#gently reminder to lock your fics loves

[maraguanabana]

KEEP IT INSIDE THE FUCKING BOX FOR THE EVERLOVING FUCK.

I've seen many times how things go absolutely wrong when someone is stupid enough (or careless enough) to open the Pandora Box. There's a reason YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO OPEN IT. JESUS.

Whenever someone aknowledges that big ass neon pink shiny elephant, things quickly and quite easily go to hell. You gotta remember that these are real people and not only characters on a fic. You know, it is as if these kind of fics are called Real People Fics (RPF). Who would say so! They can feel unconfortable or attacked or as if their privacy was blatanly violated. They have feelings, just like everyone else does.

Keep things where they belong. You don't fucking put your dirty underwear on the microwave, do you? (I really hope you don't) THEN DON'T OPEN THE CAN OF WORMS FOR EVERYONE TO SEE!

PD. If Max or. Checo end up being asked anything related to ao3 or the Chestappen thing, I'll quit....

....from life. or maybe just fanfic life. let's not be that dramatic.

[requiemforthepoets]

baby peanut! 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x wife!reader

SUMMARY: keeping your pregnancy from lando was proven to be very hard when all you want is tell him the amazing news that you both are expecting again. but since his birthday was coming up, you waited for his special day to tell him.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: reader is french-russian, multicultural household, established relationships, pregnancy, typos, and gramatical errors

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY LANDO DAY!!!!! was debating on posting a new fic for him, but decided to just make it a part of the norris family series, though this can be read as a stand alone. hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The soft morning light was just beginning to filter through the white curtains when you stirred awake, glancing over to see Lando fast asleep beside you. His peaceful face looked even more boyish, framed by the tousled strands of hair he hadn’t bothered to tame before collapsing into bed after last night’s stream. It had been hours before he joined you in bed, he and Max laughing and gaming into the early morning, and you knew he deserved this rest.

Just as you began to carefully sit up, you heard a soft rustling sound from the bedroom doorway. Peeking over, you spotted a small figure, a very familiar figure—a little silhouette with tousled hair, just like Lando’s, and sparkling eyes, trying best to tiptoe into the room. It was Thylane, with her tiny hands clutching her favorite blankie. You could see that she was struggling to hold back a giggle as she glanced over at her sleeping father.

Smiling, you brought a finger to your lips, silently shushing her. Thylane’s eyes widened, and she stopped mid-step, freezing in the doorway. You motioned gently for her to come closer to you, and she padded over quietly, looking up at you expectantly.

“Is Papa awake yet?” She whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

The eagerness in her tone made your heart swell, and you could not help but lean down, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

“No, mon amour,” you whispered back, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Papa had a very late night with Uncle Max. He needs his sleep, let’s let him rest a little longer, hm?”

Thylane nodded, her expression brightening at the thought of what you had in mind. “But it’s Papa’s birthday! I want to say happy birthday to him!”

“I know, my love. But how about we go to the kitchen, just you and me, and make a special birthday breakfast for Papa? Then we can surprise him together when he wakes up, and…” you paused, heart fluttering as you thought about the special surprise you had planned, one that you had kept to yourself until today. “And there’s something very exciting we’ll be giving him. Something you’re going to help me with, too.”

Her eyes lit up, and she bounced on her toes, already whispering with excitement. “What is it, Mama?”

“You’ll see, mon petit trésor,” you murmured with a soft smile. “It’s a surprise just as much for you as it is for your Papa. Now, come on.”

You grabbed your silk robe by the vanity chair and put it on. Taking Thylane’s little hand in yours, you casted a quick glance back at Lando. You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, lingering just a moment. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and for a heartbeat, you just admired the peaceful look on his face, hoping he would carry that warmth with him when he awoke to find you both by his side. Then you carefully lifted Thylane into your arms to keep her quiet and avoid the soft creaks of the floorboards as you slipped out of the room together.

You and Thylane moved quietly into the kitchen, both of you filled with anticipation. The kitchen was softly lit by the morning sun, casting a warm glow over the countertops as you gathered everything you needed for Lando’s birthday breakfast, with Thylane already clutching the whisk with her small hands, her tongue poking out in concentration as she tried her best to mix the batter for the pancakes.

“Like this, Mama?” She asked, glancing up at you, her face bright with determination.

“Oui, parfait, mon ange,” you replied, ruffling her hair lightly. “Now, tu peux ajouter les blueberries. Add the blueberries, like this.” You handed her a small bowl of plump blueberries, showing her how to fold them gently into the batter.

She followed your instructions very carefully, not wanting to ruin Lando’s surprise, her little fingers pushing each blueberry into the mix with care, her eyes darting to you every so often to check if she was doing it right.

“Is Papa going to love it?” She whispered.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Of course Papa’s going to love it because you made it for him,” you assured her, watching her face break into a wide grin. “Now, pass me the flour, please—la farine. Careful, don’t spill.”

With both hands, Thylane picked up the small bag of flour and brought it over, the look of focus never leaving her face. She had switched to a more serious demeanor, taking her role as your little sous-chef very seriously.

“Here, Mama!” She said proudly, handing it to you as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

“Merci, mon trésor,” you replied, taking the flour and measuring out the right amount for the batter. “Okay, now you can stir again, doucement, like this.” You demonstrated, letting her hands follow yours as you guided her through the gentle motions.

When the pancakes were stacked high on a plate, topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup, you and Thylane both stood back, admiring your creation.

“Look at what we made together,” you said softly, squeezing Thylane’s shoulder. “Papa will be very happy.”

Thylane clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “Can we give it to him now?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head, a smile forming on your lips. “There’s one more surprise we need to get ready.”

Walking over to the drawer, you retrieved the small acrylic box, some soft cloth, and your carefully wrapped pregnancy test. Thylane’s brows furrowed as she watched you, her head tilting with curiosity.

“What’s that, Mama?” She asked, peering closely at the box as you placed the soft cloth inside.

“This, my love, is a very special surprise for Papa,” you knelt down so that you were eye-level with her, placing the test in the box atop the folded cloth. “Do you remember how you told me you wanted to have a little brother or sister?”

Thylane’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes! Yes! Does this mean…”

“Yes, Tilly. This means you’re going to be a big sister.” You smiled warmly at her.

Her face lit up, her mouth forming a perfect little “O” of excitement. “Really, Mama? I get a baby brother or sister?”

“Yes, mon trésor,” you nodded, laughing softly at her reaction. “We don’t know yet if it’s a brother or sister, but the baby is here, right inside Mama’s tummy, just a little peanut for now.”

Thylane’s eyes went wide with wonder, and she pressed her small hands to your stomach as if she was trying to feel the baby herself.

“A baby peanut!” She giggled, delight shining in her face. “Can we call the baby that for now?”

“Of course,” you chuckled, brushing her hair back. “Until we know more, we can call your little sibling, baby peanut.” She grinned, clearly enamored with the idea, and watched carefully as you tied the ribbon around the box with care.

“Can I help with the ribbon?” She asked, her hand already reaching out eagerly.

“Of course, here.” You said, guiding her hand as she carefully looped the ribbon around, tightening it with a gentle tug and finishing it off in a neat bow.

“Where should we put it, Mama?” She asked, glancing around the room.

You took a quick look at the cozy space, then pointed to a spot on the kitchen counter, just out of Lando’s immediate line of sight.

“Right here,” you decided, setting the box down gently. “That way, Papa won’t see it right away.”

Thylane nodded, grinning widely. “I can’t wait to see Papa’s reaction!”

With breakfast prepared and the surprise box tucked safely out of sight, you and Thylane made your way back to the bedroom, eager to wake up the birthday boy. By now, the sun had fully risen, casting a warm glow across the room as you nudged the door open to your and Lando’s bedroom. You expected to see Lando still sleeping peacefully, but instead, he was already awake, propped up on pillows with his phone in his hand, scrolling with a sleepy smile on his face.

Before you could say anything, Thylane let out a squeal of excitement and sprinted towards the bed, practically launching herself onto him. Lando barely had time to react before she pounced, wrapping her arms around his neck and showering Lando’s face with small kisses.

“Happy birthday, Papa! Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” She chanted, each word punctuated with a giggling kiss to Lando’s cheeks, forehead, and nose. Lando can’t help but laugh, his eyes crinkling with joy as he pulled her close, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Tilly!” He replied, chuckling as he looked up at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a special wake-up call on my birthday before.”

She nodded enthusiastically, her face flushed with pride. “I made you a biiiiig birthday card last night! It’s pink, and has lots of hearts and sparkles on it, and I even drew a race car!”

“Woah, a race car? Just for me? Now that is one special card,” he said, brushing a few stray curls behind her ear as he smiled up at her. “I can’t wait to see it. I bet it’s the best card in the whole world.”

Giggling, Thylane seated herself on top of his stomach, her little hands resting on his chest as she looked down at Lando with pure adoration. You leaned against the doorway, laughing at the sweet sight in front of you before walking over to the bed and settling down beside Lando.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, but laced with affection. “I’m so happy that I get to spend my birthday with my favorite girls.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. “Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered, smiling against his lips before pulling back just slightly. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Lando grinned, puckering his lips again, silently asking for another kiss. Laughing, you leaned down, giving him another soft kiss, feeling his hand come up to gently cup your cheek. In that moment, it was just the three of you, wrapped in warmth and love, as if nothing else in the world existed. As you pulled back, Thylane let out a little giggle, pointing at the two of you with a mischievous grin.

“Ew, Mama and Papa!” She teased, though her face betrayed nothing but happiness.

Lando laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Hey, I deserve a birthday kiss, don’t I?”

“Papa! Mama and I made you a special breakfast!” She announced, clapping her hands. “We worked really, really hard. I even put the blueberries in all by myself!”

“No way! You mean to tell me you were my chef this morning, too?” Lando ticked her side, making her dissolve into giggles.

Thylane laughed, wiggling under his tickling fingers. “Yes, I’m your chef today! Mama showed me how to make everything.”

“Well, now I definitely have to see what my two favorite girls cooked up,” he said, sitting up slowly.

Lando reached over, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you close, then lifted Thylane into his other arm. She squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling her head against Lando’s shoulder. As the three of you made your way to the kitchen, Lando kept his arm secure around your waist, pulling you close as Thylane chattered excitedly about breakfast.

“Mama taught me how to fold in the blueberries so they wouldn’t smush!” She said proudly. “And we made a big stack of pancakes with syrup and blueberries and…oh! And I even helped tie a bow for your present!”

Lando gave you a curious look over Thylane’s shoulder. “A present, huh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin. “I’m starting to think you two were up to a lot more than just breakfast this morning.”

“Hm, maybe we were,” you replied, smiling playfully as you reached up to brush a strand of his hair back. “But you’ll have to be patient to find out.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist. “Well, I don’t know how much patience I have today. I mean, it is my birthday.”

Laughing, you reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Good things come to those who wait, birthday boy.”

The three of you entered the kitchen, where the table was set with the special breakfast you and Thylane had made. Lando’s eyes sparkled as he took it all in, and Thylane beamed with pride, practically bouncing in his arms.

“Happy birthday, Papa!” She exclaimed one last time, her voice full of love and excitement, her little arms squeezing him tightly.

With Lando’s arm around you, and Thylane hugging him with all her might, it was clear to you that this birthday morning could not have started off any sweeter.

Breakfast was a cozy, peaceful affair, the three of you wrapped in the simplicity of the morning. You and Lando chatted about plans for his birthday dinner later, throwing around ideas and laughing at each other’s jokes, while Thylane happily watched her favorite show on her iPad, humming along with the familiar theme song of Little Einsteins. It was a gentle scene, just the three of you? Sharing a quiet, joyful space as the morning sun spilled across the table.

Lando seemed perfectly content, caught up in the warmth of the moment. He had almost forgotten about the small gift waiting for him, tucked away in the kitchen—until you stood up, brushing a gentle hand across his shoulder.

“Wait here for a sec,” you said softly, a hint of excitement in your voice. “Tilly, come help me with something for Papa.”

Thylane’s face lit up as she hopped down from her chair, glancing at you with a secretive smile. She knew exactly what was coming next. Taking her hand, you led her back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to see Lando watching you both with a look of fond curiosity. He seemed completely oblivious to what was coming.

You reached into the cozy corner of the counter, pulling out the small, acrylic box you had hidden away with so much care. Inside, carefully wrapped in a soft cloth, was the positive pregnancy test. You knelt down, handing the box to Thylane, who held it carefully with wide, shining eyes.

“Okay, mon ange,” you whispered, giving her a gentle smile. “Give this to Papa, and make sure he opens it.”

She nodded, taking the box in her hands as if it were a treasure. Together, you walked back to the dining area, where Lando was watching you both with growing curiosity.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin.

Thylane held out the box, her excitement barely contained. Lando took the acrylic box, glancing from her to you, a mixture of awe and confusion on his face.

You smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, leaning close. “Go on,” you said, voice soft with anticipation. “Open it.”

“Open it, Papa! Open it!” She echoed, bouncing slightly on her toes, her face brimming with excitement.

Lando carefully untied the delicate ribbon that Thylane had helped you with that morning, his fingers moving slowly as if savoring the moment. The box felt light in his hands, and his expression shifted from curiosity to wonder as he lifted the lid, pulling away the cloth inside. The instant he saw the test, his eyes widened, and Lando looked up at you with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Is this…” he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he was afraid he might shatter the moment. “Is this real? Is this for real?”

You nodded, unable to contain your own smile as you squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, love. It is real.” You watched his face light up as the reality of it washed over him.

“Happy birthday, my love.” You added softly, feeling your own heart swell with happiness.

Lando did not hesitate. He stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off of your feet, twirling you in a gentle circle. His laugh was warm and filled with immense happiness so pure that it brought tears to your eyes.

“After all this time,” he murmured, voice thick with emotions as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’re really going to have another baby?” You nodded, laughing through your tears.

“I found out a few weeks ago, when you were in Mexico. I wanted to wait until today to tell you.” You placed a hand on his cheeks, gazing up at him with all the love you had been holding back for weeks. “It took everything in me not to tell you the moment I found out.”

He kissed you softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered. “Thank you for waiting, love. This…this is literally the best birthday gift I’ve ever had.”

“Papa, did you see? It’s real!” She said, beaming and clapping her hand, while bouncing in happiness. “I’m going to have a baby brother or sister! I told Mama I want to call them baby peanut!”

“Baby peanut, huh?” Lando chuckled, bending down to lift Thylane into his arms, bringing her close to the two of you. Kissing her forehead, and looking at you with a grin. “I think that’s a perfect name, for now.”

“Papa, can we tell everyone? All our friends?” Thylane’s face lit up at the thought, and she looked back and forth between you and Lando.

“Soon, Tilly. But for now, let’s keep it our little secret, okay? Just between us.” He leaned down, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That way, we can keep baby peanut all to ourselves a little longer.”

“Our little secret!” She nodded seriously, her eyes wide as she held her finger to her lips. “I’m really good at secrets, Papa. I won’t tell anyone!”

You all just stood there, basking in the warmth and happiness of the quiet moment, Lando had never felt a new kind of peace settle over him. This was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of. A family, life filled with love and laughter, and now, another little one on the way.

Lando let Thylane down, letting her run towards the living room to play with her toys. He reached out, threading his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle squeeze, and kissing it softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking a little bit. “For this, for everything. You’ve given me the greatest gift of all.”

You squeezed his hand back, your own eyes shining with emotion. “I love you,” you murmured. “Happiest birthday, my love.”

As Lando held you closely, he realized that this was a happiness beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

[connorsui]

Baby Blues || Imagine ||

Zayne x Wife! Reader

Note: I apologize for how this fic turned out, but my mind really made me want sum body worship with zayne

It was the middle of the night, and the house was still cloaked in the kind of silence that only settled after everyone else was asleep. You stood alone in the dim light of the bedroom, having just returned from the nursery after putting the baby back down. The weight of exhaustion hung heavy on your shoulders, but it was something else that had drawn you to the mirror—something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

The woman staring back at you was... unrecognizable. The dark circles under your eyes, the weary curve of your shoulders—this wasn’t the same woman who had met Zayne with a carefree smile all those years ago. Nor was it the same woman who had carried the fierce determination of early pregnancy, filled with hope, strength, and the thrill of creating life. No. The reflection that stared back seemed distant, foreign. As if each moment, each day, had taken something from you without giving it back.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they traveled over your skin, pressing at the softness of your waist, the roundness of your thighs, the tender flesh beneath your arms. Every inch felt heavier than it once had, like a reminder of how much had changed. The more you touched, the deeper your frown became. Slowly, almost as if you couldn’t help it, your hands lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing the silvered stretch marks and the small, stubborn bump that still lingered on your stomach—a testament to the life you had brought into the world.

But now, it felt like a stranger’s body. The once-familiar curves that Zayne used to trace so adoringly with his hands now seemed like distant memories. You turned to the side, trying to find something in the reflection that felt like you, something beautiful. You forced yourself to look longer, harder, as if searching for the woman you used to be. But the more you stared, the more all you could see was the evidence of change—change you weren’t sure how to embrace.

Unbeknownst to you, Zayne had arrived home. The door clicked softly as he entered, his footsteps slowly echoing up the stairs as he called your name, but no reply came. Quietly, he made his way toward the bedroom, his heart tightening as he caught sight of you.

The door was left ajar, and there you were, bare except for your underwear, staring at your reflection with sadness and resignation. His voice, soft but edged with concern, broke the silence.

“Love, what are you doing?”

Startled, you glanced at the mirror, catching his reflection before turning around. “Zayne! I... I didn’t hear you come in. When did you get back?”

Your voice faltered. Zayne’s gaze softened as he took in the weight of your expression, the unspoken self-doubt written on your face. He didn’t need an explanation—he already knew.

He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours, his voice gentle. " —You don’t have to hide from me, you know." His hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I’ve seen you at your best, at your worst... but this?" He paused, looking you over with a mixture of concern and love. "This isn’t something I want you feeling alone about."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words hit deeper than you expected. “I wasn’t... hiding,” you managed to whisper, though you knew he saw through it.

Zayne tilted his head, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. "No? Then why are you looking at yourself like this right now? Like you’re seeing a stranger instead of the woman I fell in love with?"

You glanced away, unable to meet his gaze, your fingers still clutching the hem of your shirt you have removed. "Because… I don’t look like the woman you fell in love with anymore, Zayne. I don’t look like… myself."

His brow furrowed, and without another word, he closed the space between you, his hands gently settling on your waist. "What does that even mean?" His voice was soft, but there was a quiet intensity in it. "You think because your body has changed, I’d love you any less?"

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s not that I think you’d love me less... it’s just... I don’t feel like the same person anymore. I don’t look the same. I don’t feel ..beautiful.”

He sighed softly, leaning his forehead against yours. "If only you could see what I see."

Slowly, his hands moved to the places you had been examining with self-doubt, his touch gentle but deliberate. "This," he began, fingers grazing your waist, "is where you carried our child. Where you nurtured and gave life. How could that be anything but beautiful?"

Your heart clenched at his words, your voice barely audible. "Zayne..."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his voice lowering. "And these? You’ve always been strong, but now?" He gave a soft, appreciative squeeze. "Now you’re stronger than ever."

“Zayne…”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, trailing his lips up to your neck, each touch slow and full of affection. “And these arms,” he whispered, tracing the soft curve of your biceps, “have held me through everything. There’s nothing about you that I could ever see as anything less than extraordinary.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words wrapping around you like a protective embrace. You closed your eyes, gripping his arms tightly as the weight of your emotions broke free. "Please, Zayne... You don’t mean all of that..."

Then his voice dropped to a low murmur, full of the quiet intensity that always made your heart race. "Then let me prove it to you," he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Let me show you just how much I mean every word I say."

His hand found yours, gently guiding you toward the bed as his lips continued to press soft kisses along your neck. And as you followed, his touch, his presence, his love enveloped you, reminding you that in his eyes, you were—and always would be—perfect.

[thewulf]

Trust in the Tide || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request -Hello!! I loved your forever yours fic!! I was wondering if you could write another Paul Lahote fic where Bella goes to the cullens house and drags her sister Y/N along with. Paul isnt happy about this at all and gets very possessive of Y/N.

A/N: Okay this one is cheeeeeesy but really sweet :)

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Swan Sister Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

TW: Possessiveness, general twilight warnings

On an unusually warm afternoon, with the sun painting the waves in hues of amber and gold, you find yourself lounging on the sands of La Push beach. Beside you, Paul's presence is as comforting as the steady rhythm of the surf. Though known among his peers for his fierce temper and unyielding nature with you he's a different person—gentle, attentive, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

You've been together for a year now ever since the day he imprinted on you. A single moment that forever changed the course of both your lives. In this year your relationship has blossomed into a deep and passionate connection with you often playing the role of his anchor, the calm in his storm.

As you sit there watching the gulls dance above the waves Paul's hand finds yours, his fingers lacing with yours in a familiar, comforting grip. His other hand brushes away a stray lock of hair from your face tucking it gently behind your ear. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he murmurs. His voice low and warm carrying over the sound of the waves.

You nod while leaning into his side, feeling the solid strength of him. "It's perfect," you agree, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the simple joy of being here with him away from the complexities of your intertwined worlds.

Paul's gaze is fixed on the horizon, but you know his thoughts are never far from you. In these quiet, unguarded moments you see a side of him that no one else does. You see the vulnerability hidden behind the façade of the tough werewolf. It's a side he only shows to you. It makes your heart swell with a mix of affection and pride.

"Thanks for being here, you know," he says suddenly before turning to look at you with intense, sincere eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Your heart flutters at his words. A gentle reminder of the bond you share. "I'll always be here, Paul," you assure him by squeezing his hand. "No matter what."

In these moments with the salty breeze tangling your hair and the sound of Paul's steady heartbeat under your ear you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Here, with him, you are home.

But your peaceful afternoon is abruptly shattered when Bella, her brow creased with worry but with a knowing smirk on her face, approaches the two of you on the beach. The sight of her alone is enough to tighten Paul's grip around your waist. His body tensing as if bracing for a storm.

"Whenever you aren't with Charlie, you're always here," Bella comments lightly. Trying to ease the tension with a touch of humor as she nods towards the two of you entwined on the sand.

You can't help but smile even as the worry in Bella's eyes belies her playful tone. "Can you blame me?" you reply with gesturing to the serene beach and then to Paul whose presence is a comforting constant in your life.

Paul attempted to lighten the mood despite the tension. He throws a quizzical glance at Bella. "What brings the vampire girl back down to La Push?" he jokes. Trying to elicit a smile but his voice betrays a hint of his underlying concern.

Bella's expression turns serious again as she ignores Paul’s attempt at humor. "It's Alice," she begins. Her voice dropping to a more urgent whisper. "She had a vision... and it involves you, Y/N. It's not clear, but it's serious enough that we think you should come to the house and talk about it."

Instantly, Paul's embrace tightens. His protective instincts flaring up. "No," he says flatly, his voice laced with a protectiveness that borders on aggression. "She’s not going anywhere near those bloodsuckers."

You squeeze his hand trying to calm the storm you see brewing in his eyes. "Paul, if it's about me… I need to know. I need to understand what's happening," you reason. Your voice a soothing counterpoint to his growling tone.

Bella looks between the two of you, her worry deepening. "It’s not clear what it means yet, but Alice saw a conflict... something that might escalate without your intervention. We think Y/N might be a key to preventing it."

Paul’s body is rigid with conflict. The thought of you walking into what he views as the lion’s den. A place where every instinct tells him you could be in danger, is tearing him apart inside. "You don't understand, Bella. I can’t just let her walk into a potential trap," he argues with his voice strained.

You look up at him. Your heart is aching at the pain and fear etched in his features. "Paul, I need to do this. Not just for me but for all of us. If there’s even a chance that my being there could help prevent a bigger conflict, we have to take it." Your voice is firm. Carrying the weight of your resolve. "I’ll be okay. I went to school with them, remember? They'd never harm a hair on my head."

Seeing the agony in his eyes you reach up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise Pau, I'll come home right to you. Just wait for me, okay?"

Paul's face is a mask of conflict. He’s torn between his fierce instinct to protect and his deep trust in you. "It's not you I don't trust, you know that," he says, his voice tense. "It's them. It's walking you right into their world... without me even being able to be there to protect you."

You nod understanding his fear. "Paul, I'm Bella's sister," you remind him gently by playing to his more rational side. "They've known me almost as long as they've known her. They'd never hurt me. And this could help everyone. The pack even. Your brothers and sister. It could prevent a bigger conflict. Isn't that worth it?"

He looks out towards the sea, his jaw clenching as he processes your words. "And I can't even escort you there..." he mutters with frustration lacing every word.

With pleading eyes, you look back at him. "I need you to trust me on this," you say softly. "Trust that I'll be okay."

Paul stares into your eyes searching for something that might make this easier. Finally, with a guttural sigh, his resistance crumbles. "Alright," he murmurs. His voice rough with suppressed emotion. "But I’m holding you to that promise. You come straight back to me. Please." He adds with a soft smile.

You grin while squeezing his hand tightly ever so grateful for his trust and understanding. "I will, Paul. I promise." Sensing the weight of the moment you step closer to him before wrapping your arms around his neck. You press a lingering, tender kiss to his lips. A promise of your return sealed with the sweetness of your affection.

As you pull away your eyes lock with his communicating a depth of love and reassurance. "Wait for me," you whisper. It’s a soft plea mixed with a firm promise. He agrees. His expression a mix of resolve and vulnerability. The hard lines of his face softening at your touch.

With one last look you turn and follow Bella to her truck feeling the weight of Paul's gaze on you like a protective cloak. As you climb into the passenger seat and the truck pulls away his figure remains etched against the horizon. A silent sentinel watching over the path you'll return by.

As the truck bumps along the familiar forested road leading to the Cullen house Bella steals a few glances your way her earlier worry momentarily replaced by a hint of curiosity. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable but it's filled with the unspoken acknowledgment of the distance that has grown between you two. Yet, today, as the trees blur past there’s a tentative bridge being built in those stolen glances.

“You seem really happy, Y/N,” Bella finally says. The words careful but genuine. She adjusts her grip on the steering wheel focusing on the winding road but clearly intent on your response.

Your heart swells at the mention and you can't help but nod enthusiastically. “I am, Bella. Paul... he’s been amazing,” you reply. Your voice tinged with undeniable joy. “He’s so kind to me, you know? In ways that people don’t always see.”

Bella smiles, a soft, understanding smile that reaches her eyes. “I can tell. He looks at you like... like you’re his whole world.” Her tone is reflective, possibly recalling her own complex relationships. “It’s really nice seeing you so taken care of. Makes me feel less worried about dragging you into our... mess today.”

The road smooths out as you approach the Cullen’s long driveway and you let out a small, contented sigh. “Thanks, Bella. I know it’s a lot, with everything going on. But being with Paul, it feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be.” You turn to her with a bright grin spreading across your face. “And don’t worry about today. We’ll handle it just like we handle everything else.”

Bella nods, her expression mixing relief with a bit of admiration. “I’m glad, Y/N. And I’m glad he’s good to you. We all need that… someone who makes us feel like coming home.”

The conversation lulls as the imposing structure of the Cullen house comes into view with its vast windows reflecting the cloudy sky above. Today might be filled with uncertainties but your heart holds on to the warmth of the conversation, the shared smiles, and the reassurance of your sister's concern, making you feel ready for whatever lies ahead.

As you step into the cool, grand interior of the Cullen house the atmosphere is charged with a mix of anticipation and tension. The Cullen’s are all present. Their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. Alice steps forward first with her slight frame contrasting the intensity of her gaze.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," Alice says sincerely. "I know this isn't easy."

You nod feeling the weight of the situation but bolstered by the earlier conversation with Bella. "Let's just get to the bottom of this, Alice. What exactly did you see?"

Alice describes her vision in greater detail explaining that it involved a confrontation that could escalate tensions not just within Forks but potentially with other vampire groups. Your presence, she suggests, might symbolize a commitment to peace that could soothe rising fears.

Edward, ever the voice of reason, interjects thoughtfully. "I’ve given this some thought. Perhaps there's a way to communicate our intentions without requiring Y/N to be directly involved. We could send a message through Carlisle to the other leaders, clarifying our stance and our commitment to peace. Getting the pack involved this early seems… unwise." His soft smile towards you is comforting and you give him a quick nod back agreeing with his stance.

Jasper, who has been quietly assessing the mood, adds, "And I can reach out to my old contacts. They trust my judgment. If I explain the situation and our peaceful intentions it might help calm any unrest."

You listen to each suggestion feeling a sense of relief that there might be solutions that don't require you to be more involved than necessary. "Both sound like good plans," you agree. "My being here today is a show of good faith and hopefully that's enough. Showing that we're united in wanting peace might be the strongest message we can send."

Carlisle nods in agreement. His expression one of gentle authority. "I think that's wise. We appreciate your willingness to help, Y/N, and your insight has been invaluable. But let's minimize risk where we can."

Esme with her nurturing demeanor smiles warmly at you. "And we're here to support you not to make demands. Let's proceed with those ideas and keep communication open. Should we need you we know how to get ahold of you." She gestures to your sister who was looking more and more relieved.

As the meeting begins to wind down and everyone seems to agree on the proactive steps to take, Emmett can't resist lightening the mood. He leans slightly closer to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and pretends to sniff the air dramatically. "Y/N, you know I love you, but you kind of stink like wet dog today," he says with a broad grin, clearly teasing.

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head at his typical goofiness. "Emmett, you really never change, do you?" you reply. The laughter making your words light and easy.

Rosalie who was standing beside him rolls her eyes affectionately at her husband's antics but smiles at the exchange. It's clear they all value the levity Emmett brings, especially in tense situations.

"Hey, I'm just saying, maybe a little vampire sparkle wouldn't hurt," Emmett chuckles, winking at you.

As you leave the Cullen house, chuckling over Emmett's playful banter, you feel a genuine warmth from the exchange. It's moments like these in the middle of the gravity of supernatural politics that remind you of the strange yet comforting friendship you've found with the Cullen’s. They might be vampires, but their familial bonds and moments of humor aren't so different from what you find at home with Paul and the pack.

As Bella's truck pulls up to the familiar surroundings of La Push you can already see Paul waiting by the road, his posture tense with anticipation. The moment the truck stops he's at the door pulling it open with a haste that speaks volumes of his anxiety and relief.

"You're back," Paul breathes out. His voice thick with emotion as he helps you out of the truck. His hands are gentle but firm, as if he needs to physically feel that you're safe and sound.

"I'm back, just like I promised," you reassure him by reaching up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble and the warmth of his skin. His eyes search yours looking for any sign of distress instead relaxing when he sees your calm demeanor.

Before you can fully turn to Paul you remember Bella, still seated in the driver’s seat, watching the exchange with a small smile. "Thanks, Bella. For everything today," you speak while giving her a grateful look.

Bella nods, her eyes softening. "Of course. Take care, you two," she replies. Her voice carrying a hint of relief at seeing you safe and sound with Paul.

Paul who was not one to hold grudges where your safety is involved, nods at Bella. "Thanks for looking out for her," he adds. His tone sincere despite the underlying tension of the day.

With a final wave Bella starts the truck again before pulling away from the curb as you turn back to Paul. His arms are already open, ready to pull you into a secure embrace. "I was worried, you know," he admits once Bella's truck has disappeared from sight, his voice low, almost a whisper against the breeze. "Every minute felt like an hour. But I trust you. I should have remembered that you can handle anything."

You smile softly as you were touched by his concern and his admission. "I know you were worried, and I love you for it," you say while pulling him close for a hug. "But I also knew everything would be okay. We had to make sure of that."

Paul nods, his expression softening as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry for doubting. It's just hard when I think about anything happening to you."

"Nothing happened, Paul. And I had to go today to keep it that way," you explain, hoping he understands the importance of your actions today. Not just for yourself but for the peace it might ensure.

Paul takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under your hands. "I get it now. I do. And I'm proud of you, Y/N. Really proud." His words are sincere and filled with a new respect for your judgment and your strength.

The two of you stand there for a moment, just holding each other, the sound of the waves in the background a soothing soundtrack to your reunion. Paul's hold tightens briefly as if reaffirming his promise to always be there for you.

"Why don't we just sit here for a while?" Paul suggests, gesturing towards the beach. "Enjoy the quiet and each other's company. No rush, just us." You grin, grateful for the peaceful end to an eventful day. Settling back onto the sand you lean against him feeling truly at home in his embrace. As the sun begins to set it painted the sky in fiery hues. You savor the moment of calm, the simple joy of being together.

As the evening air grows cooler and a gentle shiver passes through you Paul notices immediately. With a concerned furrow of his brow, he shifts closer, his arms reaching out to you. "Hey, come here," he says softly while pulling you gently towards him. Before you know it you're settled comfortably in his lap. His warmth enveloping you like a protective cloak.

Wrapped in his embrace you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of safety and love. Paul's hands rub your arms gently, generating warmth, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "Better?" he asks. His voice a soothing rumble in his chest.

"Much," you reply leaning back against him, feeling his heartbeat steady and reassuring against your back. The sound of the waves, the starlit sky, and Paul's presence combine into a perfect ever peaceful moment.

Paul kisses the top of your head gently. An affirmation of his feelings. "I love you. You know that?" he murmurs into your hair. His voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "Not just for being so strong today, but for every day. For being you."

Your heart feels full. His words lifting you even further into a state of bliss. "I love you too, Paul. So much," you whisper back, turning slightly to catch his eye. The look he gives you is filled with adoration and a promise of infinite tomorrows.

As the evening chill sets in and you snuggle deeper into Paul's embrace his heart swells with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. Under the vast, starlit sky, as he feels your steady breathing against him Paul's thoughts drift towards the future. A future he envisions vividly with you by his side.

Holding you close, his mind fills with images of similar nights, perhaps a little house of your own nearby where the sounds of the ocean can lull you both to sleep. He imagines lazy mornings with you, shared laughter, and quiet evenings just like this one. Each moment reinforcing the bond between you.

"You know," Paul whispers while breaking the comfortable silence. His voice tinged with a mix of wonder and conviction, "I feel like the luckiest guy on earth to have you. Every day with you feels like a promise of something great."

You look up at him, touched by his sincerity and the soft look in his eyes. "And I feel like the luckiest girl," you respond. Your voice soft. "I can't wait for all those days, Paul."

Content in the quiet night wrapped in each other's arms the world seems to stand still. Eventually, as the night deepens and the chill of the air becomes more pronounced, Paul's concern for your comfort reasserts itself. "Let's get you home before you turn into an ice cube," he jokes lightly. But his care is evident in the way he helps you to your feet and keeps you close as you walk to his car.

When you arrive at your doorstep Paul pulls you into one more long, lingering kiss. This one filled with promises and plans. "See you tomorrow, love. Dream of us," he says as he finally, regretfully, pulls away.

As you watch him drive off his earlier words echo in your heart filling you with warmth and a deep, unshakeable sense of belonging. You step inside already counting the minutes until you see him again, secure in the knowledge that what you have is once-in-a-lifetime. Tonight has not only brought you closer but has also cemented a future you are both eager to build together. One beautiful day at a time.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @hollyplake

[fanaticsnail]

Gloves: Sabo

Birthday Celebration Masterllst

Word Count: 3,200+

Themes: Sabo x f!reader, gendered terms used, glove play, roleplay, workplace rivals, oral, creampie, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, porn with plot, minor degradation, angst, fluff, Sabo is unhinged, kinks.

Notes: This fic was inspired for @writingmysanity's birthday earlier in the month. Happy birthday, you absolute beautiful person. Lots of imput by @frillsinadress who loves her Sabo a little more unhinged and aided in the plot. Thank you for celebrating with me, and lots of love to the both of you.

Lock latching within the wooden door behind him, Sabo closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly shut. Immediately, his forehead found the cool surface and he gently butt his face against the door in a bid to reprimand himself before you had the chance to do so. 

Taking in your surroundings, you were in a similar state of displeasure. Inhaling deeply through your nose, and exhaling out your fury through your mouth, you were simply too mad to articulate your true feelings. 

Sabo had one task to handle. 

This mission served together with the revolutionary army was simple enough, and you had prepared for it remarkably well. Infiltrate the marine gala, Sabo dressed in service attire and masquerading as your footman and valet, you in an elaborate gown imitating a nepotism invitation by association, gather the intel by distracting the guests while Sabo rummaged through the desks, retrieve the desired information, and leave without a scratch. 

The only hindrance that occurred was truly the fact that you and Sabo, the flame emperor himself, did not get along. Despite working together for years, you and the blonde man could barely stand being in the same room together, let alone share the single bed in the middle of the room. 

Sabo was in charge of ensuring adequate accommodation to house you once you returned from your mission before you made it back to home base. Twin rooms, a room with a divider in the center, two different inns, anything would've been better than the single room with a small, double bed at the center. 

On the mission itself, he was to behave as your servant and wait on your every whim, just as his role indicated. He was your handler, and you were to be his bratty and snooty boss. These roles were played into with absolute perfection, just as you planned. Sabo was able to keep up with you, and you pushed him to the absolute brink of insanity. 

Driving him mad came easy to you, so he learned. Having no choice but to respond with ‘yes, my lady,’ or ‘as you wish, my lady’ in this public setting with his head bowed low made his skin crawl with displeasure. Having you be in charge, not being able to speak up when another man laid his hands on you while asking you to dance, watching the way they undressed you with their eyes and fucked you in their minds was repulsive in his opinion. Not you, yourself, but those who intended to lay claim on you. 

Marines. Marines laying their hands on you. You, a revolutionary. You, the bane of his existence. You, the night mistress that called to him in his dreams and mocked him with your body performing for him as a marionette beneath his ventriloquism. As he made you cry for him in ecstasy in his dreams of late, always waking with a sticky reminder of his budding infatuation for the thorn in his side seemed to make him all the more pent up in rage.

“Wonderful, Sabo!” Your voice echoed within the singular room, sarcasm dripping from every word as you snarl at him, “This is just perfect. Can't you do anything right? Just a single thing for you to handle, and you can’t even do that.” 

“Watch it,” he growled back at you, continuing to hold his head against the wood, “Be grateful we have a room at all. This was the last on the Den-Den list available.” He was so pent up with rage at being your little ‘errand-boy’ for the night that he so desperately wanted to teach you a lesson in humility. 

“Be grateful? Be grateful?” you mock him, beginning to remove your great outer skirt and throw it to the ground, changing out of your costume and leaving you in your frilled under-draws, bodice and jewelry. “It's only the last room because you left it so late. If you just listened to me when we first got this mission from Dragon, we wouldn't be in this situation.”

“Listen to you?” Sabo quirked, his jaw switching and a sinister smirk up-ticking at the corners. Turning in place, he faced you and bore his piercing blue eyes into your skull, “Listen to you?”

“You never listen to me-,” you began, halting as Sabo took a calculated step forward. His gloved hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, still in the uniform from the earlier assignment. 

“-I have done nothing but listen to you for the entire night,” Sabo laughed humorlessly, drawing up a gloved hand to card through his sunshine locks, “I have waited on you hand and foot, I have followed one step behind you and behaved like a leashed pup. I have fed you food, I have poured your drinks, I have danced with you, I have-.”

“-Done the job I planned for you to do so, yes,” you spat in response, stepping closer to him and gnashing your teeth in a sarcastic smile, “The only time you ever take my needs into consideration is when it’s all an act for you, Sabo. I pity the partner you find yourself coupling with.” This did not halt you in your removal of jewelry adorning your neck, now flung carelessly to the vanity with your shoes kicked off beneath the bed. 

Sabo’s eyes grew wider, his lip curling up in displeasure at your display. 

“You should watch your tone with me, brat,” he snapped, stepping closer still and brushing his booted toes against your own clad in thigh-high stockings beneath your frills. 

“Or what, asshole?” you quip in return, tilting your head and mirroring his expression. Standing on your toes, your noses almost brushed with the proximity your flared tempers drew you to. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Sabo’s right hand flung to your hip and clenched firmly against the bone, the other flying up to cup your cheek and tilted his head down between you. His lips almost descended on your own, and your very breath was stolen from you. Anger immediately subseased, and in its wake swelled a banner of anxiousness at his motions. 

Just before your lips touched, he clenched his jaw and growled into your surprised features. 

“Just take the damn bed,” Sabo uttered darkly, his eyes puncturing you with their rage, “I'd rather sleep outside on the gravel floor than hear you whine about it any longer.”

His hands released from your features, hanging limply at his sides while you remained stunned at the rush of blood flooding your chest and expanding your heart. Sabo clicked his tongue down at you, turning on his heel and began to briskly walk to the door while releasing a shuddered breath. 

Your body moved almost against your will, immediately pulled magnetically behind him by the emotional display in proximity. Before he could unlatch the door from the hinges, your hand found his gloved fingers and tugged him back to face you. 

“Want me to stop whining about the room so bad,” you taunted him, darting your eyes between his with a challenge twinkling behind your anger, “Make me.”

“I'm done taking orders from you,” he shook his head, snatching his hand away from yours and drawing once again to the door. 

Although his hand was on the lock, his mind screaming at his fingers to turn the knob and leave, and not give in to your taunt, the call to put you in your place and bend you to his will was far too tempting to ignore. For what felt like an eternity, Sabo stationary at the door while you remained firmly in place in the middle of the room, he made his snap decision. 

“Screw this,” he whispered exasperatedly, turning to face you and hastily closing the distance between you. 

His hands flung up to your cheeks, lips colliding in a messy oscillation of teeth and tongue while he ravished your mouth with his own. He made his pact internally, crafting a covenant the moment his lips clashed with yours: you will learn your lesson, and your pleasure will be your teacher invoked by his hands. 

Hardly waiting for you to react or understand what was occuring, Sabo's gloved hands immediately found their way beneath the waistband of your frilly, knee-length under-draws. His shrouded fingers carded through your folds, the material adding friction to your quivering clit and causing you to whine into his lips. 

Pulling away both his hands and his lips from you entirely, he raised his index and middle finger to your gaze and demonstrated the amount of slick you had already coated him with. Rolling your arousal through his hands, he chuckled down at you while you panted for him in need. 

“Tsk, tsk, made my gloves all messy,” he reprimanded you with a click in his tongue. “Clean them.” 

As you parted your lips in shock at his statement, he immediately thrust his covered fingers into your lips and pushed down on your tongue. You tasted your honeyed essence on his material, the lewd act only causing more slick to pool in your panties beneath your under-drawers. 

Sabo took his unoccupied hand and undid the waist ribbon, watching as the frills pooled at your feet. His blue eyes eclipsed with black at the sight of the girdle and thigh clips suspending your thigh-high stockings. As he languidly fucked your mouth with his fingers, his other hand flicked one of the elastic suspenders holding up the sheer stockings. 

“This was under there the whole time?” he scoffed, gripping a fistful of your thigh, “All those frigid fucking layers, and this what was lurking beneath? Fuck.” 

He removed his hand from your lips, the material from his gloves leaving a coarse and furry feeling on your palate as he retracted them. Before you had a chance to answer him regarding your attire, Sabo dropped to his knees and threw your legs over his shoulders, and rose back up to full height. 

Slamming your back into the wooden door, he mouthed at your soaked panties, drawing lazy circles against your clothed clit before dipping down to your shrouded entrance. His motions caused your breath to hitch and your hands to fly down to cling onto his golden locks. 

“Sabo-!” You choked out your whimpers, truly not understanding how you had only just verbally lashing at one another to now having Sabo ushering you close to climax by burying his scarred face into your core. 

“Quiet,” he muffled his orders, moving his hand up to wedge your soaked panties between your folds while covering your clit with his parted lips. 

The amount of friction pulling at your body was too much: the heat from his breath, the feel of his gloved fingers now traveling up to your slit and coaxing out more of your creamy slick to dampen the material with its viscosity, and the way his tongue abused your clit had you close to the edge. Tempers flaring moments prior, your belly squeezed in tight knots before you abruptly released over his tongue. 

Your cunt contracted around the material, his fingers feeling the rhythmic thumps of your pussy riding through a hasty high brought on by his hands. He couldn't help but chuckle into your core, feeling the way your slick managed to seep through your lingerie and dampen his gloves with it once more.

“Already?” Sabo teased you, urging you with his arms to slump against his head while he shepherded you towards the double bed in the center of the room. Throwing you down onto the bed, you bounced once atop the springs while he threw his jacket and shirt from his shoulders. 

“Sabo, I-,” you attempted, your body still reeling from the pleasure he quickly drew from your body. 

“-I said ‘quiet’, didn’t I?” he reprimanded you, removing his belt and beginning to unbutton his pants. Your eyes greedily drank him in, noticing the large amount of scarring that marred his skin with the similar marks donning his right hand side. Removing his hat, he was left in naught but those two gloves he had been enjoying torturing you with. 

You didn’t say a word while you gazed up at him with uncertainty in your eyes. Never once picturing this moment between you both, your lip quivered in anticipation for his next actions. Immediately, his unhinged expression dropped to match your own, cocking his head to the side while examining you. 

“I’m only going to ask you this once,” he offered you, peering down his nose at you while you peered up at him in awe, “Do you want this. A simple ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ will do.” 

Ignoring the prior rage you felt after the mission with your workplace rival, the way your pussy clenched while he took charge spurred you on to answer with a single word. 

“Yes.”

Sabo smirked before slotting himself between your legs, tugging at your panties still partially wedged in your labia as he did so. Leaning down, he took your bottom lip within his clenched teeth and pulled on the plush flesh. 

“I think,” he uttered against your lips, releasing it with a smack of his mouth against yours, “I am,” he hastily scooped his arms beneath your shoulders and flung you face-down against the mattress, “Going to,” he pressed down on the mid of your back, arching your ass up while pawing his gloved hands at your panties and hooking them to the side, “Keep your panties on while I ruin you. They’re too fucking good to take off.”

You whelped while he tugged your panties to the side, immediately lining his cockhead up with your glistening slit. Carding the tip through your folds, he let out a shaken shudder while he enjoyed the feeling of your slick coating his cock. 

Although truly desiring to take his time with you, as soon as he heard your shuddered whimper, a switch clicked in his mind and propelled him onward. Bottoming out immediately, he started a brutal pace of slapping his hips against yours and bucking wildly into you. There was no more time for teasing, no more time for subtlety, no more time for drawing out your bliss with languid thrusts to burn his name onto your tongue. 

It was all raw emotion driving him. Your mewls and cries for him was gasoline to the flames of his desires, propelling him to spur on with each cruel piston within you. You could barely get a word out to tell him to slow down, immediately too drunk on the feeling of his mushroomed tip kissing your g spot and bruising your cervix. 

Sabo slot his four fingers beneath the ass of your panties and rolled them in his grip using them as reins to control your motions while his thumb brushed with your puckered hole. You immediately tensed up as he began tapping on your unexplored entrance while brutally stapling you against the mattress. He chuckled darkly, noting he may want to explore a little bit more of ass play another time with you, but for now, he was so lost in the way your pussy fluttered around him with every in-thrust that he physically could no longer hold himself back. 

“Oh, fuck,” he barked out, a small whine picking up in the back of his throat as he continued railing his cock into your core, “So fucking good. Why the fuck haven’t we done this earlier?”

“Be- hnnnghm-... Because I hate you, and you hate me,” you retort in response. He chuckled into your neck, surging forward and placing a harsh nip to your neck from behind you. You cried out in response, 

“I don’t hate you,” he uttered, reaching forward and cupping your chin to mute your cries of bliss by slotting his unoccupied middle and unity finger into your mouth, “I fucking admire you.” He forced you to suck on his fingers while forcing your body to respond to his harsh momentum with every crude slap and gyration.  

You could barely respond to his confession, your body spasming while your cunt began contracting around his shaft. You knew you were close, and you could feel how close the man behind you was by the harsh pummeling of his hips on yours. Sabo’s own mewls of bliss began becoming higher in intensity.

No cohesive words fled from his lips while the primal urge took over. Focussing solely on your joint needs, he held you down while he forced pleasure upon your body. His abdomen coiled and tightened within his stomach, his balls slinking into his guts while he felt the imminent release begin to spurt from his slit. 

“I-I-I’m cumming-!” he whined in your ear, forcing your body down on the mattress while he continued huffing and panting. The viscous splashback of his cum painted your walls with passion as he moaned through his high. Gripping at your spine and arching your back further, he held you in place while you felt your coil shatter and join him in oblivion.

Walls begin to milk him on his release by pistoning him with rhythmic contractions, your muffled scream of his name was muted by his gloved fingers while you felt your high crest in your chest.Your pussy drank in his orgasm while forcing your own upon you. Lightning fizzed at the corners of your eyes while your high was married to the mans’ behind you.

Slumping down onto your shoulder, his lips moved lazily against your skin, mirroring the motions he made in his dreams while thrusting lazily into your pussy. He withdrew his fingers from your mouth while turning your chin to meet his face. Meeting briefly with your eyes, he hastily drew his lips upon yours while muffling his groans into your mouth with every spurt of his release fleeing from his slit.

Hearts beating as one, he buried himself one final time to the hilt while his lips joined with yours. You had little choice but to take the passion he crafted against your features. Closing your eyes and puckering your lips, you merged your soul with his while he continued to passionately forge his body against yours. 

After taking a moment, both of you gulping back your exertion while recovering from your highs, Sabo met his expression with your own and sheepishly chuckled openly.

“Hi,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss once more to your lips while you caught your breath. 

“Hi,” you expressed in return, feeling exceptionally full by his cock within your pussy after expelling his sticky release deep within your walls. 

Sabo chuckled, pressing his lips to your temple while retracting his cock from your pussy. Rolling gently away from your body, he took in your form and basked in the afterglow forged by his hands. You reached forward, cupping his scarred cheek and caressed it with your thumb while you came to. 

“Share the stupid bed with me,” you commanded, stated more like a request than an explicit order. “I'd hate it if you slept outside on the cool cobblestone without me. My final order for the night, valtet.” 

Sabo chuckled, nestling in close to you while brushing his nose with yours. Although the time for roleplaying amongst the marines and upperclassmen was complete, he could barely control himself as he uttered four words to coincide with your orders. 

“Of course, my lady.” 

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[diejager]

more eldritch:konig X his darling mermaid, please & thank you

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.2

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, breeding kink, protective König, hunting, oviposition, tentacles, eggpreg, stomach bulge, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, possessive behaviour, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.6k

Prev

You hadn’t seen the sun in a while, neither had you gone hunting, nor seen your parents. You missed the freedom you had, swimming and racing the others mers your age through the coral reefs, that mundane, but fun activity you did once in a while when everyone gathered at the same spot.   

“Please, König, I just want to lay in the sun!”

“Nein, the outside world is dangerous, Schatz, ” his tone seemed apologetic, eyes cast down, avoiding your tearful eyes that gleamed beautifully from the bioluminescent plants, “I cannot.”

That was what he always told you, his words repeated on themselves, overlapping in your mind without holding much intent of substance to it. Why would it when all he told you was no? His excuses were getting old, they rarely changed over the few months he kept you in his cave, the little haven you grew to love now became a prison, a pretty cage to keep you locked away from the world you were born into. They always had an aspect in common: danger. He would say that it was too dangerous for you, that there were horrors living around his cave and wandering too closely to the edge you found him, the precipice of light and darkness that he stalked you from. If it wasn’t that, he’d push strongly that you could be taken away from him, caught and eaten by another Eldritch Horror that didn’t have the same obsession and favorability for pretty things like you. 

He slowly approached you, arms reaching out towards you to embrace you, his fingers finding the softness of your hips. Kneading the line between your skin and scales, thumb smoothing over your opalescent scales, the smooth surface of it that helped you swim as swiftly as you could. You were a quick, little mouse, able to outrun him if you put enough effort and intention in it to escape his limbs. You shuddered against him, looping your arms around him for comfort that he never kept from you, often reminding you that he loved you and that he would do anything for you —except give you back your freedom.  

You sobbed, a heart-wrenching cry slipping out of your pout, your glossy lips pulled down while pearly tears floated upwards, the density of your tears weighing less than the heaviness in his cave, a closed-off ocean of horror he painted over with enthusiasm and comfort. He whispered sweet words to you, smaller tentacles slipping under his hood to cradle your face. They acted as individual fingers, holding your face as if they were hands holding your chin up, curling under your jaw and eyes with the smooth side of his limbs, keeping the suckers away from your pretty face. He touched you so gently, careful to never break your skin or dirty the angelic image he had of you in his sickened mind. He wrapped himself around you, his thicker limbs latching onto you with the intention of never letting go, curling and looping around one another. The messy bundles kept you stuck to him as you whined, crying out the frustration and sadness you felt throughout your situation.

“Hush, don’t cry, mein kleiner Schatzi,” he wiped away your tears, and collected them between the suckers of his arms, watching them gleam with an opalescent shine, much like those of black mollusc shells. They were a spectacle, a beautiful thing coming from his precious mate, “We can go out when it is safe, ja?”

You nodded your little head, closing your eyes and nuzzling against his broad chest, the softness of his scarred skin that easily moulded to fit your shape. It was strange how easily he changed to fit your liking, to answer to your whims despite your protest or your reluctance. You couldn’t hate him, you simply couldn’t after all the things he did for you and how well he cared for you. Perhaps you’d fallen for him, falling so deeply in this hole of unwilling darkness and strange affection —your naivety working against your betterment and with his mind, dark and wretched. Despite your wails and frustrations towards König, he was all you had, all you had known for the past months, so you sought comfort and safety from him, unknowingly falling into his plan. 

You let him lead you away from the open entrance, down the wide gate of his - your - room to lay you down, unable to move from the confines of his many arms and the warmth he provided. König was warm, he’d always burned hot compared to the cold waters of the abyss, the swirling vacuum of freezing water that seemed to have no end and the surface that stayed cool despite bathing under the sun for half the day. You thrived on warmth, soaking it up to keep your metabolism going, to be able to function without crashing or slowing down, you needed it and you depended on König to keep you warm. 

He pressed down on you, his broad figure looming over your smaller and fragile one, casting a dark shadow with his sole presence. He brushed your hair away, the tip of his tentacle tickling your ear as he murmured temptation, his wide palms leaving your hips to trail down the curve of your navel, teasing the dilated hole of your core, blinking and oozing out slick. He pressed a finger in, listening to you mewl and squirm in his tight hold, your tail twisting and turning before ultimately bucking into his palm when he slid a second one in. He watched your pretty lips part in a gasp, eyes rolling back in pleasure, your lashes fluttering so prettily for him. You felt him everywhere, he was inside of you and all around you, his many arms working as extensions of his presence, teasing you with his little suckers, pulling and biting at you. 

“Let me ease your mind,” his mask rose over his nose, tentacles parting like curtains to kiss you. It was all teeth and aggression, his kiss turning into a sign of possession, marking you with his taste and scent. He didn’t have any lips, or lips similar to yours, they were flat, hidden by a moustache of tentacles, thinner and shorter than his other ones, “Help you relax.” 

They easily slipped into your mouth as he pumped you, fingers curling into the softer part of your cunt. You mewled, rutting back, walls clamping down on his fingers, their thick and rough textures doing you in with the flick of your swollen nub once he coached it out of its protective sheath. He slipped the straps of your bra down your shoulder, letting the cup sag enough to show your pretty nipples, perky and glistening, tempting him to kiss and bite at them. In his rush, he snapped your bra from the middle by the girth of his tentacles, curling around your tits to knead and play with your little nubs, covering them with a sucker and he pulled, the ride closing around it and pulled. You clamped down on him, your slick sticking to his hand as you burst, eyes rolled back so far that all you could see was the white. König admired you, his eyes gleaming with glee at your climax, helping you ride it out with slow pumps of his fingers. He watched your pupils dilate, steadily coming down from your high with laboured breathing.

“You look so pretty like this,” he smiled under his hood, his eyes creasing in the low light. They roved over your face, over your hooded eyes and your parted mouth, down the slope of your neck and the swell of your breasts, and ending at your cunt, your labia closed around two digits, slick and throbbing. “You drive me crazy, Schatz.”

He was panting, his body riled up with how much his many limbs were swaying, latching onto you and hungrily climbing over you. He mumbled incoherent words, his pretty blues turning a bright red, a bloody crimson that made you feel apprehensive, fear and anxiety spiking in your mind despite the pleasurable buzz. You peered down when you felt something nudge your finger-filled cunt, looking at a particular-looking tentacle. It was harder and slick, the tip cylindrical-like with a long shaft and covered in veins, much like the ones on his arm, bulging and throbbing. You were oblivious to its use, confused about the different shape, but once it moved, the leaky head enthusiastically dipping into you, you panicked. 

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, the engorged head of his arm pushing into you, guided by a hand, pumping himself to spread the slick and pre that gathered around his cock. You keened, head thrown back when he bottomed out, the veiny girth of his cock throbbing inside of you. His cock rocked into you, pulling out until his tip lingered, and your labia stretched around his thick rod before he rammed in so suddenly. It rocked you as a whole, your smaller figure jerked back with every hard thrust, your cervix feeling the brutality of his strength and devotion. You screamed, writhing in his restrictive hold, cunt battered by a hard, leaky cock with a flared tip, bulbous and smooth. 

“Scheiße, you’re tight,” he groaned out through gritted teeth, feeling your walls stretch as wide as you could to welcome him despite his size and girth, your pussy becoming wet and sloppy with the amount of slick you produced. You pulsed around him, still sensitive from your last orgasm, clit and nipples swollen and twitching under his tentacles. He could feel everything, jolts sent down his arms followed by a euphoric sensation that ran through his mind, leaving him pussydrunk, mumbling out praises, “Du fühlst dich so gut an. Scheiße – so süß, so nass.”

You felt like you would burst, ploughed open by König’s cock arm, warm wall milking and sucking him deeper, coaxing him to fill you up with him. Your lover’s pace grew frantic, snapping harshly and deeply as if to leave a lasting presence in your innermost part, to mould your pussy into the shape of his cock and his alone, rendering you impossible to be pleasured by the sheer size difference between him and others of his kind. With a few precisely, but sloppy thrusts, he had you gushing around him, back arching - as much as you could with his strong grip - pussy clamping down on him as he fucked you into the soft algae-covered surface. You blacked out, euphoria filling your hazy mind, slick dripping down the sides of your tail and your nerves were set alight with blinding fires, burning through you so strongly. 

König swore lowly, his chest rumbling against yours, his cock throbbed and his arm stuttered, pace growing unsteady as the whole length of his arm pulsed with a load of cum. He gave one last thrust, roughly slamming into your gummy cervix, before a rush of cum shot out of his tip, flooding your womb with hot, white cum. It clung to the wall of your womb like glue, coating your cunt in the same adhesive and warm substance. He groaned, nuzzling his face in your bared neck, falling victim to his wandering mouth, biting and lapping at your shoulder and throat. His whole body shook, laboured breaths kissing your sensitive skin as something travelled through the length of his shaft, small bumps varying in size, from small pearls to big grapes, steadily moving towards the flared head of his cock. 

You sobbed when the first egg struggled against the entrance of your womb, breaking through the firmness of your soft entrance. It pained you, the forced pop into your virginal womb that wasn’t made to take in, but push out. Your cries were shushed by König, his reassuring words mixed with his heavy breathing that did little to dampen the pain he put you through. The first egg dropped into your womb, sticking to the walls, and another quickly joined it, plopping down beside it, weighing heavily by every egg, adding to the heaviness inside of you. 

“You’re doing so well,” he brushed away your tears, his thumb gently cradling your cheek, groaning and grunting at the rising eggs and his flared tip unravelling to latch onto your whole cervix, “Just a few more, ja? I am almost done.”

His “a few more” were more so dozens than anything, stuffing you until you bloated slightly. You were exhausted, limbs as heavy as your stomach did, eyes fluttering through your hazy sight, dancing on the edge of sleep and consciousness. Perhaps if you closed your eyes, falling asleep in this moment, you’d wake up from this as if it were a nasty dream, finding yourself in your little cave near the surface of the ocean. Perhaps this was all but a nightmare made up by your anxious and paranoid mind from all the stories you’ve heard from your parents and the elders. You were tired after all, sleeping wouldn’t be so bad to regain all the energy you wasted, and you hoped - that if this was your reality - that König would take care of you for doing this to you, for enrapturing you with all his madness and devotion.

You still missed the sun, the warm rays when you laid beneath it, just over a rock, but it was a far memory, further than you were willing to confess. You’d already grown used to his overbearing presence, his lingering eyes and wandering limbs, keeping one wrapped around your waists, your wrist or on your back, you’d gotten used to ignoring him and his dark eyes, bleeding into your world like the blood that stained the waters when he caught a live fish to feed you. 

He fit you in his schedule, a routine he practised on a daily basis without a fault. You would wake up with a wail, coming all over his tentacle at least twice before he left you alone for the morning. He would go hunting after making sure that you were comfortable on your little perch, returning an hour or two afterwards with enough food for the whole day and a few shiny trinkets to try to appease your sorrowful heart. They were pretty, shimmering and glinting under the bioluminescent light, similar to the pretty pearls and seashells you would collect. Despite his intentions, it only reminded you of a life long gone, one that you unknowingly and willingly gave up when you took his hand that fateful day, condemning you to a life of darkness and solitude. 

Then he’d spend the day with you, caring for your round stomach, rubbing soothing circles on your aching body, gently working the kinks and knots out of you. He provided for you, feeding you, soothing your pains, courting you with gifts and loved you with the entirety of his sickened heart. Your every need was taken care of, your hunger fulfilled, be it shark meat (a rarity for your kind of mermaid), squid or tuna, and your excitement satisfied with his cock, fingers, tentacles or mouth, eager to stuff you full despite your womb being grossly swollen with his progeny. He was fiercely protective, letting you out once in your month-long gestation, giving you the freedom to wander close to the ridge with a long arm wrapped around your waist. He never let you wander too far from him and never without a piece of him attached to you, clinging onto you as if you two were a singular entity —you probably were at this point, his thoughts and words echoing in your mind against your reluctance to accept him. 

“Mein kleiner Schatzi,” he called, laying his head on your shoulder, his hood hanging over you. He forced you on his lap, snuggling up to you as he curled - loomed - over you while he shamelessly let his hands rove over your swollen stomach, feeling the grooves and bumps of his eggs, “You are very round. One more month and we will have little Satansbraten.” [Mischievous child]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @0-ramen-0 @dreamdiaries777 @under-the-dirt @ajadell @danielle143 @bubbletae7 @mushroompasta @skystreamchan @kaelysia @notspiders @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @lilpothoscuttings @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[cr4yolaas]

second best (pt 2) — iwaizumi hajime

notes: at last, the heavily requested part 2 to this fic !! i really hope it met a lot of your guys’ standards — i tried my best to take as much of your requests into account ^_^ i rlly dislike m the flow of this … but hopefully u guys still enjoy LOL

tags: angst → (bittersweet?) fluff, depressive episode (reader), swearing (once), a longgg process of grief and healing and whatnot, alcoholism (only briefly), roommate! tsukishima, best friend! oikawa, tsukishima does NOT have feelings for you, not proofread and quite long

taglist (incl. everyone who asked for a pt 2 !!): @altumsomnum @gennaray @romanticandupsetting @multi-fandom-fanfic

it was tuesday.

a frigid air pierced your limbs and left you to rot away, with the windows shut tight and the door locked. there was no mistakening the dark bags hanging beneath your eyes or the flakes of skin peeling from your bottom lip, nor the soft pleas of your stomach or the iciness of your fingertips. you basked in eternal slumber and silence and darkness and whatnot, save for the ticks of a clock that was 14 minutes behind and the hum of the air conditioning.

you were not frightened in the slightest. the warning signs plastered on your flesh were no great concern, and you could not fathom the idea of having to function again. it was horribly consuming.

with a groan, you released yourself from bed, your legs trembling under the mere weight of the air. you avoided the collections of trash and clothes splayed across the floor, being careful not to disturb the peace that had formed over the past handful of weeks. the sight of the kitchen was much more refreshing.

you were locked in stasis. contrary to the comfort these walls once provided, they now served as a a form of imprisonment, designed to allow the grief and the sorrow and the anger and the guilt to coalesce and spill over. it was terribly suffocating — you wished to escape.

gently, you poured a cup of water (not that you drank more than a sip, anyways). a thought passed your mind.

you needed to leave.

sendai was a home you could not find solace in anymore. gone was the youth encapsulated in the mountaintops and the hidden pathways and the convenience stores, and no longer could you feel at ease when faced with the neighborhoods you familiarized yourself with as a child.

your new apartment was shared with an old face — one you had only seen glances of in high school, notorious for his glasses and upfront attitude. he bore no hesitance when taking you in. instead, he was grateful for your presence, as if splitting the rent with him had taken off his life’s burden off of his shoulders.

he was quick to set ground rules — laundry days were on saturdays, trash needed to be taken out on sundays, the dish washer had to be clear at the end of the day, all groceries were shared, so on and so forth. you weren’t sure if you could keep up.

it took one week for him to actually conversate.

“why did you come back here?” he questioned, with a tone that implied he knew of you for years upon years (which would be false).

you picked at the skin of your lip. “why do you ask?”

“no reason. just curious.”

in a burst of energy, you recounted the tales of your past life, one of love and youth and joy; of the old apartment, of your past hobbies, of hajime. his gaze was so distant that you weren’t sure if he was listening at all.

in return, he expressed brief apologies and turned the story to himself — he discussed his volleyball career, his teammates, how he felt somewhat disconnected from his high school friends. he did not care to mention the exhaustion riddled into the pores on your face nor the weakness of your voice. that was all you needed. a conversation, not comfort.

only an hour later did he remind you of his name — tsukishima kei — and it was only then that you realized you had moved into an apartment without taking any precautions whatsoever. he laughed when you informed him of the situation.

this was not yet a home, but it was a house. and that was sufficient.

a month had passed before tsukishima forced you to get a job. he was clearly not a fool — at some point (you couldn’t tell when), he realized you were paying off your share of the rent with your life savings, which irked him ever so slightly.

“do you plan on moving out and dying on the streets when you run out?” he complained, despite the concern laced in the fluctuations of his voice.

you began working at his former high school coach’s family store. the owner himself was welcoming — he didn’t question your circumstances nor your physical state, and merely mentioned in passing that he was “given a token of appreciation from a prized student.”

and so began the cycle. on weekday mornings, you would depart for work and tsukishima would leave for practice. occasionally, he would pack you lunch (“only because i had leftovers,” he’d say) or leave a can of coffee on the counter for you. you would work at the register until the amalgamation of students died down, and once you were left with an empty store, you would take a break and go on a walk (as requested by your boss). then, you would return in the afternoon to serve the same population of children, handing them their ice cream and their sandwiches and whatnot. when they all disappeared, the coach would let you free and dismiss you with a “good work today, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

returning home was your favorite part of the schedule. a majority of the time, tsukishima arrived later than you, leaving you to your own time until he came home with dinner and a drink.

it was a monotonous cycle, but enjoyable nonetheless.

“i’m cutting off the beer for a month,” tsukishima exclaimed one warm summer night. you left your room to see him collecting unopened bottles and discarding them in a trash bag with little regard. you could only frown.

“those are all going to waste, we haven’t even opened them,” you groaned.

there was no response from the man as he continued to clear the apartment of any alcohol, akin to a parent cleansing their child’s home. before you could protest any further, he shut the door behind him and the crashing of bottles against one another could be heard beside the building.

tsukishima re-entered the apartment with empty hands and furrowed brows. “what’s up with the shitty face?” you asked from the couch.

he clicked his tongue at your comment and bore no response, instead letting his eyes wander to the screen in front of you. the morning news was playing, as usual. and yet, it was so wrong.

the screen flashed to a familiar face, one clad with a slight grin and sweat spread over his skin. his hair had grown slightly and his complexion had darkened, evidence of his labor. but most of all, he looked happy. his eyes screamed with a passion you hadn’t seen before, and despite his haggard appearance, he seemed to be content.

you did not see tsukishima rushing to turn off the television. you did not see the screen turn black, and you did not hear the noise diminish. you did not see tsukishima’s face adjacent to yours.

“hey. let’s go outside,” he muttered before moving to pull you up and out of the house

a delicate breeze washed over you both. the sun began to kiss you goodbye, and the noon crept up in its wake, leaving both of you in the dark.

“he looked so happy,” you whispered. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.”

you watched tsukishima light a cigarette in your peripherals, his lighter evidently battered and marred from heavy use. he made no move to offer one to you. “you’re not doing anything wrong,” he spoke firmly, although you could tell he was struggling to formulate the right combination of words in his head. “he’s just… going along a different path.”

“it should’ve been us on the same path. i feel so stupid. he’s gone on to do such great things, and i… what am i doing?”

tsukishima didn’t push the conversation any further. you were grateful.

a week had passed before tsukishima told you he had gotten you a new job, one deeper in the city. on an early sunday morning, he presented a uniform and badge to you, your name imprinted on both. the effort made you smile.

at some point, a new cycle formed. the museum was a far cry from the run down family store, and tsukishima taught you how to welcome it with an open mind and open arms. he never did mention the exact reason for the new occupation, nor did he tell you why he was so adamant on enforcing routine in your life. nonetheless, you appreciated it.

the mundanity that your new job encapsulated was slightly more enjoyable than that of your former job. exploring the concrete rooms filled with statues and paintings and whatnot was a sufficient way to pass the time. every now and then, you’d catch your roommate detailing a specific sculpture to a curious visitor, the scene contrasting his typical behavior. not that you would ever mention it to him, though.

a new routine was not unwelcome, but it did not feel impactful anymore. you still burned blue in the night, your bones aching with reminiscence over a lost life. your hands and legs still knew tokyo; they still knew the morning commutes and the bustling cafés and the chirping crosswalks and your own home, one that had been so devastatingly haunted by grief. your heart still knew the morning calls and the evening texts and the handfuls upon handfuls of promises made on once solid territory, and yet, you knew to return to it was to betray yourself.

you missed iwaizumi hajime.

rather, you missed the life that you formulated in his presence, opposed to the shambles you had grown comfortable in now that you were back home. tsukishima had carved a clay pot for your worn soul, and yet you could not help but yearn for the comfort and stability and routine you established in a past life.

the soft padding of feet echoed outside your door. soft strings of light streamed under your door as your roommate entered the kitchen, his actions indiscernible as he maneuvered about carefully. you decided to step out to greet him.

a startled tsukishima turned around to face you. “what are you still doing up?” he interrogated, albeit not in offense. “it’s late. we have work tomorrow.”

“but i don’t want to go to work. i want to go home,” you protested. you felt childish all over again — the thirst for selfishness was one that could not escape you, even now. an overwhelming desire to be in control of your own life.

tsukishima furrowed his brows. “to tokyo?” you nodded. “okay… then let’s go to tokyo.” he paid no mind to the slanted smile that transformed your lips, instead opting to turn away and fill up his bottle. “but why?”

“i need to escape,” you sighed, as if releasing a burden that had been lingering for a moment too long. “i need change. i just- i feel so stuck. i need to live.”

he merely hummed in agreement before uttering a comment about your poor sleeping schedule and ushering you back to bed.

tokyo was a city of hopes and dreams and noise. the shift from sendai’s cicada lullabies and whispers in the wind to the incessant chatter and obnoxious roads of the city was significant — any pedestrian would notice the irritation on you and tsukishima’s faces.

the inn he picked was small, yet slightly more comfortable than your current abode. the owners were kind and your neighbors were quiet, save for the occasional drunk couple. it was a life you remembering living, but not one you yearned for any longer.

in the night, you would both visit various attractions and markets and restaurants, with tsukishima insisting on paying for your meals (“as thanks for getting a life,” he argued). for that handful of days, you bore a smile that you weren’t sure would grace your lips ever again, for there was an adolescence in the evening activities that mended the remnants of your spirit. you felt whole.

on the last day, you brought tsukishima to a ramen house nearby the inn and promised to pay for the meal. it was a tuesday, again.

for reasons you could not discover, that appeared to be one of the busiest nights for the establishment — moments after you had settled, a line began to form, and the tables were crowded with families and friend groups and dates alike.

amidst the composition of metropolitans stood a man you wished you didn’t have to see. as if it were punishment, he locked his eyes with yours, the shock in his complimenting your dread.

you watched as he excused himself from his group while ignoring the cheers and shouts about him “shooting his shot.” tsukishima observed in tandem, seemingly reading the situation from a distance despite sitting right across from you.

you noticed the bold athletic trainer embroidered onto his chest, and the fitted red shirt he wore that matched those of his team. beads of sweat compiled on his forehead — you weren’t sure if it was from the density of the room or his exhaustion or anxiety. a small part of you hoped it was the second option.

“hey,” he began. “can- can we speak outside?”

you could not help but oblige.

hajime seemed to have developed an obsession with fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you noticed the frayed strands on a spot that aligned perfectly with his hand, and you nearly laughed.

he coughed into his fist before rambling. “i’m sorry. i know you definitely don’t want to see me, and it’s not wrong of you at all to feel that way, but i just- i’ve thought about you- no, i think about you every day up until now. i know i don’t deserve you at all, and me being here is probably super upsetting, but-“

“hajime.”

the way you called his name seemed to deteriorate him and his principles. you finally felt otherwise.

“i really, really, didn’t want to see you at all. i don’t even want the thought of you to pass my mind. i’ve built a life outside of you and i’m tired of you interrupting it.” you witnessed his heart, mind, and body freeze simultaneously.

“i- i understand that, i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been- i’ve been reflecting a lot recently and i’ve known i was horribly in the wrong and i’m ashamed to have done nothing about it, and i know this sounds really, really dumb but i wish i had just stayed with you for that extra day because- because i don’t think i can go any longer without you now that i have you here, in front of me. could we- can we at least… keep in touch?” he seemed to speak without limitations, akin to a leaking clay pot. he was distressed, evidently. but you no longer saw his face and thought of guilt and love and yearning; you held no space for him.

you shook your head gently. “hajime, i don’t want you in my life anymore. you achieved your dreams, and i’m working on finding mine. that’s how it was meant to be.”

if not for the small lamp above the two of you, you would not have noticed the tears spilling onto his face. you bore no sympathy — with a goodbye and a small wave, you left him in the alley with a heavy heart and saline tears.

to witness him before you had awakened the truth riddled in your sinew and bloodstream: iwaizumi hajime was no longer a necessity. a truth that had cowered away beneath guilt and fragility and shame had uncovered itself, and for once, you breathed a full breath.

oikawa seemed so vibrant on the other side of your screen, the argentinian sun kissing his skin almost perfectly. “…i miss you lots!! i’ll visit soon, maybe, and we can catch up and maybe go get coffee and then debrief and then…” he trailed off with an aloof grin, his words spilling out from your phone and reverberating around the living room. tsukishima stood in the kitchen, the sound of his deliberate chopping and washing contesting oikawa’s voice. “but anyways, i’ll see you soon! byebye!!”

you waved goodbye and hung up, leaving only the noise of your roommate’s cooking. a loud groan left his lips in the midst of his mixing, followed by a complaint about how irritable your friend’s voice was. you could only laugh.

gentle strings of moonlight spilled into the apartment through the kitchen window, the songs of the evening falling upon both of you and your shared comfort. tomorrow was your off day, granting you both an opportunity for an actual meal. tsukishima (begrudgingly) agreed to make your favorite dish, with the request that you’d make his favorite dessert next week.

“thank you for the meal,” you whispered. tonight would consist of good food and a relaxing night, and tomorrow would entail a day of rest and a weekly reset, along with another call with oikawa. with marred hands and a porcelain heart, you had managed at last to craft a solid life — steady health, steady friends, and a steady routine.

you would no longer be second best to anything, and that was sufficient enough.

[letorip]

hiiii! i loved reading “somethin’ stupid”, and I wanted to make a request for it. Not sure if it’s discontinued or not, but what abt reader when everything has healed and them being super insecure of their scars. Maybe getting bullied or harassed for them? And Wednesday comforting them, even though it’s not her thing + reassurance that she’ll always love them, no matter what. Ty for listening to my rant. :)

somethin’ stupid [iii]

“the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and oh, the night so blue”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: wednesday reminds you she loves you with an unending passion, even with the scars that you now wear for her.

warnings: mentions of bullying, body insecurities, percy hynes white the rat man himself existing, explicit words ig? if you can't handle cuss words idk what to tell you

word count: 3.9k

A/N: timeline a bit altered, there's about a week left before you return home for the summer, and xavier gives her the phone with this week left. thoughts are in red. i don’t usually accept requests from people but this was just too adorable to pass up, especially with the new season starting production. it kind of got away from me, in terms of length, but it was fun to write. next out will hopefully be the lottie matthews fic that i’ve been talking up

===+++===

===+++===

Scars were remarkable things. The way they stretched along the skin of your arms and right up almost to the tips of your fingers, or branched along the bridge of your nose and twisted along your jaw, it was as if a tree of your life was etched fundamentally into you, and Wednesday was transfixed.

It didn’t matter how many times she traced her fingers over the paths— two fingers, gentle, watching your nose twitch with every curve— she still thought they were, that you were breathtaking to look at.

“Wednesday, that tickles,” you hummed softly, eyes still closed. She frowned, tugging her hands away abruptly and raising her eyebrows at you.

“I was unaware you were awake," she said.

You lifted one eye open, smiling when you saw her, and though she would have still rather died than admit it, the gesture held a great, mystical power over her.

The skylight overhead leaked morning light into the room, flushing itself against the walls and beaming gently down, over your cheeks. It felt nice everywhere except for the new slashes that were still healing, and you rolled over, away from her to sit up on the edge of your bed and get out of the uncomfortable heat that pressed on those delicate places.

"How did you get in?" you asked, stretching out your arms and wincing a bit at the uncomfortable tightness. "You weren't here when I went to bed."

She watched you go, leaning back on the scratchy, woollen armchair next to your bed and shoving the stack of comic books already there to the side. “Your roof has a window, and I’m a very good climber. You should lock that, by the way.”

You turned to her and raised your eyebrows, looking miffed, but disgustingly adorable. “You could’ve just texted me, you know. I would’ve let you use the door.”

“And use that phone Xavier gave me? Believe me, I’d rather not,” she rolled her eyes with disgust, thinking about the interaction and how it took up time of her life that she'd never get back.

“You’d better, actually,” you said, turning to her with a smile and then wandering over to the set of drawers in the corner, clothes thrown all over the floor. Your whole room in general was a mess, largely from the bottles of medication and knocked over piles of books and things. It had been a rather stressful endeavour to get you up the stairs and comfortably inside, when you were still in your casts and there wasn’t an elevator.

“Why?” Wednesday challenged, watching you. She herself was already in her uniform, but she watched as you moved in your white pyjama t-shirt, the fresh scars almost dancing with your arms as they moved while you walked.

You grabbed a white button down out from the top one, shaking it a bit to get out a few wrinkles. “Because you’re sure as hell texting with me over summer break.” You shrugged, taking the shirt with you and walking behind the dividing screen you had next to your wardrobe. “That was nice of him to do for you, actually.” Your shirt went flying over the divider, landing on the ground.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. “You’re too kind to him. The snivelling rat only gave it to me so I would feel obligated to text him.” She could hear you rustling around behind the screen, messing about with your clothes. “Besides, why use the phone when I can visit you in person? Are you so braindead you need to rely on your phone for communication?”

The small noises stopped abruptly, and when you didn’t reply to that for a minute, Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows, standing up in her heavy boots that thudded against the creaky old wood of your floor. “What is it?” she asked, stepping forward towards the screen. You had made a fool of her with how much you made her worry, but she still desperately needed to know what was going on inside your head. She needed to be sure that you were okay.

She expected to see you have tripped maybe, or you had somehow collapsed into a pile of clothes and drifted back off to sleep, but the reality was a bit more mollifying. You were on the other side, just standing there with your button down shirt open in front of the mirror. You didn't say anything for a while, staring into it with a frown.

The scars over your stomach were perhaps the deepest, with raw, pinkish impressions still pressed into them and greenish-yellow bruises around the edges that were still straggling to heal up. The lines criss-crossed over your skin and up your chest, ending at the peaks of your shoulders that the white button down draped over. “They look bad on me,” you said, quietly.

She didn't particularly know what to say, watching your eyes continue to stare with a rigid dislike back at yourself. To get her to comfortably lean on you had been quite the effort, and now that you were officially together she was still becoming used to saying she loved you or kissing your skin whenever she so felt like it.

“They look like scars,” Wednesday replied. “The bruising will heal and the redness will fade, and-”

“But they won’t go away.” You said it with a flat disappointment. Wednesday blinked, confused by how you spoke of them. Were you unaware just how magnificent they looked upon you? The thought was vexing, and Wednesday was unsure what it was she could say to ease your mind, so she chose to say nothing at all.

You did the buttons up quickly, tugging on the collar to stand as tall as possible. It covered most of the scarring, but one could still see wisps of hurt skin on your hands and cuts across your face and jaw— Wednesday liked that one especially. You didn't seem to like any of them.

"We're going to be late to breakfast," she said, leaning with her arms crossed against the wardrobe. You shrugged again, going to grab your trousers.

"Go without me."

This caused her great pause. You were never one to miss breakfast. It was probably one of the most consistent ways someone could find you if they needed to. "It's your first day back," she argued. "And you're still recovering."

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you messed with the button of your pants, and it relaxed her a little bit, if the Addams could. "I'll survive without breakfast for a day, Wednesday. I need to get ready for class."

She narrowed her eyes at you. "Then I can survive without breakfast, too." You straightened up, sending her a look as you buttoned your trousers. You entirely knew the game that she was playing. The game she was winning, too.

"You can go without me."

"But I won't," she replied. You narrowed your eyes, grabbing some socks.

"Fine."

She glared right back, but not in an angry way. Just to let you know she was serious. "Fine." You rolled your eyes, stalking over, now that you were clothed and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. She leaned into it, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Her thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin there.

"You win," you conceded, pulling away and looking down at her with a smile.

"I always do," she said, looking up at you with a shine in her dark eyes.

===+++===

I guess (Y/n) is back.

Oh my god, the rumours were true.

Jeeeesus Christ, that kid's face.

The thoughts flitted past you like passing trains as you walked to the quad, loud and unfiltered noise in the back of your mind that acted as a constant reminder of the new skin you wore. You wore them for her, the short girl walking next to you, but even with her right by your side, it was like she was a million miles away.

That must've hurt, holy hell.

They stared, the people you passed, watching you with a weird half-shock, half-pity, their thoughts running wild. The worst ones imagined the scenario for themselves, and within their heads you saw a dozen different replays in different ways of you getting absolutely torn apart.

How are you still alive???

Fucking jumpscare...

That was about all it took before you shut off your noise completely. Maybe for once, it was better not to know what other people were thinking. You sent a glance to Wednesday, who was walking next to you with her eyes facing ahead. When you felt the people still staring, you frowned, bumping her with your hand. You needed her to hold it very, very badly.

But she sent you a look, shaking her head once as if to say 'not here.' You knew Wednesday didn't like PDA of any sort. She still struggled sometimes to wrap her arms around your shoulders or pull you in by your waist. It wasn't natural, but you still couldn't help feeling a little bit disappointed. The imaginary distance between you both widened, right then, and other kids' staring felt amplified by ten.

Suddenly, a colourful blur came bounding across the quad and right down the hall, straight for you. "Enid— Enid, wait—" Enid tackled you in a tight hug, squeezing you against her with an unrestrained excitement and trying to shake you like a rag doll, it felt like.

"Oh my god! You're back! Oh. My. God!" She screamed, beaming from ear to ear, pulling away to look at you for a second before going right back to hugging you tightly.

You grit your teeth from the discomfort of pressure being placed on the delicate skin, but made no move to pull away, and instead did your best to smile through it. A hug felt nice. It was the warmth you needed in a place that was being so cold to you at the moment. Enid didn't care what marks you had.

"Enid, down," Wednesday said firmly, watching the exchange and carefully monitoring your expression. She had caught your grimace, sending you a wary look and crossing her arms, subtly trying to make sure you were okay. You sent her a quick nod, and Enid gently pulled away.

"Sorry," she said, wincing at realising her mistake. The expression only lasted a second though, before she was right back to smiling at you. "Wait, we're scar buddies!"

You laughed. It had been the first time you felt good about them since finding Wednesday tracing them while you slept. "We definitely are."

Enid's were a bit more healed than yours, blending better into the skin than those that protruded from the bridge of your nose and sloped down into your cheek. You saw yours and thought 'ugly'; you saw Enid's and thought nothing. But you would take it either way.

The girl grabbed your arm, tugging you harshly forwards and dragging you towards your usual table. "You have to see Yoko. Her and Divina were worried sick about you." You sent Wednesday back a look as Enid dragged you, and she shrugged, watching you go, not that she'd be able to do much to stop her.

By the time she had comfortably strolled over to the table, Enid had already dragged you into a seat, and was brightly recounting everything you had missed. Wednesday had already done so, when you were still in the hospital recovering, but you let her continue to talk. It felt nice. Like everything was back to normal for once. She slid down next to you, not saying anything.

Divina and Yoko were being nice about your scars. They kept on trying to brush past it, like nothing was wrong, but you knew when they looked at your face, it was the first thing to catch their eyes every time.

"Are you excited to be back?" Yoko asked from behind her sunglasses, leaning against Divina's shoulders.

"Making up the homework I missed out on? Super thrilled," you said dryly, putting your elbows on the table and leaning on them as you partook in the conversation.

"Well, everyone's missed you," said Divina, trying to smile, but her eyes shifted down quickly, to look at your hands and the cuts upon them before back up to you. "We're all happy you're okay."

You sent her what was supposed to be a smile, but by the look Wednesday shot at you, it probably looked a bit more like a grimace. Could you even call this 'okay?' This wasn't being okay. Being okay would've meant you looked the same as you did before, and that wouldn't happen. It had been permanently taken from you.

"So what are you all doing, for summer?" you threw out the question, more as a way to change the subject, and it was successful. Enid lit up like a Christmas tree, super excited to share about a trip she was taking to see her extended family. It wasn't that you didn't care, but you stopped for a moment, realising this was the happiest you had been in a while. At a table with your friends, and Wednesday next to you. Of course, that was when it was immediately ruined.

From behind Enid, you could see Xavier spot Wednesday and similarly light up, bounding over with a smile.

"And then we're going to the beach with my baby little cousins, and—"

"Wednesday!" he called out to her, interrupting Enid and looking across the table at the girl. Her hand crept up to your knee, placing itself firmly, in a way that told you she was dreading his presence. He looked around at you all, spotting you and failing to hide his disappointment at your return. Xavier quickly glanced back to Wednesday. "Did you get my text?" He asked, smiling again.

Wednesday stared back, unimpressed. "I did. I ignored it."

"Oh," his face dropped. "Well, I wanted to ask if you would tutor me on botany."

She blinked. "There's a week left of school."

"I know," Xavier shrugged. "But we have that end of year quiz on Wednesday."

"I would rather watch Legally Blonde." You had to stop yourself from laughing at that one. You had been the one to show that to her, and she spent the entire duration looking horrified.

"We could do that, then," he offered, and you suddenly realised you had been too nice to him in terms of pursuing Wednesday. Most people knew by now, that you two were officially together, not that it had been much of a secret, even when you were just hooking up. It was rather insane for his pursuit to continue, when you were right there.

"Xavier, I think me and Wednesday are busy, for at least the next couple days," you said, trying to let him down easy. He sent you a glare, before looking back at Wednesday like she would have a different response. She stared back, maintaining her deadpan expression, but squeezing your knee softly as if to say 'thank you.'

He frowned. "Fine. See you in fencing, (Y/n)." You smiled back at him, figuring maybe things were good now. Wednesday sent you a wary glance.

God, you couldn't have been more wrong.

===+++===

Wednesday Addams stormed through the halls of Nevermore with a fire under her feet and a rage in her heart. She pushed through the groups of people, storming up the stairs and down the corridors like she was about to explode. And she truly was.

When she arrived at your door, she was knocking heavily, small fist pounding on the wood with fury.

"(Y/n). Open the door."

No response. It was just about as quiet as it had been that morning, when she had caught you staring at yourself. It filled her with an unmatched worry, sending her back to the night when she had seen those red and blue police lights and thought she had lost you forever. "Open the door." She demanded again, pressing her ear up to it.

"Go away, Wednesday," you said from the other side. It was muffled, but she could still make out the pain in your voice.

"(Y/n), let me in. Now." It was practically a plea at that point, and she cursed you for bringing her to this place of utter weakness for you. "Either you let me in yourself, or I let myself in," Wednesday said, firmly speaking to you with her head against the door. She needed to know you were okay. It came first, right before the rage she felt for Xavier, and she so needed to know that you were still there— still hers to keep.

You didn't say anything though, choosing to continue to stay quiet in your room. Wednesday sighed, grabbing a hairpin from her pocket and reaching for the lock.

She got the door open in less than thirty seconds out of habit, pushing it open gently and letting herself in before she rushed over to you. You didn't even look at her, instead continuing to stare out the window and the sunny day, clouds floating by as if nothing were different. It felt out of place, now.

The part of your face away from the window was covered by the dark of your room. You hadn't even bothered to turn the lights on, sitting in the dark. She used to like the dark, but it felt out of place for you to be hiding in it.

"Look at me," Wednesday said, standing in front of your armchair. Her hand went to your chin, gently tilting your face up. There was a bandage right there, on your forehead, over what could only be a giant cut.

"Who told you what happened?" you asked quietly, your eyes a bit misty. You weren't a usual crier, and it made her uneasy to see just how much of an effect his actions had had on you.

"Yoko. It's about the only time that idiotic phone came in handy. I came as soon as I heard. He's not supposed to start mach when you're not wearing your helmets. Mark my words, I'll curse him until the end of time." It didn't seem to comfort you like it usually did, the pain in your eyes only worsening.

"Do you know what he said, when he cut me?"

She blinked in confusion. "He said 'Frankenstein, I'll give you one to match the others'," you finished, looking her in the eyes for the first time since she had entered the room.

"He's an asshole, I told you," she said, trying to stop you, but you jerked away from her touch for the first time.

"It's not just him. Wends, I see it all the time." Your voice broke a little bit, and you stopped to swallow before continuing. It hurt her heart, as if she was being left to die again in that crypt. "In people's heads, from their mouths, in the mirror. It replays like a fucking movie. I keep seeing myself almost die, and I'm starting to think it would've been better if I had."

No. That was enough. She firmly grabbed your chin again, eyes glinting with violence at the offensive proposition. "Never say that sentence ever again, or else."

"He's got a point though, doesn't he?" you said it slowly, your scarred hand reaching out to her arm and wrapping around her wrist. She flinched at the contact but did not pull away. "I'll never be the same 'me' as I was before. There's something— I'm wrong. And you know it, too. That's why you won't touch me when others are around. It's not me."

Wednesday stared at you for a long moment, as you began to cry. Then her hands went to your cheeks again, just as they had earlier, gently cupping your face in her hands, as if you were the world, because you were. You were her world. "You're an idiot. It appears I've failed to make myself clear."

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Your simple mind fails to realise why I'm even here," she said, and then she leaned forward, clambering up into your lap and resting her forehead on yours. Wednesday had become accustomed to, and rather fond of, making a home there. She was far from the greatest at expressions, but she wanted to make you realise the obvious and that was more than enough motivation to try. "I'm here because I burn for you, down to my core and back up again."

"But I'm not me, not with these—" But you were interrupted by her hand, sliding up to cover your mouth.

"Hush, idiot. You are the same you as before, and I wouldn't stop loving you for anything. I have loved you for all you were before and all you are now. I would have loved you if the damage was worse, and I would still yearn for you if you had died. It makes no difference, (Y/n), you fool. You're still you, and you're still as... captivating as the first time I saw you and wanted you in my possession."

Her hand came to your cheek again, stroking gently the skin there and feeling all the ridges under her thumb. "You've placed a cruel curse on me, as if you don't already know yourself. I am indefinitely, irrevocably yours. My refusal to touch you in public is a personal discomfort, but one I'll...overcome, if it means that much to you. Even if I am not touching you, you must assume I want to, because I do."

She brushed a stray tear away, wiping it on your jacket, and your hands came up to wrap around her waist, tugging her against you like you were afraid she would melt through your fingers. "Are you aware of how I was almost killed, in the crypt, when fighting Crackstone?"

You shook your head. "You don't like to talk about it," you mumbled, burying your head in her chest. Her hands went to your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp.

"It was an...incredibly confusing dilemma. I used to patiently await death. My family and I hold it with a special regard. But as I was dying, I only felt lonely. Do you know why?"

You frowned against her, shaking your head again. Wednesday scoffed. "The obvious answer is you. It would be leaving without you. And as obnoxious as it is, I don't want to. Today, tomorrow, forever; I want to do it with you."

You sat there for a moment, thinking to yourself, and then you nodded. It was slow, but it was there, and when Wednesday felt it, she sat back to look you in the eyes. "Are we clear?" She demanded. If you said no, she would only double down. But instead, you nodded again, looking up at her. She held your heart in her hands.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

You leaned forward, kissing her with the most passion you ever had, and Wednesday only returned it, cupping your neck and leaning into you. She would crawl into your skin, if she could. She'd build a little birdhouse in your soul, if she could find a way. You pulled away again, after a long minute, nodding again. "Okay. Same."

She blinked. "Same? I spill my heart to you and you respond with 'ditto'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes, attempting to get off your lap. But your arms came up, entrapping her there and holding her close.

"You've put it perfectly. I want you forever, too." And so she melted into your embrace again, hand going to your scars to trace them and you nuzzling into her hand. It was a while, before either of you spoke.

"We have to get him back, forever, this time," Wednesday said, cold and calculating.

"Agreed."

About two days later, you watched in absolute delight as Xavier ran down the hall in his bathroom towel, a poisonous snake trailing behind him and half of his head shaved completely bald. Call it an ode of Wednesday's love.

===+++===

this was fun! i'm unsure of where to, if i do at all, take somethin' stupid from here. this won't be the only wednesday fic, so unless you all have more ideas, this may be it for this series. anyways, cheers!

[yxngbxkkie]

comfort (s.c)

i saw a tik tok where it looked like changbinnie was getting ignored, and it absolutely broke my heart 😭 so, to fix it, i wrote this cute fic 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

~

You hook a leg under your thigh as you continue to scroll through tik tok. You smile at the edits people have made of Changbin, your boyfriend of three years. You giggle at how adorable he is, double tapping the video to like it.

The door to your shared apartment opens, causing you to lift your head. Changbin walks through the door, dropping the bag in his hands. A frown instantly comes to your lips as he doesn't greet you.

He walks past you, going down the short hallway before heading into the bedroom. You lock your phone, setting it on the arm of the couch.

“Bin?” You gently call out his name, lifting yourself from the couch.

You peek into your bedroom, seeing Changbin sitting on the edge of your bed. He scrolls through his phone, aimlessly scrolling through Twitter.

“Baby?” You whisper the pet name, hoping he heard you.

He doesn't look in your direction, seeming pretty focused on the tweets. You release a quiet sigh, stepping towards him before sinking to your knees.

You rest your hands against his meaty thighs, gently rubbing the clothed muscle. “Did something happen?” You question him.

His dark eyes finally meet yours, and you can see the unshed tears in them. You whisper, “oh, honey,” before moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I don't get it,” he mumbles into your neck, feeling the tears streaming down his cheeks. You rub his back gently as Changbin circles his arm around your waist. “I do everything for them. Why don't they love me as much as I love them?”

“Stay loves you, Bin,” you reassure him while combing your fingers through his hair. “Just before you got home, I saw so many edits of you.”

Changbin lifts his head, his eyes turning red from him crying. You give him a soft smile, wiping the excess tears. “Did you really?” He asks in a tiny voice, moving his hands to your outer thighs.

You nod your head, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “Absolutely, Binnie. I've seen a lot of Stays simp for you, baby,” you tell him truthfully, doing your best to make him feel better.

He doesn't say anything, dropping his gaze to his lap. “Tonight,” Changbin starts but instantly pauses, taking a deep breath. “We did the pre-recording for our comeback. As we were leaving, I waved and said goodbye, but as soon as Jeongin came, everyone was screaming. I just don't get why they don't scream for me. Am I that bad?”

“Baby, no,” you lift his head, making him look at you. “You're not bad at all. You're so loved by so many people, I promise you.”

Changbin sniffles and nods his head. “I love you,” he whispers, returning his gaze to you.

You give him a toothy grin, dipping your head down to capture his lips with yours. “Just remember that you're so loved. Not only by your members, but by true Stays,” you remind him after pulling away. “And me, of course.”

A smile comes to his lips, the first one you've seen tonight. You stroke his cheeks, pinching them softly. “I'm so grateful for you, baby,” he sighs, leaning forward to rest his head against your stomach.

“I love you so much, Seo Changbin,” you sigh into his hair, placing a couple of quick kisses to the top of his head. “My strong and talented baby.”

The two of you stay connected for almost ten minutes. One of your hands glides up and down his back while the other plays with his black hair.

“Did you eat?” Changbin asks, pulling back to look at you.

“I was waiting for you,” you tell him with a giggle. You shift in his arms, plopping yourself onto his lap. “I figured we could order something and cuddle on the couch.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, releasing a hum. “I like the sound of that. Can we order my favorite?” Changbin asks, squeezing your body against his.

“Of course, baby,” you giggle, slipping a hand underneath the back of his shirt. “We can get whatever you want!”

Changbin grows excited and lifts himself off of the bed, carrying you in his buff arms. “I got so lucky with you,” he almost squeals, pressing chaste kisses to your cheek while heading into the living room.

“You say that, but I think I'm the one lucky one,” you laugh, kissing his cheek.

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[maxtermind]

Congrats to my favorite writer for 3k!!! I’d like to request an oscar fic with the prompt ᯓ★ “why did you have to come back? why? i was doing so well without you.”. I’m a sucker for angst 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

“why did you have to come back? why? i was doing so well without you.”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one who got away or the one who came back? depends on him. ★:feat:: doctor!oscar piastri x ex!reader ★:genre:: fluff and uh hurt/comfort; loved incorporating texts in this

You hum softly, swaying your hips as you slice the vegetables, the rhythm of your body completely at odds with the frantic pace of your hands. They work quickly, hasty and dangerously, the blade flashing with each chop.

The process continues as you pick up different vegetables, chopping them carelessly while moving your body to the slow music playing in the background.

"Baby," a groan interrupts the calm as you feel Oscar's hands slide against your waist, his touch firm and grounding. "How many more times do I have to remind you?"

You immediately relax, letting out an exaggerated huff as your lover attempts to take the knife from your hand. "What if you got hurt, huh?"

You feel his warm breath against your neck, the warmth from his body comforting and familiar. His fingers pinch the skin of your arm when you stubbornly hold onto the knife.

"Be careful," Oscar murmurs again, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I just got home, and I’d rather not be in the ER again tonight." His voice is teasing, but the stern edge in his tone is unmistakable.

You laugh softly, nudging him with your elbow before pressing a quick peck to his lips, earning a throaty hum from him. "This isn’t my first time cooking, Osc."

"Uh-huh," Oscar says with a smirk, his arms tightening around your waist in warning. "Wouldn’t be your first time cutting your hand either. So, excuse me if I’m a little—"

You cut him off with a roll of your eyes, your tone playful. "Well, if I do cut myself, at least I’ve got the best doctor in the world here to fix me up."

He gently turns you so you're facing him, his hand setting the knife safely aside. "Yeah, no," he says seriously, his eyes locking onto yours before flicking to your lips.

Oscar's lips curl into a soft, boyish grin as you gasp at the way he kissed you softly. "I’d prefer you not get hurt at all."

"Okay, fineee," you tease, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest at his words. You reach up for another kiss, your lips finding his insatiable ones for the third time. "No ER trips tonight."

"Thank goddd," your lover mocks your tone, letting out an exaggerated 'oof' when you smack his chest. Then, with a similar undertone, he pouts, "Now, before you test my medical skills—"

"Y/N L/N!" a sharp voice cuts through, yanking you back into the present. Shaking your head to gain concious.

You blink, the frustration in the nurse's tone making it clear that this wasn’t the first time she’d called your name.

You flush in embarrassment, clutching your hand tightly in a kitchen towel stained deep red. The stinging pain is sharp, but the numbness in your chest is more overwhelming.

You rise, cradling your injured hand, and follow the nurse down the hospital corridor. Your eyes flit across the walls, the fluorescent lighting casting an unflattering glow on the familiar surroundings- the very hospital where Oscar works.

It didn't even register to you that you were driving to this hospital in your panic induced state. Months after he walked away from your life as if you were nothing. Nothing to him.

The nurse leads you into a small examination room, handing you a clipboard with paperwork. You sigh, juggling the clipboard awkwardly with your injured hand, wincing as the pain flares up again.

The door swings open behind you, and you glance up, only to freeze.

What the fuck. Genuinely.

Your ex-boyfriend stands in the doorway, clipboard in hand, wearing his white coat and a look of professional composure that falls apart a bit the moment he raises his head, freezing as his eyes land on you.

Oscar's gaze flicks to your hand, and the worry is instant, etched into every line of his face as he immediately springs into action.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer, his voice soft but urgent, reaching forward to touch your hand.

You stammer, caught off guard. “I- uh, cut myself? Cooking.”

His jaw tightens as he gently takes your injured hand, his touch as careful as ever. You stop breathing at the contact.

His fingers graze yours, and for a fleeting second, the sterile white room feels like that night in the kitchen- like you’re still his, like he’s still yours.

“You didn’t think to be careful?” he murmurs, echoing his words from that night. His tone is heavier now, layered with hurt and something you can’t quite name as he's pushing you to sit down.

You try to joke, to lighten the suffocating weight in the air. “I was just fancying a trip to the ER.”

He doesn’t laugh. His stoic face makes your weak smile drop. Of course, he wouldn’t laugh. This wasn’t your boyfriend standing here- it was a doctor treating a stranger.

Fuck, that hurt.

Oscar’s focus is entirely on your hand as he examines the wound. “You need stitches,” he says quietly, his voice steady but his brow furrowed. “You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

The tenderness in his care makes your throat tighten. He hasn’t changed- not in the ways that mattered right now anyway.

“Oh,” you manage, your voice softer than you intended.

He glances up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There’s a storm of emotions there- worry, pain, and something achingly familiar. For a moment, it feels like he might say something more, but instead, he turns away to grab supplies.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, as he stitches your hand. You feel his familiar warmth, but the distance between you feels insurmountable. Finally, you can’t take it anymore.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you say roughly, your voice trembling slightly, irritation masking your vulnerability.

Oscar's eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a moment before returning to the wound. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly, his tone laced with a kind of sadness that makes your chest ache.

It hurts- the thought that he’s just acting out of duty, the same way he would for any other patient. Still, you swallow hard, drowning in your unnecessary feelings. “It’s just a cut.”

“No, it’s not,” he counters, louder and sharper now, pausing his work to look at you fully. “You could’ve done some serious damage. What were you even doing?”

“Cooking,” you reply again, your voice small. Surely, he doesn’t get mad at other patients like this, right?

A sick satisfaction blooms in your chest that makes you cringe. This man is just doing his job, and here you are, analyzing him like a lovesick fool.

His jaw clenches, and he lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “Of course. You didn’t throw away that stupid knife, did you?”

His words make your eyes narrow. He has no fucking right to ask that- not after he’s the reason behind your lonely nights.

Fuck him.

God, you really wanted to fuck him. Ugh.

Oscar clears his throat, his own eyes narrowing when they meet yours. It stokes your anger.

“Why do you care?” you whisper-shout, your voice hoarse.

His hands still for a moment, hovering over your stitched hand. He doesn’t look at you when he says, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Your breath catches, and the room feels too small, too heavy. “You don’t have to pretend anymore,” you say quietly, tears welling in your eyes. “We broke up, remember?”

He finally meets your gaze, and the hurt there is raw, unguarded. You don’t know why he’s hurt over you speaking the truth.

“I remember,” Oscar snaps, his voice barely above a whisper as he takes a shaky deep breath. “I remember holding you in the kitchen and telling you to be careful with that fucking big knife, day after day, because I was so afraid of it hurting you.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away. “It didn’t hurt me like you did,” you say, your voice breaking. How the hell was your chest hurting more than your hand?

Oscar looks like you’ve punched him, and it makes you ache worse. The fact makes you furious with yourself.

Why the fuck are you aching over the man who dropped your heart on the floor of your apartment like it was garbage?

“I know,” he murmurs, taking a deep, shaky breath, his composure breaking. “But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. It doesn’t mean I don’t still- ”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “Don’t say it. You don’t get to fucking say it.”

Oscar lets out a breath, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, and his voice cracks in a way that shatters you. “For everything. For letting us fall apart. For not fighting harder. For not- ”

“I don’t care,” You cut him off again, your own tears spilling over now.

His expression softens, the walls he’s been holding up crumbling fully. “Baby,” he says, and the vulnerability in his voice spreads like electricity through your tired body, making you shudder.

“Stop, please,” you gasp, your voice barely audible. “You don’t get to call me- ” You can’t even say it out loud, and it makes you feel pathetic. “Not after you just fucking left.”

Oscar clears his throat as he nods and looks down at your hand, his professional mask slipping back into place. “The stitches are done. You’ll need to keep them clean, and don’t- ”

“I know,” you cut him off as he wraps your hand in gauze. As soon as he steps away to take his gloves off, you stand.

“Y/N,” he sighs. “At least let me drive you home pl- ”

But you’re already out the door, tears streaming down your face, the ghost of his touch burning on your skin.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[requiemforthepoets]

this time, i’ll love you much better

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: your daughter had been insistent on you letting her attend a summer camp miles away from home, she was relentless, until you had gave up and let her go.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, divorce, singe dad nando (for the meantime), piercing of ears, cutting hair, typos, not proofread, switching places, named characters (except yours), camp pranks, twin civil war, and cursing.

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! i had already posted this fic before, but i decided to rewrite it bc i didn’t like how i wrote it before😅 it will be turned to series (again), and indecided to chop off other stuff and expound the story more. this was inspired by the movie ‘parent trap’ (1998), which is a favorite and comfort movie of mine. also, pls don’t pierce your own ear, this was just for the sake of the story, pls have your ears pierced by a professional!

to those who had read this fic before, i hope thay you’ll like this new version. comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. enjoy reading!

ONE - CAMP WALDEN

𖤓 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☽

The warm evening breeze filtered through the lush gardens, the soft, ambience music mingling with the chatter of guests dressed in gowns and suits as elegant as the event itself. You moved gracefully, a familiar figure gliding through the crowd, your hand wrapped loosely around the delicate crystal glass filled with champagne.

Tonight was no different than most—a charity gala held in one of the grand halls that you frequented as often as you flew to Paris for fashion week. Your gown, a soft blush with intricate beading that glimmered under the lights, seemed to cast a spell on those around you, but you barely even noticed. Your mind drifted as you nodded politely at the familiar faces, murmuring polite greetings. Even here, surrounded by prestige and opulence, your thoughts inevitably lingered somewhere else, somewhere that was far away from this world.

There was a gentle tug on the fabric of your dress, and you looked down to see Jullianna standing there, her eyes bright as she held a small, sleepy smile.

“Mama,” she whispered, reaching her arms up. She was the spitting image of you in those early years, with her curious eyes and calm demeanor that could enchant anyone.

“Are you tired, my love?” You knelt down, gently pulling her into your arms, and brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

She nodded, her small hands curling into the fabric at your shoulder. “Can we go home soon?”

“Just a little longer, darling.” You whispered, smiling as you kissed the top of her head as you stood, now hold her close.

You felt a wave of guilt at keeping her here so late, but knowing these kinds of events, it is a part of your life, it is a life you led—a life you had built carefully, elegantly, for her.

The evening passed in a blur, and as you settled into the back of the car with Jullianna asleep in your arms, your mind wandered, as if often did, to Fernando. Your divorce had been for the best, you had convinced yourself of that a long time ago. His world had always been one of constant movement—racing, travel, and late nights. For you, a life of slower elegance, deeply rooted in tradition and legacy, had never meshed well with the constant, fast-paced nature of his life. It had always been difficult to explain to friends or even to yourself in those early years, but you knew it was true, that there were some things that are simply not meant to be.

Twelve years had passed since the day you made the decision, standing in that quiet empty house, feeling like half of you had walked out the door with him and Sofia. You had returned to France almost immediately, not even wanting to stay in the place you once called home with him, and eventually, your heart led you further east—to Singapore, where you thought the new environment might help you leave behind the memories that clung to you like shadows.

That night, as you tucked Jullianna into bed, you sat by her side, brushing a gentle hand through her hair, and whispering the same words you did every night in her sleep, her lips curved into a faint smile, and left you feeling a bittersweet pang.

“Je t’aime, ma belle.” You kissed her forehead softly.

As you left her room, the silence of the night settled around you. Sitting alone in your home office, your gaze fell on a photograph tucked into the corner of your shelf—a rare family picture that was taken on the twins’ first birthday. Fernando was holding Jullianna, while you held Sofia. It was before the late-night arguments that began over small things and grew louder, sharper, until one day they no longer seemed fixable.

A knock on your door had pulled you from your thoughts. It was your housekeeper, Madeline, carrying your tea in your hand.

“Madame, here’s the nightly tea that you had requested earlier.” She said, her voice soft as she set the tea down.

“Thank you so much, Madeline.” You replied and smiled warmly at her.

The moment Madeline had left your office, closing your door softly, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. A thousand unsaid words had echoed in your head and missed memories washed over you like a tidal wave. Despite everything, there was still that part of you that would always wonder about the family you had left behind, that would forever miss the sound of Fernando’s laugh, how Sofia had wrapped her little arms around your neck as a baby, and the way you once felt—whole.

“Oh, Fernando…if only things had been different.” A single tear streaming down your face as you whispered into the night, as if speaking to the wind itself.

The words hung in the air, unanswered, as the ache in your heart settled back like a familiar companion, and as the city lights glimmered through your window, you realized that maybe, sometimes memories were meant to be kept as they were—frozen in time, a bittersweet reminder of a love that once was.

It was a warm summer afternoon, the sun streamed gently through the windows of your home office, casting a soft, golden glow over the polished mahogany furniture. Outside, the manicured gardens were in full bloom, but your focus was entirely on Jullianna, who was seated on the white velvet couch, her face alight with excitement. She had been pleading her case for the better part of an hour, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

“Please, Mama,” she said, voice laced with hope as she clasped her hands. “It’s just for the summer! Camp Walden is supposed to be amazing! They have horseback riding, fencing, tennis, archery, and all kinds of activities.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly as you watched her. Jullianna’s enthusiasm was really contagious, yet the thought of sending her somewhere far away, even for just a few weeks, filled you with a strange kind of emptiness. Jullianna was your heart, your world, the one who grounded you in all these years since the divorce. Letting her go, even briefly, felt like tearing away a part of yourself.

“I don’t know, darling,” you murmured, brushing a hand over the silk of your blouse as you gathered your thoughts. “You’ve never been away from home before, and this camp is so far away. What if you need something? What if…” your voice trailed off, concern evident in every word.

“Mama, I’ll be fine, I swear!” Jullianna leaned forward, her small hands resting gently on yours as she assured you, voice steady and wise beyond her years. “You’ve always said that being independent is important, and I think I’m ready. Besides, it’ll also be a great opportunity for me to learn new things and make new friends. I promise I’ll write to you everyday!”

“You know, my love,” you said softly, “it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that it is hard for me to imagine you being so far away, without me there to make sure you’re safe.”

“That’s why Tante said she’d check in on me. She lives so close—just an hour away! She said she’d visit every week to make sure I’m doing okay.” She said as she squeezed your hands.

That part did soothe you, if only a little. Your sister, always the adventurous one, had been quick to support the idea, insisting that it would be good for Jullianna to experience a little bit of independence. But still, the decision weighed heavily. You had spent every moment of Jullianna’s life by her side, and you had always been protective, especially after all the things that had happened with Fernando. The mere thought of her being away from you, even in a structured, prestigious environment, felt like an unfamiliar stretch.

“Alright. Just promise me one thing, Jullianna,” you finally said, soothing her hair back from her face as you looked at her with tender seriousness. “Promise me that if anything feels wrong or if you ever feel scared, you’ll tell someone right away. You’ll let Tante know, or write to me, and we’ll bring you back home.”

“I promised, Mama. I’ll tell you everything, and I’ll call Tante if I need anything.” A small smile spread across her face, and then she added softly, “thank you for letting me go.”

“Always remember, my darling,” you said, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “that there is no place I wouldn’t go to bring you back if you needed me.”

You sighed, and you pulled her for an embrace. The weight of your decision finally settling over you. As you pulled back, her eyes glistened with a mixture of excitement and understanding.

“I know, Mama. I’ll miss you so much, too.” She smiled.

You began gathering the essentials for her time at Camp Walden, and there were moments you found yourself staring at her empty bed or the corner where her favorite books were stacked, a sense of bittersweet filling up your heart. The house already felt quieter, emptier in a way you had not expected, and she hadn’t even left yet. But, you knew that letting her go, allowing her to experience this bit of independence, was necessary, even if it made your heart ache.

A few weeks later, the day arrived. You watched as the car pulled up in front of the sprawling, tree-lined grounds of Camp Walden. Other girls were already waving and chattering with excitement, and you felt a pang of wistfulness as you saw them heading off to the cabins. You stood with Jullianna, adjusting her hat, dusting off an imaginary dirt on her clothes, and brushing stray hair from her face.

“Be good, be safe, and remember everything we talked about.” You said, voice a little unsteady.

Jullianna wrapped her arms around you, her embrace warm and firm. “I’ll see you soon, Mama. Thank you for letting me come.”

You nodded, holding her tightly for a moment before letting her go. As she joined the other campers, you stayed rooted to the spot, watching her until she disappeared into the crowd. There was a strange sense of emptiness as you climbed back into the car, already missing the sound of her laughter beside you.

For now, you leaned back and sighed as you closed your eyes. The image of Jullianna’s smiling face etched into your heart, as the car began its journey back to the airport where your private jet was waiting for you to fly you back to Singapore.

It all started with a tennis match on a warm afternoon, the kind of day where the sun blazed high and relentless, and the sounds of campers filled the air around the sprawling grounds. Jullianna had signed up for the camp’s tennis tournament on a whim, hoping to try her hand at something new and shake off the lingering homesickness that came in waves when she least expected it. Her new found friends had cheered Jullianna on as she walked onto the court, her ponytail swinging and her competitive spirit freshly ignited.

Across the net, Sofia stood waiting, expression cool and confident. She had her own group of friends watching from the sidelines, whispering excitedly and glancing between the two girls with eager anticipation. From the moment the match began, it was clear as daylight that it wasn’t going to be an ordinary game. Every swing, rally, sharp glance, and return was met with a fierce determination, each of them fighting to outdo the other, and neither of them are willing to back down.

The twins’ heated match had caught other campers' attention from their respective activities and gathered around the court, sensing the tension in the air, and whispering amongst themselves. It wasn’t everyday that they witnessed a match this heated, not even during the annual camp tournaments.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Sofia taunted as she shot Jullianna a glance from across the net, smirking. It was enough of a challenge to spark something in Jullianna.

Jullianna’s eyes narrowed, gripping her tennis racket tighter as she retorted. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

She fired a powerful serve that sent the ball rocketing across the net, forcing Sofia to scramble. But Sofia, with her practiced ease, returned it with just as much force, refusing to let Jullianna gain the upper hand.

The game went on like this, each point hard-fought and full of grit, until finally, with a final stroke, Sofia won the match. She tossed her racket aside, beaming at her friends, who cheered wildly from the sidelines. Meanwhile, Jullianna, panting and flushed with exertion, felt the bitter sting of defeat, and glared at Sofia, unable to believe that she had lost, but her pride would not let her stay silent.

“You got lucky.” Jullianna muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh please!” Sofia said smoothly, her tone dripping with sarcasm as her smirk widened. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

Before Jullianna could fire back, her stance ready to pounce on Sofia if needed just to wipe off that annoying smirk of her, Stella, the camp assistant, with wide eyes and a gentle disposition, stepped forward, looking flustered. Stella glanced back and forth between the two girls, a confused expression evident on her face.

“Uh…Jullianna…Sofia…” she stammered, clearly unnerved by how alike they looked. “Girls, let’s calm down. It was just a match, let’s shake hands and put this friendly rivalry to rest, okay?”

Neither Jullianna nor Sofia seemed to hear Stella. Each of them was far too wrapped up in her annoyance and indignation, unwilling to back down. It was really uncanny—looking at a pair of mirrors that refused to acknowledge their reflection. But when Stella opened her mouth again to address it, both girls had already disappeared, leaving the camp assistant standing alone, bewildered.

What followed over the next few days was nothing short of a civil war. Each girl, armed with a fierce competitive spirit, began to pull pranks on each other, each more elaborate than the last, and Sofia, being a seasoned camper, had the advantage of knowing the camp’s hidden corners and tricks, but Jullianna proved to be a quick learner, catching up faster than anyone had anticipated.

One morning, Jullianna woke to find her cabin floor littered with marble and lego pieces, strategically placed so she’d slip the moment her feet touched the ground. She had managed to avoid the worst of it, but not without a near-fall that sent her stumbling and feet aching over the lego pieces. When she arrived at breakfast, she spotted Sofia across the mess hall, smirking and laughing with her friends, Jullianna narrowed her eyes, a silent vow forming in her head.

Oh it’s on, Sofia Alonso.

The next day, it was Jullianna’s turn to get back at Sofia. She placed a bucket of water, that was mixed with two big boxes of sugar that she and her friends were able to snatch from the camp’s kitchen, balanced precariously on the ledge. As soon as Sofia opened her cabin door and stepped through, it tipped, dousing her from head to toe, smelling and sticky because of the sugar that was mixed with the water. The sound of Jullianna and her friends’ laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, and she greeted her teeth.

The pranks continued to escalate further—each one more creative and outrageous than the last. Sofia had retaliated by sneaking a couple of live frogs into Jullianna’s cabin, knowing how she hated frogs to the core, and hiding them in her bed just before lights out. The next morning, Jullianna’s scream echoed across the campgrounds, sending other campers into fits of laughter.

This caused the other campers to watch the spectacle unfold, some even placing bets on who would win their latest round of pranks. It became the talk of the camp, and soon, even the counselors started to take notice of it, their amusement gradually giving way to concern.

However, the tipping point came on a humid afternoon when Sofia’s latest prank went awry. She had meticulously planned to replace Jullianna’s shampoo with a mixture of sticky maple syrup and glue, convinced it would finally give her the upper hand once again. But, in a twist of fate, the camp director herself, Marva, just happened to use Jullianna’s shower stall that day. The furious yelp that echoed through the cabin when the sticky concoction met her hair was one no one would forget anytime soon.

Marva stormed into the mess hall that evening, her hair ruined and still a very sticky mess despite doing her best effort to wash it out thoroughly, but the stickiness was making it impossible.

“Jullianna Young! Sofia Alonso!” She barked, voice cutting through the chatter of the other campers like a whip.

Jullianna and Sofia, who had been sitting at opposite ends of the hall, both stiffened, exchanging a glance across the room. They knew very well that they were in big trouble, but neither was prepared for the scolding that followed.

“I have had enough of this nonsense!” Marva snapped, glaring at them both. “You two have disrupted this camp long enough with your childish rivalry. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but whatever it is, it stops now.” Both girls just remained silent, each of them secretly fuming at the other.

Marva took a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep her composure. “Since neither of you seem capable of behaving properly, you’ll be spending the rest of your time here together in the isolation cabin. No pranks, no game, and no tennis matches. Just the two of you, side by side.”

A collective gasp rippled through the mess hall as the campers exchanged shocked glances. The isolation cabin was notorious—it is a small, rustic cabin far from the main grounds, used for serious disciplinary issues. Jullianna opened her mouth to plead her case, but Marva held up a hand, silencing her immediately.

“Not another word.” Marva sent Jullianna a pointed look. “Gather all of your things, both of you. You’ll be escorted there tonight.”

As the mess hall fell silent, the girls shot one last, seething glance at each other before trudging out of the mess hall, each silently blaming the other. Neither of them had any idea what awaited them in that cabin, but they were both determined to make sure the other regretted every prank, every stolen moment of peace.

The isolation cabin loomed under the silver light of the moon, its walls pressing down with a silence that seemed heavier than the woods surrounding it, and the faint smell of old pine mingling with the summer air drifted through the cracked window. Jullianna stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the modest setup—- single room with two narrow beds on opposite walls, a small wooden table on each side, and the dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting faint shadows that only added to the sense of confinement. It is not really the kind of space where two strong-willed girls could coexist peacefully for the entire summer.

Sofia brushed past her with a sigh, already so over with what had happened during the day, and just ready to get some sleep. She set her bag on the bed near the door, her expression tense and unreadable.

“Guess you’re taking that side then.” Jullianna muttered, sliding her own bag onto the bed nearest the window, needing the slight reprieve the view might offer.

Sofia merely shrugged, glancing around the cabin before sinking down onto her bed. She did not respond, but the look she shot Jullianna spoke volumes, one of those silent, frustrated exchanges that siblings seem to master effortlessly.

The silence between them stretched, thick and awkward, broken only by the distant sounds of the camp settling in for the night. Jullianna retrieved her pen and paper, intending to start the letter she had been meaning to send to you. She hoped it would soothe the relentlessness that gnawed at her, the unsettling feeling that maybe, she had made a big mistake of coming to Camp Walden.

Jullianna began writing in a neat hand, taking care to choose her words carefully. She even hesitated, chewing on the pen cap as she considered what else she could say to you.

Dear Mama,

I’m doing well at camp, and I’m learning a lot. The counselors are nice, the activities are…fun. I had met a really terrible girl, and she’s very very rude, and got us into big trouble, and maybe you were right after all, maybe I shouldn’t have come to Camp Walden, maybe I’m not ready yet to be on my own…

The moment Jullianna saw what she had ended up writing, had been crossed out, and just sighed. Then, without any warning, the lights flicked off, plunging the cabin into darkness. Jullianna blinked, her eyes adjusting to the faint glow filtering through the windows, and realized that Sofia had casually flipped the switch from her side of the room, clearly telling her intent to sleep.

“Hey! What the hell?” Jullianna snapped, narrowing her eyes in the darkness. “I wasn’t finished.”

“It’s late,” Sofia replied evenly, her voice carrying a hint of smugness. “Some of us actually want to sleep, you pompous ass.”

“Well, I want to finish my letter.” Jullianna replied, ignoring the name calling that had been done by Sofia. “It’s not like I’m even bothering you.” She huffed, reaching for the switch by her bed and flicking it back on.

The light filled the room one more, and she caught a glimpse of Sofia’s exasperated expression before Sofia silently turned it off again. Jullianna gritted her teeth, annoyance already bubbling up as she stretched over to turn it back on, refusing to back down. Suddenly, the twins had fallen into a wordless rhythm—Sofia switching the light off, Jullianna switching it back on, they were going at it back and forth, in an escalating battle of wills. With each flip of the light switch, their resolve only seemed to deepen, neither of them are willing to be the one to concede. It was like the tennis match all over again.

“You know what? Fine!” Sofia muttered, letting out an exasperated sigh, and rolling her eyes as she settled back on her pillow, turning away from Jullianna. “Have your freaking light. Clearly, writing a letter is more important than getting any sleep.”

Jullianna’s jaw tightened, resisting the urge to retort. She knew that Sofia was only trying to get under her skin, but still, she could not ignore the sting of frustration. This was supposed to be her space, her chance to find some peace, and here was Sofia, already encroaching on it. After a pause, Jullianna went back to her letter, scribbling with more intensity than before, as if each stroke of the pen could somehow vent her irritation.

The camp is fine, though I do wish there were a little more…personal space, and that Sofia Alonso was the biggest and awful creature that had ever walked this planet!

She glanced pointedly at Sofia’s turned back. But as the silence settled back over them, Jullianna felt the weight of their situation press down, a heavy reminder of the consequences they now had to endure. She thought back to the pranks, tennis match, and the bubbling resentment she had not quite been able to shake. Now, all of it had come back to haunt her, and there was nothing either of them could do to change any of it. Marva’s words echoed in her mind—you’ll be spending the rest of your time here together in the isolation cabin.

Looking over at Sofia, wondering if she was feeling the same sting of regret. It was one thing to engage in their rivalry out on the campgrounds, where they had their own space, but here, the walls closed in, and the tension between them felt inescapable.

“You know, if this keeps up, they’ll end up calling our parents.” Sofia murmured, her voice laced with a hint of worry.

Jullianna paused, her pen hovering over the paper as he stomach somersaulted at the thought. The last thing she wanted was for you to receive a call from Marva, detailing how your daughter had been banished to the isolation cabin, as Marva listed the things she had done like it was war crimes. She couldn’t bear at the thought of you regretting the decision to let her come home, disappointing the only person she looked up to more than anyone else in the world. To more than anyone else in the world.

“Yeah, well,” Jullianna replied, her bravado faltering, “I don’t think either of us wants that.”

Sofia glanced over her shoulder, gaze softer, almost resigned. “So maybe we should just…stay out of each other’s way.”

Jullianna nodded in agreement, feeling a reluctant agreement settled between them, though the air was still thick with tension. They did not say another that night. She decided to write a new letter and had finished it in silence, leaving out the parts about the pranks and rivalry, keeping the tone cheerful and optimistic for your sake.

When Jullianna finally set the letter aside and turned off her bedside light, she could feel Sofia’s presence only a few feet away, a constant reminder of the thin line they both now walked. They had no choice but to endure this together, their own choice binding them to this small cabin in the middle of the woods.

As Jullianna lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Jullianna realized just how long the summer ahead truly felt.

The late afternoon sun spilled through the cabin window, casting a soft golden glow that painted the room in a warm light. Jullianna sat cross-legged on her bed, journal opened in her lap as she carefully sorted through the small collection of photos she had brought with her from home. The journal was more than just a pastime, it was her link to everything familiar, a little piece of home could flip through whenever she missed you or the world that was beyond camp.

One by one, she arranged the photos—old photos of you and her, her friends from school, and places she loved most. There was one photograph, however, that she always kept tucked at the back, out of sight but never truly out of mind. It was an old photo of her father, Fernando, one taken long before things had changed so drastically for the worst. The picture had been ripped down in the middle, jagged separating him from the rest of the family photo, leaving only his half behind.

Jullianna stared at it for a moment, her fingertips tracing the worn edges, a strange mixture of warmth and sadness filling her chest. She missed him, even if she could hardly remember him. She missed what might have been. As she was placing the photograph ik the journal, she felt a presence near her, and she glanced up to find Sofia watching her curiously. Sofia’s expression was unreadable, but her gaze was sharp, focused on the photo in Jullianna’s hand.

“What’s that?” Sofia asked, a hint of something suspicious in her voice.

“Just…” Jullianna hesitated, holding the journal protectively against her chest. “Some photos from home.” She replied, hoping that her reply would appease Sofia’s curiosity.

“Let me see.” Sofia insisted, taking a step closer.

Before Jullianna could even form a response, Sofia had already leaned over and snatched the photo from her hands, holding it up to the light. Her eyes scanned the picture, and Jullianna could see the flicker of confusion cross her face, followed by something deeper—something darker.

“Why the hell do you have a picture of my father?” Sofia’s voice was low, tense, laced with a disbelief that quickly turned into anger.

Her hands clenched around the edges of the photo as if holding onto it hurt, but she could not let go. Jullianna’s mouth fell open, her mind reeling.

“Your father?” She repeated, feeling a sudden wave of confusion crash over her. “That’s my father.”

“No, this is my dad! Why the hell do you have this picture?” Her tone grew louder, angrier, each word brimming with accusation, as if Jullianna had stolen something from her. “You had no right to—”

“Sofia,” Jullianna’s voice cut through, steady yet trembling, she’s not really used to confrontations like this. “I’m telling you the truth, he’s my father too.” Her words hung heavy in the air, and she could see the rage in Sofia’s face waver, replaced by a flash of doubt.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, both twins were processing the words that had just been exchanged. Then, as if some unspoken understanding passed between them, Sofia reached into her own things, rifling through until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a photograph of her own, one that looked hauntingly familiar. It was an image of you, torn the same way in the middle, only this time, the tear separated you from the man beside.

“This…this is my other picture.” She whispered as she held up the photo, hand shaking and voice barely above breath.

Jullianna took in the image, her heart pounding as she realized what it meant. The jagged tear in each of their photos matched perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to be joined. The world seemed to tilt around her, air getting heavy with the enormity of the truth sinking in.

All those years, all the questions she had never had any answers to—they were standing right in front of her, and her mirror image was the one holding them.

“You’re…” Jullianna’s voice broke, her throat tight as the words struggled to find their way out. “We’re…twins.”

Sofia’s face was a mixture of shock and disbelief. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came. They both stood there, frozen, each searching for the other’s face for answers, for some kind of proof that this was not just a strange dream.

Jullianna sank down on the edge of her bed, staring at the two photographs, Fernando in one, and you in the other, torn apart but now brought together by the both of them. The silence between the twins was thick, heavy with the weight of everything they had missed, everything they hadn’t known until now.

“I don’t understand,” Sofia finally said, voice softer, almost vulnerable. “Why didn’t they tell us anything? Why were we…separated?”

“I don’t know. I never even knew you existed, it was just always me and Mama…” she trailed off, voice trembling, the realization settling painfully in her heart.

Sofia sat down across from her, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. “For me, it’s always been just me and Papa. I thought that was it.”

Both fell silent again, each lost in their own thoughts, the reality of their shared past unraveling slowly before them. Jullianna could see the same ache reflected in Sofia’s eyes, a sense of loss neither of them had expected to find. They had grown up worlds apart, yet they had been carrying the same missing piece all along, unaware that it belonged to each other.

Sofia reached out hesitantly, her hand hovering over the two torn photos, as if by placing them together, she could somehow bridge the gap between their two lives.

“Maybe,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion, “maybe it’s not too late for us, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, voice steady and certain. “Maybe it isn’t.”

Later that evening, when the cabin was already dark and quiet, with only the sounds of occasional rustle of leaves outside and soft breaths of the twins can be heard as they lay in their separate beds, each lost in their own thoughts. Jullianna had just started drifting off to sleep when she heard a small whisper.

Hey, psst!” Sofia called, her voice low, but insistent.

Jullianna rolled over, groaning softly. “What do you want, Sofia? I’m trying to sleep.”

“I have an idea, a very brilliant one.” She leaned up on her elbow, a spark of excitement lighting up her face, even in the dim light.

She opened one eye, squinting at her sister. “Can this please wait until the morning? When I’m fully rested and can absorb information properly?”

“No! Come on, it’ll just take a second.” Sofia pleaded.

“Fine!” Jullianna finally gave in. “If this brilliant idea of yours is anything like your last brilliant idea that landed us in this cabin, consider me not interested.” She added, voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

“Damn, now we know which twin has a stick up in their ass all the time.” Sofia snickered.

Jullianna gasped, looking really appalled. “I do not have a stick up in my ass, thank you very much!”

“Whatever,” Sofia rolled her eyes, “but come on! I swear this one’s different. Just hear me out.”

Jullianna sighed, sitting up as well, rubbing her eyes and reluctantly giving her attention to her sister. “Alright, I’m listening. What’s this brilliant idea of yours?”

Sofia leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We should switch places.”

“Switch places?” Jullianna blinked, staring at her sister like she had suddenly grown two heads. “You mean you want me to go live with Papa, and you’ll go live with Mama?”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes gleaming with excitement at the idea. “Exactly! Think about it, Jullianna! I’ve been dying to meet her my whole life, and don’t you want to know what it’s like to live with Papa? Even just for a little while?”

“Are you insane in the head?” Jullianna looked at Sofia as if she were out of her mind. “How on earth would we pull something off like that? The second I step off the plane, Mama will know I’m not me. We may look alike, but there are a thousand little things she’d notice right away.”

But Sofia was not ready to give up that easily. She shifted closer, her face determined. “Not if I practice. I can learn your habits, your mannerisms, everything. I’ve watched you all summer, and I already know how you talk and walk. I can definitely pull this off, I know I can.”

“And what about me?” Jullianna let out a huff of disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest. “How am I supposed to fool Papa? What if he asks me about something I don’t know or realizes I’m not you?”

Sofia’s face softened, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable. “Well, I don’t think he would. He’s always away and busy. He wouldn’t even notice.”

“You really think you can fool Mama? You think you know her that well?” Jullianna’s expression shifted, a hint of curiosity into her voice.

“I know her well enough to know that she loves you so much. I’ve heard stories from Papa about how she’s so elegant, so graceful, and I’ve imagined what it would be like to meet her a million times.” Sofia said earnestly. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

Jullianna felt a pang in her chest at the thought of Sofia’s longing, the years they had missed out on with each other, and with their parents. She tried to shake off the bittersweet feeling, but it lingered, tugging at her heart.

“Sofia…” she started, her voice soft. “This is really crazy, and dangerous. A little bit ridiculous as well if I'm being honest.”

Sofia gave her a small, hopeful smile. “So, you up for it?”

Jullianna bit her lip, torn between Sofia’s skepticism and the growing sense of curiosity. She had always wondered about Fernando, about what kind of person he was, what it would be like to spend time with their father—and as much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of her that wanted to see it for herself.

Finally, she let out a sigh, throwing her hands up in resignation. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. But if this all backfires, I’m fully blaming you.”

Sofia’s face lit up, and without any warning, she launched herself across the small space, wrapping her arms around Jullianna in a tight hug.

“Thank you, thank you!” She squealed. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Jullianna, unaccustomed to the sudden skinship, hugged her back, though she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she whispered, “you better not mess this up.”

“Oh, don’t worry your pompous ass about it.” Sofia pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Will you stop calling me that?” Jullianna glared at her.

“Naur.” Sofia teased. “But, it was nice doing business with you, partner!”

“I should’ve drafted an agreement before I had agreed to this plan.” Jullianna murmured.

“Too late, no backsies!” Sofia stuck her tongue out at Jullianna.

She just shook her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Let’s just hope this brilliant idea of yours doesn’t end in total disaster.”

The isolation cabin was not exactly the punishment that Marva, the camp director, had intended for it to be, at least not to the twins. Sure, they were banned from most camp activities and had been relegated to kitchen duties—a consequence they were constantly reminded of as they scrubbed pots and peeled endless potatoes, but it was during these hours of exile that they found an unexpected advantage. They basically had the entire summer to prepare for their switch, and with no one or any camp activities to interrupt, they were free to study each other’s lives without interference.

Every morning, after finishing up in the kitchen, they would take their usual spot at the “isolation cabin table,” a small stable in the farthest corner of the mess hall. The staff had set it aside specifically for them, as if to let everyone know that they were troublemakers. But to the twins, it felt like it was their own private headquarters, a place where they could whisper and plan without anyone overhearing.

One afternoon, with the other campers busy with archery and canoeing, Sofia and Julianna were seated at their table, surrounded by a scattered pile of photographs, notepaper, and a few hastily drawn diagrams.

“Alright,” Sofia said, leaning over one of the photos, her eyes focused. “This is Papa’s sister. Tía Lorena, and she’s a doctor. She really loves giving expensive gifts, so she pretty much spoils us rotten.” She pointed to a woman in the photograph, a glamorous brunette with a gorgeous smile.

Jullianna raised an eyebrow. “How expensive?”

“Well, considering she’s very successful, gifts like Chanel, Bvlgari, Dior, and YSL to name a few.” Sofia explained. “Though I’m thankful for the gifts, I'm never really the type of girl to bask myself in luxury items, though I know very well that once she meets you as Jullianna, you’ll really get along well. Since you’re so…posh.”

She looked at Sofia, sending her a playful offended look. “I’m not posh. But got it, an expensive aunt who gives posh gifts. Noted.”

They exchanged stories, going back and forth, each trying to explain the intricacies of their own families. Sofia’s face softened as she looked over at Jullianna, sensing the curiosity in her eyes every time she spoke of their father.

“Look,” Sofia said, reaching over and handing her a photo of Fernando, smiling and holding up a trophy on the podium. “This is Papa at his happiest, when he’s racing. That’s what he lives for, and I think he’d rather be on the track than anywhere else.”

Jullianna gently took the photo from Sofia, studying it closely. She noticed the proud look in Fernando’s eyes, the way he seemed to radiate energy and excitement.

“He looks…different than I expected. He looks…younger.” Jullianna said, looking at the photo with a longing smile.

“Yeah,” Sofia replied softly, her gaze turning a bit wistful. “That’s the side of him I wish you could have seen sooner. I think you’d like him very much, and he’s also very funny. Cracking a bunch of dad jokes.”

Jullianna gave her a small nod, tucking the photo away carefully in her notebook. It was her turn, and she held up a photo of you, looking radiant at a charity gala, draped in a timeless gown, surrounded by a sea of admiring eyes.

“This is Mama at one of her events. She’s, well, she’s always the center of attention, but not in a loud way. She doesn’t have to try, people just…gravitate to her.” Jullianna explained, and pulled out a photo again. It was one of your poster ads for Dior, where you had been asked to be their brand ambassador.

Sofia stared at the photo, her face filled with wonder, and whispered. “She looks like a queen.”

“She kind of is,” Jullianna replied with a laugh. “She can be strict, though. Like, if my room isn’t perfect, I always hear about it.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Papa’s the opposite. He barely notices if there’s a mess, as long as it’s not his stuff.”

“Also, before I forget,” Jullianna pulled out a photo of your sister. “This is Tante Clarisse, older sister. She’s a really cool aunt, very adventurous, and I know that when she meets you as you, you’ll get along really well.”

“Would you look at that, our parents have the exact opposite of their siblings.” Both of the twins laughed at Sofia’s remarks. “But tell me more about Mama, what is the first thing she does every morning?”

“Hmm, the first thing Mama does every morning is make tea. Always black tea, no milk, just a bit of honey. She stands by the window, looking out at the garden while she drinks it.” Jullianna smiled.

“Got it,” Sofia nodded, mentally filing each detail away. “What is she like? I mean, what’s she like when it’s just you two?”

“Well, she’s calm. Gentle, but not in a weak way. She’s strong, you’d see it in the way she handles everything, like she’s always a step ahead of everyone else.” Jullianna’s face softened, voice becoming wistful. “It’s like everything is just…right. She’s amazing, really.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Sofia murmured, almost to herself.

“But anyway, your turn!” Jullianna quickly cleared her throat, wanting to break the quiet weight between them. “What’s Papa like? I mean, really like, not just what you tell people.”

“Oh, Papa…he’s complicated.” Sofia leaned back in her chair, a smile tugging at her lips. “Always has a million things going on in his head, but he’s also weirdly sentimental. Like, he keeps these little trinkets, souvenirs from places he’s raced.”

“He doesn’t say much, but he’s always present. When he’s around, you know he’s paying attention, like you’re the only person in the world.” She added.

Jullianna tilted her head, trying to picture the man she had only known in glimpses, piecing together this new layer of Sofia was giving her. You never really liked to talk about Fernando, and Jullianna just gave up on asking you about him, the picture was already enough for her to know that she has a father.

“That sounds…really nice.” She said softly, almost as if she were testing the words.

Sofia grinned, a little twinkle of pride in her eyes. “Yeah, he’s…he’s special. But don’t tell him I said that, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

The two of them shared a quiet laugh, finding comfort in the strange, shared bond they were piecing together over their parents.

As they continued trading details, Sofia would occasionally quiz Jullianna. “So, what does Papa do on Sunday mornings when it’s his off-season?”

“You both spend time at Abuelo and Abuela’s home, and go to his private race track for a few sessions.” Jullianna replied confidently.

“Close enough,” Sofia said, satisfied.

“Alright, your turn. What’s Mama’s favorite flower?” Jullianna asked.

Sofia paused, trying to recall the details they had gone over. “Orchids. White ones.”

Jullianna nodded, impressed. “Perfect. She always loved white orchids, didn’t she? She even has one in her home office and bedroom.”

It was strange, Jullianna thought, to feel this kind of connection to someone she had never known, to see these glimpses of her family through Sofia’s stories. She could see Sofia had felt the same, a mix of wonder and longing that neither of them could fully explain.

Sofia suddenly leaned over the table, meeting Jullianna’s eyes. “You know, if this works, if we really pull this off, we’re going to know more about each other’s families than they know about us.”

“Good. That means we’re doing it right.” Jullianna smiled, her eyes glinting with the spark of shared adventure.

During a late evening, as the moon illuminated inside of the isolation cabin’s window, Sofia glanced over at Jullianna with a look of steely determination.

“You know, if we’re going to pull this off, we have to go all in.” She said, her gaze flickering to Jullianna’s long, wavy hair.

“No way! You want me to cut it?” Jullianna reached up, fingers grazing her dark, carefully maintained locks. “I don’t think I can do that. Mama…she loves my hair.”

“I get it, but my hair’s short,” Sofia sighed, her face softening for a moment. “And you can’t exactly show up with long hair when it’s supposed to be, well, me. You’re the one who said she’s notice things, right? The tiniest details?”

Sofia pointed to her own short-cropped style, which was edgy and practical, shaped by years of living with Fernando’s ‘come as you are’ approach. Jullianna bit her lip, staring at herself in the mirror—it was true, you would instantly pick up on something as obvious as a haircut. But the thought of losing her hair, her one piece of comfort in an otherwise chaotic world, made her heart twist.

Sofia saw the hesitation softened her voice, trying to convince her. “Look, I know it’s hard. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was necessary. Besides, hair grows back, just think of it as…as a part of the adventure.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re used to it.” Jullianna sighed, crossing her arms defensively.

“True. But that’s why I’m asking. If we’re really going to do this, it has to be perfect. Foolproof.” She paused, then added, “and…you’re going to have to get your ears pierced too.”

Jullianna’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. “Wait, what?! Pierced ears?! No. Absolutely not! There is a reason why I never had my ears pierced, despite how Mama told me that I should.”

“Well, Papa definitely won’t let me go back without my ear pierced.” Sofia chuckled, shaking her head. “If you show up with unpierced ears, he’ll notice immediately that it is not his daughter.”

Jullianna groaned, staring back at the mirror. It was more than a little daunting, the idea of changing herself so much for a plan that she was not even sure would work. She had always hated needles so much, that is why despite how much you convince her to have her ears pierced so that she can no longer use magnetic earrings, a simple no would always be her answer. Until you had just stopped convincing him.

But as she glanced over at Sofia, who wore an expression of quiet, almost desperate determination, something softened within her. They were already at 85% of their plan, it’s too late to back out now. This was not just an adventure for Sofia, it was her once in a lifetime chance to meet you—the mother she had never really known.

“Fine, okay.” Jullianna finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

Sofia’s face lit up with relief and excitement. She jumped up, giving Jullianna an impulsive hug. “Thank you! This is going to be amazing, I promise!”

Jullianna couldn’t help but smile. The feeling of Sofia’s arms around her, the warmth of this new sisterly bond, somehow made the whole ordeal seem worth it. Worth conquering over her fear of needles.

A few hours later, Julluanna sat stiffly on a wooden chair, with Sofia standing beside her with a pair of scissors that he had managed to borrow from the camp’s art shed. Jullianna closed her eyes, as strands of her long hair tumbled down on the cabin floor.

As the pile of hair grew, Jullianna tried to focus on the bigger picture, on why she was doing this. She kept imagining your reaction when you see her, or rather, when you see Sofia, standing in her place, with every detail exactly right. She imagined what it would be like to stand in her father’s world, if only for a little while.

“Alright,” she said, after what felt like an eternity, Sofia finally stepped back, setting the scissors aside. “Look!”

Jullianna opened her eyes slowly, gazing at her reflection in the cabin mirror. With the shorter, choppy hairstyle, she barely recognized herself, and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sofia, she saw it—the uncanny, almost eerie resemblance between them.

“We look…we look so much alike, oh my god.” Jullianna murmured, reaching up to touch her newly short hair.

Sofia grinned, a look of triumph spreading across her face. “Told you, we could pull this off.”

“Alright, you win. I’m all in.” Jullianna couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head.

“Now, for the earrings,” Sofia said, holding up the studs with a small, apologetic smile. “You’re doing great, I promise. This is the last and final step.”

Jullianna clenched her jaw but nodded. “Just make it quick, okay?”

Sofia gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, then carefully pierced her ears with a sharp needle, one at a time. It was quick, a short sting, that felt like a bite of an ant, and then it was over. Jullianna touches her new earrings, feeling their cool surface against her skin.

“There. Now we’re ready!” Sofia grinned, stepping back and looking over.

They both stood together in front of the mirror, side by side, transformed into mirror images of each other, the plan they had once imagined as impossible now felt inevitable.

It was already the last day of camp. The final morning was thick with an anxious energy, as if the summer had conspired with the twins’ hearts to make this moment feel both thrilling and terrifying. They had come a long way from that heated tennis match, and now, every glance, every movement was carefully practiced to be someone else. It was very strange and surreal, to think that they were about to walk into the lives they had only ever imagined, guided only by each other’s stories, photos, and memories.

Sofia glanced at the small suitcase she had packed with Jullianna’s things. Her fingers trembled slightly as she zipped it up, feeling the weight of what they were about to do settle heavily in her stomach. She had dreamt about meeting you so many times, but now that the moment was within reach, the reality was daunting. She was about to step into a world so different from her own. What if I slipped up? What if you noticed right away?

“Hey, you’re going to do great. Just remember what we practiced. You’ve got this.” Jullianna said softly, offering a reassuring smile.

Sofia looked at her, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “What if she realized it’s not you the second I walk through the door? You told me that she notices everything.”

“You’ll be okay,” Jullianna replied, trying to project confidence. “And if anything feels off, just call me, okay? I’ll be there. It’s just a summer, long enough to get some answers, but not so long that anyone gets hurt.”

At that moment, Stella’s voice called out through the megaphone, her tone brisk, business-like. “Jullianna Young! Your car’s here, we’re ready when you are!”

“That’s you!” Jullianna said as they shared a quick, almost panicked look. Her voice became urgent as she pressed her passport and plane ticket into Sofia’s hands, along with her small backpack. “Here. You’re going to need these. Remember, look through all the photos in my journal, it’s where I keep everything, all my photos of who’s who, little habits, and notes. It should be able to help you.”

Sofia nodded as she took a deep breath. “Don’t forget to find out why they split up. I don’t remember much, but I think…I think it’s important.”

“I’ll do my best.” Jullianna’s expression softened. “And Sofia, make sure you keep up with my French homework, alright? Mama won’t let you hear the end of it if you slip, and give her a big hug for me.” She forced a small laugh, trying to mask her own nerves.

“Ms. Young! The car is waiting, come on.” Stella’s voice interrupted again, a touch more insistent this time.”

“Good luck, Jullianna,” she whispered as she hugged Jullianna tightly, one last time. “Thank you for giving me this chance. Please hug Papa for me, as well.”

“Good luck to you too,” Jullianna hugged her back with the same intensity, feeling a surge of emotions she hadn’t expected. “And I will. Remember, it’s just summer. But make the most of it, okay?”

Sofia nodded, blinking back the sudden sting of tears, and with one last look at Jullianna, she walked towards the car and went inside. Jullianna stood there, left with a mixture of excitement, fear, and a strange sense of loss as the car drove away.

Jullianna was about to meet her father in a couple of hours, for the first time as herself but not quite herself, to step into a world she knew through faded photos and stories whispered late at night.

[redocity]

I just had a cute idea, feel free to say no! What if (post Tommy) Buck has been dating F! Reader for a few months and she has already met the team, She loves Christmas and misses her nephews and nieces back home , and offers to take all the 118 kids for the day so the parents can do some shopping or go out on a date …etc , and she has all sorts of activities planned. Walking around to look at Christmas lights with hot chocolate, a Christmas movie night, gingerbread house decorating, cookie baking, matching pj’s etc.. and Buck (who has no clue) shows up to the readers house to see why she has been ignoring him all day, and sees her house full of his best friends kids.

COMMUNAL CHRISTMAS — E.BUCKLEY

buck comes home to his loving girlfriend… and a house full of kids?

evan buckley x fem!reader | 1.0k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — y’all know i had to get out a christmas themed fic

Buck had been feeling it all day—the gnawing pit in his stomach that something was off.

You hadn’t answered his texts or calls since the morning, which was wildly out of character for you. Sure, he knew you were busy, but it wasn’t like you to ghost him completely.

By the time his shift ended, he couldn’t take it anymore. Buck grabbed his jacket, told Eddie he’d see him tomorrow, and headed straight to your house.

Pulling into your driveway, he was greeted by an unusual sight: colourful Christmas lights blinking merrily in every window. Your house looked like it had been plucked from a holiday movie. And parked haphazardly along the curb even your car was decorated, and not only that, fitted with car seats and mobility aids in the backseats.

“What the hell?” Buck muttered to himself, frowning as he climbed out of his Jeep.

The moment he stepped up to the front door, he heard laughter. A lot of laughter. Tiny voices were shouting, giggling, and squealing in delight, and it sounded like absolute chaos in there.

Curious and slightly alarmed, Buck knocked once before trying the door. It wasn’t locked—because of course you trusted everyone—and he pushed it open cautiously.

“Babe?” he called, stepping inside.

The smell hit him first: sugar, cinnamon, and chocolate mingled with the faintest hint of pine. The sight hit him next.

There, in the middle of the kitchen, stood Christopher, Denny, and Jee-Yun, each proudly wearing matching red-and-green Christmas pyjamas. Denny was wielding a frosting-covered spatula, Chris had powdered sugar dusting his nose, and Jee-Yun was cradling what looked like an entire bowl of sprinkles, despite the fact she seemed to be barred from actually using them as of yet.

Surrounding them were trays of cookies in various states of decoration, bowls of frosting, and a table that had clearly seen better days.

Off to the side, Mara was meticulously adjusting the decorations on a gingerbread house, her face scrunched in concentration.

And there you were, in the middle of it all, wearing pajamas that matched the kids’, flour streaked across your cheek as you handled the electric mixer for whatever you were making now.

It reminded him of his baking kick in an odd way, although this one was decidedly for a much more sweet reason.

“Buck!” Chris’s voice rang out, followed by an enthusiastic wave. The boy nearly toppled out of his raised stool with his turn. “You’re here,”

You turned at the sound of Chris’s voice, your expression softening the moment you spotted Buck standing in the doorway, looking like he’d just walked into an alternate dimension.

“Hi, baby,” you said warmly, as though this was all perfectly normal.

“Uh...what is going on?” Buck finally managed, gesturing at the scene in front of him.

You set down your mixer and crossed the room to him, gently brushing some powdered sugar off your shoulder. “You’ve been ignoring me all day,” he pointed out, though his tone lacked any real heat.

You grinned sheepishly. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I’ve just been a little busy.”

“No kidding,” Buck muttered, glancing back at the kids. Jee-Yun had somehow managed to dump an entire handful of sprinkles on the floor, and Denny was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

“I told the team I’d take the kids today,” you explained. “You know, so everyone could get some shopping done or have a little alone time,”

Buck blinked at you, dumbfounded. “You volunteered to take all the kids? By yourself?”

You shrugged, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smirk. “I like kids. And I’ve got a system. We’ve already baked cookies, made gingerbread houses, and watched The Polar Express. Next up is baking this fruitcake with hot chocolate, then a Christmas movie marathon.”

“Wow,” Buck said, his voice laced with awe. He glanced at Chris, who was now grinning ear to ear, and then back at you. “You really went all out.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a wink. “It’s Christmas.”

Buck stared at you for a moment, his chest tightening with something warm and unnameable. You had just taken on a roomful of kids—his friends’ kids—and turned their day into a Christmas wonderland, all without asking for anything in return.

“Have I mentioned how amazing you are?” Buck said softly, his voice low enough that the kids wouldn’t overhear.

Your cheeks flushed, but you leaned in closer, the smile on your face growing even wider. “Not in the last twenty-four hours, but I’ll take it.”

Buck grinned and leaned down to kiss you, only to be interrupted by a chorus of giggles from the kids.

“Ewwww!” Mara exclaimed, covering her eyes.

“Get a room!” Denny added, though he was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out.

Chris just smiled knowingly, his gaze flicking between you and Buck.

Buck pulled back with a chuckle, shaking his head as he took in the room again. “Alright, what’s next? Need any help wrangling this lot?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Think you can handle it?”

He grinned, stepping further into the chaos. “Challenge accepted.”

By the time the night ended, the kids were all asleep, curled up in a pile of blankets on your living room floor, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft light over their peaceful faces.

Buck stood next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both looked down at the little group. “You know,” he whispered, “this might be my favorite Christmas ever.”

You leaned into him, your heart full. “Mine too.”

[love-jelly]

RIGHT HERE.

sypnosis: you're soft for yuuta. more than you should be, considering that he's spoiled with your endless mounts of affection, basking him in the purity of your love.

contents: slight yandere!yuuta, cunninlingus, fingering, porn with plot (?), pet names (baby, pretty baby, etc)

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: i don't think i've ever wrote this much in my life, especially for a fic!! i lightly (barely) proofread this so if it sucks.... well, hopefully it doesn't. i listened to right here by chase atlantic for this fic because it reminds me of yan!yuuta sm so you can listen to it while reading if you want! i hope you enjoy !! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

yuuta is never far from you, always a step ahead, always ready, always a steady presence in your life, from your teenage years to now.

how could you not be soft for him, knowing he's the only person that's ever stayed in your life? laying in bed with him, twirling the locks of hair that have started limiting his vision, an energy of tranquility enveloping the room that you both inhibit. a sudden call from your phone causes vibrations and loud rings that shake the peace that you both felt prior. you sit up tiredly to answer, sighing.

"hello?" you answer, not bothering to check who called. no one usually ever calls you at this time of day.

"are you down?" a voice you recognize emerges from the voicebox of your phone, demanding an answer to her sudden question. it's your best friend.

"down for...?" a confused tone is prominent in your voice.

"is yuuta hogging you again?" she jokes but you still see yuuta furrow his eyebrows at the comment. "read the groupchat! are you down for a girl's date today?"

"ohh, i didn't see the notifications, let me see." even before checking the messages, you know you don't really feel like going. today's your first day off in forever and you really wanted to spend it with yuuta but when you see the all uppercase texts clearly exhibiting extreme excitement from your best friends, you put your phone back to your ear. "i'll go."

your friend squeals excitedly, "okay!! text you're going in the groupchat, all the girls are finally free today to get together!! i can't wait to see you all again! see you later!" and promptly ends the call.

you turn back to yuuta, his eyebrows still furrowed. you smile softly and gently press your fingertips to his face to rid him of the wrinkles. "i'm sorry, baby, i know you wanted to spend all of today with me... i'll make it up to you, i promise."

his face relaxes but his eyes are still troubled. "it's okay... when are you leaving?"

you check the groupchat one more time, filtering through all the messages including exclaims of excitement to search for the details. "it starts at 2:30pm so i should leave at 1:30... which means i should start getting ready at 11:30 max. it's 10:00 so we still have time together."

yuuta pulls you back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and noses his way into your neck, making you giggle slightly from the ticklish feeling.

yuuta lightly bites your neck, leaving a light indent of his teeth. only slightly satisfied, he stares at it before he gets up, leaving you in the receding warmth of the bed.

frowning slightly, you call out "where are you going?"

'show her she only needs you', the devil on his shoulder whispers.

he hums. he turns backwards and picks you up gently, taking you with him. he kisses your cheek softly. "breakfast." he answers.

_____________

you softly groan into your closed fist. this was your weak point. yuuta, with his messily but cute tousled bedhead, shirtless, and cooking (especially when its your favorite breakfast). you had forgotten how badly this scene made the pit in your stomach ignite.

"hm?" his eyes flit over to you for a second before settling back onto the food in the pan in front of him, hiding a small smile that you don't catch.

you sit up quickly, adjusting your legs. "nothing, love!" your voice sounds tight and somewhat strained.

he knits his eyebrows together, "are you sure?" he glances at you, for longer this time before focusing back on the hot pan.

"yes..." you trail off, your eyes laser beamed at how he grips the pan handle and spatula. the tight grip of his hand on the pan.... then on your thigh.... then onto your waist....

shaking your head abruptly, you smile as you see yuuta plating your food. how could you think of your sweet boyfriend like this? poor yuuta, just wants to cook you breakfast... but the filthy thoughts continue to plague your mind.

his tongue flicking the fork (getting the remnants of the food left on it), a tongue you feel between your legs often.... his fingers wrapped around the fork (to feed you, of course), fingers you feel inside you often... you're in a daze, staring at him with the hungriest look yuuta has seen in your eyes in awhile. it's not his fault you've been so busy that you can't spare time for him and that you both haven't your fill of each other in awhile.

your running rampant thoughts are interrupted by the conspirator of your current fantasies himself when yuuta swipes at the side of your mouth to rid you of some crumbs and move them into your mouth.

and you can't catch yourself fast enough. your tongue darts out and collides with his finger and he pauses, frozen. in your starved haze, you grab his hand to pull him closer, sucking on the tip of his finger. now in his own mind-fogged state, he hyperfixates on your plush lips wrapped around his thumb and retracts it to replace it with him index and middle finger.

sliding his fingers into your mouth, he lightly presses down on your tongue. "you're so pretty..." he says, his eyes watching your eyes water.

taking his fingers out, he pulls you into a hard kiss. with teeth clashing and tongues dancing, he easily picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom.

in the bedroom, yuuta's rough with you. dropping you on the bed, watching you bounce on the bed for a second until he follows you, crawling on top of you. he quickly rids you of your flimsy tank and boy shorts, smiling smugly as he sees the wet spot in your panties. he kisses you your lips to your waist, sucking hickies along the way as if he's drawing a trail from his favorite place to kiss to his favorite place to make you cry out in pleasure.

when he reaches your waistline, he looks up at you. "you're so gorgeous" he whispers as he pulls apart your legs. you smile gently, it's so yuuta to compliment you in any situation.

your smile, however, is quickly contorted to a face of pleasure when you feel a light and wet pressure at your core. yuuta always knows exactly how to make you feel good, like he knows you better than he knows himself, like he crafted you himself.

his tongue makes quick work of your folds, lapping at the juice that leaks out of your pretty cunt, making you shut your eyes and cry out from the stimulation. diving into your hole and nudging your clit with his nose, you both simultaneously moan, him from your taste and you from the stimulation. your hands quickly find purchase in his hair, slightly pulling it to ground you while yuuta works on you, worships you like you deserve. through the pleasure, you find it in you to, somehow, open your eyes.

you can never get enough of this sight; yuuta's blown out pupils dizzy and drunk on your slick, slacked jaw taking in whatever your messy cunt gives him, and hair messy from your pulling and pushing. he's not usually a messy eater but with your cunt gushing out sweet elixir, what is he but a hopeless man amidst with a goddess- his goddess?

"y-yuu" you choke out, one hand pulling his hair and the other holding one of his hands tightly. "yes, love?" he kisses your clit, making you gasp at the sensation.

"need it!" you cry out right as he thumbs your clit to replace his lips.

"hm? what do you need? use your words, baby." he knows you, knows you can beg better, knows if he says the right words and pushes the right buttons, you'll crumble prettily, all for him.

the tips of your ears feel like they're burning, your cheeks like they've been set alight. "need to cum... please make me cum."

and just like that, yuuta feels like he's been set on fire, the match being your words. "well why didn't you just say so, baby?"

with that, he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt and licks at the sweet delicacy you present to him. with the added stimulation of his long fingers that curl just right that it bumps into your g-spot, it doesn't take much for you to reach the edge.

yuuta knows your signs and tells. he knows when you open your legs a little wider, thighs start twitching, moans get a little whinier and right when he says "cum for me, pretty" you'll come undone like a lovely scroll depicting his ultimate downfall; you. and you'll go lax, all the tenseness in your body dissipated as if it was never there in the first place. your lips will open to let out the final and loudest moan, the melody of his hymn in which he worships you. your body shakes as he tongue-fucks you through your orgasm, from the intensity of it rocking your core.

when you've fully come down from your high, he kisses his way back up to your lips, following the same trail of hickies he embedded into your skin prior. once he reaches your lips, he crashes your lips together like you're his oxygen (you are). you taste yourself but you don't care as you greedily devour whatever he gives you.

"can i put it in, baby?" he begs softly as if he didn't just devour you like his life depended on it and a whine present in his voice like you would ever tell him no.

"put it in me, yuu."

he pants heavily as he slowly slides his cock into your leaking cunt. "so good- so perfect for me-"

loud rings come from your phone, startling you both.

"ignore it." yuuta whines, still slowly sliding into you.

"yuu- let me pick up- f-fuckk hold on- yuu!" you smack him lightly on his chest and he looks back at you sadly, looking like a kicked puppy. "it could be important! hold on."

you answer the phone quickly, before the phone rings loudly again, "hello?"

"where are you, girl? you're not usually late!" your friend exclaims.

you quickly rip your phone away from your ear to check the time. 3:00pm. "oh my god."

yuuta, still looking like a kicked puppy, mouths 'what?'

still in shock that you lost track of that much time, you whisper-yell "i'm late to go to the girl's date!"

yuuta starts sliding himself in more as he whispers back, "don't go... stay with me."

"hello?" a voice from your phone disrupts you two.

"oh um... i-i got wrapped up in something..." you watch yuuta as he mouths at you 'say something came up, say you can't go anymore'. you can't exactly say you want to go either, especially when he's pleading with you like this and already sunk his cock halfway into your more honest cunt.

"oh... well, are you still coming? everyone's here tonight!"

weighing your options (get an amazing orgasm, maybe two or three actually, or hang out with some of your best friend who you haven't seen in awhile), you decide.

"i'll g- ohh." yuuta, seeing you were about to leave him, shoves the rest of him into you, bottoming out and mouths 'don't leave me'. your moan goes unnoticed by your friend, thankfully.

"you're coming? eek-!!"

noticing your boyfriend's neediness and noting your own wants, you quickly respond. "ah no- um, something came up. i'm actually a little occupied right now so-"

yuuta visibly perks up at your decision and you smile softly.

"awww, okay. i hope everything's alright! come to the next get-together, alright?"

"mhm, yeah, of course. i'll be there next time." you promptly end the call after exchanging goodbyes.

"i'm glad you're staying... with me." yuuta smiles, an unfamiliar emotion you've never seen in his eyes.

"of course-" you're cut off by his abrupt thrusting and you release a whiny moan.

"shhh, let me make my pretty baby feel good." he kisses your face and threads your hands together.

he pulls you into a hug and with his face hidden to you, yuuta finally lets out the smile he's been holding in all day long. and he thinks:

'i win.'

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: i've been having the worst (best) yandere yuuta brainrot ever, something about it feels so canon. but omg this is my first time actually writing full on smut so please give me feedback/constructive criticism!! also i'm a virgin. CAN U TELL??? LOL hopefully not. but hopefully you enjoyed!! thank you for getting this far :)

[taetr4ck]

connected

bang chan x reader, 0.4k words, no warnings — fluff, comfort. taglist form.

a/n : made a little comfort fic for those who needed it :) i hope you enjoy 💌

“Ah.” 

Chan smiles at the scene before him. It left him in a stupor when no one responded to him after he called your name several times upon arriving at the doorstep earlier, assuming you'd already slept. He swears he feels his heart melt after seeing you in a state like this, your head resting under your arm, with papers, pens, and highlighters scattered all over your desk. Your tablet is still on, playing faint music that seemed to disconnect from your headphones earlier. He feels his heart might burst right at this moment after seeing the title of the song playing on the lock screen of your tablet — connected.

“I think I might pass out right at this spot,” he says to himself. There's something lovely about your disheveled state. The bare, vulnerable side you show him every time you find yourself in a state like this – eyes all baggy and hair still messy from yesterday. He's convinced of the depth of your trust, seeing how willingly you reveal your vulnerable side to him – and all he desires is to shield you and tenderly care for you each time you reveal this part of yourself. He would stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you he’s not afraid of your dark.

He gently lifts you from your chair, carrying you to the shared bed. You almost stir awake, but he tries his best not to wake you up.

“Shh, love, it’s me. You’re okay. You fell asleep at the desk,” Chan gently calms you down – and you swear his voice resonates like a melody played by the angels themselves.

“What… what time is it?” you rub your eyes, your voice still coated with sleep.

“Time for you to sleep,” he smiles softly, leading both of you to the bedroom.

He then gently lays you on the soft mattress of the cozy bed, where the two of you share your most affectionate moments, reminding you of the constancy of his love. He tenderly covers you with the comforting sheets of the duvet, feeling your soul sink into the embrace of the bed. You swear you've never felt such serenity before, longing for this moment to last an eternity.

“I’ll clean your desk tomorrow, so don’t worry about anything.” Chan gently pulls you closer, running his fingers through your hair as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He gazes at your sleeping face, all peaceful and serene. A smile tugs at his lips as he slowly contemplates what he did to deserve someone like you in his arms, in his life, even. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, fingers tracing your side. Soon after, he joins you in dreamland.

“Jalja, baby.”

taglist : @agi-ppangx @bluethemoments @ashracha @wonootnoot @skzstarnet @straykidsland @k-labels

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[wormwrites]

villains like yours

jason todd x f!reader | 1.4k words | hurt/comfort

warnings: allusion to sa in reader's past, very self-indulgent fic, if i should include any other tags let me know!

a/n: this is my first fic in a very long time, so be gentle lol. excuse any awful grammar mistakes, enjoy!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Most of the time, when Jason came home after patrol, you were ready to take care of him. Comfort him, help him rinse the blood from his knuckles, stitch his wounds, and hold him. He’d rest his head on your heart, and be reassured that despite the violence on the streets, you’re still here, heart beating steadily, each thump reminding him why he fights, adding to the overflowing cup of his love for you.

It took a long time to get to that point, for him to let you see him like that, his soul stripped raw from whatever had happened on patrol. He’d go to a safe house to wash up first, lock himself in the bathroom, or even go to the manor. He’d do whatever he could to keep that violent and dark side of his life away from you, but somewhere along the line, he saw your own darkness, and found parts of it had nestled its way into his ribs, beside his lungs, where it had wrapped itself up with his own. 

Today was different. Where he’d usually open the window to you laying in bed, scrolling on your phone, he saw an empty bed, sheets rumbled, empty of you or your two cats.

“Princess?”

If he hadn’t had the extra edge to his senses, both the one crafted by the bat and by the pit, he wouldn’t have heard the soft hiccup that came from the bathroom, or  the soft sobs that preceded it. 

Quickly his gear was dropped in a haphazard pile on the floor and he was knocking on the bathroom door.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was soft as he tried to calm his quickly rising heart.

“I-I’m alright Jay.” Your voice sounded heavy, your throat sore. He could still hear sniffles. 

“It’s just some bad cramps, I’ll be out soon.” 

He didn’t believe that for a second, and before he could think about it, he had roughly shoved the door open. The building's old lock stood no chance against him when you were hurting.

When Jason opened the door, he saw you, curled up on the ground next to the bathtub, face flushed and eyes stung red with tears. You were holding your knees so tightly he could see the strain on your knuckles and wrists. He quickly bent down and swept you into his arms, and despite your earlier words, you immediately crumpled into him. You buried your face in his neck, desperate for any comfort. One hand quickly went to hold your head, the other to your back, both stroking softly.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured alongside other soft words of comfort. 

After a minute or two, he carefully rearranged the two of you, setting you on his lap so that you didn’t bruise yourself on the hard bathroom tile. Carefully, Jason coaxed you out of his neck, hand gently cupping your face and wiping your tears away. 

“What’s wrong? What can I do?” You quickly just began shaking your head, mouth opening a few times, unable to form words.

“It- It’s nothing” You said quickly, but with a soft and meaningful look from Jason, you stuttered for a few moments before finally speaking. 

“I can’t- I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it, about…” you made another soft sob sound, and your eyes glazed over, unseeing of your lover in front of you, seeing something, -someone else.

“...him”

Immediately, Jason understood. Of course he understood. He wasn’t the only one with villains in his past; memories he’d rather avoid. Long before the Joker had picked up that crowbar in Ethiopia, Jason knew of villains like yours. 

Your villain didn’t need to paint his face or employ goons to commit his evils, he just needed to say the right words, smile at the right moments. He didn’t need a weapon to destroy and violate you, he just needed to say a few choice words at choice moments. He only needed to ignore a few choice words from you.

Jason wasn’t good with handling emotional situations like these, he was still learning, improving his emotional intelligence after being raised by the most emotionally constipated man in Gotham. He never knew what to do or say, but you always insisted he does the right things, so he holds your face in his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and tries his best to push all the love and care he feels for you into it.

“Everything is alright my love, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he cooed, arms wrapped impossibly tighter around you. As he holds you, whispering soft reassurances, it takes all of his will power to not to hunt down the man who did this to you years ago, to not tear him limb from limb. The strongest restraint comes from him knowing that you deserve to be the one to do that, not him. 

Eventually he picks you up and carries you out to the kitchen, setting you down on a stool and quickly leaving to grab a blanket from the couch. On his way to wrap you up in it, he gives a look to your cat, Moose.

“Go comfort her, hairball,” he whispers, pointing at your slouched figure. The petulant cat, usually indifferent to Jason, agrees, jumping on the counter and licking your face in earnest, while Jason begins fixing some tea.

“I’m sorry…” you breathe out, finally having stopped shaking. Jason puts your favorite mug, filled with some comforting Earl Grey, in front of you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart” He reaches his hand out, palm up.

“No, I know how hard some nights are for you. I don’t like adding to it.”

“Hey, nuh uh, what is it you always tell me when I’m in a bad place?” Your eyes meet and he sees you are back to yourself, although still clearly shaken.

“.. we take care of each other,” you eventually let out, meeting his outstretched hand with your own. Your other arm is wrapped around the cat now curled up in front of you, practically on your chest. “Still...” you let out a small sigh 

“How was patrol?”

“The usual. Stopped some muggings, beat up some of Black Mask’s guys." Then a grin appears on his face, “Saw Tim get his BatBurger stolen by a crow.” he adds with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with gentle light. 

“I think the most rewarding part, though, was when I comforted this sweet girl on 22nd street. I wasn’t really sure what to do, but I think I got through to her.” He waited with a baited breath to see if you’d follow the bit.

“...I bet you did, you’re better at comforting people than you think you are. I bet she feels a lot better now that she knows the big bad Red Hood is always going to protect her.” A small smile starts at the corner of your lips.

“I hope so. She was real pretty too, the kind of girl that makes me speechless, I think if I see her again I may just ask her out.”

“She may just say yes.” You finally smile fully, a small and muted smile, but Jason sees it as a victory nevertheless. “Maybe you should just come kiss her right now?”

Jason needs no more invitation. He quickly rounds the kitchen island and meets his lips to yours as the butterflies that seem to have lived in his stomach ever since he met you flutter their wings once more. His fingers hold your face. It’s not a heated kiss, it's sweet and soft. A comfort for you both to feel your pieces meet each other in perfect harmony. The darkness and hurt behind each of your ribs blending into one, a burden carried equally between the two of you.

“Meooooow,” the cat between you two protests. You two separate with a small laugh, both your hearts a little lighter.

“Sorry baby” you coo at your cat, scratching his favorite spot under his chin, and Jason pouts.

“What about me? I’m the one losing kisses here!” He whines, and you playfully roll your eyes and give him a peck. 

“Thank you, Jay,” you say as Jason puts the now empty mugs of tea in the dishwasher. 

“I.. I would have had a hard time pulling myself out of that place alone.” 

“Always, princess. Now why don’t you pick out a movie while I shower real quick?” He wanders off to clean up, leaving you to sit with the cat. 

You smile, and later, after you’ve fallen asleep on his lap while watching a Ghibli film, Jason will carry you to bed. When he’s sure you are both settled for the night, with the apartment locked up, phones charging on your nightstands, he’ll press a kiss to your temple, and repeat his words.

“Always. I’ll love you always.”

[simplygojo]

"Double the Pleasure, Double the Pain"

a.n. ⸺ Hey y'all, I've been excited for this short fic, requested by the lovely @takuma-talkz! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for requesting! <3

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing ⸺ Ino Takuma x f!reader x Kento Nanami

Word Count ⸺ 2K

Kinktober Taglist ⸺ @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings ⸺ 18+ SMUT, MDNI, threesome, spanking, face-fucking, hair pulling, nicknames, brat taming, rough sex.

The night had begun innocently enough, the three of you hanging out at Nanami’s apartment, but as the hours passed and the wine flowed, a simmering tension coiled between you, ready to snap. 

Now, you found yourself sandwiched between the two of them, heart racing and anticipation building as the atmosphere shifted from playful banter to something far more charged.

Ino leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “You really thought you could tease us all night without consequences?” 

His fingers danced along your thigh, tracing the delicate fabric of your skirt. The thrill of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, daring him to continue.

Nanami’s expression was a mix of amusement and discipline, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. 

“You’ve been quite the brat tonight, haven’t you?” He said, his voice low and gravelly, sending a delicious thrill through you. You smirked, defiantly meeting his eyes, but the challenge didn’t go unnoticed.

In one swift motion, Nanami’s hand gripped your chin, pulling your gaze upward to meet his intense stare. 

“You think you can test our patience?” He asked, a hint of a growl in his voice, his grip firm but not painful, just enough to assert his control. His other hand moved to his belt, expertly unbuckling it with a practiced ease that sent a thrill of anticipation through you.

“Let’s see how long you can keep that mouth shut,” he murmured, the promise of discipline lingering in the air. He pulled the leather strap free, holding it up as if it were a weapon of seduction.

“Good girl,” Ino purred, leaning in closer. “I think it’s time we remind you who’s in charge.”

As Nanami’s hand tangled in your hair, tugging gently but firmly, your breath caught in your throat. 

He maneuvered you so that your wrists were presented before him, the cool metal of his belt buckle glinting in the dim light. 

“This will help keep you in line,” he said, wrapping the belt around your wrists and securing it snugly, leaving you helplessly restrained. 

The soft leather felt rough against your skin, and the rush of being bound sent a thrill coursing through you.

Your breathing quickened, a mix of excitement and arousal flooding your senses. 

“What if I like being a brat?” You challenged, trying to sound confident despite the vulnerability you felt. 

But as you glanced between the two men, the heat in their gazes sent another wave of anticipation rushing through you.

Ino chuckled, the sound low and intoxicating. 

“Oh, you’ll like it even more once we’re done with you.” His palm connected with your ass in a sharp smack, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through you. 

“Now, how many times do you think we’ll have to remind you to behave?”

Nanami’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back. 

“I suggest you take this seriously. We both know you’ve pushed your luck.” His voice was a steady murmur, as if he were simply stating a fact, and it made your stomach flutter with excitement.

Ino’s fingers danced over the exposed skin of your thighs, drawing circles that ignited flames of desire. 

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing we can do anything we want with you?” His voice was silky, laced with a hint of danger. 

“I can’t wait to see how you react when we really push you.”

With that, Ino's fingers ghosted higher, teasing just at the edge of your heat, while Nanami's grip on your throat tightened slightly, a reminder of just how much control he had over you.

You could feel the heat pooling in your core, and you fought the urge to grind against Ino’s hand, desperate for friction.

“Please,” you whimpered, the word escaping before you could think.

“Please what?” Nanami challenged, his voice dropping an octave as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Use your words.”

“Please... I want more,” you gasped, the heat in your cheeks deepening as you let the vulnerability wash over you.

“Good girl,” Nanami said, satisfaction colouring his tone. 

“You’ll get what you want, but only when we decide.”

Ino chuckled, and you could see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. “You’re going to have to work for it, though.”

As Nanami’s hold on your throat eased, his fingers trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, while Ino’s hands explored the curves of your body, squeezing and pulling in all the right places. 

The dual sensations left you gasping, your body arching toward their touches, wanting nothing more than to be completely consumed by them.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Nanami suggested, his tone commanding.

Without hesitation, they guided you down the hall, the anticipation buzzing in the air as you entered the dimly lit room. 

Nanami pushed you gently onto the bed, the cool sheets contrasting sharply with your heated skin.

“On all fours,” he instructed, his voice firm yet enticing.

You obeyed, getting onto your hands and knees, heart pounding with anticipation. Ino knelt behind you, his hands gripping your hips, positioning you just right as Nanami moved closer. 

“You’re going to feel so good,” he promised, his breath fanning over your back.

Ino’s fingers danced along your spine, teasing you as he spread your legs wider, exposing your desperate cunt fully to them. 

“Look at you, so eager,” he taunted, a wicked grin on his face.

Nanami stepped forward, his hard length just inches from your face, a sight that made your mouth water. 

“Remember to keep your hands behind your back,” he reminded you, his tone darkly playful. You nodded, the thrill of being so vulnerable only heightening your desire.

With a swift motion, Nanami gripped your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he pressed his cock against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he commanded, his voice low and filled with authority. You gladly complied, taking him in your mouth, feeling the heat and weight of him as he pushed deeper, touching the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl,” Nanami praised, his grip on your hair firm as he began to thrust, setting a rhythm that was both deliciously intense and overwhelming. 

The warmth of his skin against your tongue, the taste of him filling your mouth—it was intoxicating.

Ino positioned himself behind you, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“You’re going to love this,” he said, his voice thick with lust. He pushed in slowly, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that made you moan around Nanami’s shaft, causing.

The combined sensations were overwhelming. 

Nanami pulled your hair, guiding you to take him deeper, while Ino thrust hard and deep, the two of them working in sync to bring you to the edge of ecstasy.

“Tell us how it feels,” Ino urged, his breath hot against your ear.

“Y-you feel so good,” you managed to gasp, the words muffled around Nanami’s cock.

“Good girl,” Nanami replied, his thrusts becoming more demanding as he drove into your mouth, forcing you to take him fully with each movement. He pulled your hair harder, and the mixture of pleasure and pain had you trembling, completely at their mercy.

Ino’s hand came down hard against your ass, a sharp smack that sent shockwaves of pleasure racing through you. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He taunted, his pace quickening as he buried himself deep inside you.

A stifled moan escaped your lips around Nanami’s length, the words swallowed by the delicious pressure of him filling you completely. 

Tears of pleasure pricked at your eyes as you fought to take him deeper, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. 

The heat radiated from your cheeks, your body alight with desire as you revelled in the sensations. 

Every thrust, every slap of Ino’s hand against your skin heightened your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

The dual stimulation was overwhelming. Nanami’s grip on your hair was a tantalizing reminder of your submission, pulling you just right, guiding you deeper onto his cock as you struggled to breathe. 

The taste of him filled your senses—salt and heat—overwhelming you with every thrust. You felt like you were floating in a blissful haze, completely consumed by them.

Ino’s pace increased, his thrusts deep and forceful, each one sending pleasure spiraling through your body. 

You could feel every inch of him as he filled you from behind, stretching you in ways that made your head spin. 

The sensation of being filled from both ends was exquisite; it was as if you were being split open, filled to the brim with pleasure that was both dizzying and deliciously intense.

“Such a good little slut,” Ino breathed, his voice thick with lust as he leaned closer, his hands gripping your hips. 

The way he filled you completely, thrusting deep and slow before picking up the pace, made you whimper in response. 

You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, dripping down your thighs as your body reacted instinctively to the raw, primal urges surging within you.

“Look at you,” Nanami said, his voice low and steady, contrasting with the chaos of your emotions. 

“So eager, so desperate. Just for us.” His thrusts grew more insistent, each movement pushing you closer to the brink, demanding everything you had to give.

With every stroke of Ino’s hips against yours, the pleasure built like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. 

The rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the heavy breaths that filled the air, and the intoxicating heat radiating from both of them enveloped you in a cocoon of bliss.

“Don’t you dare come until we tell you to,” Nanami growled, his grip tightening on your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. 

The tension in your body became almost unbearable, your thighs quaking with the effort to hold back the impending wave of pleasure.

The thrill of submission sent waves of warmth flooding through you, and you felt alive, pulsating with need. 

A muffled sound escaped your throat, a blend of desperation and desire as you felt the pressure building within you. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes, each thrust driving you closer to a peak you could taste but couldn’t reach.

“Good,” Ino replied, a dark grin spreading across his face as he thrust harder, the force of his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. 

“Just keep taking it, and we’ll reward you.”

You could feel the heat building deep within you, your body desperate to release, yet every time you got close, the control they exerted over you kept you teetering on the edge. 

Each thrust, each slap, and every harsh pull of your hair drew you further into a haze of lust, completely lost to the sensations.

“Look at you, all flushed and needy,” Nanami taunted, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers coursing through you. “You want to come, don’t you?”

The only response you could muster was another stifled moan, a sound filled with desperate longing that echoed around Nanami’s length. 

The pleasure coursed through you, thick and suffocating, and you felt as if you were drowning in the overwhelming sensations.

“Then just hold on a little longer,” he urged, his movements becoming more rhythmic, driving deeper, pushing you closer to the precipice with each powerful thrust.

As they worked together, the world around you faded into nothing, leaving only the heat, the pleasure, and the intoxicating dominance of both men. 

You were theirs, completely lost in the overwhelming sensations of being filled from both ends, caught in a whirlwind of pleasure that you never wanted to end.