had just headed out for some meeting, and Matt had yet to leave his room. The weight of the silence felt heavier with each passing minute.

Two hours passed, and my head began to throb, a dull ache spreading behind my eyes. It was a mix of exhaustion from the lack of sleep and the mounting pressure of the work I still had to finish. I looked down at the sketches in front of me. It was progress, at least. So, I decided to pack it in for the moment. A nap was probably what I needed most.

As I stood up from the table and gathered my things, I heard the soft sound of footsteps from the hallway. I looked over my shoulder, and there he was, Matt, strolling into the kitchen like he hadn’t just spent the entire night with some girl, oblivious to the fact that I was the one who had been kept up by the sounds of it all.

I couldn’t stop myself from speaking up. “Well, doesn’t someone look fresh after their wild night last night” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is your guest still here?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my tone. “Jealous?” he shot back, his usual smugness back in full force. “And no, she’s not. She left early this morning.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, I hope she’s off somewhere having a lovely nap” I said, crossing my arms. “Because I know me and her got the same amount of sleep last night.”

There was a brief moment of silence between us. He didn’t flinch, but I could see a flicker of guilt flash across his face for just a second before it was gone.

“Look” Matt finally said, his voice more casual than usual. “I didn’t know you were going to be up all night. If I’d known, I would’ve been more-”

“Considerate?” I finished for him, unable to hold back the bite in my voice. 

Matt ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated now. “Fine. You’re right. I get it. But you know I can’t exactly control when someone stays over, right?”

I didn’t reply immediately. He was right in some sense, but the fact that he hadn’t even considered the noise, the situation, or what I might be dealing with.. it pissed me off.

“Whatever” I muttered, turning to head back upstairs. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but some of us actually need it.”

I didn’t wait for his response as I stormed off, my blood still boiling from the interaction. It wasn’t just about last night, it was about the constant tension, the lack of boundaries. It was becoming too much.

As I made it up to my room, the ache escalated into a full blown migraine. By the time I flopped onto my bed, it felt like a jackhammer was drilling into my skull. The sunlight streaming in from the open doorway to the stairs hit my eyes like daggers, and the heat of my poorly ventilated room wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I tried to block it all out, pulling the blanket over my head, but every random creek and distant sound in the house grated on my already frazzled nerves. The sensitivity was overwhelming, each small discomfort magnified to unbearable proportions. My chest tightened as I fought back tears.

It was too much, too much noise, too much heat, too much light, too much stress. I curled up tighter, clutching my blanket and wishing for the sweet relief of darkness and silence.

I could feel my body resisting every movement, but I knew I had to do something to make it stop. I couldn’t lie in this room anymore like this, suffocating in the heat, with the light stabbing at my skull. Maybe if I opened the windows in the living area and pulled down the blinds, it would let in some fresh air and block out the brightness. The windows here were huge, maybe that would help.

With a pained groan, I pushed myself off the bed and stumbled towards the stairs. My head felt like it was going to split open with every step, the harsh light of the house almost unbearable as it hit me like a brick wall. I gagged, my stomach turning from the intensity. But I pushed through, gritting my teeth and forcing my body to move.

When I reached the living room, I collapsed onto the couch, already winded and shaky. I stretched out, trying to reach the top window to open it, my fingers brushing the edge but not quite able to grip the latch.

Just as I was about to pull myself up further, I heard Matt’s voice behind me. "What are you doing?"

I paused, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. "I have a migraine" I said, my voice rough and strained. "My room’s too bright.. too hot.. trying to make it cooler.. darker. Trying not to get sick." I kept my back to him, hoping he'd let me do what I needed without pestering.

But I knew Matt, he’d always have something to say. I was just waiting for it.

“If you want to sleep in my room, I mean.. it’s got blackout curtains, and it's way cooler than in your room..” he suggested, his voice more neutral than before.

I didn’t even look back at him, still focused on trying to pry open the window. "After what went on in your bed last night" I said, sarcasm seeping into my voice, "it’s the last place I want to be."

There was a brief pause, and I heard him sigh behind me. Then, I heard his footsteps approach the kitchen.

“I get it” he muttered, though I didn’t quite believe him. He probably didn’t care what happened, but he was probably just saying something to avoid further confrontation. “You want me to grab a basin or something? In case you get sick?”

I glanced over at him, my expression barely more than a grimace. "Yeah, that'd be great" I said, my voice barely above a whisper, absolutely sweating. “Please.”

I could hear him rummaging around for a moment before he returned with a shallow plastic basin. I didn’t want to admit how grateful I was for the small gesture. My stomach churned just thinking about what had happened the night before, but I didn’t need to explain myself anymore.

“Here” he said, handing it to me, his tone a little softer than before. 

I nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue, and just wanted to crawl back into my space and hopefully get some sleep.

“Thanks” I muttered, but it didn’t feel like enough. It was just a small act of kindness, but with everything going on, it felt like a relief.

As he walked away, I took the basin and held it under my arm, crawling up the stairs to my room. I placed the basin near the edge of my bed, just in case. I climbed back under the covers, pulling a pillow to my face, and tried to block out the world. It wasn’t going to make my migraine vanish, but I hoped it would give me some relief. 

I was wrong.

Suddenly I hear a knock on my fake wall, I let out a slow breath, the migraine still pounding behind my eyes as Matt’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I’ve changed my sheets..” he says, poking his head through the entrance to my room. He looks less irritated than he did earlier, though I can’t tell if it's genuine or just a matter of convenience. “The offer’s still there, or you gonna keep being stubborn? I mean, you’re not gonna get any rest like this.”

I shift uncomfortably, weighing the option in my head. My room was stifling, bright, and getting worse by the minute, and Matt’s room was.. well, it was still Matt’s room, but at least it would be dark, cool, and quiet.

The migraine was winning, and at that moment, I just needed relief. I was tired of feeling like a burden, tired of pretending I didn’t need help.

"Fine" I say, finally giving in. "I’ll take you up on the offer."

“Good choice” he mutters, not sounding as smug as he usually would. “You can’t keep living in a sauna.”

I don’t respond, too drained to argue. He steps back toward the door, preparing to walk back down the stairs.

“I’m going to head out for a bit, so make your way down when you want” he says, clearly wanting to wrap this up, as he turns to walk away.

I shuffled toward the entrance to my room, the floor creaking beneath my feet. I walked downstairs and toward his room, the familiar discomfort of being in his space only adding to my already scattered nerves.

When I opened the door, I was immediately hit by the cool air that seemed to welcome me. The room was dark, the blinds drawn tight, and the bed looked inviting, a stark contrast to the mess of my own space. The girl was right, it was nice and it did look like a cabin.

It was much quieter in here, no random noises or heat beating down on me. I could feel my headache ease just slightly, as though the room itself was offering me some relief.

I set my things down on the edge of the bed, feeling the exhaustion hit me again. It wasn’t ideal, but it was definitely better than the alternative.

As I settled into Matt's bed, the sheets cool against my skin, I couldn't help but feel how odd it was to be here. The space was familiar, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. The scent of him lingered in the air, mixed with the faint traces of cologne. It felt almost wrong, like I was stepping into a part of his world that wasn’t meant for me.

The bed was comfortable, but the proximity to Matt's life, his space, his things, was unsettling. I found myself shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t remind me that I was lying in the very place he'd probably shared countless nights with someone else.

It wasn’t just the room that felt off. The silence between us, the awkwardness of me being here in the first place, how he was making it awkward. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping to force the discomfort away, but it lingered, gnawing at the back of my mind while the migraine hit at the front.

It wasn’t my bed. It wasn’t my room. It wasn’t supposed to be me here.

But for now, it was where I had to be. And as strange as it felt, there was nothing left to do but sleep and hope that when I woke up, things would somehow feel a little less.. weird.

a/n: matt being.. nice?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[insidekatmind]

Time together~Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut

A light summer breeze enveloped the hotel terrace, where the blue pool seemed to merge with the clear sky. The water reflected the rays of the late afternoon sun, creating plays of light on the calm surface. There was no one there, just the two of you. A moment of peace after weeks of hectic life.

You sat on one of the loungers, while Levi approached the pool, resting a hand on the edge. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, but his gaze was unmistakable: intense, protective, always attentive to your every move.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” you said, smiling. “It feels so surreal, after everything that’s happened.”

Levi slowly turned to you, taking off his sunglasses. “It’s surreal because we never stop. We’re always in a rush. But now… we can finally breathe.” He leaned towards the water and dipped his hand in, running it over the surface. “This is what we needed.”

You stood up from the lounger and walked over to him. “You really need to relax, you know? You’ve been so tense lately.”

Levi sighed, looking at you. “It’s hard to turn your mind off, you know.” He walked over to you and took your hands, lacing his fingers through yours. “But… with you here… maybe I can.”

“Just maybe?” you smiled teasingly.

He raised an eyebrow, that gesture you loved. “Don’t make me make promises I can’t keep.”

You laughed, pulling him toward the pool. “Then let’s see if I can at least make you relax a little. Get in the water with me.”

Levi hesitated for a moment, then slowly took off his shirt, revealing his sculpted body and battle scars. His gray eyes locked with yours as he slipped into the water.

“Come on,” he said in that deep voice that made you shiver.

You dove in next to him, the cool water enveloping you. When you surfaced, Levi was inches away from you, his hands sliding down your sides.

"So," he murmured, with a hint of a smile, "what did you have in mind to make me relax?"

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. "I was thinking of something simple. Like… just staying here, not talking about anything. Just you and me."

Levi nodded slowly, his gaze softening. "You know, I don't mind at all. That's all I need, just this."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in silence, as the sun set and the shadows lengthened.

After a while, Levi spoke again. "Why Barcelona?"

You bit your lip, thoughtfully. "Because I wanted us to have a place that was just ours. A memory that belongs only to us. And then… I've always dreamed of getting lost with you in a city full of life."

Levi was silent for a moment, then pulled you close, holding you tightly. "Then losing you will be my priority."

He looked into your eyes, and in that moment the whole world seemed to fade away. "It doesn't matter where we go," he said softly. "As long as you're with me, anywhere is fine."

You stayed like that, floating in the water, with the Barcelona sky darkening above you and the distant sound of the waves rocking you.

It was perfect. It was yours.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. His fingers traced the outline of your swimsuit, appreciating your curves. "This swimsuit really suits you."

You laugh and hug him kissing his jaw "I put it on for you" you say seductive

Levi closed his eyes as you kissed his jaw, feeling your soft lips against his skin. He pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Is that right?" he murmured, a grin on his lips. "You want to tempt me, huh?"

"yes love, all for you" you reply and kiss him

Levi growled low in his throat, your comment making him lose all restraint. He grabbed your waist and pulled you tight against him, claiming your mouth in a hard, hungary kiss.

"You know how to drive me crazy," he breathed against your skin, his hands gripping you possessively.

you smile and kiss his neck "you know love we had sex everywhere except in Barcelona in the pool" you say seductively

Levi's eyes darkened with desire as your words sent a shiver down his spine. He grabbed hold of you tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"You're right, we haven't done that yet..." he murmured, his gaze burning into you. "And it's a shame, because that means we haven't marked the pool as ours yet…"

You smile "so why don't we fix it?"

Levi couldn't help but grin, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. "You're damn right we will," he growled, his hands roaming over your body. "We're going to make this pool ours."

He picked you up, holding you close, and walked to the edge of the pool, "You're getting cold, love. Let me warm you," he said, laying you down on a lounger nearby.

you smiled feeling levi's hands touching your thighs. you got off the edge and went back into the water lacing your hands on his neck as you lowered his swimsuit.

Levi's heart hammered in his chest as you came back to him, your hands encircling his neck. He groaned softly as you began to pull down his swimsuit, relishing the touch of your skin against his.

"You're impatient," he said with a cocky smirk, pulling you close.

"I can't resist you" you say and kiss his neck while you move your swimsuit a little to let his cock enter inside you

Levi's breath caught in his throat as you kissed his neck. He could feel your body rubbing against his, his self control hanging by a thread. "You tease," he growled, his hands running down your body, "always pushing my limits."

As he felt your skin against his, he groaned softly, his body instantly responding to yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?""You're perfect," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine. All mine."

He moved faster, taking you harder, the water sloshing around you. "I need more... I need more " with every word he said his thrusts increased and your moans became louder and louder

Levi groaned lowly as your hips moved against him, your kisses igniting a fire within him. His hands gripped your body tightly, guiding you, his touch possessive and hungry.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's like you were made for me."

you moan and put your nails on his back "you always fill me up so good"

Levi groaned as you clawed at his back, your words driving him wild. "You're not the only one who's filled," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "With you… I can never get enough."

He moved his hips against you, pressing himself against you, his body burning with a primal need for you. "I can never… get enough of you," he repeated, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss.

The sounds of the water moving and your moans filled the empty pool, drowning out any other noise. With the city of Barcelona spread out before you, the only thing that mattered was the two of you, lost in a passionate sex

Levi could feel himself nearing the edge, his body taut with need.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine. All mine."

He moved faster, taking you harder, the water sloshing around you. "I need more... I need more " with every word he said his thrusts increased and your moans became louder and louder.

Levi groaned as he heard your moans growing louder, knowing he was pushing you to the edge. He continued to move, his body responding to yours, his need for you driving him on.

"You're close," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I can feel it. I can feel you "You're squeezing my dick" he started fucking you in the pool and you started screaming.

Levi groaned as he heard your moans growing louder, knowing he was pushing you to the edge. He continued to move, his body responding to yours, his need for you driving him on.

Your name came out of his mouth like a whispered prayer, the sound becoming more urgent and desperate as he drew closer to his own climax.

"Please," he groaned, his body tense as he tried to hold back, "please, love, I need you. I need to feel you come for me. I need to come inside you" he murmurs and moves your swimsuit top a little and kisses your nipple

"yes baby please" you'll cry soon because of how beautiful it was. Something snapped inside him as he heard your plea, your soft words sending him over the edge. He let out a guttural moan, the sound filling the empty and he started fucking you faster which made you come but he didn't stop with the movements and started thrusting faster coming inside you.

Levi laughed breathlessly, still holding you close, his body pressed against yours. "I think we left our mark here... and not just on the pool" he replied, with a smirk. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath.

"You're going to tire me out, love" he teased, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

you giggle softly and stroke his hair "better if we fix ourselves otherwise if someone comes they will see us like this" you say amused

You smile and give him a kiss on the jaw once you've adjusted yourself.

Levi smiled as you kissed his jaw, appreciating the gentle gesture. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting over your form before he spoke.

"You know," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "there are a lot of other places in Barcelona where we can make our mark too."

"I can't wait to discover them" you say seductively

Levi's smirk deepened as your words stoked the fire within him. "Trust me, love, there are plenty of places left for us to explore," he murmured, his gaze darkening.

He stepped closer to you, his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him. "And I can't wait to show you every last one."

[thebisexualdogdad]

sugar baby Buck smut fic where his sugar daddy gets jealous when one of his friends is hitting on Buck?

Evan Buckley x Male!reader

All of your friends had become very familiar with your boyfriend Buck, you brought him around often to show him off but none of them had the balls to hit on him... well except for Nick.

Nick had clearly been fond of Buck since you introduced them but Buck had always assured you that he was a one man kind of guy so you ignored the way Nick would get a little too close to Buck whenever they spoke.

You hit your breaking point when you invited your friends to a day out on your yacht and overheard Nick tell Buck who was looking devine in his tiny speedo, “come on sweetheart, spend just one night with me. I'll make it worth your while and Y/N will never have to know.”

“What was that Nick?” You say, Nick's whole body tensing up when he turns around to face you.

“Y/N, I uh- didn't see you there, I was just-” he stammers.

“Just what? Trying to screw my boyfriend?” You reply cocking your head.

“No, of course not,” he says.

“You're lucky I don't throw you overboard but when we hit land we are no longer friends you got that?” You tell him bluntly.

He gives you an awkward nod, a few of your other friends chuckling to themselves at him finally being put in his place.

“Apologize to Evan,” you demand.

“I-I'm sorry Evan,” Nick says embarrassed.

You grab Bucks hand, taking him inside the cabin of the yacht and downstairs to your private bedroom.

“That was hot,” Buck says when you shut the door behind him, pressing him roughly against it.

“You're mine and mine only,” you growl, kissing him hard.

“I'm all yours,” he groans into the kiss, his breath hitching when you reach down and grab his ass.

You guide him back to the bed, pushing him to sit down with Buck pulling your hips toward him to kiss and nip at your stomach.

He tugs your swim shorts down, palming the base of your cock and kissing along the soft shaft.

You play with his hair, “my handsome boy, I can't blame Nick, you're just so irresistible,” you say as he starts to stroke you.

“I don't want anyone except you daddy,” he says, feeling you getting hard in his hand.

“I know love, I know,” you say, moaning when he takes you in his mouth.

He massages your balls, your cock now fully hard in his mouth as he slowly bobs his head.

He takes his time, his free hand on your stomach loving how it clenches whenever the tip of your cock hits the back of his throat.

“Evan you always suck my cock so well,” you praise, “but I want to be inside you so lay back for me.”

Buck releases your cock from his lips, saliva dribbling down his chin as he lays back onto the mattress.

His speedo that you bought him specifically for this outing is tearing at the seams from how hard he is, his massive cock standing tall when you pull the material down his legs.

You go to the dresser and grab some lube, squirting it on yourself before putting some on your fingers and raising his hips to circle his hole.

Buck rolls his hips as your fingertips play with him, opening him up enough for you to ease your cock inside him.

“Oh fuck,” Buck whimpers as you push in inch by inch.

He grabs at the sheets as you start thrusting, his legs going over your shoulders for more stability.

His cock swings around while you pound into him, slapping between your stomachs.

“You feel so good inside me,” Buck moans, grabbing and squeezing his own tits for extra stimulation, “fuck my cock is throbbing.”

“Hold on a little while longer for me baby,” you tell him, holding firmly onto his hips as you thrust faster.

Bucks thighs are trembling, soft sighs and whimpers coming from him with every thrust.

“Can I touch myself daddy?” He asks.

“Yes you can Evan thank you for asking,” you reply.

He lets out a sigh of relief and takes his cock in his hand, desperately stroking himself.

Buck soon cries out in pleasure when he feels you cum inside him, unable to hold on any longer shooting cum from his cock and onto his chest.

“God, I love watching you cum,” you tell him, slowing your movements as he rides out his orgasm.

“No one can fuck me like you,” he moans, his body twitching with aftershocks.

Buck locks eyes with you and just smiles, all the money in the world couldn't be better than this, he really was a one man kind of guy.

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[wheels-of-despair]

Tangled Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets a comb stuck in his hair. Evil Woman untangles it, and a little bit of his tragic backstory comes out with it. Contains: A minor tantrum, a sad Eddie, a little hair lore, and our boy being loved and taken care of. Words: 1.2k Note: This takes place during their first winter together.

"FUCK!"

A loud clatter follows the yell from behind the closed bathroom door, making you jump from your position on the Munson's couch.

You're sitting there in borrowed sweats, watching a Mork & Mindy rerun while you wait for Eddie. You'd spent most of the day playing in the snow with the neighborhood kids, and had both required about a gallon of hot chocolate and a warm shower to recover. The girls had won the final snowball fight, which meant you earned the first shower. (He probably would've let you go first even the boys had won, but you're counting it as a victory shower anyway.)

When you don't hear anything else, you rise and slowly approach the bathroom door. Silence. You knock lightly. "Eddie? You okay?"

The door slowly creaks open, revealing a pair of worn burgundy sweats, a faded Hellfire Club shirt, half of a black comb stuck in a tangle of matted hair, and the most pathetic puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"You okay?" you ask again.

"Comb got stuck," he says miserably.

"Want me to get it out?"

Eddie squirms, looking like he wants to wash himself down the drain. He turns toward the mirror and gives another feeble attempt at getting the comb out. You lean against the doorframe, waiting for him to ask for help, and your eyes drift to the bathtub. All of the bottles that usually sit on the ledge are scattered across the bottom of the tub. He must've thrown something and knocked them all down. Maybe you should take him bowling sometime.

Eddie sighs, releases the comb, and hangs his head in defeat. Looking at the floor, he turns to you and nods his head slowly.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assure him, as quietly as you can. "C'mon." You tilt your head toward the living room and start walking, hoping he'll follow.

You slide the coffee table to the side, drop a pillow on the floor for him to sit on, and take your seat on the couch. You gesture for him to sit between your legs. He does, reluctantly. You want so badly to know what's actually wrong, you feel like you may burst… but you know better than to ask.

You reach for the comb embedded in his wet hair without a word, and he flinches. You rest your hands on your knees instead.

You play with his hair all the time. When you watch movies, his head often ends up on your lap, and your hands gravitate to it. He gets the cutest little smile on his face when you tuck his hair behind his ear. You know for a fact that rubbing light circles on That One Spot on his scalp will put him right to sleep. Why is this different?

"You okay?" you ask.

"Yeah."

"You know I'm gonna try my very best not to hurt you, right?"

"Yeah." His voice is hollow. Emotionless.

You carefully reach for the mass of tangles and the buried comb again. He tenses, but doesn't flinch. You begin working it out, piece by piece, taking your time and focusing all your energy on keeping it painless while the laugh track on TV keeps the room from falling into awkward silence.

When you finally get the comb out, you set it aside and reach for your own brush. Starting at the ends, you gently work out all the rest of Eddie's tangles. The whole process takes nearly an hour, and he doesn't move a muscle the whole time.

"Alright, you're done," you finally declare, setting your brush aside. He heaves a sigh of relief, and you lean down to kiss the top of his head.

He turns sideways and rests his chin on your knee. You cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb across his flushed cheek, and he closes his eyes. Just when you think he's fallen asleep, he heaves another sigh and starts talking.

"My mom used to brush my hair when I was little. Her brush had those hard, scratchy bristles that felt like wire." He swallows, but still doesn't open his eyes. "My hair wasn't this long, but I used to play outside all day. To get away from them, mostly. But when I came home at dark, she'd make me stand in front of her in the kitchen so she could brush it. She'd yank and pull at it and brush my neck and my ears and my forehead. I think it actually drew blood once or twice. If I moved or complained, she'd put me over her knee and use the other side."

You didn't realize your hand had stopped stroking his cheek until he stopped talking. You move it to his shoulder, still a little damp from his hair, and give him a light squeeze.

"One day, after she died, I went in the bathroom with scissors I stole from school and cut it all off. Well, I tried. They were dull and kid-sized. Dad laughed at me when he saw it. Made me go to school like that. The nurse finally took pity on me and evened it out after a few days."

He crawls onto the couch and lays his head on your lap, facing the TV. Normally in this position, your hands would be in his hair immediately, but today… you hesitate. Although he can't see you do it, he must sense it. He puts his hand on your knee, palm up. You take it, and place your other hand on his arm in a gesture you hope is comforting.

"When I came to live with Wayne, he'd give us both a buzz cut on the first of every month. The noise from the clippers scared the shit out of me at first, but after watching him do his own a few times, I finally let him do mine. I didn't start growing it out again 'til the summer I graduated from middle school. That's when I decided nobody was gonna fuck with it. And nobody was gonna fuck with me."

He lets go of your hand and flips onto his back, staring up at you.

"Kay, that's the whole traumatic hair story you didn't ask for."

You smile and reach for his hand again.

"It doesn't bother you when I play with it?"

"Not gonna lie… scared the hell out of me the first time," he chuckles. "Usually, when a girl goes for the hair, it's to pull it or stick something in it. One time, a girl dragged me across the playground with it. But you? Just started twirling it and playing with it and putting me to sleep. Didn't ever want you to stop. Couldn't fucking believe it."

You feel your heart warm at his confession, and finally let your hand return to that beautiful head of hair. Your fingers lightly work at his scalp, and he smiles sleepily up at you.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" You know he knows, but you need him to hear it. "Unless it's like… in a kinky way that you specifically request."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirks.

[rinachains]

contents: drabble; villain!nanami x gn!curse user!reader; aftermath of nanami’s killing spree; inspired by gege’s sketch of villain!nanami

a/n: sth short to get out of my writing slump :P comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/cafekitsune

A whistle cuts through the lingering, rapturous silence as you make your way through the now lifeless place, the heavy clacking of your boots leaving an echo, “You’ve made quite a mess, Nanami. Guess you were pretty pent up, huh?”

It’s a vision of red that greets you as you enter the office room  – piles upon piles of nameless, immobile bodies, adorned with deep slashes and dark colours, reminding you all too much of an obscure painting; done with raw, mechanical passion. You find the artist of this peculiar work slumped against a desk on the cold ground, appearing like a breathing corpse under the flickering, fluorescent light.

Tracing the tips of your fingers along one of the desks, collecting the sticky fluid staining it, you put your hands into the pockets of your jacket and stroll forward until you stand in front of him, staring down with a curl of your lips as you let your gaze wander over his limp form. Covered in blood, sweat and weariness; a pathetic yet sweet image, dissolving on the tip of your tongue. You crave it like a child.

Nanami looks up at you wordlessly, exhaustion dripping from his eyes; not an unusual sight, but this time you find something new making itself known in those hazel pools, a shivering spark that is more than familiar to you – one that you’ve seen before when you’ve met your own reflection.

The sunken shadows decorating his face slowly melt in the light that shines through. Nanami’s worn out; not from added weight, but from the relief sinking into his bones. His body feels light, tense limbs turned to cotton; as if he’s floating, not quite there, but rather stuck in another realm. Is this what it feels like to be reborn?

“I killed them.”

His futile confession raises your brow as you swiftly scan the the room before turning back to him, “You sure did.”

Nanami’s face pinches together as he groans, a guttural sound from the depths of his festered chest, his head falling back against the edge of the desk behind him with dimmed thud. He rubs the heel of his hand over his closed eyes, pressing into the lids, “I’m so tired.”

There’s a moment of quietness.

Your stare narrows and bores into Nanami with a scrutiny that allows you to unmask him, peel away each fragile layer that covers his decaying bones, and there you can see it; the utter helplessness radiating from him, ripe and desperate– a silent plea.

Something in your chest melts, once cold and heavy, and turns into goo, pouring over your body and covering each and every cell. Your smile widens, toothy and all sharp, stretching until your skin begins to tighten.  

You finally got him.

With golden honey in your mouth, you lower yourself carefully to the floor and get down on one knee in front of him, face to face, resting your arm on your propped leg. You can smell him; unscented soap and herbal tea overpowered by his rich cologne, now fused with a metallic scent, a new note. Not nauseating to him, not as expected; instead, it’s bizarrely welcoming, nearly soothing. His flared up nerves become numb and he wants to rest, just for a moment.

“Post-killing clarity can be harsh - not that I can necessarily relate, but for someone like you it’s a whole new experience. It will get better after some time, so don’t worry,” you try to reassure him, petting his knee.

Your expression then softens, cautious and deliberate, like an owner talking to their wounded pet, devoid of any judgement that would cause him to pull away, “How do you feel?” A small pause. “Do you regret it?”

A tilt of your head, lowered and evaluating, focused entirely on him – ignoring the impulsive massacre around you, as if it’s not of any grave importance to you, the background to a play. The object of your undivided attention is right in front of you; the reason you're here, why you've bothered to waste your energy.

The next words to come out of his mouth cause your back to straighten, spine prickling as your eyes brighten with a childlike gleam.

“I don’t.”

"Good."

You shift and cradle his face in your hand, leaving behind a maroon stain on his sunken cheekbone, bringing life to him, as you gently rub your thumb over his sickly pale skin. Nanami subconsciously leans into your touch, the hairs on his skin standing up and his eyelids fluttering like a newborn butterfly as he exhales brokenly. You revel in the shudder he releases; he really is just so tired.

Pulling away from his face, almost cooing as he chases after your touch, you hold out your hand, palm facing up, "C'mon then. Let's get you cleaned up, you're all dirty." His gaze drops to it, a contemplative hesitation freezing him as he sees the bloodstains on you. He has soiled you with the result of his sin, and yet there's no guilt to be found as he rummages through his insides, tearing through muscles, veins and arteries. It’s too late for that anyway, Nanami thinks as he reaches out for you.

The wavering warmth of his hand embraces yours - shared burdens, no longer untethered - sealing an unspoken bond between the two of you. Not something that can be easily undone – not something that can be undone at all.

You begin to stand up and he lowers his grip, fingers tightening around your wrist.

There’s a tremor in his lower lip, yet his voice is steady, as firm as a lighthouse hit by a storm and piercing through you with the pointed force of each syllable, “I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

Your head moves up and down, slowly, as you reply leisurely, “Yeah, I got that.” Letting out a light sigh, feigning empathy, you point at him with your chin, "I told you, didn’t I? That it would feel so much better to let loose and to listen to your instincts. Now you don’t have to carry that burden anymore – you’re free of it.”

Nanami bites the inside of his cheek, deepening the hollow line. "That’s right,” he eventually agrees. You want to laugh, heartfelt and soul-shaking; you knew he’d understand. He clears his throat, running a hand through his matted hair as his forehead creases, "…what do I do now?"

"Who knows?" You shrug. "But I'll be by your side. I guess I also have to take some responsibility in this case."  

Another pause. Less strained, more tranquilizing.

“I need a drink.”

“Then let’s get one.”

Finally, there’s a faint smile from him; one of relief, tinged with drops of gratitude, lasting only for a fleeting second, but it’s enough for you. This is what you've been longing for, what you've been attempting to bring forth.

He swallows, a stuttering bob of his prominent Adam’s apple, “I didn’t think,” he momentarily directs his stare towards one of the bodies, “I just moved. I saw their faces and I wanted them gone. Wipe those smiles away.”

“And you’ve done a great job at that,” you affirm. Your nose wrinkles, “Quite careless of you, though. You should be more careful next time, okay? You’re still responsible for your own actions, y’know.”

“I will,” Nanami says as he stands up on jellied legs, shakily regaining strength. “Be more careful, I mean.”

You squeeze his hand before letting it fall back to his side, “Alright, then. Better stay true to your word.”

Just as you're about to turn and lead him out, you stop abruptly as you hear a mumbled, "I'm sorry.”

You blink, “What?”

Nanami weakly points to your form, lips thinned as he frowns. You follow his hand and glance down your body - your suit is dirty.

“Don’t apologise,” you wave him off with a twitch of your mouth, “I don’t mind.”

[writingjourney]

espresso stains // secondo

1k words, non-descript f!oc/third person reader (you can read this as my oc manon or just insert yourself/whoever), some self-esteem issues, reassurances, established relationship, mildly suggestive, 18+ MDNI

─── ⛧ ✦ ⛧ ───

The espresso cup clinks gently as he sets it down on the matching saucer – ceramics irrevocably stained by years of use, adorned only by one clean brown line just below the rim, right where his mouth rested a moment ago. He sighs, weary after a full meal, licking the remains of coffee from his lips. An easy-going smile, a hand on her shoulder, kneading until the tension melts underneath his fingertips. Her own cup is empty, the tiny handle still trapped between two fingers, and he has to peel her hand away from it to fold it into his large palm.

"You know you don't always have to go out of your way to cook for me," she says.

"I am not going out of my way," he states.

Quiet, then, the rhythmic press of his thumb, gazes caught, that soft shimmer in his eyes when she relaxes under his touch.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asks.

"What?"

"To be taken care of."

His readings of her have become so precise that she thinks it must be written all over her face, how she doesn't feel like she deserves this level of attention, him standing in the kitchen for hours to feed her, running her baths, massaging her tense muscles, comforting her anxieties. It makes her want to cry, makes her feel like a child, that ever-present longing, a hunger for love that was never sated when she was small, and now that he offers her such care it is like she doesn't know how what to do with it.

"Not uncomfortable just–" She sits with the feeling, locates the core of it. "Unworthy."

He doesn't disagree but his brows pull together, the barest hint of tension giving him away. She chews on this reveal, though she has a suspicion that it is nothing new to him. It is hard to explain, how you can long for something so desperately and still find it impossible to accept.

"I find pleasure in it," he says after a while, still looking at her, still kneading. "Cooking for you, buying you things you would never buy for yourself, making sure you eat, rest, sleep."

He lifts her hand, pulling her towards him, and she follows willingly into his lap where he wanted her all along. His hands map out the shape of her, nose dragging up her shoulder, her neck, following the trail of her perfume with a soft hum.

"I find pleasure in taking care of you," he says, now so close, lips ghosting over her jaw.

"But– why?"

"Why?" he mirrors the questions. "Why does anyone? Because it is human, because we are made to care."

"Why me, then?"

Her hands find purchase on his shoulders just in time for him to lean back and away from her, searching her gaze. It displeases him, she knows this, when she speaks ill of herself, implicit– or explicitly.

"Because you are for me," he replies, as if that says it all. The long answer lies somewhere behind his eyes, the longing, that rare softness. For me, he says, meaning that she needs him, that for some reason he needs her too, that she has a deficiency and he has a surplus, that he too is lacking things only she can provide, that they are balancing the scales when they are together.

It scares her sometimes, to think that she is just a project to him, that one day the scales stop being even. The what ifs and what happens whens and the idea that he'll complete his mission and move on to someone who needs him more. He provides, it's what he does, he soothes and guides and teaches and brings relief to tensions that have been decades in the making. Would it be an illusion to think that he'll settle at last?

"No," he says, startling her awake just as her mind wraps around the question.

"No what?"

"You are in your head." His finger taps against her temple before his whole hand comes to splay out against the side of her head, a cocoon to trap her, so effective that the moment begins to feel real again. "I want you here with me, my dove."

"I suppose I am overthinking," she admits.

"As is your habit," he quips. "Always you slip somewhere else and I have to guess where it is, how to get you back."

She'd asked him once, after being intimate, after he'd admitted that he'd struggled to feel fulfilled in the past, who takes care of you, Secondo? And he'd been so sad at the question, but then he'd said, you do, perhaps you are the only one who does. It had been hard to imagine, then, that a man like him, so independant, so stoic and strong, could truly have need of her. But he had been genuine, perhaps the most genuine she'd ever seen him.

"I want to take care of you too," she states.

His lips curve. It's not much of a confession by any means, something she'd said in the past when he'd been so generous that she'd felt so very limited in her means to reciprocate. But somehow it weighs heavier tonight. He's a man so set in his ways, so used to being by himself in the moments when it matters, the stain of years of use, cracked ceramics glued together by spite, repressed pain of a lifetime yellowing the bottom of the cup like rings of old coffee. He doesn't have to pour it himself anymore, and perhaps it's enough that he knows.

"Will you accept me now?" he asks. "Let me take care of you in the way I've been wanting to all night?"

She nods, just so, and his hands dip low again, dragging her hips forward until they're pressed together. They share a sweet moan before their mouths come searching the other's taste, coffee and amarettini, the wine he picked for dinner. It's unhurried, slow and sensual, the type of kiss that doesn't immediately lead anywhere but bridges that gap between wanting and having, between need and relief.

Secondo's chair scrapes against hard wooden floor when he picks her up, carries her to the sofa where he'll have her for an hour or so, indulging in those very kisses, drawing them out before he thinks to take his time with her in bed throughout the night. Two empty cups on the table, a candle slowly burning out. He's not going out of his way, he said, and she knows he's right where he wants to be.

─── ⛧ ✦ ⛧ ───

this is another little ficlet that i took from what will hopefully be a full fic at some point but that i think works on its own as well. thank you for indulging me <3

[simonbrain]

Hey friend. I've put off this ask a little while, because I'm sure you're tired of getting it by now, but... are there any updates on the neglected! reader (a/b/o)? I really liked that one, and though I have no issues with the second part not being done yet, a little progress update (if you want to add one) would be very cool! Thanks for writing :)

ugh i know i've been putting it off for a long time but i haven't abandoned it guys! just feeling very stuck with where the narrative is sitting rn 🥲 however, here's a little tease of the beginning of part two, keep in mind it may not be written exactly like this when i post it:

"what?" kyle mumbles, rising from john's lap to grapple with the sudden coldness that overcomes him. no one else says anything, but you can see how your words affect the rest of them: john stiffens in his seat, simon's dismissive glance has turned into a burning glare, and johnny's hand has slipped from where it was resting on his captain's shoulder, a look of confusion and panic twisting on his face.

your anxiety may have dissipated, but that doesn't make this any easier. the air feels too tense, too uncomfortable. you don't like how agitated everyone's scents became the moment you walked in, and it hurts even more knowing they didn't even try to hide it. you don't like seeing them all together here like this. you don't like that you're believing that spiteful little voice in the back of your mind jeering at you that they've been planning your departure, planning how to break the news to you that you're not worth the hassle anymore.

it only makes sense why they're all cooped up in john's office, whispering amongst themselves.

"darling, what are you talking about?" john's voice cuts through your thoughts, but you try not to find comfort in it. he stands from his seat, and you try not to reveal how much you've missed his scent despite how thick it is with stress. your omega has been quiet for a while, but now that you're gathered in one place like this, she's getting restless, simultaneously wanting to hiss at them and cling to anyone who will spare a scrap of affection.

"please, captain, just do it. i don't want to be a burden any longer." you'll beg if that's what it takes; you'll get on your knees and clasp your hands together if it means saving them from unnecessary stress and annoyance and you from further heartbreak.

the earnestness in your voice is so strong it bites at them because how could you even suggest something like that? how could they even consider their pack whole if you're not there?

but hearing his rank fall from your lips leaves a bitter taste in john's mouth and a knot forming in his stomach. it's unnatural to hear you call him that while sounding so defeated and miserable. it's scary to feel so out of control when he's supposed to be your captain, your head alpha.

to know he's let you down so much makes his alpha growl pathetically in shame; how can he even consider himself a leader?