#he's gonna fuck with it and see if he can get it to work

[nottsluvv]

﹒⪩⪨﹒delusions ⌞ stalker!theodore nott ⌝ navigation ꕀ masterlists ꕀ rules ꕀ anons ꕀ aus ꕀ readers

pairing ꕀ stalker!theodore nott x reader

warnings ꕀ mdni, smut 18+, voyeurism, semi public??, masturbation, stalking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, anal, spanking, hair pulling

a/n ꕀ 570 words, unedited, finally got my shit together to write my theo drabble 😭

“fuck.” theo is panting, his hand wrapped around his dick. he presses his forehead against your window, his hands jerking his erection as he watches the man you brought home push himself into you.

he watches you arch your back off the couch, a silent moan escaping your lips. theo’s cock throbs in his hand as he narrows his eyes, keeping them trained on you. your legs aren’t spread out enough, not pressed far back enough, and he isn’t hitting you deep enough.

theo hisses as he watches the man not push deep enough and his movements along his shaft grow faster, harder, needier. it was absolutely pathetic the way theo wished—no, yearned—for him to be the one to touch you, to kiss you, to claim you, and to fuck you.

properly.

he closes his eyes as he fully releases his cock from his jeans, jerking it off as he imagines fucking you from behind. 

your moans roar in theo’s ears as he ruts himself against you, his cock thrusting into your ass as you arch your back into him, crying out.

“does that feel good, cara mia?” theo hisses into your ear, grabbing your hair to expose your neck as he continues pounding your ass. “taking my cock in your ass?” he uses his free hand to spank your buttcheek, making a strangled cry escape your lips.

“theo—fuck yes, feels so—so good!”

your eyes gloss over as he grips your hair into a fist with one hand, forcing you to arch your back into him as he pounds you from behind. theo grunts, his hand leaving another mark on your ass with a loud slap.

“cazzo, look at this ass taking my cock so well,” theo groans. “beautiful ass, baby. ‘m gonna fill this ass up, yeah?”

“theo—please, yes,” you moan breathlessly as his fingers tangle deeper into your hair, the hand on your buttcheek gliding to your lower stomach. theo pushes his hand onto your skin, forcing you to meet him with every thrust.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thrusts get sloppier, a heat building up significantly between your legs. theo presses harder against your lower stomach, the pressure splitting through your body as the orgasm rips you in half.

you’re panting when you come down, your vision unblurring slightly, gasps falling from your lips in time with theo’s thrusts.

theo’s eyes fly open as he gets jerked back to reality, his forehead pressed against the side of the window, his cock pulsing and throbbing in his hand as he jerks it furiously. he grunts, biting down on his lip as he watches your date keep up at the same slow pace.

you could do so much better, theo thinks. you could have me.

his hand’s motions quicken as he feels his climax building up soon. he keeps his eyes on you, nice and spread out on the couch, and he imagines you under him, his cock wrecking your pussy.

theo groans, feeling sticky liquid seep between his fingers as pleasure racks through every single bone, every single muscle in his body. at the same time, your own orgasm hits you, and he sees your eyes roll back, your hips lift and your legs spread instinctively.

he squeezes his cock, swearing he feels your pussy clench around him.

soon. soon you’ll be his, and there is nothing you can do about it.

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© nottsluvv.tumblr 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated + motivating!

[strang3lov3]

Soap

“What’s the point in washin’ ya if you’re just gonna make a mess of yourself?” Joel taunts, finding your cunt slick with arousal. “Tsk. Can’t send ya to class like that, huh? Y’gonna let your daddy take care of it?”

WARNINGS - one shot, smut, dubcon, dad!joel, incest - if game of thrones could do it, so can i so fuck off about it. girthy age gap but reader is an adult. daddy kink (tho idk if it counts when he’s your father, but whatever) fingering, little bit of a handjob, inappropriate use of a shower head, unprotected piv, cream pie. uncle tommy mention 😈 This is icky. You have been warned. Reminder that fiction is not real life.

A/N - OKAY GAMERS. Fuckin'...thank you guys??? for being so stoked about this little haphazardly put together drabble about dad!joel?? blown away. so flattered. so touched. I'm really fucking excited to write more of this shiny new kink for all of us perverts, and i plan to turn that drabble that started this whole thing into a whole ass fic. just had to get this out of my system because you all know how much i love shower/bath sex lol. and thank you so much to this anon!! i loved your ideas so much and i had fun incorporating them into this fic. @tofics, you know what you did. thank you for the beta hunny ♡

It’s 6am when Joel wakes up to that awful, high pitched beep of his alarm. Eyes closed, he slams it with the heel of his palm, and exhales sharply through his nose. At least it’s Thursday, he thinks. More than halfway through the week. 

He groans softly as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and his sheets are warm against his body.  He inhales deeply as he stretches, and smells the warm, nutty aroma of the coffee maker brewing a pot downstairs that coaxes him up with the promise of caffeine. Joel stands up then, and his skin is covered in goosebumps from the cool morning air nipping at his skin. His graying, dark, curly hair sticks up in six different directions, a mess he’ll take care of later. 

He walks first to the bathroom, and turns on the shower to warm up. Then to your bedroom, where he quietly opens your door. Joel chuckles seeing you asleep on your stomach, ass hanging out of your sleep shorts with a sliver of morning light pouring over your body. You’re clutching your pillow tightly, drooling onto the mattress as you snore gently. 

Joel crouches down and pushes some hair out of your face. “G’morning, sunshine,” he murmurs against your scalp, in between pressing kisses to the top of your head. “S’time to wake up.” 

“Mmm…no,” you mumble groggily. 

“Mmm…yes,” Joel drags the word out, mimicking your sleepy, whiny tone. 

You scrunch your nose, but otherwise don’t move a muscle. “Just give me - just five more minutes, please, Dad. Go have your coffee or whatever.” 

“Cute,” Joel says. “Up an’ at ‘em, lazy ass. Y’got school today.” You groan loudly, and your dramatics make Joel chuckle. “Oh, I know, kiddo.” 

You open one eye to glare at him, vision blurred by your sleepiness. “You do not. You have no idea how awful 8 AM classes are,” you argue, swatting away Joel’s hand as he digs his fingers into your sides and your neck, tickling you. “And my professor is such a - st - stop,” you giggle breathlessly.

“Yeah? Your professor’s such a what, now?” Joel continues teasing until you’re wide awake and fighting him away, your protests turning into laughter. “Tell me, baby girl. Use your words.” 

 “D-Dad, I’m getting up, okay?” you huff. And you do, in fact, sit up. Joel’s tickle method of waking you up always pisses you off, but at least it jolts your system wide awake. Works like a charm. 

“I really hate you sometimes, Dad.”

“Uh huh. Love you too, kiddo.” Joel takes your hand as you sit up, pulling you off of your bed. Your hair’s a mess and there’s a pillow crease on your face, and you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Get your ass in the shower, alright?” He tells you, “Should be nice and warm.”

You take off for the bathroom, and the bright, warm lights stab at your tired eyes. You move slowly as you peel off your pajamas, tossing them haphazardly into a hamper that’s too full. You’ll have to get that in the washer before your dad notices. 

You tug the shower curtain and test the water on your wrist, then twist the knob of the shower until the water runs just under boiling. You step into the tub, then let the hot water run through your hair and down your body, and it makes your skin burn and tingle in the best way. Steam rises around you and clouds your vision a little, makes the air you breathe thick and tingle your sinuses.

The door opens and in comes Joel, flipping on the switch that turns on the bathroom fan. “Dad!” you yelp, covering yourself with the curtain. 

“Oh relax, would ya?” Joel says, pushing his boxers down his legs.  He steps out of them, then joins you in the tub. “I’ve seen it all before, sweetheart.” 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, turning away from him. 

Joel reaches over you for his toothbrush and toothpaste, then squeezes a little bit onto the bristles before wetting the toothbrush under the stream. “We’re conservin’ water,” he answers. “‘Cause the water bill was too fuckin’ high last month, thanks to you. You’re bleedin’ me dry, kid.” Joel begins brushing his teeth, lathering the toothpaste in his mouth. It drips down his chin and chest, landing in his mess of graying pubic hair. His cock is half hard already. 

“I’ll shower quickly,” you insist. “Just–”

“Just nothin’. I can’t trust ya, baby. We’re outta here in fifteen minutes,” he says, voice muffled by the toothpaste. “Not a minute longer.”

“Twenty,” you bargain. “There is no way I can shower in fifteen minutes.” 

Joel eyes you as he finishes brushing his teeth, then leans over you and spits out the toothpaste into the drain. “I’ll give ya seventeen, princess. Final offer.” 

You roll your eyes, and hum a quiet okay. You reach behind yourself to point the showerhead back down at you, then turn up the heat a little more. “Nuh-uh,” Joel says, turning the heat down to about halfway between cold and hot, an excruciatingly lukewarm temperature. “Quit tryin’ to boil yourself alive, baby.”  

“I’m not trying to boil myself. I’m–” you reach for the knob to warm up the shower again, but Joel swats your hand away and gives you a warning look. “Seriously? It’s fucking freezing, Dad.”

“It’s fine,” he says, then reaches for your toothbrush. “And watch your mouth.” He squeezes a bit of toothpaste onto the toothbrush, then watches you brush your teeth. You make a silly smile at him, toothpaste dripping out from between your teeth. “Oh, nice. Charming, sweetheart,” he says sarcastically. “Y’got your daddy’s smile, you know.” 

“I know.” 

After spitting your toothpaste out and rinsing your mouth, you stand under the water, shivering a little. You rest your head against the tile wall, letting your eyes close as the rushing water lulls you into a groggy haze. 

“Hey,” Joel says, startling you a little. “Don’t jus’ stand there, kid. Wash up. Y’got twelve minutes left.” 

“But I’m so cold,” you whine.

“Well c’mere then, drama. Quit your cryin’ an’ hug on Daddy if you’re so damn cold.” Joel drags you by the wrist to him, pulling you in close for a hug. You melt against him, savoring his warmth and the scent of his skin. It’s so masculine, so comforting, and you close your eyes. Joel kisses the top of your head, then rests his chin there. He can’t believe how tall you are now. How womanly you are. All he did was blink, Jesus Christ. 

He remembers bath nights with you in this very tub. The Crayola bath crayons, all the other silly toys you loved. He can almost smell the Johnson’s baby soap and the tear-free Suave green apple scented shampoo.

Still holding you close with one arm, Joel reaches for the bar of soap, decorated by his beard trimmings from two days ago. With his free hand, he lathers the bar, and then washes you with both of his hands, his palms sliding all up and down the smooth skin of your back. He washes your ass cheeks too, and between your cheeks. “I can do that myself,” you mumble, face heating up. 

“Mhm. Back up a little,” he murmurs, putting a little distance between you and him. He cleans underneath your armpits, then massages down your arms with his big, strong, soapy hands. Torso is next, and his palms slip and slide over your soap-covered tits, thumbs circling your nipples. He works his way down, and washes you between your thighs. Your breath hitches at feeling his fingers slipping through your folds, dragging over your clit. 

“Daddy,” you moan.

He circles the sensitive part of you a little, loving the way your knees buckle and how you wrap your arms around his shoulders for stability. “Easy, baby,” he tells you, “I gotcha.”

He’s always got you. Always there to catch you before you fall, or to pick you up and kiss your bruises when you do. It’s what being a dad’s all about, right? Looking out for his baby girl. 

“What’s the point in washin’ ya if you’re just gonna make a mess of yourself?” Joel taunts, finding your cunt slick with arousal. “Tsk. Can’t send ya to class like that, huh? Y’gonna let your daddy take care of it?”

“Yeah,” you nod, burying your head into his neck as he rubs your clit. His cock is hardening further, the head throbbing against your thigh. “Please, Dad.” 

Joel nods silently, and pushes two fingers into you. He groans at the way you squeeze and clench around him, how your cunt pulses when he strokes at his favorite spot inside of you. You whine when he pulls his fingers from you, but he quiets your complaints with a soft kiss, tongue melding with yours as he reaches for the showerhead with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist so he can squeeze at the soft flesh of your ass. 

Joel warms up the temperature of the water, then turns the shower head onto its jet stream mode. He wriggles the shower head between your bodies and directs the stream to your clit. 

“T-too hot,” you say urgently. “That’s too hot.” 

“Huh. Thought you were jus’ tellin’ me you wanted a hot shower,” he taunts, smirking against you. “You’ll get used to it, baby.”

Joel takes one of your hands and guides it lower, then wraps your fingers around his length. You pump him slowly as he keeps the shower head at your cunt, drawing the steady stream up and down your seam. He moves his wrist in gentle circles, using that motion to simulate how he’d rub your clit with his fingertips. You moan against his wet skin, squeezing his shaft when he finds your sensitive spot. 

Joel pulls the shower head away from your cunt when he thinks you’re about to cum, and by the sound of your whines, he knows he was right. Of course he’s right. He knows his daughter like the back of his hand. 

“Daaaad,” you moan. 

He pays you no mind as he twists the shower head back into place above you. He backs you against the wall and hooks one of your legs over his hip, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. He thrusts into you in one go, causing you to gasp and throw your head back onto the tile. 

“Woah, easy, kiddo. Be careful. Let me see,” he groans, drawing out of you. He kisses the part of your head you hit, or at least as close to that place as he can, then holds his hand against the wall to keep you from hitting yourself again. Before thrusting back into you, he looks down at his dick, and the creamy rings of your arousal are quickly rinsed away by the running water. He pushes back into you. 

“Oh my god, Dad,” you moan, feeling Joel bury himself into you, all the way to the hilt. It’s an impossibly full feeling, impossibly tight. It’s comforting and sickening, all at one time.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel grunts, pulling out of you again. “Your daddy fits so nice in ya. Like you were made for it,” he winks, a twisted smile playing at his lips. Like he made you for it.

Joel sets the pace then, fucking in and out of you deeply. The tip of his cock kisses against your cervix as you writhe in pleasure, held so securely by him. He bites and sucks gently at the flesh he knows no one else will see but him, marking you as his. His daughter. His girl. 

He watches you closely, admiring those pretty eyes he gave to you. Beads of water roll down his handsomely wrinkled skin, down the perfect slope of his nose. You clench down on him as he fucks you, eyes rolling back into your skull. 

Joel moans and presses his forehead against yours, fucking you in a hard, devastating rhythm. Pleasure washes through his body, and his cock is hard as it’s ever been. You squeeze him so deliciously nicely, and moan Dad so fucking pretty. 

Once again, Joel reaches for the shower head, and guides it toward your cunt as he fucks himself in and out of you. “Cum for Daddy, now,” he whispers. “Gonna be late to class.” 

With a little more thrusting - that intentional, practiced rolling of his hips Joel knows you love, you’re cumming. Making those cute little noises he loves so, squeezing at his bicep and shoulder as you stiffen and shudder. Joel watches closely as pleasure washes through you, guiding you through your release with his steady fucking. 

Only once he’s milked you of your release does Joel chase his own orgasm. He fucks you harder, quicker, and selfishly, with little regard for your comfort. He feels it in his balls first, that intense warmth and tingle. It rolls through his body, crawls up his spine as he kisses you, drinking in your moans of overstimulation. Once he’s filled you up, Joel eases you down and pulls out of you. The shower’s gone cold - so much for saving water.

Joel shuts the water off and gets out of the shower first, patting himself dry before wrapping that old, scratchy towel around his hips, belly spilling over the edge. Joel tosses your towel to you and catches the face you’re making, like you know something he doesn’t. 

“What,” he deadpans, combing his hair out. The strands at the bottom of his skull curl up and drip a bit of water still. “What’s the look for?”

“Nothing, Dad.”

“Tell me.” 

“It’s just…that was a long shower. I don’t know why you get mad at me for my long showers when–”

Joel cuts you off, “Because you ain’t the one payin’ the water bill, are ya?” Joel says. ‘An’ as long as you’re under my roof, you’re under my rules. Thought we were clear on that,” he says, his voice low and warning. You drop the argument. You leave the bathroom to pick out some clothes, then get dressed and head down to the kitchen. 

And so much for Joel not wanting to send you to class a mess - you’re dripping his cum as you take your seat in the passenger side of his truck, feeling the wet, sticky warmth as you lean over to the side to start the vehicle. While waiting for Joel, you draw a little star in the condensation on the glass. He says he hates when you do that, but he loves catching glimpses of your doodles on his way home from work, when the sun hits the glass just right.

Joel gets in the driver’s side, hair slicked back and smelling strongly of Old Spice deodorant. He lifts up a bit, then pulls out his wallet, and rifles through it for a couple of bills. “Eat breakfast at school,” he tells you, handing you the money. “An’ I want the change back.” 

You sigh. “I know, Dad.”

“An’ I’m gonna be busy with somethin’ today, so Uncle Tommy’s gonna pick ya up. Be good for him, alright? Maybe he’ll even take ya out for ice cream or somethin’.”

if you enjoyed, please reblog with something nice and disgusting or shout at me in my inbox ♡ your sweet words go a long way in keeping me motivated to write.

tagging friendos who fw dad!joel

@joeloverture @flowercrowns-goodvibes @thechaoticcherub @perpetuallymanic @shivispunk @beardedjoel @calmjoonie @taeslarityy @bean-is-reading @mushgloomz @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @io12n @oldloganslittleslut @highinmiamiii @nycweb-slinger @rottingr4ven @111melo @sagexsenorita @blooming-bubs @shortandderanged @sp00kymulderr @ickystickysap @ozarkthedog @cxrsed-angel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @pedge-page @bitchesuntitled @94namkooksworld @squeakymxsterbationcrock @max--phillips

[postracehair]

fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

__

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

__

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

[theemporium]

my birthday just passed 🎉 but can you do a blurb with Luke having a full day planned since it was during the four nations break? a little smutty if you’re feeling spicy?

(i’m working on forgiving you after cherry and luke you still sent me into a spiral)

i know he only went to michigan for the break but i don't care and that's the joys of fiction! anyways, happy belated birthday!! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Not to be dramatic or anything but Luke was pretty sure this was one of the best things he had ever splurged on with his NHL contract.

As much as he needed hockey like he needed air, there was something downright exhausting by time the halfway mark in the season hit. He knew they were getting closer to playoffs, that it would be one of the most important stretches, that his mind should be focused purely on hockey. He also knew that there were people banking on him being on the Team USA roster with his brothers, to take on the honour of representing his country in a best-on-best tournament.

But it was really hard to care about any of that when it was February and he was currently curled up on a sunlounger with you beside him in a hot country with weather that made winter feel like a nonexistent memory. 

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Luke murmured against your shoulder, his eyes squinting even beneath his sunglasses as he glanced at the book you were currently reading. 

“This is me relaxing,” you retorted, grinning a little when he let out a huff. “I’m not stopping you from napping, baby.”

“You should be napping with me,” he corrected as his hand skimmed up and down your side. “Or at least giving me some attention.”

You snorted. “Needy.” 

“I flew you to a whole new country so I could spend ten days of uninterrupted time with you alone,” Luke replied, pressing a few kisses against your skin as he spoke. “How is my neediness a surprise to you?” 

“No but I like when you admit it,” you grinned as you turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Plus, you would have been this needy even if we stayed back in the States.”

“Yeah but here I can be needy in the privacy of our fancy ass villa and private beach,” Luke grinned, leaning in to press his lips against yours for a few moments before he pulled away long enough to speak. “People don’t read when they have a private beach, baby.”

You bit back the urge to giggle. “Oh yeah? What do they do then?”

“Loads of things,” Luke mused, his fingers dancing along the string of your bikini bottoms. “Most of them say clothes are overrated.” 

“Is tha so?” You hummed, pushing back enough until your ass was pressed against the bulge in his swim trunks. “You gonna fuck me on our private beach, baby? Gonna take advantage of the fact no one is gonna see me but you?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he ground his hips against your ass. “Much better than that book of yours, babe. Promise.” 

You grinned at the sight of his already flushed cheeks. “Get those trunks off and then we’ll see, Hughes.”

.

[daddydixonscrossbow]

You show up to Daryl’s house after getting hurt on a run

You limped your way through the gate, shooting down everyone asks about you being alright.

“Yeah I just hurt my knee, gotta go rest it.”

“Rolled my ankle, I’m fine.”

It was always something different, but never the actual reason. You made your way to Daryl’s front door, knocking on it. Dogs bark alerts from inside and a few seconds later, the door swings open.

“Hey.”

“I need your help.”

He moves aside, allowing you to come in. Dog jumps up, earning a whimper from your lips and Daryl snaps, “Dog. Down.”

You turn around and Daryl’s eyes are moving up and down your body, “Please tell me that ain’t yer’blood.”

You force a small smile, laughing slightly as you raise your shirt, “I took a tumble, dealing with some walkers..” you turn and Daryl moves closer to you, “Looks like ya did more than that. Ya ain’t bit are ya?” His hand moves your shirt up more, slow and gentle.

You shake your head, “No, I’m not. I just fell on some rocks after taking down two of them.”

“Goddamn. A’right, hold on.”

You move to sit on the couch, wincing and groaning lowly as you do. Dog comes and sits between your knees, tilting his head back indicating he wants scratches. You laugh slightly, “Hi, boy.”

“A’right.” Daryl walks around and sits down behind you, “Can ya take that off?”

You nod, sliding your bag off of your shoulder and reaching for your shirt. You gasp, pausing as you tilt your head, “Shit.”

Daryl lays his hand on your not injured side, “Here. I’ll just cut it. Y’don’t like this shirt do ya?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” You sigh, “It hurts.”

“M’serious.” He mumbles, “M’gonna cut it.”

You hold still as he pushes the blade through the thin fabric, his knives were always sharp so it cut through easy, “There.” He pushes the split fabric open, “This is gonna hurt, M’sorry.”

You take a deep breath, trying to brace yourself, but that didn’t work. You grip the back of the couch, pushing your forehead against your bicep as you breathe through the pain, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I know. I know.” He grips your shoulder with his free hand, dabbing off the blood with the cloth, “M’sorry, darlin’.” He rubs his thumb over your shoulder, “Almost done. Are ya hurt anywhere else?”

“My hip, but I think that’s just bruised.”

“Let me see.” He leans back, tossing the dirty cloth onto the coffee table. He helps you stand up and you undo your belt and jeans, pushing them down slightly, “How bad is it?”

“It ain’t good.” He shakes his head, “But jus’as y’said. It’s bruised.” He helps you sit back down, “I need t’clean that one more time, then I’ll bandage it up.”

You nod, “Go for it.” You grip the back of the couch, your other hand gripping your knee. The stinging pain returns and you let out a whine, arching your back away from him, “Sorry. Sorry.”

“I know it hurts. S’okay.” He holds your shoulder with his hand, “M’gonna patch ya up now.” He grabs gauze and the roll of medical tape, ripping some off with his teeth, “I’ll go get ya a shirt, you can sleep here t’night. Wanna make sure yer’good.”

You nod, biting your lip as he gently rubs his fingers over the tape, “A’right. Good?”

“I think so.” You nod, smiling as Dog comes back over.

“Be right back.” Daryl gets up and makes his way upstairs. You pat the couch for dog to come up and he jumps up, resting his head in your lap. Your fingers gently drag over his fur.

Daryl comes back down and stops when he sees the scene in front of him, “That dog loves you.”

“You seem jealous.” You tease and Daryl scoffs, “Nah, I ain’t jealous over no dog.” Dog perks his head up and looks at Daryl. You laugh, pointing at the animal, “He thinks different.”

“Fine, you can sleep down here with him then.”

“Now wait a minute.” You hold a finger up and Daryl tosses the shirt at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He smirks and reaches down to scratch Dog’s head. You go to stand up and Daryl moves around, helping you, “easy.”

“I’m good.” You nod, “Can you cut this the rest of the way, please?”

He nods, pulling out his knife. He grips the fabric and slices through it, “I’ll.. be upstairs.” He turns walking towards the steps, whistling, “Dog. Come on.”

You smirk as dog jumps down, running up the steps.

You pull the fabric of your shirt down, dropping it to the floor by your bag. You slip on Daryl’s shirt and kick off your shoes as you undo your jeans. They join the pile of your stuff and you walk over to the kitchen, washing up quick before making your way upstairs.

You walk into Daryl’s room, smirking as you see him lying there shirtless in bed, dog’s head resting on his chest, “Hey. Buddy. Make room.” Dog perks up, moving to the end of the bed and you crawl into bed, laying next to Daryl.

“C’mere boy.” You make a kissing sound with your lips and dog comes and lays next to you, Daryl on your other side.

“You and that damn Dog.” Daryl grumbles with a laugh, “I think you like him more than ya like me.”

“Not possible. He couldn’t have helped me like you did tonight, speaking of.” You turn your head, “Thank you for that, by the way.” He nods, “Not a problem.” He leans in pressing a kiss to your head, “just means ya owe me one.”

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’ 💋

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 21

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

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

Warnings: Angst, tension, arguments, hurt.

Nick and I stand there, frozen.

My stomach drops to my ass.

Christina is in Matt’s bed.

Fast asleep, wrapped up in his sheets like she belongs there. It reminds me of when I stayed in his bed in the house.

How could he allow her to do the same.

I feel Nick tense beside me, he's silent but I can almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, like he’s piecing together the same horrifying realization I am.

Then the ensuite door swings open.

And out walks Matt.

Messy hair. Shirtless. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Looks like she helped him out last night instead.

The second he looks up, our eyes meet.

And everything inside me stops.

Nick moves first, he could never be silent for that long. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Matt’s mouth parts slightly, but Nick doesn’t give him the chance.

“Seriously?” he seethes, stepping forward. His voice is a dangerous mix of betrayal and anger. “You fucking lied to me. To her.” His arm motions toward me, but I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

Matt tries to speak.

But Nick gives him no mercy.

“I don’t wanna hear it!” he snaps, his voice rising. “I don’t wanna hear a single fucking word come out of your mouth right now.”

Matt’s face hardens, but he stays silent.

Nick scoffs. “You had one thing to prove, Matt. That you meant it this time.” He shakes his head. “And you couldn’t even do that.”

I can’t stand here anymore.

I need to be in my room. So I turn and leave the room.

Not fast. Not slow. I honestly feel like I'm floating.

I can hear Nick’s voice from down the hall, and he's not letting up easy.

“You either care about her or you don’t, Matt.” His words cut through the thick, suffocating silence.

“So which is it?”

I don’t hear Matt’s answer.

Because I don’t think I could handle it.

Nick’s POV

Y/n turns and walks away, and I don’t blame her.

I watch her go, watch the way her arms wrap around herself like she’s holding herself together, like she has to hold herself together because Matt sure as fuck won’t.

But I’m not done.

Not even close.

I turn back to Matt, still standing there like a fucking idiot, like he’s the one blindsided.

“You’ve gotta be fucking joking.” I breathe, the disbelief thick in my voice.

Matt doesn’t even try to defend himself.

Maybe he knows there’s no excuse.

Maybe he just doesn’t have one.

Matt motions me out of the bedroom before closing the door behind him, the two of us stood in the hallway.

“What, I might wake your precious Christina?” I sneer, pointing at the door. “Wouldn’t wanna interrupt her beauty sleep, huh?”

Matt exhales sharply. “It’s not like that.”

I laugh. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

He shakes his head, but I don’t soften.

“I’m so disgusted with you.” I shutter. “I thought you would be real this time. That if you were serious about Y/n, you’d to fucking act like it.”

Matt clenches his jaw. “Nick-”

“And what do you do?” I cut him off. “You self sabotage. Again. Like you always fucking do. Because you never know how to handle something real.”

Matt’s eyes darken.

I don’t care.

I take another step forward. “And Y/n?” I point a finger toward the door she just walked toward. “She’s the realest thing you’re ever gonna get. And you know that.”

He drops his gaze for a second, but it’s long enough for me to see it.

Guilt.

Good.

“You know it” I repeat, voice quieter but my tone stays the same. “And you just threw it away.”

Matt opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, a door behind me swings open.

“Jesus Christ” Chris groans, stepping into the hall. He looks half asleep, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Can you two shut the fuck up? Rachel’s asleep in my room.”

I whip around. “Oh, of course she is!” I snap. “So what, you’ve got a girl in your bed too?”

Chris blinks at me, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What?”

I throw my hands up.  “Seriously, who the fuck thought it’d be a good idea to bring girls out here?” 

I don’t care who hears me.

I don’t care if I wake up the entire goddamn villa.

Chris shrugs, unfazed. “I did?” looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“The fuck are you freaking out about?” he scoffs. “I like Rachel, so I flew her out. I can do that, you know.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh yeah? And you think that was a good fucking idea?”

Chris crosses his arms. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?”

“Because look at what you just caused!” I snap, throwing a hand back toward Matt’s door. “You might not have been the fire, but you sure as fuck were the fuel.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being real.” I hiss, stepping closer. “I want them out. Within the next two hours. I don’t give a fuck what needs to be done. I want them gone.”

Chris’ expression hardens. “That’s unfair.”

I shake my head. “Unfair?” I scoff. “You wanna talk about unfair? Y/n spent this whole trip thinking her and Matt were finally on the same fucking page, and now she walks in to find Christina, of all fucking people, in his bed? And you wanna stand there and act like I’m being unfair?

Chris opens his mouth, as Matt stands awkwardly next to me.

Chris locks eyes with him.

“Wait, what?” Chris’s brow furrows. “She’s in your bed?”

Matt still doesn’t say a word.

Chris shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, man.”

I shake my head in complete disgust, looking between the two of them.

“The two of you are fucking idiots” I say, my voice filled with nothing but disappointment. “Absolute fucking idiots.”

Chris exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, while Matt just stands there, still not saying a goddamn word.

I don’t have the patience for this. Not right now.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm down the hallway, heading straight for Y/n’s room on the other side of the villa. My blood is boiling, not just at Matt but at Chris too. They both fucked up, and they both know it.

As I walk away, I hear Chris let out a frustrated sigh before opening his door and stepping into his room.

Matt?

I don’t hear him move at all.

I get to Y/n’s room and try the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. It’s locked.

I sigh, knocking gently. “Y/n, it’s just me.”

A few seconds pass, and then I hear the soft click of the lock. The door opens, and there she is, completely wrecked, her eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face. My chest tightens at the sight of her.

“Ah no Y/n.” I mutter, stepping in without hesitation.

Before she can say a word, I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. The second she buries her face into my chest, she breaks, her sobs shaking her whole body. I squeeze her tighter, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“He’s an idiot” I tell her. “A fucking idiot.”

She doesn’t respond, just keeps crying, and I hold her through it.

After a minute, I guide her over to the bed, and we settle in. She wipes at her face, sniffling, and I wait, letting her take her time.

Finally, I ask, “What happened last night?”

Y/n takes a deep breath, wiping at her damp cheeks before finally looking up at me. Her voice is quiet, shaky.

“It was fine at first” she starts. “Obviously I was so happy for you, then you’s got up and left after Chris did.” She trails off, taking another breath.

“Then Chris came back with them.”

I already know exactly who she means.

“Christina and Rachel” I say, and she nods, pressing her lips together like even saying the name makes her sick.

“Chris kinda insinuated to Matt about them two catching up.. Nate and I felt awkward, so we went and did two shots and when we came back Matt and Chris were gone, it was just Rachel and Christina in the booth.” She says, staring blankly across the room.

“I mean, I knew things had happened between them before, but Matt told me.. he told me he hadn’t been with anyone since..” She pauses, blinking rapidly, like she’s trying to stop fresh tears from falling. “Since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so I didn’t think, I hoped, nothing happened. But the second she started talking, I just knew.”

She clenches her fists in her lap, shaking her head.

“She was smug. She kept making these little comments, insinuating that they were a thing. And when I asked her outright how Vegas was, she just smirked and said “WhAt HaPpEnS iN vEgAs StAyS iN vEgas.”

My jaw tightens.

“That was it for me” she says. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I knew if I stayed, I’d just get more upset, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I just needed to leave.”

She looks at me with tired, blood shot eyes.

“Nate asked if I was okay, and I told him it was just a weird situation, but.. the truth is, it wasn’t just weird. It hurt.” She pauses. “I don’t think anything happened in Vegas.. Well, I didn’t. But the fact that she’s still here, still acting like she has some claim over him, and the fact that he-” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard before continuing. “That he let it happen? That he didn’t even try to stop it? It just made me feel like a fool.”

I shake my head, anger building in my chest.

“You’re not a fool.” I tell her firmly. “He is.”

She gives me a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Me and Nate ended up leaving then, he didn’t want to stay either” she says. “I didn’t even say goodbye to Matt, but at that point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be away from it all.”

I nod. “Was anything said at all?”

She sighs. “Nope, when we got back to the villa. I checked my phone, hoping stupidly that maybe Matt had messaged me. I know he’d seen I left. I just hoped that he’d care.”

Her voice wavers on those last two words, and I clench my fists.

“But there was nothing” she whispers. “Not a single message. Not a bit of concern. And I just, got so angry because I knew why I was angry. Because I care. Because I have feelings for him.”

She blinks, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“So I turned my phone off and went to bed, hoping that if I slept, the night would be over faster.”

I take a deep breath, letting everything she just told me sink in. I already was mad, but now? Now I’m fucking fuming.

I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “I'm going to say it again, but Matt’s a fucking idiot” I mutter.

She lets out a small, sad laugh. “Yeah. He is.”

I pull her in again, letting her rest against me.

I let out a deep sigh, rubbing my face. “I feel awful for not being there for you last night” I admit, my voice heavy with guilt.

Y/n immediately shakes her head. “No, don’t feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were living your life which you deserve, you were oblivious to everything.” She sniffles.

I lean my head back against the headboard, exhaling sharply. “Well, this whole situation has officially shocked me into being completely sober.”

That earns a small giggle from her, and I smile, relieved to see even the tiniest bit of light return to her eyes.

I tilt my head, looking at her. “Do you want me to stay in here for a bit?”

She hesitates for a second before shaking her head. “No, I think I’d like to be on my own for a little while.”

I nod, respecting her space. “Okay. But if you need anything, I mean it, Y/n, just come get me. I don’t care what time it is.”

She gives me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Nick.”

I squeeze her hand one last time before getting up, heading for the door. Before I step out, I glance back at her, still curled up in bed, her eyes staring off at nothing.

I want to fix this for her. I want to fix Matt. But for now, the only thing I can do is be here for her.

So I leave her room, closing the door gently behind me, and head to my own.

Y/n’s POV

I drag myself off of my bed to  push open the balcony door, letting the early morning air into my room. I feel like I’m suffocating in here, like the walls are closing in on me.

I crawl back into bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything all at once. Numbness settles over me, and I let it. I don’t know how long I lie there, my mind running in endless circles, but it must be at least an hour.

Then, faintly, I hear voices outside on the patio. My ears perk up at the low tones, one voice sharper than the other.

Nate and Chris.

I don’t move, barely breathing as I listen.

Nate’s voice is quiet, laced with disbelief. “I just don’t get it, man.”

Chris sighs. “What?”

“This whole thing. I came home with Y/n last night, and I thought-” He pauses, like he’s still processing it. “I thought Matt was different with her. That he actually gave a shit.”

Chris exhales, and I hear the scrape of a chair moving. “I don’t know what the fuck is going if I’m honest.”

Then followed by a pause.

“The girls are leaving soon” Chris says after a moment, his voice more certain. “I told them they have to go.”

Girls? So that means Rachel is in the villa, too.

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers into my temples. The thoughts of the four of them being in that booth all night. It’s not the four it should’ve been.

“Good” Nate finally says, though his voice is distant, still caught up in his thoughts. “That’s good.”

Neither of them says anything after that, just the occasional sound of movement. I don’t know what to do with any of this. Do I go back to sleep and pretend I didn’t hear? Do I stay curled up in bed and wait for them to leave?

I don’t know.

All I do know is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I hear the girls voices outside, light and carefree, like they have no idea the storm they’ve left behind.

They laugh, saying their goodbyes, talking about how much fun they had. Christina’s voice is the loudest, going on about how this trip is "so needed." Rachel thanks Chris for having them over last night, her tone full of gratitude, like this was just some casual getaway and not the disaster it turned into.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back at our hotel” Rachel says smoothly.

Chris responds almost too casually, “Yeah, do that. Hopefully, we can meet later. One on one.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the sting in my chest. Of course. Of course, he’s already setting up another meetup, like none of this meant anything. Like bringing them here, ruining everything, was just some minor inconvenience.

How long are they even here for?

I hear the shuffle of movement. I hear Christina giggle, making some passing comment about how wild the night was, and then the sound of the front door closing.

They’re gone.

But the mess they left behind? That’s still here.

I should feel relieved, but all I feel is exhausted.

I don’t move from my bed for the rest of the day. Not for food, not for water. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. My mind replays every moment, every touch, every look, every promise Matt ever gave me.

Was it all fake?

Did he ever mean any of it?

Or was his plan to play with me all along?

I feel stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. I let myself believe in something real. I let myself believe in him. And now, I’m left here, in this bed, in this villa, drowning in the realization that I was just another girl to him. Another meaningless moment in his never ending cycle of self sabotage.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I’ve cried enough.

Instead, I just lay here. Empty.

Four more days in this place. Four more days of agony, of being in the same space as Matt, of pretending I don’t care when it’s eating me alive. Within the last 10 days, everything felt different, full of excitement, possibility. Now, it feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

It’s confusing. All of it. The way he looked at me before, the way he made me feel like I mattered. And now? Now he’s just another person who’s shown me that words mean nothing. That promises are empty.

But one thing is clear.

I don’t want to speak to Matt again.

a/n : GET HIM NICK GET HIM (dw any questions you may have will be answered)

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

[waynes-multiverse]

Already so in love with the start of this chapter! A girl who can eat is a girl after my heart 🫶 (and apparently Russell's lol)

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room.

Girl, you and I have the same headcanon about this! He needs someone with super weird food habits 😂🫶

And I loved her then suddenly trying to get rid of him and coming up with the lamest excuse in the book before threathening him lol. Glad he saw right through that! And this made me melt 🫠:

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving. “Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

Oh, and it is a mafia thing! 👀 Phew, that's a tough job for Russell (not that I doubt his abilities, but she is right – he's only one man. You're not planning on breaking my heart, are you? 😅)

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.” “You have sauce all over your shirt.”

Oh, he got real lucky there, didn't he? He must've loved this 😂😂

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

I'm so in love with this characterization of him here! Behind all the goofiness and bad flirting still hides that smart killing machine, and you portray that so well throughout their entire conversation 🖤

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy.

I love reading more of her backstory, and obviously Russell can relate since he grew up similarily. I see some romance brewing and bonding happening here 😍

You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

Knowing her, I don't see this working out well for Colter. Poor guy will have his hands full with her 😂

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped.  “Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

I don't mind this at all 😏

The commitment to him being shirtless on this show is for real, tho 🫠 (And PS: I saw you wrote for Colter too! I totally have to check that out! Justin Hartley had me in a chokehold since This Is Us. He rows right into the "lovable and stupidly hot idiot" category that I've fallen victim to lol.)

And not only did she bond with Russell in this part but also with Colter. Seriously loved every minute of their conversation! And considering Russell sent her to his brother, who he hasn't spoken to in so long, speaks volumes how much he trusts Colter. Colter seeing that too was such a precious moment 😭🫶

Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…

Agree! The ruggedness and roughness (the beard) certainly adds a few plus points 🔥😏

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down.

I was gonna say, she should be careful with that challenge, and his answer did not disappoint! It was gold 🤣🤣🤣

And I totally didn't expect her to stay with Colter for days, drive across the country, and join him on a case! This is such a cool twists and I'm loving their hangout dynamic 😁 I do have an inkling Russell will be jealous of their bonding and probably scold Colter for taking her on a case lmao

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.”

Ooooh I know you read the books and this reminded me so much of the crew book!Russell worked with!!! 👏

I was so relieved when he came back in one piece! And that little present for her was so sweet and thoughtful 🥹 The note, on the other hand, was hilarious 😂

But why the angst at the end there? No they were supposed to be happy! Sunset, rainbows, unicorns, glitter!!! I will suffer in the next part, won't I? 😅

This was such an amazing chapter from start to finish! I thoroughly enjoyed all their conversations, their dynamics, the humor mixed with seriousness and feelings. Loved every second of this! 🩵

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[neeeooon]

Hey Elle!!! 😚🫶May I request bllk boys (Nagi, Rin, Sae, Bachira, Shidou) with s/o who's rlly into anime, cosplay, spends all their money on figurines, merch etc and makes them go to conventions with them!!! 🤸🏼‍♀️ love your writing!

yesssss LMAO okay i had fun w thiss thank you sm for the request!!! 💛💛

when you’re an anime fan ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

nagi seishiro

-> he doesn’t like the fact that he has to share you with your dozens and dozens of anime plushies

-> “nagi! you’re crushing mr. sakamoto!!” “what’s that?” “?! please move so he can breathe :)” he decides not to fight you on this. “.. okay.”

-> though nagi doesn’t quite understand your obsession with spending money on little figures and plushies of cartoon characters, he works around it. it’s easier to spend a little time looking for a clear spot than upset you after moving something he wasn’t supposed to

-> until he comes over one day to find a large snorlax plush in his usually empty spot on your bed

-> “.. is this your way of telling me to move?” “what? no, it’s for you! your room is like a prison cell, babe. you need something to make it more personal. plus, he looks just like you!”

-> nagi doesn’t see it, but he sleeps with that damn snorlax plush every night he spends away from you <3

itoshi rin

-> “y/n? put the phone down…” “just one click, rin. one click and it’s all mine.” “y/n, so you really need twenty-six figures of the same four characters..?” “yes.” “really?” “… maybe?”

-> he manages to convince you to give him the phone so you don’t spend your entire paycheck on anime merchandise

-> he’ll stay up late watching the shows with you, and he actually follows along with and likes quite a bit of them. not enough to blow his entire paycheck, but enough

-> “i think we should be meruem and komugi from hxh for halloween.” “… but don’t they d—“ “DONT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

-> once you promise to stop crippling your bank account, he agrees to dress up with you <3

itoshi sae

-> bro is not impressed

-> he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself as you drag him around the merch store, grumbling about how ugly and expensive everything is

-> you ignore him and fill your little basket with mangas and posters for your room, but when it comes down to it, sae hands over his card at checkout before you have the chance

-> “?? i thought you said everything here is ugly and expensive?” “oh, it is. i don’t want you spending your money on ugly things, y/n.” you smile at his excuse and kiss his cheek

-> he’s not ecstatic at the cost of everything, but sae doesn’t complain about it to you, either. he even helps you hand your posters at home (those, he does insult)

-> “why does that guy have such big ears?” “be nice to geto!! those are his earrings.” “he looks like a weirdo.” “leave him be 😭”

bachira meguru

-> you better believe he’s feeding your addiction

-> “ooh, y/n, look at this one!! do you have this one?” “i’ve been looking everywhere for that character! how did you find it?” “my monster told me to check the back shelf..”

-> keeps a full, detailed list of every anime you mention starting or liking so he can surprise you with merch

-> “y/n, look! i made a hakura sakura keychain for you!!” “you made it?! i love it!! but what’s the occasion..?” “i just felt like making something for you ☺️” you may have teared up a bit

shidou ryusei

-> you were planning to cosplay one of your favorite anime characters, and the costume was going on sale at a convention. thankfully, shidou didn’t fight when you asked him to join you

-> “so, we’re gonna stand in this line for how long again?” “depends on how quickly they wave us through. could be a few hours.” “… let’s fucking do this.”

-> shidou has to body a few people, and you do get escorted out by security, but you get the costume! so you consider the trip a win

-> “you didn’t have to punch that guy for me,” you hum as you dab at your boyfriend’s scabbing knuckles. “he was going to push you out of the way. you wanted it more than he did, and he shouldn’t put hands on someone for a dress.” “you did, though..” “for you. not the costume… it is a cool costume, though.” “i know, right?!”

-> you post photos and videos of yourself all dressed up online, making sure to tag shidou for helping you complete your look <3

[jazzy96scorpio]

Heavy Sets

Description: Gym crush? More like gym smash. When [You] and Pedro Pascal meet, it's less about the reps and more about the raw, undeniable heat between you. Prepare for some seriously sweaty moments.

So, grab a cold drink, get comfy, and get ready for a wild ride. You've been warned! 😉

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Warnings ⚠️: Adult Content, Minors do not interact, dirty and flirty talk, oral sex (m. rec), unprotected sex, rough sex, cream pie, SMUT, age and look of reader is not described.

Word count: 1,680

P.S Pedro works hard, but I'm gonna work even harder for you my beloved readers 💜

The beginning of March. A time of burgeoning energy, mirroring the sudden, fierce heat within you. You enter the gym, a private sanctuary, a place where celebrities can blend in, where anonymity is a courtesy.

You begin your warm-up, a familiar routine, but your focus is fractured. You're doing some ab work, then transitioning to legs, the burn a welcome ache.

Jason, your trainer, approaches, a playful grin on his face. "Come on, [Y/N], you can push harder than that! Feel the burn!" He punctuates his encouragement with a light tap on your leg, a gesture that usually makes you laugh. Today, though, your gaze keeps drifting.

You catch your breath, leaning against the weight bench, the cool metal a welcome contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. It's then that you see him. Pedro.

He's a force of nature, a raw, concentrated power. The heavy weights he pushes seem almost weightless in his hands, his muscles flexing and rippling with each controlled movement. The sweat glistening on his skin only amplifies his magnetism.

You've seen him before, of course—a fleeting glimpse in the gym's mirrored walls, a brief conversation with Jason. But today, something is different.

The air crackles with an undeniable energy, a pull that's impossible to ignore.

His arms, those magnificent arms, strain and flex, and you feel a strange heat spreading through you, a longing that has nothing to do with the workout.

You feel like you’re being drawn into his orbit, a moth to a flame. You’ve seen him from afar, but you haven't chance to meet him.

Fuck, you think, the word a silent prayer. You can’t wait anymore.

Jason's voice snaps you back to the present. "Alright, enough resting! Let's get back to those squats. You need to go harder, [Y/N]. You know what they say, no pain, no gain!" He winks, and you force a smile, but your eyes are drawn back to Pedro.

He finishes his set, wiping his brow with a towel. For a heartbeat, his gaze meets yours. There's a flicker of recognition, a spark of something undeniable, in his brown eyes.

He pauses, just for a moment, and then he starts to walk towards you.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He's coming closer, his presence filling the space around you. He stops in front of you, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You look like you're working hard," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Mind if I join you for a set?"

"Hey, Pedro" you manage, your voice a little breathless, a little shaky. "Sure, join me."

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that makes your stomach flip. "What's your name?," he asks, extending a hand. His grip is firm, strong.

"I'm [Y/N]," you reply, your own hand trembling slightly as you take his.

Jason, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, steps in, a knowing grin on his face. "Alright, you two," he says, "since you're working out together, I've got a few partner exercises that'll really get those muscles burning."

He demonstrates a series of stretches and lifts, some of which require close contact. And close is an understatement. Pedro's body is a furnace, radiating heat. His hands, when they touch you, are firm and sure, sending shivers down your body.

Shit, shit, you think, your heart pounding. His body is so close, the scent of his sweat and cologne intoxicating. You're sweating too, dripping, your own heart beating faster every time his eyes meet yours, every time his hands brush against your skin.

A strange, pulsing heat starts to build between your legs, a wet ache that grows with each passing moment. His growls, low and guttural as he strains with the exercises, are a symphony of raw masculinity, driving you wild.

If this goes on any longer, I’m going to lose it right here.

Every time his hands touched you during the exercises, your heart had hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that threatened to betray your growing desire. And now, as he stands so close, the heat radiating from his body, you feel like you’re gonna melt.

Finally, Jason calls a halt. "Alright, that's enough for today," he says, his eyes twinkling. "You two worked up a good sweat."

He offers you both protein drinks, and as he walks away, Pedro turns to you, his eyes dark and intense.

"So, [Y/N]," he says, his voice a low rumble, "do you come here often?" The question is casual, but the way he looks at you, the way his gaze lingers on your lips, is anything but that.

He leans in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I haven't seen you around much," he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Or maybe I just haven't been paying close enough attention."

"Maybe you haven't," you reply, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"That's a mistake I intend to rectify," he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts beneath your workout top. "You have a way of…distracting a man."

He takes a sip of his protein drink, his eyes still fixed on yours. "You know," he says, "I'm always looking for a good workout partner. Someone to push me, to keep me motivated."

He pauses, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Someone as beautiful and determined as you."

"Is that so?" you ask, your heart pounding.

"Absolutely," he says, his voice husky. "And I have a feeling we'd push each other…in more ways than one."

He winks, and a wave of heat washes over you. "Tell me, [Y/N], what do you do when you're not making men sweat?"

You lean in, your breath warm against his ear, and whisper, "I do lot of fun stuff. And I have a few ideas I could do with you." your voice laced with a playful promise.

"But they involve a lot more…sweat." You let your fingers trail lightly down his arm, lingering on the hard muscle beneath his skin. "Unless, of course, you're into that."

He shivers slightly, his smile widening. "I'm into whatever you're into," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Especially when you whisper things like that."

His eyes are dark, intense, and you know he wants you just as much as you want him.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear, and whisper, "I'm thinking about what those arms could do to me," you murmur, your voice a low, husky purr. You let your gaze drop to his lips, then back to his eyes, a silent invitation. "I have a feeling you'd be very good at making me scream."

"Tell me," he says, his voice rough, "tell me one right now." He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your hand.

The passion and desire in his eyes are almost palpable. He's impatient, eager, and you can see the slight bulge straining against his workout shorts. Your teasing has worked its magic.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "Screaming is music to my ears," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Especially if it's gonna be your voice." He reaches out, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"I want to see if those arms can lift me," you murmur, your fingers tracing the hard line of his bicep. "I have a feeling they're strong enough to do a lot more than just lift weights."

You lean in, your breath ghosting across his ear. "I want to feel them wrapped around me, pulling me close, holding me down. I want to feel them on my skin, everywhere, exploring every inch of me."

You nip at his earlobe, then whisper, "I want to feel them guiding me, lifting me, so I can take you deep inside me, until we're both screaming."

He smiles, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I'm going to show you," he says, his voice a low growl. "I'm going to show you exactly what these arms can do."

He took your hand, his grip firm and possessive, and led you through the gym, past the empty workout stations, to the secluded shower area. A quick glance confirmed you were alone. He locked the door, the click echoing in the sudden silence.

He turned to you, his eyes dark and hungry, and gently cupped your face in his hands. He leaned in, his lips finding yours in a searing, demanding kiss. He tasted of sweat and raw desire, and you met his passion with equal fervor.

He pulled you closer, his body molding against yours, the heat radiating from him like a furnace. His arms tightened around you, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his already hard body. You could feel his bulge pressing against your already wet pussy, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ohh Cariño...you are gorgeous." he groaned against your lips. "I've been wanting to fuck you since the moment I saw you."

He nipped at your neck, then whispered, "I want to taste you, to feel you wrapped around me, to hear you scream my name as I fill you." His hand slid down your back, cupping your ass, pulling you even closer. "I want to bury myself so deep inside you, you won't be able to think of anything else."

He pinned you against the cold tile wall, his right hand holding your face captive as his left hand slipped beneath your workout shorts, finding the slick heat between your legs. He smirked, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as he felt how ready you were for him. He teased you with his fingers, circling your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you, then slipping a finger inside, stretching you, preparing you.

You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily. You kissed him roughly, pulling him closer, your hands roaming over his hard body, desperate to touch him everywhere. You reached down, your fingers closing around his already throbbing cock, and whispered, "I want to suck your cock."

He smiled, a feral grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Impatient," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I like that." He pulled down his shorts, revealing his magnificent erection, thick and veiny, pulsing with anticipation. You knelt before him, taking him into your hand.

God, it's huge. I hope I can take it all. Don't gag.

You licked the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, and he cursed, his body tensing. His right hand on the wall, his left hand kneading your shoulder.

You took him deeper, sucking him hard, your saliva slicking his length. He tastes so good, salty and musky. You jerked him off with your right hand, increasing the tempo, driving him wild, your lips working him like a pro. "You like that, don't you?" you purred against his cock. "You like the way I take you deep."

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice ragged. "You're so good. So fucking good."

"Wait," he groaned, his voice ragged. "I'm going to...I want to be inside you." He pulled you to your feet, his eyes burning with desire.

As you stood up, slightly wobbly, after taking him deep into your mouth, he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly, and pulled up your workout top. He slid it off your shoulders, his eyes widening as he took in your bare breasts. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice thick with awe. "You are so beautiful." His gaze lingered on your body, his eyes dark with desire.

You quickly pulled down your shorts and panties, and he lifted you up with his huge arms, pinning you against the cold tile. The sudden chill was a stark contrast to the burning heat between your legs. He positioned himself between your thighs, and with one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, stretching you to your limit.

You cried out, your body arching against his.

He's so big, so full. It hurts, but it's a good hurt.

He kissed you roughly, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate at first, then building in intensity. "You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "So wet for me. So fucking good."

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer, driving deeper with each thrust.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't feel your legs," he growled. "Until you beg me to stop."

Your bodies were pressed together, so close you could feel every muscle, every curve, every pulse of heat. It was as if you were one being, two halves finally joined. He moved inside you, slow and deep, then faster, harder, his thrusts powerful and relentless.

His heavy breathing filled the small space, a raw, animal sound that mingled with your own gasps and moans. His dark eyes, intense and focused, never left yours, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His lips, so sweet and demanding, found yours again and again, each kiss a searing brand.

I don't want this to end, you thought, I wanna feel like this forever.

The feeling of him inside you, the heat, the power, the sheer intensity of the moment—it was intoxicating.

He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, deeper, each one a brutal, delicious invasion.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting that sweet spot sending waves of pure pleasure through you. "Say it, [Y/ N]. Say you're mine."

His thrusts were relentless, each one pushing you closer to the edge. "I'm going to make you come so hard," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking hard."

"Fuck yes..I'm gonna be yours..Pedro" you said letting out low moan.

"Tell me you like it," he commanded, his voice rough. "I want to feel you clench around me, milking me dry."

"Fuck yes..I like it," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

"Pedro...Fuck me harder." You arched your back, meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. "Fill me up," you moaned. "I want to feel you inside me, owning me."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

"I want to leave bruises on your beautiful ass."he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"Fuck yes..." you moaned, your breath heavy, "I want you to mark me..I want everyone to know I'm yours."

I'm going to come. I'm going to come for him.

He gripped your hips, slamming into you with relentless force. He's so hard, so deep. I'm so close.

"You're so fucking perfect. I could fuck you all night."," he says, his voice a low, guttural growl.

"I can feel you milking me, baby. So good." He ground his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, sending waves of pure pleasure through you. "Say my name," he commanded, his voice rough.

I'm going to come for him. I need him to push me over the edge.

"Come for me, [Y/N]. Come for me, mi pequeña diabla. Let me hear you scream."

"Pedro!" you cried out, your body convulsing as you reached your peak. "Fuck, yes! I'm coming!"

He thrust into you one last time, a powerful, shuddering stroke, and then he was coming too, his hot, thick cum flooding your core.

"Good girl," he groaned, his voice ragged. "That was fucking amazing." He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

He feels so good. I want him to never stop.

He stayed deep inside you, the heat of his body still filling you, the mingled juices of your passion dripping down your thighs.

He kissed you gently, cupping your face in his right hand, his thumb tracing the soft curve of your lips. "I want to taste these lips every day, Muñeca!" he murmured, his voice husky with satisfaction.

"I want to fuck you every day," you replied, your voice a little breathless, "several times a day. Until you pass out."

He smiled, a slow, predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "I want that too," he said.

"There are things I want to do to you," you whispered, your voice laced with a playful promise. "This was just the intro, Papi.."

He kissed you again, a lingering, tender kiss that spoke of unspoken promises. "You've awakened something in me, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice filled with a raw emotion that made your heart ache. "Something I thought was long gone."

"Let's shower," he said, his voice regaining its playful tone, "and get some coffee. My treat."

Your legs were shaking, a delightful tremor that spoke of the intense workout you'd just received. You were exhausted, not just from the gym, but from the way he'd just thoroughly fucked the your soul out of your body.

Deadly fever, please don't ever break

Be my reliever ’cause I don’t self medicate

And it burns like a gin and I like it

Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it

Hurts, but I know how to hide it, kinda like it

After a quick shower, where he tenderly washed your back and kissed the bruises he left on your hips "I'm loving every inch of you." He murmured on your ear.

You sneaked out of the gym.

You could barely walk. "I can't drive like this," you said, your voice a little shaky.

"I'll take you home," he said, his eyes filled with concern. He helped you with your bags, then gently assisted you into his car. He picked up coffee for both of you, then drove you to your apartment.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked, your voice laced with a hopeful anticipation.

He smiled, his eyes warm and kind. "I'd love to," he said. He was so kind, so sweet, a stark contrast to the raw, primal man he'd been in the shower.

Inside your apartment, the atmosphere shifted. You ordered a pizza, sharing slices and easy conversation. He listened intently as you talked about your life, your dreams, your passions.

As the evening drew to a close, he pulled out his phone. "Can I have your number?" he asked, his voice soft.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "Of course."

He entered your number, then looked up at you, his eyes sparkling. "I'd love to take you to dinner tomorrow night," he said, his voice laced with a hopeful anticipation. "Like a real date. If you'd like."

"I'd love that," you replied, your smile widening. "I'd really like that."

He leaned in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Good," he murmured, his voice husky. "Because I can't wait to see you again." He kissed you softly, a tender, lingering kiss that promised more to come. "I'll pick you up at seven," he said, his eyes filled with a warm light. "get some rest, preciosa." (beautiful)

He kissed your forehead, then turned and walked out the door, leaving you with a lingering warmth and the sweet anticipation of tomorrow night.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like,reblog and comment. ❣️

God why did you gave me dirty mind and a kink for an older man with brown eyes, and obsession for Pedro Pascal...Why..???

That gym photo was inspiration for this fic. My mind couldn't stop imagining this 😈🫣

I listened to the Billie Eilish song - My strange addiction while writing this. Fits perfectly 👌

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Okay I’m gonna drop an unpopular opinion here

I really

Really

Really

Hate the Jason and Damian met in the league and have a close brotherly relationship

I honestly think it detracts from BOTH of their development and makes both the characters a lot more 2D and boring.

And also I think it disrespects my GIRL Stephanie brown. Bc that close personal bickering, anything goes sibling shit? Yeah that’s Damian and Steph all the way.

And yeah I tend to credit Dick Grayson (bc he’s my boy) for a lot of the Growth Damian goes through. But Stephanie brown and him have the funniest sibling relationship in history

And I think to have as interesting of a development as Damian has had you needed characters like Dick and Steph to be his Batman and Batgirl.

Dick who I think we can all agree is objectively the least violent of the bats at a baseline (Richard crash out Grayson moments notwithstanding) as well as Steph. Both have angry moments of doling out justice but BOTH prefer rehabilitation methods and tend to be more mouthy and loud about their thoughts during a battle

Steph CLAWED her way up into her position, she fought for that and held on with an iron grip that left indents. She wasn’t as good as, Dick born acrobat Grayson, Barbara prodigy Gordon and Tim genius Drake. So she worked her ass off and FORCED people to pay attention to her and got good enough that she matches the rest of the bats on the field.

Dick HAS the experience of working with difficult cases. He’s lead teams his age filled with drama, infighting and death successfully, he’s trained kids younger than him successfully on panel.

He’s canonically a very adaptable teacher, who has strength in meeting you where you’re at and getting you to move to where you want to be.

Both these things helped Damian exponentially

Now let me be so clear.

Damian did the work.

Damian put in the blood, sweat and tears into changing his beliefs and perceptions of the world. But that would not have been possible if these two didn’t at least make it known that “hey you can be the kind of person who cares and still have value and not be weak and pathetic”

Damian going vegetarian/vegan bc of his morals, Damian choosing not to kill, Damian choosing to leave Robin, Damian making choices unrelated to mantles, regrets and vengeance. Is due to the fact that he had Dick Grayson and Stephanie brown as examples (now ofc Alfred was also very very very imp but I feel like no one ignores his significance so I don’t feel the need to add him here)

And Jason?

It also imo, FUCK UP JAYS DEVELOPMENT.

Bc if Jason could be this kind, empathic older sibling to Damian? WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK WAS HE DOING WHEN HE FIRST CAME TO GOTHAM? the way he treated the bats and the rogues gallery? Slaughtering all of blackgate to end up in Arkham, making dick watch him fall to his ‘death’.

No absolutely not

This is the ‘pit madness’ nonsense all over again

Jason had to see the world outside of Gotham and work with other people who were anti-heroes who fall into the category.

Bc Jason didn’t start out as an antihero

Jason was a full on villain with a grudge against other villains, he worked for the place he’s in. It’s bc of characters he interacted with, it’s bc of realizations he’s dealt with. It’s because he’s been a little too trigger happy in the wrong place and ended up looking at the grief he caused others and realizing he didn’t want to do that.

It gets rid of Jason realizing HE CAN work with his family.

It gets rid of Jason BECOMING a solid older brother to Tim and erases the Jason who WANTS to have a relationship with his family.

It erases all of the times he’s tried and failed and still got up and tried again

Both of them have grown bc of the people around them and I think if they had each other at that time it would’ve gone 1 of 2 ways

1) a toxic loop re-establishing bad beliefs and practices that damage both of them and leave them more resentful and stuck in their ways

2) they would’ve hated each other and tried to kill each other

In summary

-both these characters didn’t show up nice, they worked for it, don’t erase that

- don’t erase the characters that helped them grow (my girl Steph Brown being left out of conversations she started will kill me)

- Jason can have close relationships with the family im not saying he shouldn’t. I’m just saying that Jay is the cool older brother who very obviously loves you but was at college when you were a kid and now doesn’t really know how to interact with you and it’s awkward but you know you can go to him even if he isn’t your first call in most situations

- Damian was not a good person, he CHOSE to be that’s important to his growth. And with that growth came the ability to form the close connections he now has in canon. Without the growth he undergoes he wouldn’t be able to form the protective loving group of family and friends he has around him

- STOP IGNORING STEPH, I AM LITERALLY A DICK GRAYSON STAN ACCOUNT AND I AM OVERHERE TRYING TO GET CRUMBS OF MY GIRL OHMYGOD

- I would highkey love a short miniseries of Jason and Damian working together and developing a nice relationship both in and out of the masks but until we get that. I’m sticking to awkward brother that loves you but doesn’t get you at all

Also if you disagree/ have more nuanced takes on the Jay Damian sibling arc please leave in the reblogs and comments, I like hearing more nuanced takes and discussing just please don’t be a dick (hehe) about it

[facewithoutheart]

FYI Buck is absolutely not a fan of Bear. It’s not … he doesn’t do anything to Bear he just … glares at it sometimes when Eddie’s not looking. Makes a point to distract Eddie whenever his attention is on Bear. Gets a sinking feeling in his stomach when he catches Eddie kissing the stain on its forehead. Which happens. A lot.

“It’s weird Eddie keeps bringing Bear to work, right?” Buck asks Hen, who immediately storms into Bobby’s office and takes leave, “Until one of those two morons figures it out.”

Bobby’s not expecting her back anytime soon.

Finally, Eddie has had enough (Buck is nowhere near as subtle as he thinks he is; Eddie literally caught Buck tipping Bear over from where Eddie had him perched in his locker, grinning when Bear’s fluffy white head hits the metal). He grabs Bear out of Buck’s reach and holds Bear to his chest. “What is your deal?”

“W-what? I don’t have a deal. What are you talking about?” Buck’s full on stink-glaring the stupid bear.

“Are you kidding me?” Eddie groans. “Thank god Bear can’t play basketball; I don’t think my ankle can take another sprain.”

Finally, Buck’s eyes flick upward. “Huh?”

“You’re jealous of my damn stuffie, Buck.”

He scoffs. “I’m not jealous.”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s with that?” Eddie jerks his chin at the red bear with a Mexican flag on it, sitting with his tiny little head poking out from Buck’s duffel. “You mean to tell me Chris went to Pennsylvania and brought back your childhood toy, too?”

“Huh?” Buck frowns.

“Chris found Bear in my old bedroom back in El Paso and brought him. Said he looked lonely there, and then, he said,” Eddie flushes, “he asked me to bring Bear to work, because he said I looked lonely, too. That’s it, okay? The whole story. Can you please get over yourself and whatever it is you’re doing with Bear 2.0 over there?”

Bear’s head flops over to one side, his gaze up at Buck tilted like he’s also asking, “What’s your problem?”

My problem is a damn stuffed bear, Buck thinks.

It’s possible he’s being a little ridiculous. “Oso,” he says.

“Oso?”

“That’s my bear’s name.”

Eddie nods. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Oso,” he says to the bear. He hopes that settles things.

It gets weirder.

Eddie starts finding Oso next to Bear in his locker when they come back from calls. One time he catches Buck putting Oso’s arm around Bear.

Eddie doesn’t say anything.

Hen does, eventually, come back. Buck catches her glaring at where he’s got Oso cradling Bear’s head in his tiny furry lap. Okay, yeah, it’s possible he’s gotten a little into this. Eddie still hasn’t said anything but sometimes he looks at how Oso and Bear are cuddling with this glint in his eyes.

Eventually, Hen throws a fit when Buck gives Oso a tiny little mustache.

“Oh my god,” she turns to Buck, “Eddie wants to gently kiss you on your birthmark,” then, Eddie, “and Buck wants to gently hold you whenever you feel lonely. You two are in love. In love!” she shouts.

She turns to Chim. “I don’t care if I lose the bet at this point; I’m going to lose my sanity if these two don’t fuck it out, missionary style while staring into each other’s eyes whispering how much they love one another. I’m a lesbian and what they are doing with those damn bears has been so much gayer than anything I’ve ever witnessed.”

Chim’s nodding. “Oh, yeah. No, I was giving myself one more shift before I locked all four of them in a supply closet and stated playing Careless Whisper on my phone. Slipping condoms under the door until one of them sends back a wrapper.”

“Gross,” Hen says.

Chim winces. “Not as gross as what I’m looking at, now.”

When she turns, she sees Buck lifting Oso’s right paw, making it gently caress the side of Bear’s face. Their black plastic noses make a tiny clicking sound as Eddie and Buck make their bears kiss.

Hen’s gonna request a transfer.

What if Eddie got a beanie baby for Christmas one year and it’s dumb because stuffed animals are for girls and Eddie’s the Man of the House but secretly he likes his little white bear with the heart on his chest. He cuts the tag off it and his mom yells at him because they’re supposed to be worth a lot of money someday but secretly Eddie’s glad he did it. If the bear isn’t worth anything but the joy he brings to Eddie then maybe he’ll get to keep it. He does, eventually, forget about the bear. Or, he puts him on a shelf when he enters high school because high school boys don’t sleep with toys and maybe there’s some nights he sees the bear on his shelf and he thinks it might be nice to hold him but he doesn’t.

The first time Shannon comes into his bedroom she immediately sees the bear. “Who’s this little guy?” she teases and Eddie gets irrationally angry seeing it in her hands. “My stupid sisters leaving their stupid toys in my room,” he says, grabbing it out of her hands and throwing it in his bedside trash can. He waits until she’s left to fish him out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” which is dumb, so dumb, that he’s apologizing to a doll, that he’s crying.

Eddie wants to bring the bear with him to Afghanistan but he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the bear, no matter what little comfort it might bring to Eddie.

When his mom gives Christopher a stuffed bear after his birth, Eddie stares at the way Chris hugs it to his chest and wonders what would ever make him tear the toy from Chris’s hands.

Chris finds the stuffed bear when he moves to El Paso. It’s weird, how he wants it to sit on his nightstand, but not as weird as the tight look his abuela gets when she sees it. “Where did you find that?” Chris shrugs. “Behind some books in the closet.” Chris becomes fascinated with the bear. He looks it up online. Valentino. There’s a little red stain over one eye, maybe someone spilled something on it. He sends a picture to Buck. “He kind of reminds me of you.” “Yeah, Superman! He does! How are you doing?????” Chris doesn’t reply.

When Chris is packing up his items to move back to LA, he doesn’t think about it when he throws the bear into his suitcase. He puts it on a shelf when he gets back home. Nothing else has changed about his room; his dad kept it exactly the way he left it, so the bear sticks out. “Where’d you get that?” His dad asks when he sees the bear, his hands are flinching into fists by his side. Chris’s breath picks up. “You can’t be mad at me for taking him. You obviously didn’t want him; you left him behind!” “I’m not mad,” Chris’s dad lies. “Yes, you are. You are!” “Okay! I’m a little mad!” “Why?!”

“Because he was mine!”

Eddie takes a breath. He looks at his son. He loves him so, so, so much. “Because he was mine,” Eddie says, “but I wasn’t … I never felt like I was allowed to have him.” This time, Chris’s question comes out softer, more earnest, “Why?”

It’s not easy to put into words all the ways the world has shaped Eddie into a form he barely recognizes, but he tries. For his son, he’ll always try. At the end, Chris walks over with the bear. He places it in his dad’s hands. “I think you need this more than I do.”

Eddie laughs and thumbs over where his sister spilled cherry koolaid on him the one time he let her play with Bear.

“He kind of looks like Buck, doesn’t he?”

Eddie holds Bear to his chest. He squeezes tightly.

“Yeah. He does.”

[cockettechris]

"I love this." You murmur while grinning, you did love this. A bit too much probably. Having your hot ass boss tied to his office chair by his belt and blindfolded by a black bandanna he had lying around in one of his desk drawers. Not to mention his thick cock standing up, laying against his covered chest.

"Mama please, wan' see you." He said in a whiny voice. He looked so pretty like this, pre-cum spilling from his tip and running down the side of his thick cock, his plump rosy lips parted, his hips lifting off the chair as he humped the air, desperate to get some friction to his aching member.

You chuckled at him as you took out your phone to snap a quick picture. "Not a chance baby, mommy's gonna have fun with you yeah?" You said as you threw your phone on the office couch. You went over to him and wrapped your fingers around his aching cock, your lips kissing his jaw.

You jerked him off at a teasingly slow pace, making sure you could feel every vein. Saying your panties were soaked is an understatement. But that could wait. "Cmon matty mama wants to hear you." He let out a few soft moans here and there, but it's clear he was faking it. Your hand wasn't doing the job.

"What's the matter?" You asked as you removed your hand. "Just wanna feel you mommy please. Wanna feel you taking me." "Yeah?" You said as you took your own clothing off, putting your panties in his drawer for him to find at work tomorrow. You wanted to take his shirt off so badly, but you also wanted to keep him tied up.

The moment you sank onto him he was a mess. Moans and whimpers left his mouth. You loved it, of course you did but there was also something about the way he took your fingers in his mouth with zero hesitation that made you turned on more than anything.

Matt gladly took your fingers in his mouth as his hips rutted up to meet yours. "Fuck—such a good slut f'me huh? Letting me ride you like this while—you can't see me or touch me. Bet it's fucking killing ya." He whined at your words, of course it was killing him not being able to see your perfect body taking his cock so well.

"Shit—baby 'm almost there. Gonna be a good boy and cum for mommy?" He nodded eagerly and a smirk played on your lips. "Yeah atta boy, can see how deep you are—holy fuck." You looked down at the noticeable bulge in your stomach that he was giving you.

"Matt I'm gonna cum, cum in me yeah?" That was all you, and Matt needed before you both finished together. You kept riding him through both of your orgasms as a white ring formed at the base of his cock. You took your fingers out of his mouth. "Take this fucking bandana off and get the belt off of my wrists, wanna bend you over my desk again." He said, and you gladly started taking off the bandana.

A/N: star divider is by @mattscoquette I believe. I need to actually start writing the plot for this au LMAO.

TAGS:

@sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-manslut19 @sturniolosluttt @mattsfavbitchhh @livy4swift @pip4444chris @christophersturnn @ariastur9z @sturniolosarethebest @r0set0y @chrislilcumslvt @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @emely9274 @liiixsturniolos @ifwdominicfike @mattybsgroupie @bubblegumyumm @izzylovesmatt @lezleeferguson-120 @sturns-mermaid @pixie-sticks-are-good @cvnts4demi @joanakaulitz

[t-a-a-1]

WAIT OK SO IK IT WAS ANGSTY BUT IMAGINE THE COMEDY. OPTIMUS WOULD PROBABLY BE IN AWE OF READER FOR THE PREGNANCY.

Things that humans have evolved and adapted to would fascinate and terrify this poor bot. He’d be so confused and concerned.

Optimus: The baby grows inside of you…where, exactly?

Reader: My uterus. It’s made to stretch and expand to accommodate the baby. When they’re born though, there’s going to be a wound inside that’s about the side of a plate.

Optimus:….wound…?

Or like an epidural! What you mentioned before.

Optimus: Will there be pain?

Reader; oh, definitely. But there’s this medicine that they can inject into my spine to make sure I don’t feel the pain. I’ll feel the pressure though.

Optimus: t-they inject medicine? Into your spine? How big is the needle?

Reader: Probably the length of your finger. It’ll have to stay there the entire time I’m in labor though.

Optimus: **FAINTS**

LIKE??? Optimus is just learning all of this and his human, the love of his entire existence, is like “yea I’m scared because of the alien hybrid thing. But humans have been doing this since they came into existence.”

Primus help him if he finds out that reader can develop chronic conditions after the birth. Like reader becoming Allergic to their own skin or developing an autoimmune disease. (It does happen!)

Optimus: y-your body can just turn against you? Because of this?

Reader: Yea, it happens. It’s more common than people think.

Optimus:….i need to speak to Ratchet….

He’s so concerned but also so amazed that humanity has survived as long as they have. This sounds like an evolutionary nightmare for him. Poor Ratchet is going to be hearing about this.

Optimus: After the sparkling is born. Their brain can just…stop working, Ratchet. Their immune system can just turn and attack itself. They will have a wound the size of my hand inside them, ratchet! And this planet expects them to only have 8 weeks to rest! What the fuck is humanity??? How have they survived this long??

Ratchet: ….please go recharge, Prime.

Optimus would probably look at birth-procedure videos and would totally faint.

Not only that but I think Optimus would be EXTRA EXTRA cautious about everything.

Then, he would ask Ratchet if there's less painful ways for you to give birth.

And Ratchet jokingly says: "Well, next time, what if you get sparked instead?

Optimus: .... hold up.

I have the head-canon that getting sparked is at random. First its you (the sparkling having more human-like-features) and then its Optimus (sparkling having more cybertronian features) BUT the comedy aspects starts when the one who's not preggos is the one who gets all the symptoms.

Like if you are the pregnant one then Optimus would be the one to have back pains, throwing up, feeling nauseous, cravings and even get emotional.

Optimus: Look at me, I let myself go ... I've become bigger.

You: You are fine OP. It's me who's gonna get bigger once the baby starts to grow inside of me.

Optimus: That's what everyone says but when you least expect it, you'll leave me for a new-model bot.

You: ... What?

OP: Don't say you won't, I see the way you look at new cars.

I see Optimus being the one to take classes for first time parents and even start writing a book: 'The Journey of The First Cybertronian-Human Sparkling: A Guide For Interspecies Parents."

If he is the one carrying the Sparkling then you get all the symptoms. Although he feels bad for you, he is assured you at least won't have to deal with the complications of childbirth. For your safety, he very much prefers to be sparked up by you<3

Thanks for the ask anon!

[studiogrimm810]

Baby

pairings/characters: (pining)dean winchester x impala!reader, sam is also there

summary: when a novice witch doesn't know what spell she's casting, she accidently awakens life in an inanimate object

warnings: none really, this one is just super silly imo

word count: 2,778

A/N: this is a request!!! and if i'm being so honest, this was kinda difficult to write lolol,, i'm such a stickler for lore accuracy and just explanations but some things were left to be unexplained. i just decided to take that pressure off and just have fun w this one. enjoy!! heheh

———————

Dean chased the young witch through the rows of books that decorated the campus library. He skidded around a corner that she swiftly slipped past and bumped into a shelf, knocking over dozens of books in the process, but he didn’t halt. He pushed harder, letting his feet stomp the outdated carpet as he crawled closer and closer.

Sam, close behind Dean, kept the same speed but with a slithering stealth as to avoid the clumsy piles of books left in his brother's trail.

The brothers were almost on her, ready to tackle and question. They were drawn to the college campus after seeing articles and news coverage of strange happenings at the university, they had come to find a novice witch who hadn’t intended on hurting people. So, when Sam and Dean cornered her on the top floor, scouring through the archives of textbooks for anything religious or cultist, and confronted her- she ran.

Here she was again, pounding helplessly against a set of locked glass doors.

“Stop running,” Dean pants, “we just wanna talk,” he tried to coax her to stay but it didn’t work. She fumbled with something in her pocket and threw out a puff of dust at the door with a trail of words. The metal lining of the doors melted and glass shattered, settling into the floor in a prickly goo. She obviously wasn’t expecting that, but she used the opportunity to dart. “Fuck,” Dean hissed, sprinting after her.

She was headed to her vehicle, a simple hatchback with one too many stickers on it, and hopped in. Dean, ever so ready for a car chase, whipped out his keys and instructed Sam to get in as quickly as possible.

The witch pulled up a book and out another jumble of herbs, chanting something incoherent.

Just as Dean opened the door to Baby and dipped in, Sam in sync, he instead bypassed the seat entirely and landed on the stiff concrete with a groan.

Tires skidded and the witch was gone.

Dean looked around him, no steering wheel, no leather seats, no car. Only the keys remained in his hands, but the Impala vanished.

“That bitch!” Dean was seeing red, seething as he jumped to his feet and paced, scanning the parking lot for any desperate hint of his Baby. “When I get my hands on-.”

“Dean-,” Sam stated cautiously, trying to get his brother’s attention.

“It ain’t gonna be kind, I’m-.”

“Dean!” Sam barked and Dean spun around to face him.

“What!?” Dean thundered, riddled with rage. Sam looked over at the bundle of items on the cement. There were a few duffles, a splay of weapons, a few books- all items that Dean knew were homed in the trunk of his precious Baby. But, under the emergency blanket they leave in the back seat, was you.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean booms with clenched fists. Your eyes are wide and observant, looking over his tense form. The blanket over you slips, his rage haltered with confusion as his eyes dart to the slipped cloth and he realizes you’re naked.

“D’ya mind?” You grimace in annoyance, holding the blanket over you the best you can.

“Shit, right,” he spins on his heels, looking right at Sam, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ in which he gets a confused shrug in return.

You stumble up to your feet with a heavy sigh, hugging the blanket around your chest like a towel. You brush back your messy hair which is as ruffled and tangled as you feel in this worn blanket.

“Fuckin’ hate witches,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket that’s hugged tight over you breasts and when Dean turns back to you, he has to forcefully advert his gaze.

“Who are you?” Dean repeats his question, a little less forcefully this time.

“Baby,” you shake your head with a small tilt that Dean almost matches. The tone of which you say makes it sound like you’re worried about his confusion.

“Baby, your name is Baby?” Dean scoffs, not believing a word.

“Well yeah, you gave it to me,” you hook a hand on your hip and cock your head, waiting impatiently for him to catch up. Dean's face falls, twisting in confusion and turning back to look at Sam who is just as confused.

“C’mon, Winchester, I know you’re not this slow,” you pinch your nose, sighing and dropping your hand by your hip, keeping the other hooked on the edges of the blanket.

“How do you know my name?” Dean asks, stepping closer, his brow furrowed.

“I’ve been owned by a Winchester for the past forty-some years,” you say as if it’s common sense. You look back and forth between the brothers, annoyed with how dense they’re being. “Jesus, take your time,” you roll your eyes and go over to one of the duffles, bending down to shuffle through the bag. The blanket hugs your ass, the gentle fabric lining your curves and kissing your dips. Dean’s eyes linger and he forgets the issue at hand.

You pull out one of Dean's flannels, dropping the blanket to your hips and slinging the flannel over your shoulders. Dean swallows thickly and gawks at your smooth skin, noticing a strange birthmark on your shoulder. It resembles the chicken scratched initials that Sam and Dean carved into the Impala all those years ago.

What the fuck?

“Wait so-, you’re telling me that you’re the Impala?” Deans brow raises. You dip back down to retrieve a pair of boxers- making sure they’re clean- and slipping them up your legs, discarding the blanket fully. As you turn to face the boys, they take notice of the many marks on your body, all the tone of a birthmark, but lined on your skin like tattoos. The Devil’s Trap that was painted on the inside of the trunk spanned your entire thigh, and other wardings and markings litter your forearms.

“Good boy! You did it,” you praise sarcastically, dropping the feigned excitement instantly. Dean ignores the effect your words have on him. Sam is speechless and Dean honestly feels a little put in his place. You look back between them, awaiting a response.

“You guys should really get your shit back to the motel or something. Someone sees this and they’re gonna have some questions. Sorry I can’t hold it anymore,” you look back at the pile of items on the pavement. You look back at the boys to find them still dumbfounded with dropped jaws and words caught in their throats.

“Seriously, you two need to catch up if you wanna get me fixed. This skin feels weird,” you shudder dramatically, folding your arms over your chest.

“So,” Dean clears his throat, losing his confidence when your expectant eyes burn into his own. “You’re-.”

“Getting impatient,” you nod, walking past them both to the closest car- a Jeep- and popping the lock to get in and hotwire it. Quickly, you get it roaring to life and bring it over to the boys, putting her in park and hopping out. The loose flannel barely hugs your torso and you have just enough buttoned to cover the more sensitive parts of your chest, but Dean’s eyes still linger on the soft flesh exposed by his flannel.

“You guys gonna get to it?” You ask, gesturing to the pile of their items. They oblige mindlessly, collecting their items that used to be housed by the Impala- you, they suppose. They’re still so confused by the whole ordeal and they just follow the order and pile into the stolen car. You round the front and get in the passenger seat, expecting Dean to drive.

The ride back is tense. You’re sat in the front seat, letting your fingers trace the modern interior of the car.

“What is this? Just plastic?” You ask, glancing over at Dean who has to keep his eyes on the road in fear that if he even catches too much of you in his peripheral vision that he’ll crash the car out of negligence.

“Yeah,” Dean says, clearing his throat. His hands grip the wheel and his foot presses a little harder into the gas.

“Don’t give her so much love, Dean, I’ll start to get jealous,” you tease with a soft nudge. You turn back to face Sam. “Comfy back there?”

“Fine,” Sam nods curtly, eyes glazing over your form. “What, um, what was it like? How is this even possible?”

You adjust in your position, resting against the chair and thinking of a way to word it. Then you remember.

“Y’know when Gabriel put you guys in that ‘Night Rider’ illusion? That was pretty accurate, Sam. I just can’t talk or think too much. I just know. But, when I was given this body, I came equipped with language, thoughts, and conscious recollection of my lifespan,” you explain proudly, sitting up a bit straighter with a smile.

Their silence causes your smile to falter. You nibble at your lip and turn back around.

“You’re upset,” you note to neither brother in particular.

“No, no, we’re just confused. We’ve never- this just doesn’t really make any sense,” Sam rationalizes because of course he does. He’s always the practical one, trying to give everything a cause for its effect.

“Yeah, listen, sweetheart. To us, the Impala has been a car. Our home on wheels. We’ve just never given it a second thought to it being you,” Dean offers, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable or unwelcome. The boys couldn’t describe it, but they felt a connection with you, one of which made the reality of your situation settle with them semi-rationally.

You don’t have a response to give, so instead you just look out the window and watch the trees pass- wondering who they could become too.

———

The motel is as rundown and dull as you expected, but it was still the first room you’ve gotten to explore yourself so you aren’t complaining.

You look along the peeling wallpaper, different patterns and colors lining the odd textured wrap. There’s a painting of a field of flowers with a windmill, it’s pretty, but sunbleached you’d assume due to lack of color.

The brothers are whispering something between each other, but you can’t really make it out.

Dean goes to grab a beer, popping the cap and getting your attention. You tilt your head and walk over. Dean has taken a swig but you reach up to grab it from his lips.

“The fuck?” he gurgles through a gulp of beer. You take a swig and cringe.

“Yuck, with how often you two drink these, I really had higher hopes,” you shake your head, handing the bottle back. Dean watches you with a raised brow as you walk back over to look around the room more.

“So you’ve never-,” Dean starts but he realizes he doesn’t even know what his question was.

“If it’s not something a car does, then it’s not in my history,” you interrupt, looking over the books on Dean’s bed, selecting John’s journal.

“But you know us?” Sam contributes.

“Yes,” you say without looking up from the journal.

“How?” Dean barks exasperated.

“How do you know how to breathe?” You combat, looking up at him with a stoic face but rolling your eyes in annoyance before looking back down at the journal.

Dean can’t help but watch as your eyes scan over the page. Your hair feathers around your face and the contrast of your skin to your hair makes you almost sparkle. Your attitude is like a cherry on top of this melted sundae.

“John and Mary-,” you let the names roll off of your tongue, “It’s unfortunate I won’t get to meet them,” you say, flipping through the pages, “I suppose you two will do,” you joke with a smirk.

Dean's own smile works against his initial dread for the situation, enjoying your snark.

“You ain’t missing much,” Dean shrugs, taking a swig of his now sticky beer. He can’t tear his eyes off of you, the way your lips silently move as you read and when your gaze hardens at certain points of the text.

You tilt your head and move the book to look down at the birthmark on your thigh. You trace the skin thoughtfully.

“Keeps demons out,” Dean fills in.

“Yeah, I know,” you blurt, not as a remark but just a statement. “I bet it won’t work like your tattoo- oh! Tattoo’s, I want some,” you snap your head up from the book and Dean's eyes widen in amusement.

“Tattoo’s,” Dean echos with a smirk, “really? You’re a human now and that’s the first thing you wanna do?”

“You offerin’ sex?” You ask with feigned seriousness. He chokes on another gush from the beer, sitting up and tripping over his words. You cackle having earned the exact reaction you baited for. Sam also chucked at Dean's fluster, not used to seeing his brother so put in his place.

“N-no, that’s not… I don’t even, like- you don't-,” he trips over his words, setting his beer down and trying to find a casual way to situate his hands.

“Calm down, De, or else you’ll make me believe you’re actually considering it,” you wink, setting down the journal and stretching. “Now that tattoo?”

“I mean-,” Dean shrugs, looking over at Sam who is as careless about the request as Dean is. “It’s your body now, may as well have fun while you have it,” Dean clears his throat, rubbing his hands together after successfully landing on that as the casual placement.

“Hell yes!” You cheer in victory.

———

After finding more suitable clothing for you, the brothers usher you to a nearby tattoo parlor. They wanted to find a reason to tell you no just because of how odd this whole situation seemed but they couldn’t say no to you.

The walls are lined with reference art, some good and some great. All different colors and styles. The kind woman behind the desk greets the trio casually and not overly happy like you’d expect a usual receptionist to be.

“Dean, show her,” you instruct, glancing back at Dean, wanting him to show her his tattoo. The woman looks expectant at Dean in a way that makes him feel a little small- almost like she’s matching your light agitation and subconsciously taking your side with little to no prior knowledge of the situation.

Woman power! You think with a stifled giggle.

Dean rolls his eyes but that’s all that’s defiant about him as he unbuttons his flannel- a different one from earlier because you’ve refused to give his back, but Dean wasn’t complaining about the way it hugged your waist since you’ve tied the loose pieces into a knot on your stomach- and showed the woman his tattoo.

“Sick, and where do you want it?” The woman nods in approval and looks back at you. You think for a moment but point at the center of your sternum, right beneath your tits. “Got it, let’s get you some paperwork and I’ll start a sketch.”

You haven’t stopped talking Dean's ear off as you half-ass your clipboard of paperwork. You point out different works on the wall and tell him where you’ll put it on your body next. He has to force out the mental image of the one you say you want on your ass.

“Miss Winchester?” Your adopted name is called by the receptionist from earlier.

You handle the pain like a champ and Dean makes a joke of how many car crashes you’ve survived- the artist doesn’t get the joke but you snort.

Sam offers to go out and get some food for the trio and you insist Dean stay with you. The placement of your tattoo leaves your chest exposed and as flustered Dean gets at first, you're honestly a little impressed with how well he keeps himself together.

The artist doesn’t talk much outside of small contributions to yours and Deans conversation. She doesn’t seem to mind too much though.

Sam makes it back with the food and the artist leaves you to have a break from the intense blackwork she’s doing on such a sensitive spot.

Conversation doesn’t stop and Dean has to take a moment to fully admire how well you fit with them, like a missing handlebar they never knew they lacked.

Dean starts to wonder just how bad it would be losing the Impala if it meant keeping you.

The way you light up at a joke Sam tells proves that Dean will be just fine with one of the other rust buckets on Bobby’s lot.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

>tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere

[loveesiren]

𝖢𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖯𝗍. 3)

Choi Seunghyun x f!reader x Kwon Jiyong | Masterlist

a/n: This part is longggg, but here's part three! I hope you guys enjoy. I feel like I'm moving past this hump and can finally get into the fucking terrible shit I have planned lol.

synopsis: Y/n and Seunghyun are finally official. But Jiyong begins to struggle with his true emotions between his best friend and his best friends girlfriend

warnings: angst, language, mentions of sex

wc: 5k+

You’d barely seen Jiyong over the last few days. If he was in the building, he was everywhere except where you were. You were grateful for that—grateful that you didn’t have to sit through another one of his cold stares or the snide remarks he loved to throw your way. It was easier this way.

Seunghyun, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Every chance he got, he was near you, talking to you, looking for an excuse to keep you company. He asked to see your sketches, offered to help with anything you needed, even brought you coffee without you asking.

“Aren’t I technically the one who works for you?” you mused, a small smile tugging at your lips as he handed you the cup.

He grinned, settling down beside you. “You’re our stylist, Y/n, not our assistant. You have one of the most important jobs here.”

“Is that so?” You arched a brow, amused by his enthusiasm.

“Yeah. I mean, without you, I’d be going out on stage like this.” He leaned back, motioning to his current outfit—gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, a well-worn Pink Floyd t-shirt hugging his frame. His hair was still damp from a recent shower, slightly tousled, and the scent of his cologne lingered in the air between you.

You bit your lip, eyes dragging over him before you could stop yourself. You liked him like this—casual, comfortable, completely unbothered.

“Miss Y/l/n,” Seunghyun smirked, his voice teasing. “Are you checking me out?”

Your cheeks burned instantly. “I-uh…” You scrambled for a response, but nothing came.

He laughed, leaning in just slightly. “I’m just teasing you.” A beat passed before he added, voice softer, “But I wouldn’t mind if you were.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through your chest, and you found yourself laughing with him.

A sharp knock at the studio door interrupted the moment.

“Yo, lovebirds.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of Jiyong’s voice. His tone was laced with something unreadable, but his expression gave nothing away as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The moment your eyes met his, your smile faltered.

“Sorry to break it up, but YG’s looking for you,” he said, directing his words at Seunghyun.

Seunghyun let out a dramatic sigh but stood without hesitation. “Wait for me? So I can walk you to your car?”

You nodded, offering a small smile. He returned it before jogging out of the room.

Jiyong, however, didn’t move. He lingered, eyes scanning over you with something close to scrutiny. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Seems like things are going well,” he said, voice dripping with something sharp.

You swallowed. “Uhm, yeah… Thank you. For not telling him, I mean.”

Jiyong sighed, finally pushing himself off the doorframe and sauntering into the room. He flopped onto the couch behind you, stretching out like he had nowhere better to be.

“Yeah, well…” He exhaled, running his fingers over the rings on his hand. “You’re not worth losing my best friend over.”

The words stung more than you wanted to admit. But they weren’t untrue. Seunghyun didn’t deserve to get caught in the crossfire of whatever dysfunctional thing you and Jiyong had once been.

“He’s gonna ask you out again, by the way,” Jiyong muttered, his fingers fidgeting with the silver bands. “He doesn’t shut up about you.”

Your lips twitched slightly, despite yourself.

Jiyong saw the expression you tried to hide and rolled his eyes. He hated you. At least, that’s what he told himself. The two of you always had problems, always found a reason to fight. It had been that way for years.

But lately… something was different.

Ever since that last night you spent tangled in your sheets, your nails dragging down his back as you moaned his name. Ever since you looked him in the eyes and told him you were done.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

Normally, he’d start a fight. He’d push your buttons, get under your skin, rile you up until you were breathless with frustration. Because he knew the more he pissed you off, the needier you’d get for him. It was a cycle. A toxic, fucked-up cycle.

But now? What was the point?

He could be cruel, sure. Tell everyone the truth. But where would that leave him? You weren’t his to take his frustration out on anymore. He’d handed you to Seunghyun on a silver fucking platter.

And for the first time, he felt hollow.

The door creaked open again. “Wow, the two of you in the same room without screaming? Are pigs flying?”

Seunghyun’s voice was light, teasing, but Jiyong stood immediately, forcing out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I just finished yelling at her about the stupid outfit she’s designing for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I like the outfit you’re designing for him,” Seunghyun said, smiling down at you as he approached.

You met his gaze, something apologetic in your expression. Every time the two of them were in the same room, your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of your secret pressing against your ribs.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Seunghyun asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You blinked, then nodded. “Yeah! Of course.” Quickly, you shut your sketchbook, stuffing it into your bag.

Seunghyun held out his hand, and you hesitated only for a second before lacing your fingers with his. His palm was warm against yours. The two of you walked in comfortable silence through the building, the cool night air greeting you as you stepped outside.

When you reached your car, Seunghyun moved ahead, opening the door for you. His fingers lingered against the edge of the window frame as he leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his arms. His eyes traced over your face, soft and admiring.

“Would you like to go out with me again?” His voice was steady, more confident this time.

You smiled wide. “I’d like that.”

His lips curled into a grin. “You free Saturday?”

“As long as I finish up these sketches.”

“Well, get to sketching then. I’ll pick you up around eleven.”

“A.M.? Where are you taking me?” you giggled.

“Somewhere special.” He winked. “Drive safe.”

Before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, just as quickly, he backed away, smiling as he watched you drive off.

From across the parking lot, Jiyong watched, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. He exhaled a slow breath of smoke, making his way over to Seunghyun.

“What’d she say?” He tried to sound casually curious, not completely jealous.

“She said yes.” Seunghyun’s eyes remained locked on your disappearing car, his voice filled with something close to wonder. “Come on, let’s go celebrate.” He clapped Jiyong’s shoulder.

Jiyong scoffed, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “We’re celebrating you asking a girl out on a date?”

“Not just any girl, Ji. Y/n!” Seunghyun’s smile was soft. “I’ve been into her for years. Just never had the confidence to ask her out until now.”

Jiyong knew that. He had always known. The first time he had you, he’d felt sick about it—knowing how much Seunghyun admired you.

But that night, when you had screamed his name like he was the only thing that mattered—he had started to understand why his best friend was so into you.

Jiyong exhaled, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “First round’s on me, then.”

And with that, he slung an arm over his best friend’s shoulder, heading toward the bar—swallowing his jealousy like another shot of whiskey.

-

Once again, you tore clothes from the hangers, trying them on and discarding them just as quickly. Frustration bubbled inside you—how were you supposed to pick the perfect outfit when Seunghyun refused to tell you where he was taking you?

You had texted him the night before, practically pleading for a hint. All he had given you was cute and casual. As if that didn’t encompass a million different possibilities.

With a sigh, you finally settled on a black skirt and tights, a gray sweater, and chunky black heels. You grabbed your red Prada bag and made your way to the mirror to assess your look. Casual—but not too casual. A balance between effortless and put-together. You could blend in just about anywhere.

After styling your hair into loose curls and adorning yourself with delicate silver jewelry, your phone vibrated. A hopeful smile tugged at your lips as you reached for it, expecting a message from Seunghyun. But the moment you saw the sender, your heart sank.

YG: GD and Taeyang need their hair done by Monday for an interview.

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes. There was little you wanted to do less than spend time with Jiyong. But work was work. Tamping down your irritation, you typed a quick response: I’m out of town today, but I can squeeze them in tomorrow.

Before you could dwell on it, the doorbell rang.

Excitement replaced disappointment as you rushed to answer it, a warm flutter in your chest. Swinging the door open, you found Seunghyun standing there, his signature smile in place, holding yet another flower—this time, a pink lily.

“Hi,” you greeted, your voice tinged with a shy warmth as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Hi.” His deep voice was soft, affectionate.

You took the lily from his hand, bringing it to your nose to inhale its delicate scent. He always did this—always brought you something new. A small, thoughtful gesture that never failed to make your heart stutter.

“Is this okay?” you asked, motioning to your outfit, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

His dark eyes swept over you, appreciation flickering across his features before he met your eyes again. “You look perfect,” he murmured. The sincerity in his voice made your breath hitch.

Your lips curled into a smile. “One sec!” You darted to the kitchen, carefully placing the lily in the vase where the growing collection of flowers sat on your counter. The sight of them, a soft blend of colors and petals, made your chest tighten with something unfamiliar yet undeniably warm.

Returning to the door, you slipped your hand into his as he offered it to you, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt both natural and reassuring. He led you to the sleek black car waiting at the curb.

Ever the gentleman, Seunghyun opened the door for you, helping you inside before circling around to slide in beside you before he told the driver where to go.

“Royal treatment today?” you teased, raising a playful brow.

He chuckled, reaching for the bottle of wine nestled in ice between you. “Can’t drink and drive,” he said, pouring you a glass. The deep red liquid shimmered under the soft interior lights as he handed it to you. “Wine?”

You accepted with a grin, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. The rich, velvety taste lingered on your tongue, unfamiliar yet decadent.

You hadn’t experienced such a luxury in a long time. Sure, Jiyong had the same access to these things, but never once were you worth it to him. You were there when he needed to take his frustrations out, that was it. Never worth a date.

You pushed thoughts of Jiyong aside, unwilling to let him taint the moment.

“So,” you said, tilting your head with curiosity, “are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

Seunghyun laughed, shaking his head. “Patience isn’t your strong suit, is it, Y/n?”

“Nah, not really,” you admitted with a smirk.

“Well,” he began, swirling the wine in his glass, “I’m taking you to an art museum. A new one that just opened a few months ago. I haven’t had the chance to go yet, and I figured it’d be more exciting with the company of a pretty woman.”

Your heart fluttered. He remembered. He had noticed the vibrant artwork that adorned your walls, had paid attention when you talked about your love for design. Art was always something the two of you could connect over.

“That sounds perfect,” you said, voice softer now.

“Good,” he replied, his lips curving into a pleased smile. “And, if you’re not too sick of me by the end of the day, I made dinner reservations.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you.

It had been so long since someone had treated you like this—with patience, with intention, with genuine care.

Seunghyun made your heart feel something you hadn’t in a long time. Safe.

Excited for the day ahead, you clinked your glass against his once more. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer than necessary before he chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that.”

-

Seunghyun’s hand was warm in yours as the two of you wandered through the museum, the rhythmic click of your heels against the polished floor the only sound between murmured conversations and the soft classical music playing overhead. Every so often, his fingers would graze your shoulder, a light, fleeting touch on the small of your back as you both stopped in front of different paintings, soaking in the stories they told.

You could feel his gaze on you, more often than on the art, but you pretended not to notice.

“I think this one is my favorite,” Seunghyun said finally, his voice carrying a quiet reverence.

You turned to see him standing before an oil painting of a woman seated on the edge of an ocean cliff, the sea stretching endlessly before her. The wind played through her hair, her eyes closed, her lips curved in an effortless, serene smile. There was something ethereal about her—like she existed in a moment of pure, untainted happiness.

You swallowed. You wondered if you would ever feel that free.

“Why this one?” you asked softly.

He tilted his head, studying the piece a moment longer before answering. “Reminds me of you.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you turned to him. “It does?”

“Yeah.” He glanced down at you, the corner of his lips tugging into a small smile. “Beautiful. Carefree. Innocent.”

Your stomach twisted, and before you could stop yourself, you bit your lip. Innocent. If only he knew.

“I’m not that innocent, Seunghyun…” you murmured, eyes dropping to the floor.

He turned to fully face you, his presence grounding. “We’ve all made mistakes in the past. That doesn’t take away from who you are now.” His voice was steady, assured, as if there was no room for debate.

You hesitated before looking up at him. His eyes, dark and unwavering behind his glasses, searched yours. And yet, you couldn't hold his gaze for long. Your heart pounded at the unspoken truths pressing against your ribs—the weight of Jiyong, the memories of tangled sheets and burning touches, of moans swallowed by hungry lips. And here you were now, standing beside his best friend, holding his hand like you weren’t carrying secrets that could ruin everything.

“I-I’m scared that if you knew about my past,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper, “you wouldn’t like me anymore. Not even as a friend.”

Seunghyun exhaled, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I have a past too, Y/n.” His voice softened. “Nothing could make me not like you.”

You searched his face for any hint of hesitation, but there was none. Only sincerity. Only warmth.

Swallowing thickly, you forced a smile. You weren’t ready to tell him everything—not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Come on,” he said, giving your hand another squeeze before pulling you toward the next room.

You let yourself follow him, forcing away the gnawing guilt in your stomach.

-

By the time you reached the last exhibit, your stomach growled loud enough to make Seunghyun chuckle.

“So,” he teased, turning to you with a smirk, “are you sick of me yet?”

“Never.” You smiled, meaning it.

“Good,” he grinned, slipping his arm around your waist as he guided you toward the exit. “Because I’m starving. Let’s go to dinner.”

You were still laughing when the car pulled up to the restaurant, but as soon as you saw where he had brought you, your breath caught in your throat.

Jungsik.

Your lips parted in disbelief. The elegant gold-lettered sign gleamed under the city lights. It was one of the most luxurious restaurants in Seoul—where only the elite dined, where reservations were booked months in advance, where the price of a single meal could make your rent look laughable.

“Seunghyun…” you started, turning to him. “We can’t eat here.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

“This place is so expensive and I—I’m underdressed.” You gestured to your casual sweater and boot-like heels, suddenly feeling out of place.

He shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “You look beautiful.” His voice left no room for argument. “And don’t worry about the money. Order whatever you want.”

You exhaled, reluctantly following him inside, but the moment you stepped through the doors, the discomfort settled deep in your bones.

The hosts immediately recognized Seunghyun, their professional composure faltering as excitement flickered in their eyes. Still, they kept their voices steady, ushering you toward a private room. But the way their gazes flickered to you, the subtle downturn of their lips, didn’t go unnoticed.

You knew that look.

It was the same look people always gave when they saw a woman with a man like him. A silent judgment, a question they didn’t dare to voice.

What is she doing with him?

Seunghyun, seemingly oblivious, held your hand firmly as you entered the intimate dining space. He pulled out your chair for you, his touch lingering as you sat down.

“This is really nice,” you admitted, looking around at the dimly lit room, the perfectly set table, the candlelight flickering between you. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “I really like you, Y/n…” He hesitated, rubbing his palms together. “And I kind of wanted to ask you something.”

Your heartbeat stuttered.

You glanced up at him, his expression unusually nervous. It was…endearing. Seunghyun, the man known for his confidence, for his composed demeanor, was hesitating.

“What is it?” you asked, tilting your head.

He exhaled, adjusting his glasses before finally meeting your gaze.

“I was kind of hoping that we could be… exclusive.” His lips pressed together as he studied your reaction.

You blinked. Was he trying to ask you to be his—

“Like… in a relationship,” he clarified quickly, his voice almost sheepish.

A slow smile crept onto your lips. “Seunghyun, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I am. Sorry, I haven’t dated in a long time…”

You should have been ecstatic.

You were happy. Seunghyun was sweet, thoughtful—he treated you better than you had been treated in years. But as you opened your mouth to answer, your mind betrayed you.

Flashes of Jiyong. His hands tangled in your hair, his voice rough with need as he whispered filthy things into your ear. His lips ghosting over your skin, his grip possessive, his body pressing into yours with reckless abandon.

Your stomach twisted violently.

No. That was over. It never meant anything. It was time to move forward.

You inhaled sharply. “Yes.”

Seunghyun’s eyes widened slightly. “Yes?”

You nodded, pushing the lingering thoughts of Jiyong into the furthest corners of your mind. “I really like you too, Seunghyun.” That was the truth. The only truth you could hold onto right now.

His lips curved into the most genuine, heartwarming smile you had ever seen. He ducked his head with a nervous chuckle, and you found yourself staring, captivated by how cute he was.

And yet, despite the happiness bubbling in your chest, that gnawing feeling in your gut refused to disappear.

-

Seunghyun walked you to your front door beneath a soft glow of streetlights, the cool night air mingling with the warmth of your shared smiles. Every step felt charged with anticipation, and as you paused at the doorstep, his gentle voice broke the quiet. “Does this mean I get to kiss you goodnight?” he murmured, his tone soft.

A blush warmed your cheeks as you met his eyes. “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” you replied, your words light and teasing. The playful banter hung in the space between you like an invitation.

Taking a slow, deliberate step forward, Seunghyun’s hands moved with tender precision. His fingers brushed through your hair, delicately pushing stray strands behind your ear before cupping your cheek with a warmth that made your heart flutter. For a moment, time seemed to pause—the distant hum of the city and the gentle rustle of leaves in the night a perfect backdrop to this intimate scene.

Leaning closer, his gaze never wavering from yours, you instinctively lifted onto your tippy toes, your hands resting lightly on his broad shoulders. The distance between you shrank until his face was only inches away from yours. His lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss that felt both new and achingly familiar. In that single, suspended moment, you sensed the delicate interplay of passion and tenderness—a kiss that carried the sweetness of unspoken promises and the flutter of butterflies dancing wildly in your stomach.

As your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, every touch and every heartbeat deepened the connection between you. Slowly, reluctantly, you broke the kiss, your lips parting with a lingering sense of wonder. 

Biting your lip, you gazed up at him through long, fluttering lashes as he whispered a quiet “Woah…” His husky tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but giggle—a sound that mingled with the night’s serene melody.

Gathering your courage, you softly asked, “Do you… want to come inside? We could watch a movie or something…” The invitation was gentle yet filled with hopeful vulnerability. 

His smile widened, lighting up the dim night as he replied with playful earnestness, “Can I kiss you more?”

With a delighted giggle and a nod that spoke volumes, you fumbled for your keys. The simple click of the lock unlocking became the opening note of a new chapter, a promise of more shared moments, more whispered secrets, and more kisses waiting in the quiet sanctuary of your home.

-

The bright morning sun pierced through your eyelids, its warmth a stark contrast to the cool air still clinging to the room. You stirred uncomfortably, groaning as you turned your face away from the light. That’s when you felt it—a strong, steady arm wrapped around your waist, holding you securely. Your entire body tensed for a split second, your heart pounding as memories of past mornings with Jiyong rushed through your mind like an uninvited ghost.

But then, reality settled in, wiping away the bitter taste of regret. Last night’s events played in your head like a hazy but beautiful dream—your date with Seunghyun, the way he looked at you under the dim glow of streetlights, the soft confession that led to him asking you to be his girlfriend. The way he kissed you at your doorstep… and every kiss that followed.

A slow smile curled at your lips as you relaxed into his warmth, allowing yourself to savor the unfamiliar but welcome sensation of waking up in his arms. No guilt. No shame. No rushing to untangle yourself and sneak out of a bed that wasn’t yours to stay in. You were exactly where you wanted to be. Fully clothed, wrapped up in the arms of your boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The word settled in your chest, unfamiliar but thrilling.

Carefully, you sat up, trying not to wake him. Seunghyun’s grip loosened slightly, but he remained fast asleep, his lips parted as soft snores escaped. You couldn’t help but smile, watching him for a moment longer than necessary. He looked peaceful, and God, was he handsome—long lashes resting against his skin, dark hair a mess against the pillow. A warmth spread through your chest as you resisted the urge to reach out and trace your fingers along his jaw.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you reached for your phone on the coffee table and began scrolling through your messages. The moment of peace shattered instantly.

“Shit…” you muttered under your breath, your stomach sinking at the reminder staring back at you. Your so-called day off had just been hijacked. Jiyong and Taeyang needed their hair done before tomorrow’s interview.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

Seunghyun’s raspy voice, still thick with sleep, sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes remained closed as he reached for you, fingers grazing your wrist before wrapping around your waist to pull you back against him.

You sighed, letting yourself melt into his hold. “I forgot Jiyong and Youngbae have an interview tomorrow. I have to do their hair today.” A pout formed on your lips as you snuggled into his chest. “I just wanna lay here with you all day.”

Seunghyun let out a low hum, his lips pressing a lazy kiss against your temple. “Mmm, me too,” he whispered. “What if they just came here? Then we don’t have to get dressed, don’t have to drive to the studio… and I can make you breakfast.”

The idea was tempting. Youngbae was always easy going—you actually enjoyed spending time with him. But Jiyong… the last time he was in your house, your nails had been digging into his back as you moaned his name into the night.

Your stomach twisted at the memory.

You swallowed hard, forcing the thought away before it could drag you down into dangerous territory. “That sounds nice,” you murmured instead.

You shot off a quick text to the boys, and an hour later, there was a knock at your door. Seunghyun answered, while you stood in the living room, preparing everything you needed.

“Y/n!” Taeyang’s voice rang through the space as he entered, immediately pulling you into a warm hug. “How are you?!”

“I’m good! How are you?” you asked, laughing as he gave you a quick spin before setting you back down.

“Great! Can’t wait for you to work your magic on this mess,” he grinned, ruffling his already-disheveled hair.

Your gaze flickered past him just as Jiyong walked in, his presence filling the room with an unspoken weight. He barely acknowledged you as he plopped onto the couch, phone in hand, fingers immediately scrolling through his feed.

“Hey,” he said flatly.

You returned the greeting with the same lack of enthusiasm. “Hey.”

The exchange seemed normal enough to Seunghyun and Taeyang, but beneath the surface, the tension between you and Jiyong crackled like a live wire.

Trying to ignore the feeling gnawing at your gut, you focused on Youngbae’s hair, assessing what needed to be done. Just a little bleach, a little dye—nothing too complicated.

Seunghyun approached you, holding out a piece of crispy bacon. You glanced up at him and smiled, accepting the bite as he fed you.

“Thank you, babe.”

“Oooooh,” Taeyang drawled, grinning mischievously. “Are you guys dating now?”

Seunghyun beamed. “Yeah. I asked her last night over dinner.” He fed you another bite, his smile wide with pride. You chewed, feeling suddenly shy under the attention.

“No shit?!” Taeyang laughed. “Well, congratulations! You guys are a cute couple.”

Seunghyun leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before heading back to the kitchen, his mood light and carefree.

You swallowed, your hands suddenly clumsy as you mixed the dye. Something told you to look behind you.

Jiyong.

He sat stiffly on the couch, his phone forgotten in his lap, his jaw clenched. His leg bounced restlessly, the violent motion betraying the storm brewing inside him.

“I need a smoke,” he muttered before pushing up from the couch and making his way toward the balcony.

Seunghyun watched him go, a look of confusion flashing across his face before he followed.

Out on the porch, the air was thick with unspoken words.

“You good?” Seunghyun asked, lighting his own cigarette.

Jiyong took a long drag, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before responding. “Yeah, I’m good, man.”

“You seem tense.”

Jiyong hesitated before speaking. “It’s just… this girl.”

Seunghyun raised a brow. “Girl? I didn’t know you had a girl.”

Jiyong let out a dry chuckle. “She’s not really my girl. We just fucked.”

“Ahhh,” Seunghyun grinned. “But you like her?”

Jiyong pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening as he stared at the city skyline. He could lie. He could brush it off like he always did. But for some reason, the words didn’t come.

Seunghyun took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling before speaking. “Dude, I know you hate getting close to girls. But if she’s worth it, you gotta find a way.”

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh. “Trust me, it’s not that simple.”

“Well, you deserve a good woman. But you have to put in the effort to get her.” Seunghyun glanced through the window, smiling at the sight of you laughing with Youngbae. “It took me a while, but I finally asked Y/n out. And she said yes, man! She’s my fucking girlfriend!”

Jiyong squeezed his eyes shut. The words hit him harder than they should have. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe before turning to face Seunghyun.

“You’re right, man. Thanks. And… you and Y/n are great together. I’m happy for you.” He forced a smile, clapping a hand on Seunghyun’s shoulder. But inside, he was unraveling. Because he wasn’t happy for him.

He wasn’t happy at all.

He was supposed to hate you. But watching you now—happy, glowing, wrapped up in Seunghyun’s affection—he didn’t hate you.

He needed you.

And that realization made him want to tear the whole damn world apart.

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[quesocheeso]

"You could never be Shadow the Hedgehog" IS A WICKED LINE, especially coming from a kid who's mom is literally your hero and mentor's Shadow(the Hedgehog)! Also unlike MK, this kid isn't running around with "motherless" behavior like a HOOLIGAN LMAO. Fr tho MK do you own no other clothing? You dress in the same thing every day, even train, work, and chill in the same outfit, like a damn cartoon character. 🙄

Wonder how he'll react when he finds out MK actually comes from a loving home with two dad's. Is free noodles actually married in this au? That'd be the Icing on the fucking cake. "Motherless² ass nerd" or more jealousy bc his dad's can't get their shit together.

I feel a potential child of divorce crash out stewing. "You already have your dad's. Why are you stealing mine!? Why are you ripping them apart more! Papa doesn't love us anymore, and it's all YOUR FAULT!(because if it's not, then we're not good enough- I'm just not good enough)"

Monkey in the middle ass kid

That last paragraph really did hit me like oh god what have I done to this poor kid😭

I was gonna say they can all have complicated dads who should be in a relationship but are not, but bro those last liners? They changed my mind real quick

Yes free noodles are married and happy, MK has a happy family

Now let’s have him watch this 13 year old crash out with the impending sense of guilt that he helped that happen

(Don’t mind me as I write down that dialogue,,, anon on what crack were you when you wrote that good job fr😭😭)

Can you imagine MK trying hard to convince this crying kid that his dad definitely, full heartedly loves him, that his dads may not be together but they’re not together because they’re dumbasses who everyone can tell love each other but are too stubborn to see it

And above everything this kid, this kid who keeps curling in on himself making him look even more smaller and vulnerable, IS GOOD ENOUGH, no matter what anyone thinks, he has always been enough and his worth is not dictated whether someone loves him or not, but just him being here and alive makes him enough.

I’m crying at the club gang

Also

I’m definitely using Motherless^2 ass nerd at some point😭