#i know life happens and it sucks but let me see someone else theN?????

[blvenote]

the universe has granted me good karma thru this update \O/ and #shithitsthefan  AHHHJHHHHHHSJFJDJJFKFFJKFKFFKFKF:

• prefacing this reblog/review with the fact that i was actually awake when this dropped and i got the email notification that u tagged me akcnkdnf AND I LITERALLY READ THE ENTIRE CHAPTER IN THE EMAIL 😭💀 like i was sucked in 😭😭 so this is me, coming back day two, cracking my knuckles, lets do this

• even the summary for this chapter hurts my soul "nothing short of perfect" yes sure honey 😭 we'll see abt that

• DAISIES MEANING NEW BEGINNINGS U CAN DO IT JEONGHAN I KNOW U CAN (he, in fact, could not, and neither could yn)

• we r just going full on w the flowers in this beginning huh kdnfkdnfnf tapestry of flowers on mama's skirt okay... seokmin better be handing yn a bundle of purple hyacinths !! but to be a little more serious TT im honestly like kind of giddy w yns mama bc i just know she was getting nervous and concerned for her daughter, and im petty enough to be like SECOND MALE LEAD IS MAKING THE FIRST MOVE WHOOPDIE DO (okay i lied, i was not serious)

• "a carefully crafted arrangment" like the literal arrangment that yn and jeonghan agreed to AND the arrangments of flowers jeonghan brought i— also the little actions/details you've added in truly add to the vibe that this was rehearsed!! the subtle nods and glances, the understanding, the careful steadiness of yns demeanor — truly not how a lady feels when she's abt to be engaged

• look, mama xu is just excited to start doing the wedding planning and festivities, me too !!

• UGH what a pretty passage (´Д⊂ヽ like even tho this is rehearsed/pre-planned, they're still both wielding similar heartbreaks, and out of everything, he's still trying to make the best of it and see her AS YK,, HIS FUTURE WIFE

• sorry had to just yell again: AUTUMN LEAVES U MEAN ITS FALL??? /THE/ FALL??? AND NEXT IS WINTER... and knowing exactly what i know... man.. i hate (love) seasons as symbols

• oh :'))) and another cig moment w the swing but btwn the sibs!!!

• wow a man who isn't oblivious? ig we win these xu minghao, but i think it's at least conaiderate that he's still asking her not only after the fact but even during the moment (we will revisit this idea later 🤡)

• thats real unfair if u dont think yn or jeonghan will never love each other 😭😭 like at some point, YN AND MINGHAO IM TALKING TO BOTH OF U, feelings will develop; whether its platonic love or romantic love, the seeds have been sown. like yn and jeonghan both have common ground and mutual respect, they dont outwardly hate each other for coveting another; they have far more in common than everyone else would like to admit

• OH... the last sequence of the scene i might cry a little 😭😭 minghao urging w that ferocity and he's slightly defensive that she can stay if she wanted and he would always take care of her, but he forgets he cannot take care of her forever; and just the quiet, solemn acceptance that settles btwn them... the siblings will finally be separated... someone save me (U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAO'S QUIET "so u r to be married?" DOES TO ME 😭😭😭😭 like he's kind of losing his sister rn)

• SETTLING OVER U LIKE A THICK VEIL??? A WEDDING VEIL??? YET ANOTHER RESTRAINT???

• BUT HES A SCOUNDREL???? AYE AVAST YE LEE SEOKMIN U HAVE NO RIGHT, AS THE LADY SAYS

• jeonghan.... 😭😭😭 "as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life" someone resuscitate me 😭 if i only had this section, i might think he actually loved her goddamn it (a girl can dream.....)

• the pearl ring, i think, fits so perfectly w yns dress too, like pearls go so well w the aesthetic of the sea/ocean. and def called it that hannie had the ring made for lady choi to wear but 😭 yk,,, life happens, love is lost 😭

• LOOK, WE MATCH 😭😭😭😭😭 OH.....

• just connecting details but a turquoise dress like the sea, a pearl fit for a treasure at the bottom of the ocean, the anchor that keeps you from drifting,,, but your heart sinks nonetheless

• lady choi kinda sus like why is that smile slow and deliberate... home girl, back away from my second lead

• oh yn girlfriend 😭😭😭 U CAN JUST SKFNDKNFKF jeonghan wants to let go of the past and wants to remain steady in this present endeavor, but ur encouragement is far more give than u should be allowing in this situation skfndkfn like i get it, really, this is a whole different arrangement, BUT YN STAND UP

• I NEEDED YN TO SAY "i let him leave" RATHER THAN SHE JUST SAW HIM LEAVE LIKE I'D LOOOVE TO SEE SEOKS REACTION TO THAT

• frustration spilling over like the tide *furiously adds this to the list*

• the intensity of this next scene is crazy but i had to do a pause to say WHAT DO U MEAN THE GRAVE ERROR THAT YN HAS MADE??? LEE SEOKMIN SLOW TF DOWN

• omg the literal irony my head is in my hands 😭😭😭 THE UTTER IRONY THAT HE CALLS HER DEAR FRIEND WHEN SHE'S LITERALLY TALKING ABT HIM BEING THE MAN SHE'S IN LOVE WITH !!! i do have to say that i had a lot of satisfaction in his reaction when she admitted that she knew hannie was in love w a married woman LOL and i am such a sucker for super intense arguments/back n forths like this one like OOOOO i love the tension and the heat sm

• living for minghaos entrance, holding my breath

• OKOK BUT minghaos protective gaze like a CHAIN around yns neck, and seokmins stare as both apologetic AND RESTRAINING??? a woman's virtue is in restraint 😭😭😭😭😭

• my thoughts exactly WHAT????? HOW DARE HE HOW DARE THEY I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY, BUT FIRST, we need to revisit a prev comment abt how minghao was checking in w yn and allowing her a say in her own future: WHERE DID ALL THAT GO HUH????? like i understand that circumstances r different, but even i felt betrayed, and its like,, BOY aint nobody gonna know, THIS IS THE ARRANGEMENT; SECOND, the way seokmin says "fine, i'll marry her" not even speaking to her directly and w that ATTITUDE?? okay . we didn't want u anyway . like i felt that emotional clap of thunder like yn did i am BUZZING

• oh, so minghao thinks he's doing u a favor... eugh..... the pros and cons i suppose for a protective brother (i praised him for not being oblivious earlier, but im taking it all back!)

• i feel as empty and lost as yn rn ngl like maaaan i knew this was gonna happen but im still like,,, 😭😭 NOOOOOO 😭😭 yns back to crippling depression 💔

loved the chapter as always!! sorry there's a lot more reactions and less analysis/commentary this time around, it just got really intense and my brain is still processing that jeonghan engagement era didnt even last a CHAPTER (´Д⊂ヽ cant wait for chapter five, love u!!!

The Somerset Affair

Chapter 4: The Duke Who Loved Me

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.0k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: ok i know this is long overdue but ENJOYYYYY // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // part 5 is in the works rn!

summary: your engagement to Lord Yoon Jeonghan will be nothing short of perfect. You will make sure of it.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the my taglist here!

The morning sun filters through the grand windows of the drawing room, casting warm patches of light onto the plush carpets and fine upholstery. The air is filled with the subtle scent of bergamot from your mother’s tea and the quiet rustle of her lace fan as she sits beside you, pleasantly engaged in conversation. Minghao, reclining with a book in one hand, seems content to observe, his eyes flicking up occasionally, assessing with that quiet, perceptive gaze of his.

A servant enters, announcing with a slight bow, “Lord Yoon, for Miss Xu.”

Jeonghan steps in, exuding a refined elegance, his appearance crisp and perfectly polished. In his hands, he carries two bouquets—an artfully arranged bouquet of roses for your mother and a softer bundle of daisies for you.

“Oh, Lord Yoon!” Your mother’s face lights up with delighted surprise as he presents her with the roses. “Such beautiful flowers! You spoil us, my lord,” she coos, taking them with clear admiration.

Jeonghan turns to you next, extending the daisies with a warm, almost conspiratorial smile. “These, Miss Xu, are for you.” His gaze lingers just a moment longer than it should, his eyes holding a silent promise.

You accept them, feeling your pulse quicken despite your best efforts at composure. “Thank you, my lord. They’re lovely,” you reply, your voice steady yet soft.

The light streams through the drawing room, catching on delicate patterns in the wallpaper, illuminating the intricate tapestry of flowers on your mother’s dress. She sits forward, her face lit with excitement, as if this visit from Jeonghan is a personal victory.

Jeonghan’s bouquet fills the room with a faint scent of wildflowers, light and pleasant, yet somehow starkly out of place in this space where every gesture feels rehearsed. The daisies he offered you lie lightly in your lap, their cheerful brightness a contrast to the steady, almost unfeeling exchange that has just unfolded. His eyes meet yours for a brief, knowing second, and there’s a flicker of mutual understanding beneath the surface, an unspoken acknowledgment of what this marriage truly is—a carefully crafted arrangement, one that neither of you expects to fill with romance.

As Jeonghan addresses Minghao, his voice is calm, almost clinical. “Lord Xu Minghao, I come to you today with the hope of asking for your sister’s hand in marriage.” There is no impassioned plea, no pretense of romantic affection—only a polite tone as he lays out his intentions, as though presenting a proposition in a business deal.

Minghao’s gaze sharpens as he turns to you, his eyebrows raised slightly in silent question. He knows you better than anyone; he knows why Jeonghan’s proposal isn’t shocking, why you don’t hesitate. The room is quiet, and your mother leans forward in her seat, her excitement radiating out in delicate bursts like the sweet scent of her tea, oblivious to the subtleties of the exchange.

Clearing his throat, Minghao shifts in his seat and addresses Jeonghan with his usual calm. “Lord Yoon, I know better than to answer for my sister.”

All eyes turn to you, and the room feels suspended, like the world itself has paused to witness your response. “Yes, my lord,” you say, the words escaping your lips in a careful, measured tone. “I shall.” And there it is—final, as much a confirmation of acceptance as a concession.

Jeonghan’s faint smile returns, polite but distant, as if his mind is already on other matters. He is not the lover you dreamed of, and you are not the woman he once allowed himself to yearn for; you both know this, and perhaps that is why it works so well. The arrangement is neat, efficient, each of you choosing the practical over the sentimental, the future over desire.

Your mother, however, cannot contain her delight. “Oh, this is wonderful! A fine match indeed!” she exclaims, her fan fluttering excitedly in her hand. She glows with pride as if this alliance were a personal triumph, her dreams for you fulfilled without understanding the true weight of the moment.

The silence that follows feels heavy, like an agreement quietly sealed, and as you look down at the daisies in your lap, the cheerful white petals suddenly seem out of place in the drawing room, a reminder of a life that might have been. Jeonghan, still standing beside you, inclines his head just slightly. His glance is fleeting, but there’s something in it—a flicker of empathy, perhaps. Just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by the calm, composed mask that both of you have agreed to wear.

Jeonghan turns to you as he prepares to leave, his gaze softening ever so slightly. For a moment, the polite distance in his eyes fades, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. He takes your hand, his fingers cool but steady as he lifts it gently to his lips.

“Until next we meet,” he says, his voice low but warm, carrying a sincerity that feels entirely unfeigned. He brushes his lips softly against your knuckles, the gesture tender enough to feel both comforting and bittersweet. As he looks up, a gentle smile graces his face, one that holds neither expectation nor demand—only a quiet understanding, a rare kindness beneath the formalities.

The touch lingers even after he releases your hand, and in the hush that follows, you’re struck by the thought that perhaps, despite the arrangement you’ve agreed upon, Jeonghan will bring a certain gentleness to the role he has taken on.

As he steps back and bids your family farewell, your mother practically glows, her happiness radiating through the room like sunlight through lace. Jeonghan’s parting glance catches yours, a hint of reassurance in his gaze, as if to say he’ll uphold his part of the pact with grace, that this arrangement—though devoid of romance—will be one rooted in quiet respect.

Minghao finds you beneath the old swing, nestled among the twisting garden vines and the soft crunch of autumn leaves. You hardly hear him approach, lost in thought as you watch smoke curl from the cigarette you’d pilfered from his room yet again. Each puff you take burns slightly in your lungs, though the familiar sting feels oddly soothing tonight.

“Nicked another one, have you?” he teases as he sits down at your feet, stretching his legs out lazily on the grass. Without waiting, he holds his hand out, gesturing for you to pass the cigarette. “If this becomes a habit, I’ll have to report you to Mother. Thievery wasn’t exactly on your lesson plan.”

“Oh, hush,” you mutter, flicking a stray leaf toward him in mock annoyance. But the tension in your body gives you away, your shoulders stiff beneath his watchful gaze.

He watches you closely, his gaze quiet and discerning as he brings the cigarette to his lips. The glow of the ember casts a brief, warm light across his face, highlighting the concern in his expression. Minghao inhales, then exhales a plume of smoke that drifts around the both of you in wisps, curling lazily into the air. The scent mingles with the earthy richness of the garden, settling between you like an unspoken question.

For a moment, there’s only the soft creak of the swing and the distant hum of cicadas, the two of you wrapped in a fragile peace.

“You know,” he says at last, breaking the silence. “It isn’t too late to change your mind. Mother may be overjoyed, but I know you. You would only say yes if…” He trails off, letting the implication hang in the still air.

You scoff, but it’s softer than usual. “What are you implying?”

Minghao studies you, his gaze level and piercing, then asks plainly, “Do you love him?”

You pause, watching the glow of the cigarette dim between your fingers. “I… respect him. And he respects me.”

Minghao’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s turning your answer over, searching for the truth beneath it. “But you don’t love him,” he says softly. “Not like you love Seokmin.”

Your breath catches, and you quickly look away, the sting of his words more potent than the cigarette’s burn. The thought of Seokmin’s name hanging in the air between you is almost unbearable. “How long have you known?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“I am your brother, Y/N. I’m not blind, no matter how oblivious some of the company I keep may be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks in a wry smile, but his gaze is tender. You find a slight comfort in it, and for a moment, you feel the urge to tell him everything—to let yourself be held by the simple warmth of his understanding. But you hold back, your jaw set in a familiar, resolute line.

“Does he know?” you ask finally.

“No,” Minghao replies after a moment. “At least, I don’t think so.”

The words settle heavily between you, and the silence stretches, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint crackle of the cigarette as Minghao takes another slow drag. He hands it back to you, his fingers brushing yours in the exchange, grounding you. The faint tremor in your hands feels all too telling, but you steady yourself, forcing composure.

“You truly want to marry Yoon Jeonghan?” he asks quietly, almost like a plea. “Even though you’ll never love him?”

“Love isn’t in the cards for me,” you reply, each word measured and calm. “Besides, brother, what else would you have me do?”

His brow knits together, and he leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Stay,” he says, voice thick with urgency. “Stay here, with me and Mother.”

You let out a breath, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Please, brother. You know that would send our dear mama to an early grave. A loveless marriage is better than none at all.” You draw in a deep breath, the smoky tendrils filling your lungs. “What happens when you can no longer provide for me?”

He bristles, his voice fierce. “I’ll always provide for you.”

“I know. That’s not what I meant,” you say, your voice softening as you look at him. His expression shifts, and he nods, understanding passing between you in the quiet.

A heavy silence falls, interrupted only by the soft crackling of the cigarette as you pass it back and forth, each drag punctuating the night air with a faint, bitter tang. The smoke lingers around you, a hazy veil that cloaks the unsaid words, the hidden fears, the ache of dreams surrendered.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a mere whisper, carrying the weight of resignation. “So you are to be married.”

You nod, your fingers grazing the cigarette one last time before you extinguish it in the grass, grinding the last ember beneath your thumb. “So I am,” you say, a finality settling over the words as you both gaze into the dark, each lost in the flickering embers of what could have been.

The church’s thick stone walls seem to press in, trapping every sound, every movement, as though the weight of centuries hangs in the air. The fragrance of lilies and incense mingles into something heady, almost suffocating, filling your lungs with every breath. From the stained-glass windows, slanted bands of sunlight cut through the space, spilling ruby, sapphire, and amber hues across the dark wood of the pews. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, to project nothing but composure.

Then the cardinal’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I publish the banns of marriage between Lord Yoon Jeonghan, and Miss Xu Y/N. They are to be married in three weeks. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. ”

The words land heavy, echoing through the cathedral and settling over you like a thick veil. For a moment, it feels as though the world has been carved in two, time splintering around that proclamation.

Across the aisle, there’s a sharp intake of breath. Seokmin’s entire frame goes rigid, his back snapping straight as if he’s been struck. He turns to look at you, his movement quick and desperate, and his eyes find yours, wide with shock and something far deeper, something close to despair. His mouth opens, but no words come. You feel his gaze drilling into you, intense and searching, as though he’s willing you to look away—to give him anything but the confirmation of what’s just been read aloud.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your throat tightens with the urge to cry out, to take it all back. But you force the tremor down, and at that moment, you feel Minghao’s hand slide over yours, his steady, grounding warmth the only thing keeping you from breaking. His grip is strong, his fingers curling over yours in silent reassurance, and you clutch onto him as though he’s a lifeline.

Across the aisle, Jeonghan meets your gaze, a calm confidence emanating from his gaze, like the unwavering stone of the church itself. He offers a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent affirmation of the pact between you—a pact that is anything but romantic, but unbreakable all the same.

When the service ends, and the congregation rises, their whispers a growing swell of murmurs, Jeonghan strides toward you with that same unruffled grace, his every step measured and unhurried. But before he can reach you, Seokmin is there, his hand outstretched, his face a mask of disbelief.

Jeonghan glances at him, his eyes flicking to you, reading your expression before he steps back, giving the two of you a semblance of privacy.

“Are you marrying Yoon Jeonghan?” Seokmin’s voice is low, tight, his face a mix of anger and pleading. The words come out hoarse, as if he’s forcing them past a stone lodged in his throat.

“Yes, Seokmin,” you reply quietly, your voice controlled but aching. “The cardinal just read the banns.”

He stares, and you see him search your face, looking for any trace of the girl he once knew, perhaps hoping for a flash of hesitation that would betray you. Instead, you lift your chin, steeling yourself against the helplessness etched into his features.

“But he’s a scoundrel!” he insists, his voice thick with desperation.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, though it feels hollow. “You have much audacity to speak of scoundrels before me, my lord.” You pause, letting the words settle. “Lord Yoon is kind to me, and he has always respected me. His attention has never been out of pity, nor at the behest of another.”

A flicker of pain crosses Seokmin’s face, and he drops his gaze, your words striking a chord that silences him. His fingers flex, grasping at air as though there’s something he wishes he could say, something he wishes he could fix, but the moment has already passed. You turn, letting the silence grow between you, feeling the weight of his unspoken words fall away.

As you make your way to the back of the church, Jeonghan stands waiting, his posture relaxed, as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life. He offers you his arm, the small smile on his lips almost kind, and you accept, feeling his warmth against you as you step together into the sunlight outside.

The murmurs rise from the crowd that’s gathered, their gazes a mixture of awe and curiosity as they watch the newest couple of the season descend the church steps. The sun casts a golden glow over the stone path, illuminating the two of you as you walk together, each step echoing in the stillness. Just as you reach the final stair, Jeonghan glances over at you, his eyes softening as he reaches into his pocket.

Without a word, he holds out a handkerchief, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he passes it to you.

“You’re crying,” he says softly, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours with something that might almost be tenderness.

The dampness at the corners of your eyes betrays you. You take the handkerchief, feeling the cool linen against your fingertips as you bring it to your face, dabbing away the tears that have slipped past your defenses. A small, appreciative nod is all you manage, and Jeonghan’s hand remains extended, waiting patiently for you to accept the support he offers in silence.

You take his arm once more, and together you walk toward the waiting carriages, leaving behind the whispers, the stares, and the man you love, your steps a steady beat against the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is electric with anticipation, and you can feel the weight of every gaze in the room before you even step into the lavish ballroom. The future Viscountess of Hastings, they will say, the supposedly hopeless spinster who somehow captured the heart of one of Mayfair’s most eligible bachelors. Perhaps that's why your mother is a whirlwind of excitement, her chatter endless as she flits around the room, adjusting the last few details of your appearance while your lady's maid fusses with your hair and gown.

Your dress tonight is a ravishing turquoise, its fabric flowing like water around you, hugging your figure before cascading into a graceful skirt that swirls with every step. The neckline is artfully crafted, a delicate off-the-shoulder design that highlights your collarbones and frames your face, drawing attention to the soft curve of your neck. The fabric shimmers in the candlelight, the color reflecting hues of the deep sea, rich and vibrant, evoking the image of sunlit waves. A hint of silver thread weaves through the gown, catching the light as you move, creating an illusion of movement, as though the ocean itself were swirling around you. Your mother’s excited chatter fills the air, but you find yourself lost in your own thoughts, momentarily detached from the flurry of activity.

You catch a glimpse of the ring Jeonghan slid onto your finger during the carriage ride home, its beauty undeniable as it glistens under the soft glow of the lamps in your room. The polished rose gold band curves gently, embracing a single, lustrous pearl at its center. The pearl shines with a soft luminescence, hints of ivory and blush swirling within, exuding a quiet elegance as if it held whispers of its own secrets. It’s exquisite and understated, a piece that commands attention without being ostentatious. Jeonghan had presented it to you with little flourish, his fingers pushing the ring onto your finger as you stared out the window, deep in thought.

“Jeonghan,” you gasped, the words slipping from your lips as the reality of its beauty settled in. “It’s beautiful.”

His lips quirked at that, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth before something deeper flickered in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, fingers pulling at his too-tight cravat, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. “I had it made some years ago.”

“For—”

“Yes,” he cut you off gently, his tone firm yet soft. “For Lady Choi.”

The weight of those words hung between you, thick and heavy, silencing the room as he gazed out the window, his expression closing off. You chose not to pry, twisting the ring around your finger, feeling the coolness of the pearl against your skin as your thoughts drifted to the man you had left behind in the chapel.

“Oh, darling,” your mother’s voice pierces through the haze of your reverie, snapping you back to the present. “You look beautiful. A true viscountess.”

You hummed in agreement, your eyes drawn to your reflection in the mirror. Your ladies' maids had truly outdone themselves. The intricate braids of your hair were artfully woven together, sparkling gems and pearls interspersed throughout, echoing the beauty of your ring. The delicate tendrils framing your face were styled to perfection, soft curls cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall of silk. In the soft glow of the lamp light, your complexion looked radiant, enhanced by the glow of the pearls nestled in your hair. You twist the pearl again, adjusting it until it feels right, then straighten your back, donning the façade of a viscountess—a true leader of society. 

Jeonghan is a good man, you remind yourself, forcing a smile as you repeat the mantra. He shall be a good friend.

As the carriage rolls to a halt at the FitzWilliam estate, the sounds of the ball waft through the air, laughter and music melding into a sweet symphony that invites you into its depths. You step out, and Jeonghan is already waiting, his demeanor calm and collected as he extends an arm for you to grasp.

The main hall is alive with opulence, chandeliers casting golden light that dances off polished marble floors. The scent of rich perfumes and expensive colognes mingle in the air, thick with the promise of high society and whispered secrets. Impeccably dressed couples twirl across the dance floor, their laughter echoing like a soft refrain, while clusters of guests gather, engaged in hushed conversations punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

You take a deep breath, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember the last time you stood in this very room, the night Seokmin broke your heart. The echo of his laughter, the way he moved so effortlessly through the crowd—memories flood back, bittersweet and sharp, threatening to steal your composure.

Sensing your unease, Jeonghan nudges you gently, his presence a steadying force. “Look,” he murmurs, gesturing to his cravat, which matches the deep turquoise of your dress perfectly. “We match.”

That’s enough to elicit a light laugh from you, a sound that feels foreign and welcome at once. Jeonghan’s grin broadens, and the warmth of his gaze brings you a measure of comfort as you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

Your hopes for an uneventful night are dashed almost immediately when Seokmin catches your eye. The moment his gaze lands on you, something flickers across his face—an emotion you can’t quite place, his brows furrowing slightly before he glances down at your arm linked with Jeonghan's. His eyes trail from the vibrant turquoise of your dress, down to your arm in Jeonghan’s, and finally to the gleaming pearl ring on your finger. Then, without warning, he turns away, his shoulders tightening and a slight movement that lodges itself in your throat like a stone, heavy and uncomfortable.

Your mother, oblivious to the tension, all but shoves you and Jeonghan toward the dance floor as the next waltz begins, her voice bright with excitement as she declares, “The next bride and groom of the ton must have their moment to shine!” Jeonghan chuckles at her enthusiasm, a warm, carefree sound that dances in the air, as he gently tugs you into the throng of swirling gowns and polished shoes. The orchestra strikes up a lively quadrille, and you quickly lose yourself in the rhythm, the world narrowing down to the two of you, grinning up at Jeonghan every time you find yourselves partnered again.

In your breathless excitement, you barely notice the whispers of the ton, a familiar backdrop to your existence as they observe your every misstep with keen interest. But Seokmin’s gaze remains like a hot brand against your skin, intense and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. You feel the weight of his eyes like an anchor, and it draws your attention back to him against your will.

“Do not look at him,” Jeonghan murmurs, his voice low and steady as he twirls you beneath his arm, his grip firm yet gentle. His eyes search yours for a moment, grounding you, before he adds, “Look only at me, Y/N.”

You nod, your heart racing, and it's easy to follow his command, to lose yourself in the warmth of his smile and the way his eyes light up with every turn. Jeonghan moves gracefully, the two of you swirling together, his laughter mingling with the music. But just as quickly, his cool facade slips—he trips slightly on your flowing dress, and for a brief moment, his expression falters. His eyes dart toward the edge of the dance floor, tension radiating from his frame. When you follow his line of sight, your heart sinks.

The ever-enigmatic Lady Choi has graced the ball with her presence, and her gaze is locked on your fiancé, unwavering and knowing. When she catches Jeonghan staring, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across her lips, and she subtly nods her head toward the door. Jeonghan falters again, his brow creasing with worry as he shifts his weight, uncertain.

“You should go,” you urge gently, your voice barely above a whisper, and you lean in closer to him, the warmth of his body reassuring yet electric. He looks down at you, surprise etched across his features, his grip on your hand tightening involuntarily.

“No, I… I shouldn’t—I shan’t—” he stutters, attempting to regain his composure as he starts the next sequence of steps with an uncharacteristic bravado, but the confidence doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, your grip on his hand tightening as you lean in closer, your heart aching for him. “Go.”

“In the middle of a dance? What will the ton say about the viscount who leaves his new fiancée? What will become of you?” His concern is genuine, but it only adds to the pressure building within you, and you can see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

“It is nothing I have not handled before, my lord,” you tease lightly, a playful smile curving your lips as you step back and curtsy with a playful flourish. Jeonghan bows in return, though you can see the conflict in his eyes, and in that moment, you watch him leave you alone on the dance floor, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

Your mother gasps from the edge of the dance floor, her shock palpable, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the attention. Minghao quickly attempts to soothe her, sharing a knowing glance with you that promises support as you excuse yourself for a refreshment.

Seokmin finds you at the drink table, his expression taut and focused, as though he’s been waiting for you. “He left you,” he states, his voice low but firm, eyebrows drawing together in disapproval.

“Good evening to you as well, Lord Lee. Quite hot, isn’t it?” You reply, your tone light as you feign nonchalance, but your heart races beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“Y/N, he left you. His fiancée,” he presses, the weight of his words heavy in the air, and he leans closer, the intensity of his focus making it hard to hold his gaze.

“Yes, Seokmin, I do have fully functioning sight. I saw him leave.” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you straighten, the defiance rising within you.

“And what was so important that he had to abandon you in your first night out as a couple?” His voice sharpens, laced with an urgency that makes your heart clench.

“I do not need you to defend my honor, my lord. Nor do I need to explain my fiancé to you.” Your eyes flash, and you can feel the heat of your anger boiling beneath the surface.

With a huff, he turns away, frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw, leaving you alone at the table. You sip your lemonade, trying to ignore the murmurs that swirl around you, the familiar buzz of speculation and gossip that seems to cling to your skin like a second layer. Just then, Minghao finds you, his expression serious yet concerned.

“Walk with me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument, and you can see the protective glint in his eye.

As you begin to move through the crowd, he squeezes your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he studies your face.

“Quite, brother,” you assure him, though your heart feels heavy.

“Seokmin is quite upset. I would have been as well, had I not known what is happening between you and Lord Yoon.” His gaze softens slightly, but it’s clear he’s trying to gauge your emotions.

“Thank you for your understanding,” you reply, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“Was she here? The woman he loves?” Minghao’s question is gentle but probing, his concern evident as he meets your eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper softly, the admission tasting bitter on your tongue, and you can feel a weight settling in your chest.

“I see.” He nods slowly, processing the gravity of your words. “Are you truly alright with this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath it.

“Yes,” you affirm, though your voice shakes slightly, a part of you longing for reassurance.

“Then I shan’t bother you about it any longer. I must tend to Mother—if you need me, we shall be at the edges of the dance floor.”

“Brother?” You call after him as he turns away, the crowd shifting around you. “Thank you.”

His only response is a gentle smile before the crowd swallows him whole. The ballroom thrums with the sound of laughter and music, a whirl of colors and movements that feel distant and dreamlike. Your heart is heavy, and each beat echoes louder than the chatter around you. As you stand alone, the weight of unspoken words presses down on your shoulders like a cloak, and your thoughts swirl like the skirts of the dancers gliding across the floor.

Suddenly, Seokmin strides toward you, his figure slicing through the crowd with a sense of urgency. The moment his eyes lock onto yours, a spark ignites—a mix of anger and something deeper. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his brow furrows as he approaches, and you brace yourself for confrontation.

“Come with me,” he demands, his voice low but unmistakably firm, carrying an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from him, a force you can’t ignore.

“Seokmin, please, I truly cannot fight with you any longer on this subject—” you start, your voice trembling slightly, but he interrupts, his frustration spilling over like a tide.

“I said come with me!” He grabs your wrist, his grip tight and insistent, forcing you to follow him through the thrumming crowd. The sound of your footsteps reverberates off the marble floors, each echo punctuating the space between you and the safety of the ballroom. The laughter and music fade, replaced by the heavy thrum of your heart and the frantic rustle of your gown.

“Seokmin, you’re hurting me!” you protest, panic creeping into your voice. You feel the pressure of his fingers, warmth mingling with the discomfort. As he glances back at you, anger flickers in his eyes before it softens, just for a moment, revealing a vulnerability that pulls at your heart.

He loosens his grip, but the air between you crackles with tension, a silent battle of wills that feels palpable. “Where are we going?” you ask, concern bleeding into your tone. “My mama will worry, and Minghao, and Jeonghan—”

“Damn Jeonghan!” he snaps, his voice rising, shattering the fragile silence around you. The heat of his words lingers in the air, mixing with the coolness of the corridor.

“Seokmin!” Your cheeks flush with indignation, a mixture of anger and hurt blooming in your chest.

“I told you,” he hisses, urgency fueling his movements as he pulls you further into the shadows of the hallway. The flickering candlelight casts ghostly shadows that dance along the walls, an eerie backdrop to your escalating emotions. “I told you he’s a scoundrel. And you wouldn’t listen—”

“Enough! I will not have you sully his good name. What in God’s name are you trying to accomplish?” you fire back, desperation tinging your words. The air feels thick, heavy with unresolved feelings that twist like vines around your heart.

“Will you listen?” He halts abruptly, spinning to face you, his expression a tempest of frustration. The tension radiates between you, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he gestures toward a small window that overlooks the private gardens. “This is the man you wish to marry?”

He pushes the window open, and moonlight spills into the dim room, illuminating his features with a ghostly glow. Outside, you see Jeonghan, silhouetted against the soft glow of the moon, entangled in a passionate embrace with Lady Choi. A sickening twist of emotion churns in your stomach, a cocktail of heartbreak and unexpected relief; at least one of you gets a taste of the one they love.

“He is a SCOUNDREL,” Seokmin roars, his voice rising with indignation, the words dripping with disdain as he steps closer, his presence a whirlwind of intensity. “I shall duel him for your honor. I must tell Minghao of the grave error you have made—”

“Seokmin—” you start, your voice rising with urgency, but he interrupts again, the fervor in his tone igniting a fire within you.

“We must duel tonight, before the sun rises—”

“SEOKMIN! I knew.” The words escape you, a rush of truth that bursts forth like a dam breaking, raw and unfiltered.

“You—you knew?” His eyes widen, disbelief crashing over him like a wave, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The silence that follows is suffocating, filled only with the quickened rhythm of your breaths and the pounding of your heart. The weight of your confession hangs heavy in the air, thick as smoke.

“Yes.”

His expression contorts, shifting from shock to outrage, and you can feel the air crackling with tension. “You knew he was sinning with a married lady, no less, and you still agreed to marry him? My God, Y/N, I knew you wished to marry, but I didn’t know you would abandon all sense for that!” His hands are balled into fists at his sides, frustration radiating from him like heat from a flame.

Your chest constricts, the familiar ache of longing and sorrow spiraling within you. “Oh, you dolt, it was an arrangement! I knew he loved another, just as he knew I loved another!” You can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, the weight of your heartache spilling over into your voice, echoing off the cold walls.

A heavy silence envelops you both, every breath echoing with unspoken truths. The air feels charged, electric, as the reality of your situation sinks in.

“You love…someone?” he asks, the vulnerability in his voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

“I must go, my mama—” You attempt to break free, but he grasps your wrist again, his fingers warm yet insistent, the touch igniting a spark of something more profound within you. You can't meet his gaze, the shame of your feelings swirling with fear and longing.

“Y/N.” His voice is a soft plea, low and raw, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The way he says your name sends a shiver through you, and for a moment, you feel as though you are on the brink of something monumental.

“Please, Seokmin.” Your voice trembles, a mixture of desperation and desire, the air thick with unspoken confessions.

“Who? I shall make him pay for everything he has done to you, my dear friend—how dare he—”

“Oh for God’s sake, it’s you!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, the truth bursting forth like a firework exploding in the night sky.

You attempt to retreat, to escape the intensity of the moment, but his grip is unyielding, a tether binding you to him. With a swift motion, he yanks you back, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips crash onto yours, fierce and unrelenting. You can taste the warmth of his breath, the desperation in his touch, and it wraps around you like a cocoon. For that brief, intoxicating moment, everything else fades away—the hurt, the confusion, the chaotic world outside—leaving only the two of you.

You melt into him, the kiss a torrent of everything unspoken: the longing, the frustration, the fear of what lies ahead. It’s passionate and fierce, as if the very fabric of your souls is interwoven in that moment, a confession without words. His hands cup your face, grounding you as the world blurs around you, leaving just the warmth of his body and the desperate connection that binds you both.

He groans, muttering a curse under his breath, and it ignites something deep in the pit of your stomach. You know this is a terrible position – if anyone were to see you, your reputation, your future, your engagement would be ruined – but when his lips find your pulse point in your throat, all you can do is arch your back with a low keen. 

His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, desperate for purchase in this whirlwind of sensation. The rational part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch with a hunger you've never known before.

"Seokmin," you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips. He responds with a low growl, pressing you against the wall, his body flush against yours. The heat between you is palpable, electric, threatening to consume you both.

His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You're dizzy with desire, drunk on his touch, on the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the musk of his skin. You know you should stop this, end it before it ruins you.

But you can't bring yourself to end it. Not when his touch feels like salvation, like coming home after years of wandering lost.

"We shouldn't," you manage to whisper between kisses, your words contradicting the wayyour fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seokmin pauses, his breath hot against your neck. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice husky and strained. 

Before you can even fathom an answer, the sound of footsteps down the corridor sends your mind into a panic. You shove him off, urgently trying to right your dress. 

Seokmin stumbles back, his eyes wild and still clouded with the raw emotion of your kiss. His gaze locks onto yours, both of you caught between passion and the creeping dread of what you’ve just done. The footsteps draw nearer, each one a reminder of how close you are to ruin.

The door swings open, and Minghao strides in, his eyes narrowing the instant he takes in the sight of you both—flushed cheeks, disheveled attire, the undeniable aura of something forbidden and unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minghao’s voice is a blade, slicing through the room with cold fury.

Seokmin straightens, trying to regain his composure, but the guilt is written all over his face. You feel your heart slam against your ribcage, panic curling like smoke in your chest. But Minghao’s gaze stays sharp, unforgiving as he looks between the two of you.

“Seokmin,” he starts, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve dishonored my sister—this is unforgivable. You must either make amends or answer me on the dueling ground at dawn.”

You cast a desperate look toward Seokmin, but his face is tense, unreadable, his own turmoil barely held at bay. He takes a deep breath, then steps forward, addressing Minghao with a steady resolve you didn’t know he possessed.

“Minghao,” Seokmin says, his voice low, respectful. “Please understand. I would never wish harm or shame upon your sister. I care for her deeply—more than I can put into words.”

The air in the room thickens, dense and electric, as if even the walls are holding their breath, waiting for the decision that will shape your fate. Minghao’s stance is rigid, his eyes flashing with anger and something else—concern, maybe fear. It sends a cold wave through you, underscoring the gravity of what he’s demanding. The faint scent of candle wax mingles with the night air creeping through the open window, casting a ghostly glow across the floor.

Your heart races, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence. Your skin still hums with the memory of Seokmin’s touch, the heat of his kiss lingering on your lips like a forbidden brand. You swallow hard, the taste of that moment bittersweet, and glance toward Seokmin. His face is caught between shock and something else—determination, maybe defiance. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and his gaze flits between you and Minghao as if assessing the weight of his next words.

“Then prove it,” Minghao says, voice low and slicing through the haze that surrounds you, “or I’ll demand satisfaction for my sister’s honor.”

The word honor hangs heavy in the air, and a slow burn of anger coils in your chest. Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into the skin, grounding you against the urge to scream. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You never wanted to be caught like this, not in a moment of vulnerability twisted by the presence of an audience. Minghao’s protective stare feels like a chain around your neck, while Seokmin’s gaze—a mixture of apology and restraint—only intensifies the confusion swirling inside you.

“Brother,” you say, forcing your voice steady, though your heart feels as if it’s beating in your throat, “this is unnecessary. I am engaged to another. You know this. To demand a marriage over one moment is—”

Minghao cuts you off, shaking his head. “We both know that arrangement is nothing more than an exchange of power, not a bond of love. But this?” His eyes narrow as he looks at Seokmin, his expression hardening. “This is no mere arrangement. I won’t allow this… this recklessness to tarnish your future. Not if I can prevent it.”

His words twist around your heart, anger simmering as he speaks as though you’re not even here, as if you’re some fragile creature incapable of understanding the consequences of your own actions. You tighten your hands into fists, the fire in your chest blazing hotter, burning through your lingering shame and leaving only fury in its wake.

“Brother, this is my choice,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. You refuse to let him dictate your fate, no matter how well-intentioned he may be. “I won’t be forced into anything, not by you, and not by—”

“Fine,” Seokmin interrupts, his voice low, but the intensity behind it makes your breath hitch. His gaze shifts to Minghao, defiant yet respectful, a calm resolve settling over him that you’ve never seen before. “I’ll marry her.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, sudden and irrevocable, and the room feels smaller, suffocating in the aftermath. You gape at him, heart pounding, pulse roaring in your ears as the weight of what he’s said crashes over you.

“You’ll… what?” Your voice is little more than a whisper, confusion and anger tangling together, leaving you breathless. It’s as if the ground beneath you has tilted, your life, your future, shifting without your consent, controlled by the decisions of two men who seem to think they know what’s best for you.

Seokmin meets your gaze, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes betrays the mask of resolve he wears. But then his expression steels, his jaw set as if he’s made peace with something.

“Fine,” he repeats, his tone unwavering. “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

The finality of his words ignites a fury in you, fierce and hot. How dare they decide your fate like this, without so much as a thought for your own desires, your own choices? Your fists clench, knuckles white as you stare between them, your breaths coming short, uneven.

Minghao nods approvingly, his gaze flicking back to you, as if expecting gratitude, as if this was what you wanted all along. But you feel trapped, as though walls are closing in, boxing you into a life decided for you, a future crafted by others’ expectations.

“Is that it, then?” you ask, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you. “You two decide, and that’s that? No thought for what I might want?”

Seokmin’s gaze wavers, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But he doesn’t answer, and neither does Minghao. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, and you realize with a sharp pang that neither of them truly understands—that perhaps they never will.

The weight of their silence drives you to turn on your heel, striding down the corridor in a rush to escape. You don’t care about decorum anymore. All you want is space, a moment to process the shock, the hurt, the sheer indignity of having your future decided without so much as a word from you.

But the sound of hurried footsteps behind you keeps pace. You don’t need to look back to know who’s following.

“Wait!” Seokmin’s voice is laced with desperation, and you feel the words tug at you despite yourself. “Please, Y/N—just… please, stay. Let’s talk this out.”

You quicken your steps, but his voice drags you back, its gentle earnestness slicing through your anger like a double-edged blade. You stop, shoulders tensing as you draw in a shaky breath, trying to steel yourself against him. But when you turn around, his expression—pleading, open, raw—almost undoes you.

“Talk about what, Seokmin?” you say, voice barely concealing the tremble. “There’s nothing left to discuss. Decisions have already been made, haven’t they?”

“Not like this,” he says, his voice soft, an ache threading through his words. His hand reaches out toward you, hesitating in the space between you both. “Not without you. I’m sorry. I should have… I should have thought—”

“No,” Minghao interrupts, stepping up beside Seokmin, his jaw set and his gaze unyielding. His hand wraps firmly around your elbow, his voice edged with protective steel. “It’s done for tonight. She’s had enough. We’re going home.”

Minghao’s grip is gentle yet firm, and before you can protest, he begins to lead you down the dimly lit corridor, each step echoing louder than the last. You glance back, catching the hurt etched into Seokmin’s face, his hand outstretched as though still reaching for you. But he doesn’t follow; he stays rooted in place, watching you disappear.

The carriage ride back is filled with silence so thick you could cut it. Minghao says nothing, and you’re grateful. You can barely keep your thoughts in line, let alone handle a conversation. You close your eyes, leaning back, but the image of Seokmin’s pleading face and the desperate, furious embrace you shared lingers like an imprint on your skin.

When you arrive home, you stumble up the stairs, trying to erase the chaos of the evening, but it follows you like a ghost. You catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, and the sight stops you cold. Your hair is in complete disarray, a few strands falling loose from your intricately pinned style, and your face is flushed, cheeks streaked with faint traces of dried tears. Your chest rises and falls, still heaving from the intensity of everything that has happened.

You barely recognize yourself. The wildness in your eyes, the raw emotion painted on your face—it’s as if the person staring back at you is a stranger, a part of you that you’d never thought you’d see.

Hours pass, but sleep evades you, each tick of the clock an insistent reminder of the turmoil simmering inside. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in that dim room, tasting the fire of his kiss, feeling the weight of Minghao’s words, and wondering if you’ll ever be free from the choices that were made for you tonight.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13 @mellowamour @blissedjoon @begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld

@archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange

@uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

@spookyeomgoose @princelingperfect @tinkerbell460 @xueisaaa17

@deekaykaykay @ottersmind @sungbeam @blvenote @kyeomsworld

[thefrogdalorian]

My therapist just cancelled ANOTHER appointment with me on very short notice.... feeling an overwhelming urge to go as feral as Din Djarin in The Prisoner rn.... complete with red lights......

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[orcelito]

Ykno the suckiest thing about being broken up with for someone else is that like. Well I'm doing generally fine, all things considered, but I Am kinda sad thinking about the things I've lost and all the casual affection that I can't have now.

But she's out there having all the affection she wants from her coworker, and it's just like. Damn this feels so skewed and SO unfair.

[phagodyke]

SUDDENLY STARTED RAINING SO HARD WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

[duothelingo]

Serious post gross.

I know I have a lot of followers who are trans minors so grandpa duo wants to give some wisdom that I wish someone told me when I was a baby trans man.

You don’t have to change your name. You can keep it. It’s not a requirement.

You don’t have to have T/E to be trans.

Don’t wear your binder while doing sports. It hurts.

You don’t have to be hyper masculine or hyper feminine. Just be you.

Do not use bandages. They can cause issues.

Surgery isn’t a requirement.

Being part of the lgbtqia+ community is a new family. If yours doesn’t support you now, we do.

You don’t have to pass to be trans. You are trans anyway. You look good.

Go to a coffee shop and use your chosen name to get a feel for it. They’ll shout it.

Be proud of who you are. It’s not a weakness it’s a strength.

If it’s not safe for you to come out, I promise it will be one day. The closet sucks but it’s better than being hurt. Use that time to find other people in your situation.

Being trans isn’t glamorous. It’s tears, pain, hurt and being unsure. That’s okay.

Detransitioning is fine. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Transitioning later in life is fine. Transitioning early in life is fine.

Transitioning wont happen over night. If you take hormones, it can take up to 5 years to see big differences.

Bottom surgery isn’t a requirement.

Top surgery isn’t a requirement.

You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to.

It’s okay to be angry about not being cis.

It’s okay to mourn the person you were.

You can change your name again, you don’t have to stick with it.

Love,

Someone who was forced back into the closet at 13 and is now transitioning at nearly 26.

Please add to this if you have anything else!

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?

That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭

Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!

Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.

A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness

Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,6k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.

Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.

Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.

— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.

— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.

— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.

Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.

— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.

Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.

— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.

— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.

— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..

— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.

Penny-One simply turns to you.

— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.

You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).

Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?

At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.

Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.

Did you fall asleep?

That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.

You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.

— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.

Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.

— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.

— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.

— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…

— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.

— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.

— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.

The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.

— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.

Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.

It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.

— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.

— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.

— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.

— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.

— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?

— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…

— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.

— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.

— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.

— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.

— Then why aren't you there?

Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.

— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.

— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).

You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.

They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.

You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.

Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.

Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.

You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.

And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.

This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.

It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.

You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.

You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.

— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.

— You’re late. — Batman states.

— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.

Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.

— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.

— GET. OUT!

— But-

— OUT!

— But, (Y/N)-

— NOW! GET OUT NOW!

They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.

— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.

— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.

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@wandalfnation

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Closetgate: The Max-tastrophe | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: Max finds himself in a very tight situation—literally. Lando is summoned for an emergency extraction, Charles serenades about honor, Y/N fights for her life trying to prove that nothing happened and the boys plan Max's funeral, but hey at least they finally kissed?

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Part 4 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

Y/N never expected this to happen. One moment, she was causing chaos on Instagram with that elevator pic—harmless fun, right? But Max’s confession came out of nowhere, and now she was standing in her apartment, heart pounding.

She barely had time to process the fact that she’d just invited Max over, let alone get ready. Y/N looked down at her oversized, mismatched pajama set, which sported a giant, ridiculous “I Paused My Game to Be Here” T-shirt. Definitely not the “I’ve just confessed to liking my childhood rival” look she was going for.

She barely had time to question her life choices before there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, Max stood there, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t about to change everything. He gave her that classic smirk, but something felt different tonight—softer, more uncertain.

“Did you run here or teleport?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“I might have broken a few traffic laws,” he joked, walking in like he hadn’t just sprinted across town. He glanced around her apartment, then at her, still wearing her gaming shirt. "Nice shirt, by the way," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Verstappen. I didn’t expect you to break the sound barrier to get here.” Max chuckled, plopping down on her couch like he belonged there. "You texted, I ran. It's the natural order of things."

"You actually came," she blurted, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say. The second the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. "You told me to," Max shot back, stepping inside without missing a beat. "What, did you think I’d say no?"

"I don’t know! Maybe?" she stammered, closing the door behind him. "This whole thing is weird!" 

"Weird how?" Max turned to face her, looking genuinely confused. "Because I confessed or because you didn’t see it coming?"

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up. "Both! Max, we’ve spent most of our lives arguing over who’s funnier and which one of us sucks more. And now you’re telling me you like me? You don’t just drop that bomb and act like everything’s normal!"

Max shrugged, trying to act casual, but there was something in his eyes that made Y/N’s stomach flip. "I’m not saying it’s normal. I’m saying it’s real. We joke around because that’s us. But I like you, Y/N. I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t want to mess up what we had."

Y/N’s mind was racing. She couldn’t reconcile the Max in front of her with the one who used to relentlessly call her out on social media. “So, what? You’ve been secretly into me while roasting me all these years? And I’m just supposed to be like, ‘Yeah, cool, let’s date now?’”

Max smiled, but it wasn’t his usual cocky grin. It was softer, more vulnerable. "I get it. It sounds insane. But I’m serious. When I saw that post, Y/N… I thought you had someone else. And it hit me harder than I expected. I realized I didn’t want to just be the guy you bicker with online. I wanted more than that."

She stared at him, still processing. "So, you’re telling me this now because of one random photo?"

"It wasn’t just the photo," Max said, stepping closer. "It was the idea that I’d waited too long. That I might have missed my shot."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was getting real, fast. Y/N crossed her arms, more to protect herself from the flood of emotions than anything else. "Max… I don’t know what to say."

Max chuckled lightly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck—a nervous habit she’d noticed over the years. "You don’t have to say anything. I just couldn’t keep pretending anymore."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. There was something so raw and honest about him right now, and it was messing with her. This was Max—her partner in social media wars, her favorite person to annoy. And now, he was standing in her living room, confessing feelings that she didn’t know how to handle.

Finally, she let out a breathy laugh. "You’re really bad at timing, you know that? I was just getting used to us hating each other."

Max’s smile widened. "We never hated each other, Y/N."

"Sure felt like it sometimes," she muttered, though there was no bite behind her words. She was too busy trying to sort through the tangled mess of emotions in her head.

"Come on," he teased softly. "You know we’ve always had a thing."

"A thing?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so insulting each other in public and trolling each other on Instagram was just our way of flirting?"

Max stepped closer, and this time, there was no teasing in his voice. "For me, yeah. That’s always been part of it. But it’s more than that."

Max says with a shrug. “I like you because you're chaotic and you keep me on my toes. Plus, I figured all the teasing was basically foreplay.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!” She grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at him. “That is not how that works!”

Max laughed, catching the pillow and tossing it aside. “Hey, if it’s not, it should be! We’ve been bantering for years—it’s basically flirting with extra steps.”

She facepalmed, letting out a frustrated groan. “This is so not how I expected this conversation to go. You’re taking all of this way too casually!”

Y/N’s heart was beating so loud she was sure he could hear it. "Max, this is a lot. I didn’t… I didn’t expect this."

"I know." His voice was soft now, almost unsure. "But I had to tell you. I’ve been holding it in for so long, and I thought—"

"That you’d shoot your shot now?" she cut in, trying to lighten the mood even though her head was spinning.

He grinned, finally relaxing a bit. "Exactly. You can’t blame me for that, right?"

She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. "I guess not. But… Max, I—"

He raised a hand, stopping her. "You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted to be honest. For once."

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. "But here’s the thing… I kinda, sorta like you too." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

Max blinked, then his smile widened into something she’d never seen before—completely genuine and warm. "Kinda, sorta, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, though her heart was flipping. "Don’t make this weird."

"Too late," Max said, stepping even closer, his voice playful but soft. "You’ve already made it weird."

Y/N groaned. "You’re impossible."

"And you like me anyway," Max shot back with a grin, his face just inches from hers now.

Y/N sighed, her defenses finally crumbling as she looked up at him. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Y/N sat down beside him, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. She looked at him—his stupid grin, his messy hair, his absolute lack of any chill—and suddenly it all clicked. This wasn’t some weird joke or prank. Max actually meant every word.

"Okay," she said slowly, still processing. "But I reserve the right to make fun of you for the rest of our lives."

Max grinned, scooting closer. “Deal. But you should know, I’m not backing down. Now that I’ve made my move, I’m all in.”

“God, you’re so dramatic,” Y/N muttered, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, you kinda like me that way,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. But deep down, she knew he was right.

Before she could say anything else, Max leaned down, his lips brushing hers in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that swept her off her feet or made fireworks explode, but it was perfect. It was exactly what she didn’t know she needed.

When he pulled back, he was still smiling, his hand lingering on her cheek. "Told you we’ve always had a thing."

Y/N was too flustered to argue, her mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. "Okay," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t think this changes anything. I’m still gonna kick your ass at karting ."

Max chuckled, pulling her into his arms. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

They kissed again, and this time it was longer, more intense. Y/N felt herself melting into Max’s arms, his hands gently resting on her waist as he pulled her closer. She could feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips as her hands slid up to his chest. His lips were soft but insistent, and there was a tenderness in the way he kissed her, as if he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than she had imagined.

Her hands slipped up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and Max responded instantly, deepening the kiss in a way that made her head spin. For a few blissful seconds, all the banter, the teasing, and the chaos of their lives disappeared, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken tension that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, Y/N looked up at him, trying to steady her pounding heart. Max's lips were still curved into a small, satisfied smile, and his thumb absentmindedly traced the side of her hip.

“You know,” she started, trying to regain her composure, “if you’re going to stay, I could, uh, make some space on the couch.”

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning in full force. “You want me to spend the night?”

Her face heated instantly, but she refused to let him see her squirm. “Don’t get too excited, Verstappen.” She poked him in the chest, narrowing her eyes playfully. “No funny business. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a last-minute confession for me to invite you to my bed.”

Max chuckled, his laugh low and sending a ripple of warmth down her spine. He leaned in, his voice dropping to that maddening, teasing tone she was starting to realize she might actually like. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on funny business, Y/N.” His lips brushed her ear, making her shiver slightly. “I’m gonna wine and dine you, take my time. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to come to bed.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his words, and she smacked his arm, trying to play it cool, though her heart was practically doing somersaults. “Begging?” she repeated, a disbelieving laugh escaping her. “You’ve officially lost your mind.”

Max, completely unbothered, grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“God, I’m going to regret this,” Y/N muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Only if I don’t get the chance to prove you wrong,” Max shot back smoothly, his arm casually wrapping around her waist as if they’d done this a hundred times before.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her. “Fine. You get the couch. And maybe—maybe—we’ll see about that whole wining and dining thing later.”

Max leaned back, stretching out on the couch with that same cocky grin. “Challenge accepted.”

Text Message between Y/N and Lando:

y/n: LANDO I’M GONNA DIE. y/n: LIKE ACTUAL DEATH. COME TO MY APARTMENT NOW.

lando: huh??? lando: it’s 8am, woman chill lando: also why is this my problem

y/n: CHARLES IS HERE y/n: HE SHOWED UP AT 7AM AND HASN’T SHUT UP FOR AN HOUR y/n: He’s on a WHOLE monologue about "family honor" y/n: I AM GOING TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW IF YOU DON’T HELP ME

lando: and again lando: why… is this my problem? 💀

y/n: BECAUSE MAX IS HIDING IN MY CLOSET, LANDO y/n: IF CHARLES FINDS HIM HERE, I’M GONNA NEED TO WRITE A EULOGY y/n: HELP

lando: … lando: hold up HOLD UP MAX IS WHERE NOW???

y/n: CLOSET. MAX IS IN THE CLOSET. y/n: LIKE. LITERALLY HIDING IN MY CLOSET RIGHT NOW BECAUSE CHARLES IS RANTING ABOUT THE ELEVATOR PICTURE

y/n: AND IF CHARLES FINDS HIM HERE HE’LL LITERALLY COMMIT MURDER!!!

y/n: HURRY UP AND GET HERE I NEED A DISTRACTION y/n: HE’S GOING TO KILL US BOTH AND THEN DRAG OUR BODIES THROUGH THE STREETS OF MONACO

lando: LMFAOOO NOT MAX HIDING IN THE CLOSET LIKE HE’S IN A TEEN ROMCOM 💀 lando:  YOU AND MAX?? 

lando: Wait so like. Did you two… y’know? 👀

y/n: NO NO NO IT’S NOT LIKE THAT, I SWEAR. y/n: WE DID NOT HOOK UP. NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: but if charles finds him he’s not gonna believe that, you KNOW how dramatic he is

lando: Then why’s he in your closet, huh?

lando: You’re telling me you two were just doing nothing at 7am, and now he’s hiding from your overprotective brother??

lando: This is sus af 💀

y/n: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: He came over to… uh… talk? y/n: BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT!! HURRY THE HELL UP BEFORE CHARLES GOES FULL "BIG BROTHER PROTECTOR MODE" AND THINKS THE WORST

lando: Soooo Max just "talks" now? Sure, sure. Just casually talking at 7am at your apartment. lando: I bet he was gonna give you a "lecture" of his own, wasn’t he? 😉

y/n: I’M GOING TO BLOCK YOU IF YOU DON’T STOP.

y/n: HURRY UP, LANDO.

lando: yeah your brother’s gonna yeet Max into the Mediterranean Sea 💀 lando: this is absolutely gold lando: I’m grabbing popcorn, one sec

y/n: STOP JOKING I’M SERIOUS LANDO y/n: CHARLES IS GOING ON ABOUT “RESPECT” AND “TRADITION” LIKE WE’RE IN A DAMN PERIOD DRAMA y/n: HURRY UP AND GET HIM OUT OF HERE. CHA IS LITERALLY OUT HERE RAMBLING ABOUT "RESPECTING FAMILY HONOR."

lando: Fiiiine, I’m getting out of bed. lando: But seriously, Max? Who would have guessed? That’s hilarious. You could’ve picked a better hiding spot tho 💀

y/n: YOU THINK I HAD TIME TO COORDINATE A BETTER PLAN WHEN CHARLES SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE???

lando: You could’ve gone with like… under the bed? Maybe pretend he’s a delivery guy? 😂 lando: Closet’s too obvious, mate. Rookie mistake.

y/n: OKAY, SPYMASTER LANDO, HOW ABOUT YOU FOCUS ON GETTING HERE AND NOT ON MY HIDING STRATEGIES?

lando: wait sooooo lando: MAX REALLY STAYED OVER?? 👀 lando: I’M TELLING YOU, I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING BETWEEN YOU TWO. YOU DON’T HIDE IN CLOSETS FOR JUST ANYONE, SIS

y/n: WE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING LANDO. I SWEAR TO GOD. y/n: BUT IF YOU DON’T GET HERE, CHARLES IS GONNA ASSUME THE WORST AND START DIGGING A GRAVE

lando: fine fine I’m coming 💀 lando: this is too good tho, I’m never letting you live this down lando: if Charles finds Max it’s gonna be like “sooo, Max, wanna explain why you’re hiding in my sister’s closet like a serial killer?”

y/n: LANDO. I WILL BLOCK YOU. y/n: JUST GET HERE NOW, BEFORE I HAVE TO FAKE MY OWN DEATH TO ESCAPE THIS SITUATION

lando: can’t wait to see you try to explain why Max is suddenly living in your closet 😭😭 lando: tell Charles Max is helping you with a home renovation or some shit 💀 lando: I’ll be there soon to save your ass

y/n: IF YOU DON’T HURRY, IT’LL BE MY FUNERAL YOU’RE COMING TO. y/n: I’M NOT KIDDING, LANDO. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

lando: Yeah yeah I’m on it.

lando: But if Max survives this, I wanna be best man at the wedding 🥂

lando created a group

lando added Y/N, max, daniel, george and alex to the group

lando has changed the name of the group to “Drive to Survive: Closet Edition”

lando: EMERGENCY GROUP CHAT. STOP EVERYTHING. 🚨

george: Bro, it’s like 9AM. What now??

alex: Bro, what is it this time?? Did you lose your keys again? 💀

daniel:  Lando, I swear to God, if this is about you locking yourself out of your car again, I’m leaving the group chat.

lando: NO. BIGGER. MUCH BIGGER. lando: I had to save Max’s life this morning. 😳

max: lando, if you even—

lando: MAX WAS HIDING IN Y/N’S CLOSET THIS MORNING.

y/n: LANDO, I SWEAR TO GOD—

george: HOLD ON. Max was hiding in what now?? george: MAX. HIDING. IN Y/N’S CLOSET?! 💀

alex: WAIT WAIT WAIT. MAX?! IN HER CLOSET?? alex: Sounds like an F1 driver version of "Narnia." 🦁 alex: But instead of a lion, you found… Max?

daniel: Wait, hold on. HOLD UP.

daniel: Max was hiding? In Y/N’s closet?

daniel: Were you two… busy? 👀

daniel: This is starting to sound like the setup to a very different kind of movie, if you know what I mean… 

lando: RIGHT?! Closet boy Max out here sneaking around at 7AM.

y/n: NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: CHARLES SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE AND MAX HAD TO HIDE OR HE’D BE DEAD.

lando: She’s underselling it. Charles was out here talking about "honor" like we were back in medieval times.

max: she’s not wrong, charles had murder in his eyes talking about Y/N’s hypothetical boyfriend

george: So, you’re telling me Max was hiding in Y/N’s closet because big bro Charles was about to lose his mind? george: LMAO Max, mate, you were this close to becoming roadkill at the next race.

george: This is gold. Max, you hiding like a teenage boy sneaking out of a girl’s room?! How much were you sweating?

max: look, it was either the closet or death by leclerc

alex: Soooo... you were hiding because…? 👀

alex: If Charles finds out, he’s definitely running Max off the track next race. alex: Or worse, he’ll crash right into him. 💀

daniel: Run him off the track? Charles would straight-up crash into Max next race, no questions asked. 💀

george: Mate, can you imagine? Lap 20: "Verstappen crashes after mysterious contact with Leclerc." 🤔

george: "Sources say Charles Leclerc was last seen revving his engine and screaming about his sister’s honor."

daniel: Bro, I can already see the headlines: "Verstappen DNF—Cause: Leclerc Rage." daniel: Max would be like, "I’m innocent!" while Charles just revs the engine like, "Try me bitch."

lando: Charles would be all smiles in the press conference like, "It was an unfortunate incident…" lando: Meanwhile, Max’s car would still be smoldering in the background.

max: ngl, he’d probably reverse just to make sure it’s done right 😬

alex: "Accident," sure, Charles. I’m sure brake checking Max into the wall was totally accidental.

daniel: Sooo… why were you hiding, Max? 👀 daniel: Closet redecoration? Or were you two getting cozy? 😏

lando: Oh, come on, there’s no hiding in closets unless something was happening. Let’s be real here. 👀

max: look, i was just… you know… max: avoiding death by overprotective brothers. that’s all.

george: Sure, Max. Just avoiding "death"… by hiding in her closet. Sounds innocent. Totally.

alex: Did you fold her clothes while you were in there, or just admire the view? 😂

daniel: Oh, we’re calling it "admiring the view" now, huh?

max: you guys have dirty minds, jesus

lando: Bro, you were literally in her closet. This is peak suspicious behavior.

y/n: NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: STOP MAKING THIS WEIRD. 🙃

lando: Y/N, babe, you don’t just shove someone in your closet for no reason. There’s something here.

daniel: Yeah, like… what were you two really doing before Charles showed up? 👀 daniel: C’mon, no one hides someone unless they’re in the middle of… something.

y/n: I swear to god, if one more person suggests anything—

max: maybe i was just there to give her fashion advice 🤷‍♂️

george: OH, so that’s what they’re calling it now? "Fashion advice." Sounds steamy.

daniel: So what’d you suggest, Max? "Less clothes"? 😏

y/n: I’M LITERALLY GOING TO MUTE THIS CHAT. NOTHING HAPPENED.

lando: Uh-huh. Sure. lando: You don’t just casually invite Max over to give you "advice" in the early hours of the morning unless something’s going on. Just saying. 😉

daniel: I mean, I’d hide Max too if he showed up like that… 👀

alex: "Like that"? Sounds like Max was already halfway to being undressed. 💀

y/n: YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST.

max: you get used to it after a while

lando: Okay, okay, jokes aside… are you two, like, officially a thing now?

max: yeah, y/n and i… we’re seeing where this goes. officially.

george: OMG, IT'S HAPPENING. MAX AND Y/N ARE OFFICIALLY A THING. 🎉

lando: SOUND THE ALARMS, EVERYONE. lando: We’ve got ourselves a new grid couple. 👀

daniel: Ahhh, the "closet inchident" seals the deal. Love it. You Leclerc’s sure do love your Inchidents

alex: Soooo… have you told Charles yet? Or do we get to keep this secret and watch the chaos unfold?

y/n: ABSOLUTELY NOT. NONE OF YOU SAY A WORD. y/n: Do you WANT Max to end up in a wall at Monza?!

george: Max already looks like he’s preparing his will. 😂

max: pretty sure charles will crash into me on lap 1 if he finds out too early

daniel: I mean, Charles is gonna "accidentally" forget how to brake if he finds out Max’s been sneaking around his sister. 💀

lando: Yeah, next race? You’re gonna see Charles giving Max the death stare before they even get to Turn 1.

max: I’ll be lucky if I don’t get run off the track before lap 10

alex: Charles be like, "Oh sorry, did I cut across your line? Total accident, mate."

george: Imagine Arthur joining in, double-teaming Max on the straights. 💀

alex: "Sorry mate, but family’s family."

daniel: Max, if Charles finds out you were in her closet, he’s coming for you both on and off the track. No question.

lando: I can see it now—Max and Y/N in the paddock: "Charles, listen, it’s not what it looks like!" Meanwhile, Charles is just revving the engine, ready to take you out. 😂

max: and here i thought the danger was over when i left her apartment

alex: Bro, the danger just began. Charles is about to add "track rage" to his skillset.

daniel: "Oh, Max? Never heard of him. My car just had a mind of its own today." daniel: RIP Verstappen 1997-2024 💀

lando: You’ll go down as a legend, Max. "The man who was brave enough to date a Leclerc and live to tell the tale."

max: that’s if i make it past monza

y/n: YOU’RE ALL DRAMATIC.

george: Dramatic? Us? No way. george: I’m just saying, you better have a solid excuse ready when Charles finds out.

y/n: We’ll tell him eventually. Just… not now. y/n: And until then, if any of you open your big mouths, Max’s blood is on your hands.

daniel: So, what’s the plan? Keep hiding Max in your closet until you tell Charles? 💀

y/n: technically, yes.

y/n: But until then, NONE OF YOU SAY A WORD. LET ME HANDLE THIS.

lando: I mean… if I accidentally let it slip, is that on me or on the fact that Max was literally hiding in a CLOSET? 🤔

max: thanks lando, really appreciate it

daniel: Don’t worry, Max, we’ll make sure your funeral’s nice. Real classy. 💐

alex: I’ll bring flowers. Something dramatic, like roses. 🌹

george has changed the name of the group to “Max's Funeral Planning Committee"

george: Should we do slow-mo highlights of Max’s best overtakes at his funeral? Maybe some sad violin music?

lando: I’m picturing Max’s ghost standing next to Charles, watching the replays like, "Really? This is how I go out?" 💀

y/n: YOU’RE ALL INSANE. STOP JOKING ABOUT THIS.

george: We’ll make sure it’s an open casket. But, you know, open… after Charles crashes into it.

y/n: I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU.

lando: Can’t imagine how you'd even explain Max’s sudden appearance in your wardrobe to Charles. "He’s just helping with interior design, bro!" 😂

max: okay okay, enough. max: but for real, don’t tell charles anything yet.

daniel: Sure, we’ll keep the secret. For now. But we want front-row seats when you break the news.

y/n: Let me handle it before anyone here decides to run their big mouth.

lando: Big mouth? Me? Never. 😉

george: You know, this whole "keeping it secret" thing feels very Romeo and Juliet.

lando: Yeah but without the poison, please.

daniel: More like, Romeo hiding in Juliet’s closet while her brother lectures her for an hour. 😂

alex: "Romeo, why are you still in that closet?" alex: "Shhh, Charles will kill me."

max: i hate you all

alex: Don’t worry, Max. We’ll be at the next race, just in case Charles accidentally loses his brakes. 😂

y/n: You’re all the worst. 🙄

lando: Max, you better not be hiding in anyone else’s closet anytime soon. lando: Or else this group chat’s gonna have to upgrade to "Max’s Closet Chronicles: The Sequel."

y/n: Don’t give him ideas.

george: Max: Professional F1 Driver by day, Closet Houdini by night. 😭

max: i hate you all

y/n: Welcome to the club.

daniel: This is gonna be legendary.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[puppetwoman17]

I want to read more comics and fanfics about Cap/Billy being a respected member of the hero community.

But at the SAME TIME, I want to read something where his attempts to make friends is seen as too eager or boyish and he’s ostracized, so as he grows up he understands that he needs to dial it down. He begins backing off and letting people do their own thing. He doesn’t try to hang out with the younger hero teams, but makes it clear that he’s always there if they need him, because he’s a sweetie. He talks less with JL members, not significantly, but just so he’s not talking way more than he has to.

Everyone’s noticed. They are worried.

Billy grows up, gets reunited with his sister, connects more with his Whiz Radio coworkers, gets along with the Bromfields, meets and connects with other Fawcett heroes and finally gets his own apartment(with illegal means but shush I guarantee you someone else has done much worse). He’s getting his life together day by day and he’s more sure of himself.

Heavy on Fawcett heroes btw. They clock him being CC’s kid immediately. What do you mean the JL doesn’t like him? What’s their problem with our boy😡?

Little subtleties with other heroes… Because why is Cap not talking to me anymore? Why do I have to steer the conversation?

Did I do something wrong?

Did I fuck up?

Was I too mean?

He just wants to hang out. Isn’t that what being part of a team is?

He just wants to be friends like the rest of us are.

Cue young and older heroes alike trying their damn hardest to get Cap to join them for a game night or gossip session or joint mission where there doesn’t need to be a joint mission and Billy is just confuzzled.

He’s busy, sorry! (He’s cleaning up the radio station for a birthday party)

Something came up, you know how schedules can be. (Mary wants him to see his first opera. Billy is a yes man)

A friend of mine needs some help! Really sorry, I wish I could! (Ebenezer is about to die. He wants to watch the moment the light leaves his eyes. No, Mary, he doesn’t need therapy. No Freddy, he doesn’t need a hug right—fuck it, give him a hug)

Because even without knowing, the her community watched him grow up. And, like adult figures and parents in a child’s life, they miss the way things used to be. It confuses them, especially the younger heroes.

Oh, then an identity reveal happens and everything makes so much sense and they all feel so so so bad but Billy’s like “Hey, it’s no big deal! Everyone gets busy! And I’ve got lots of other friends to confide in!”

He says this with a smile on his face but it sounds like an insult. Now the JL and younger heroes are grappling with the fact that this whole time they’ve just been parental figures who miss when their kid was clingy🥺

…

…

…

LOL, TOO BAD. Freddy’s taking him to a game tonight. He’s got front row seats and extra cotton candy coupons! Suck on that!

[selfshippinglover2222]

Hazbin Boys When Their Partners Crying

Alastor: 📻

Would be very gentlemanly about it

He’d whip your tears away with his thumbs as he caresses your face

“What ever happened, Sweetheart?”

He’d listen quietly as you explain to him why you’re feeling so down.

He’s soothingly rub his thumbs on your face, continuing to whip off any tears that fall

If someone made you cry he’d eat them for dinner.

No one makes you cry and gets away with it

If you’re crying over something else, something he can’t kill, then he lets you vent before giving you some advice.

“I’m here to lighten your load, my dear. Allow me to do that by explaining how exactly o can help!”

He ls very proactive in dealing with it, and he wants it delt with quickly.

Lucifer: 🍎

Would feel your pain with you

He feels an ache in his chest everytime you cry. It almost makes him want to cry everytime he hears you cry

He embraces you in a tight hug, letting you cry on his shoulder as he hushes you, rocking you both back and forth.

“Shh, it’s alright honey. It’s okay.”

Would very gently ask what happened

If you don’t want to talk about it he just nods his head and keeps shushing you

If you tell him someone made you cry he feels immediate rage but calms himself down

You’re more important than that right now

If you tell him something else then he just holds you tighter.

“We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

Husk: ♦️♣️

Husk would be very freaked out by your tear

At first he’s frozen, staring with wide eyes as he figures out what to do

He’d let you cry and vent, sitting next to you the whole time.

Slowly he puts his arm around you, letting you lean on him as he quietly listens.

If you tell him someone made you cry he’d growl quietly, holding you closer

“Fuck’em. You don’t need that in your life.”

If you say it’s something else, like being overwhelmed by school or other things, he’s nod and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“What do you need me to do?”

He’s ready to help in anyway he can

Angeldust: 🕸️

“Oh, Baby.”

He’d run right up to you and wrap all his arms around you, letting you cry into his fluffy chest.

He’d hold you and just squeeze his eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain in his own chest at you crying

You’ve been there for him in his worst nights, so he’s ready to be strong for you in yours.

“What’s wrong? Baby, whats happened?”

Frantic to find out why your crying

If someone made you cry he’d be ranting and raving about how much they suck

“How dare they say that to you?! Are you kiddin’ me?!”

If it’s something else he’d try his best to calm you down, giving small pep talks.

He just wants to support you best he can, even if he’s not the best at it.

Vox: 📺

“Who the hell made you cry?”

Immediately he’s ready to electrocute something, his arms tinging with electricity.

He feels about ready to kill someone

If you tell him someone did make you cry he’d teleport away to them and immediately ruin them.

He’d leave them alive but then ruin their reputation

They’d never find a job again and people on the street would hate them

If it’s something else he’d try calms down and sits next to you, pulling you in for a side hug as he listens to what you say

“Let me help. I can fix it.”

If your overwelmed with work or school he’d contact the officials and make it easier on you

He’s use his money and power to help you stay happy

Valentino: 🦋

“Amorcito…Baby what happened?”

He’d rush over to you and pick you up, cradling you like a child as he shushes you.

He’s very physical with his comfort, holding you close as all his arms rub you soothingly

Talks a lot, giving you a lot of comforting words as he coos at you

“They said what.”

If someone made you cry you better beleive he’d be paying them a little visit

He’d beat the absolute shit out of them, no matter who it was

If it was something different then he’d coo and soothingly rub at your arms, back and head, giving you little pecks to help calm you down

He doesn’t know what to do but he does know he hates seeing you cry

It stirs up unpleasant feelings in his chest

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[helluvapoison]

Make Me Weak

˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: violence

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

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Everything you are she should abhor– and would if it was anyone else— so she doesn’t pretend to understand how you weave into her life so easily. That time is instead spent wondering how the fuck she’s survived both her hellish lives without you

• Velvette always felt she was owed the praise and compliments she got. Receiving them from you was an entirely different type of high to ride. Your candied tone and sickeningly sweet words clung to her like smoke and had her itching for more

• You massage her hands so she has no choice but to surrender her phone, only then does she realize how cramped they’ve become. You sit in her workshop during Hell Week, sending a mellowing wave that relaxes her chaos in the form of a simple thumbs up. You make up for not being on the receiving end of her camera by setting up aesthetic dates for her to capture instead

• Velvette captures your chin, “You put up with a lotta my shit, Dollface. I’m not great at sharing credit, but I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“But I didn’t do anything?”

“You’re my muse, baby. Gimme the word and I can have you on a billboard tonight. Fuck Joanne, the raggetty bitch, I’ll bump her and have you up there for all of Hell to see!”

Your smile falters to a grimace, your eyes telling her what she already knows. Vel doesn’t get why you hate the limelight. This conversation always ends one way and if she hears you say one bad thing about yourself, she’ll tear out her hair. With a sigh, she tucks you back under her arm and kisses the crown of your head

“Fine. I didn’t wanna share you anyways.”

Your light laugh makes her smile again

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Val does everything in his power not to allow you to witness one of his volatile moments. He has a very specific image of you in his mind and to a looser extent, you do too. You’re not prim or naive that you don’t know what he does, but his violent tendencies are something else to behold. You’re too sweet, too pure to completely join his world

• It’s never bothered him before, seeing that look on someone’s face. The one where their eyes go wide in horror because they know exactly what comes next but there’s no telling what would happen if the pedestal Val put you on crumbled because you saw him grabbing a whore by the neck and using them as an ashtray

• Truly, no indulgence he’s ever sampled has come close to taking the edge off him like one of your hugs. Softer than angel wings and more intoxicating than any elixir, you’re euphoria trapped in a sinner’s body

• “I almost feel bad for keeping you to myself,” Val purrs in your ear. He’s been laying underneath you for six minutes and already the shittiness of the day evaporated, “I could bottle and sell you. Make everyone in Hell as happy as I am.”

A nervous, bitter laugh escapes you

“You wouldn’t make much money, Val.”

“I would make millions, corazón” He argues seriously, though he has no intention of sharing you

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The irony is lost on him; someone as soft as you could bring him, an Overlord, to succumb. Below the surface, he’s more insecure than he lets on. He’s perfected the mask of a charming show host, developed it so well that it bleeds into his personality. So much so, that you make him glitch when he gets an inkling of self doubt. Your gentleness makes him weak and it terrifies him, fills him with the urge to push you away but your arms are so inviting that he lets himself be cradled by them. How could he do anything but?

• Rare are the days where he actually feels tired but those are the days he seeks out your affections. To him, you’re safe. You won’t judge him, you don’t pry for details, you’d never tell him to suck it up

• Vox lets himself sink into the couch beside you, tapping your thigh with a claw to invite you to come closer. You never fail to accept and deliver exactly what he needs. It’s bizarre how you know what he needs when he doesn’t himself. Turning to straddle him, you rest your head on his chest and hug him impossibly closer

• “You’re tense today,” You comment quietly, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Come with me to set for once, you’ll find out why.”

Nuzzling into his chest as if trying to find his nonexistent heartbeat, you replied, “Nah. Sounds like too much of a hassle.”

“Exactly why I need you there.”

“Promise not to bring me on air like you’re always threatening to?”

A dry cackle escapes as he keeps his gaze towards the ceiling. Vox has this fanatical plan that you two could be the power couple of Hell, outranking Lucifer and Lilith (and lasting twice as long) if you would just sit at the same desk as him, deliver news and playful banter that would knock 666 News down a couple thousand pegs. You were worried someone wouldn’t want to see your face, you’d make his ratings plummet, you’d ruin everything he worked so hard to build. He hates when you spiral like that.

“No.” Vox mumbles honestly.

He’d prove you wrong like he’s done everyone else, one way or another

[petew21-blog]

Revenge possession, part 2

"So what is this game called again?" I asked out loud with Devon's voice.

Devon in the back of our mind:"Dead by daylight. You play either as a survivor or the killer. Depending on the role you have to escape or kill all the survivors."

I chuckled a bit:"You don't see how that's ironic?"

Devon was silent. "I'm so sorry, man. Jesus, I didn't think this through. Haha. Well... you should be good in this game right?"

Me:"Not really. I kinda didn't even know I was being hunted. Your parents just picked me up and then tortured me in the woods. I didn't have much of a chance to even run."

Devon:"Oh... I'm so sorry for that, man. My parents are horrible people."

Me:"Yeah. And I know they killed much more people than just me. That's why it needs to stop"

Devon:"So are you sure that killing them would be the best revenge for all these years of their murder spree?"

Me:"What else can I do? It's not like I had much of a choice. Few days ago I didn't even have a body. Now I co-share yours. Yeah, stealing their sons body is good revenge too, but you're a good person. And I don't want to take over your life."

Devon:"Not what I was aiming for. I honestly love having you here with me. You're like a second voice/brother/best friend inside of me. Oh shit. I just figured. I keep calling you bro. What's your real name?"

Me:"Paul. Took you long to ask, man. Not cool"

Devon:"Sorry, haha. So... Paul. You're like 40 now, right?"

Me:"I would be if your parents didn't kill me. But I died when I was 21 like you are now. So my mind basically stayed 21 I suppose. Except for roaming the country I didn't have much fun through all these years. These past few days as you, just chilling here, playing video games, jerking off and talking to you is the most fun I had over these 20 years."

Devon took control over his body to let go of the controler and to flex his biceps. The sweat hitting his nose.

Me:"What are you doing? I thought we were gonna play?"

Devon:"Nah, just reminding you what body you're in"

Devon:"Look at me man. I have beautiful abs, massive arms. These thighs could crush a melon between them. I appreciate that you picked me and that you like my body, but you gotta do something about this. We gotta go have fun. With another living being."

Me:"Devon... I really am happy how you treat me in your body, but... I don't think we have the same type of dating pool"

Devon:"I don't care whoever you fuck. I'm straight, or atleast I think I am, but very accepting. And if my man inside of me wants to fuck some handsome man, I will be more than happy to help you out. Bros gotta help each other"

Me:"But it's gonna be your body, man."

Devon:"So? You could do much worse with my body and you didn't. Getting fucked or fucking someone in the ass is not so bad."

Me:"Ok? So what place do you suggest?"

Devon:"Gym. We can show everyone what this body can do. Lot of people observe me there, so you can pick whoever you desire"

We arrived to the gym. So many hot and sexy people in sight. Devon took control to do his normal routine. It sucks that I could also have a body like this, but back in the day I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be myself in a world that hates my kind. Twenty years later, the world is so much more accepting. It's not ideal, but wow. How things gave changed

I still can't believe that Devon let's me stay in his body. I mean, look at him. He could be anything, have anyone. And yet this hot piece of meat is depressed with his easy life, being alone most of the time. I guess that's what happens when your serial killer parents move your family every now and then. You don't have any friends and those that you did might already be dead by their hand. How horrible... I honestly can't wait to see them. To look them in their face. With their son's face and to kill them. I hope Devon will forgive me. I know he says he wants to stop them, but it's his parents. I just have to make sure that he will not stop me when the time comes

Devon was just finishing up, when a cute twink approached us.

The guy:"Hey, I hope you don't mind that I was watching you"

Devon:"Nah, it's ok man. You need a hand with lifting?"

The guy smiled. "Oh I do need a hand, I just don't know If I asked the right person"

Devon sat down, looking all confused:"That depends if..."

I stopped Devon mid sentence. "I think that's a cue for me to take over, ok?"

Devon now in the back of my mind:"Sorry man, I usually don't respond to guys hitting on me. Go on. Have fun"

I smiled at the guy and casually finished the sentence

We headed to the showers. The owners must be probably sick with all these guys hooking up here. But we didn't care. We made out passionately. The twins was all over my muscles, as I would be in his place too. He was a bit smaller. That gave me a sense of dominating him.

I stopped and smiled at the guy. "I... just gotta let you know that I am a virgin"

Devon:"What!!! Dude, you never had sex with anyone?"

The guy looked at me from top to bottom. "You? If good looking people like you are virgins, then I have no idea how world works."

I chuckled nervously. It was true. I was 21 when I died, but back then it was much harder to date a find gay guy. Now you can just download Grindr and in a few minutes you got yourself a guy in your bedroom

Twink:"Well in that case we can go to your place and have some fun there. This isn't a very nice place to have your first time, don't you think"

I just smiled and nodded in approval

We were now in Devon's messy room. The guy was really shocked to see such a straight man cave, but didn't say a word. We made out. He took off my shirt soaked in sweat from gym. His lips now kissed my neck and went to over my pecs, down the middle to my waist band. He took my hard dick into his hand, squeezed hard and looked me deep into my eyes. His look was so full of lust, yet I could tell it was superficial. This guy isn't looking for romance. He just wants to be fucked hard. So let's give it to him

I took a bit of control of the moment. I grabbed him by the neck. Turned him around and pressed him against the wall. He was now moaning in pleasure as I was rubbing my hard dick hidden beneath the layers of my clothes against his ass. I was still holding him, choking him.

I pulled of my shorts and his just low enough to get my dick in there. I wanted to push it right in there. As hard as I could

Devon suddenly screamed out from the back of his mind:"Condom dude!!!"

I left the guy, moanjng against the wall, reaching out to the condom on the shelf. I was struggling to find which side to pick to put it on my dick

Twink:"Wait. Let me" it was obvious he jas done it a few times. The condor was on in a matters of seconds. "Do you have any lube?"

Devon intervened again:"Top drawer. Give him more attention, man. You're making it all about yourself"

"Shut up" I said out loud as a response to Devon, but the guy looked confused. "Oh sorry, not you. I'm just nervous. I have lube right here."

The guy went on Devon's bed on his back. His clothes were now gone and his ass was welcoming my dick. His legs wide open.

I pressed lightly my dick with a ridiculous ammount of lube on top.

It went smoothly so I tried to went all the way. This seemed to hurt the twins. "Hold your horses. I'm good, but not that good. A bit slower, cowboy."

I went in slowly. The pleasure got to Devon too. The way this guys ass was tight around the head of our dick was sending our minds to heaven.

I picked up the pace. The twink was moaning in pleasure and in pain at the same time. I grabbed him by the next to choke him. My other arm pressing his thigh.

Twink:"Harder!" I thought I was going as hard as possible, but I didn't think he could take it much more

Twink:"Harder!!!"

Devon:"Oh, jesus. Let me do it" Devon took over. I was in the back of our mind again. Still feeling everything.

Devon was like a beast, but the twink was really enjoying it.

I could feel all the cum building up. Ooh there's gonna be tons of cum.

Devon was biting his lower líp and furiously pounding this guy's ass. Sure, "Straight" my ass.

Devon:"I'm cumming!!!"

Twink:"Fill me! I want it all"

Devon shot out the stream of cum into the condom. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming. So much, that I lost control for a moment. I didn't know what was happening.

I opened my eyes. Still as Devon. Good. But I was back in control. But I was alone here. I couldn't feel Devon

"DEVON?!?"

Twink:"Right here. You pushed my soul out of my body, dude. If the guy here wasn't as welcoming you would have me erased or something"

Me:"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

Devon:"It's fine. This guy's soul is asleep or maybe gone? I don't know. But I can't hear him now. Dude! I could feel my body's orgasm and his orgasm at the same time. I can assure you, that this is definitely the best I'll ever feel. So overwhelming."

Me:"Shit, dude. We gotta figure out how to get you put of there. Or you might be stuck"

Devon:"What if we wait for a bit? I kinda wanna try having sex with my body."

Me:"Kinky. You wanna get pounded too?"

Devon:"Guess I'm not so straight anymore, right?"

After our first fucking session, Devon passed out from all the sex. We still didn't know where this guy's soul was, but we would figure that out soon. I was just happy that I was finally alive. And I even have a boyfriend now? If that's what I can call Devon. Not to put labels on our relationship or anything

I grabbed the first pair of shorts from the floor I could find. Still sweaty from the sex, I headed to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water.

I was interrupted by a dark figure in the corner of the room

"Hello, son"

I was full of rage. But I can't fuck it up now. If I kill him, I won't know where his mom is and that would take me another decade to find her.

"Hey, dad. How was your holiday"

"Oh wonderful. Rome is your mother's favourite place to visit"

I tried to act as much as possible. Devon was in his room in a wrong body, so that wouldn't help me.

"Did you go to Colosseum this time?"

"Oh, we sure did." The father responded. But in the matter of seconds his expression changed. He was now holding a gun pointed at me

"What are you doing, dad?!"

"Devon knows we went to Bahamas"

Fuck. So he knew all along that I'm not Devon. But how?

"Me and my wife found out that the folk like you, who want to have your revenge for what we did, come back as ghosts to make our lives a living hell."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Hahaha. Of course you're not. The first one came when Devon was 2 years old. Of course he doesn't remember, but that was a nasty one. All the paranormal stuff. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then. But now, oh we are used to deal with you. But possessing Devon is a first. Some possessed us and tried to kill us, but obviously failed."

"How can you tell that I'm not him? Besides the question."

"Oh it's an aura thing. Once you have the experience and a good guidance, you can just tell when a soul isn't in their rightful place."

"Now, tell me. Did Devon put up a lot of fight? Your answer will change the course of your torture."

"Devon is ok. He's in the body of the guy downstairs. It was an accident"

"Sure it was. That would make sure that we couldn't kill you or him, right? We're not so stupid, mister. Although I will not enjoy killing my son, there is no other choice."

"If you kill me, I will go after you even more. I have for the past 20 years and I will even after you die. My soul will not rest until you burn in hell"

"Sure you can do that, but it will take you some time to get out of this thing."

He was holding a wooden object with symbols

"What is that thing?"

"That mister, is your prison. It will bind you inside, until it breaks, or someone opens it on purpose. Which happens rarely if you ask me."

"You're doing a big mistake. Devon is in his room in a different body. Let him atleast get his body back."

"I can't take that chance. Me and my wife have a life to live up to and we won't stop just because our son got himself in some trouble and can't handle it."

"It's your son! You would kill him just so you can continue your killing spree?"

"Oh, definitely. Having a child is a great thing, but taking a life. That's something you won't ever forget about. The control it gives you."

"You're sick. No parent would ever do this to their child"

From the hallway a second voice spoke:"Oh these two are a chatty couple, right honey? So chatty chatty. But we need to hurry up, so get on with this" the mother said towards her husband

I could feel a horrible pain in my chest. Feelings very similar to the ones I felt 20 years ago. This couple was killing me again

"Sorry Devon. We couldn't have done anything" father said

"Devon hates you too!" I screamed out

"You're talking too much" and then nothing.

I don't know for how long this continued. I don't even know what they did with Devon's beautiful body. How they got rid of it.

Soon I started to feel walls around me. Walls? As a ghost I wouldn't be able to. Except if this is their prison that they were talking about.

I opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Nothing else. I looked around and on the other side of my prison was someone sitting, crying.

I got up to approach this person. He looked up

It was Devon. He was crying

"Paul! They killed me. My own mother slit my throat. I told her it's me. But she just killed me and trapped me into thus thing."

"I'm so so sorry, Devon. I never wanted any of this. I wanted revenge for them. But they were ready. They knew. Your father didn't listen to me too. He didn't care. I told him about your soul. But they are more sadistic then I thought"

"Paul, I'm dead. My parents killed me. My OWN PARENTS!"

"Devon, they are horrible people. And we will get our lives back. Maybe not our old lives, but we will. But first we have to get out of here. We're gonna get through this together. Ok?"

Devon collapsed into my arms. I was just glad that I could hold someone even if I was a ghost now. We were gonna get out of here, but I had no idea how

Outside of the ghost trap, the world went by.

Devon's father held the trap tightly as he watched his old house burn. His wife held her head on his shoulder.

"Ahhh, I think I might miss Devon. He gave our life some order"

"He limited us. We couldn't ve ourselves all the time. Now we can. What do you say we go pick up some hitchhiker?"

"Ohhhh, that's a lovely idea. Get rid of that box, it gives me the creeps"

And as the two of them were laughing while leaving, the box was sinking deeply into the river below the bridge until some human would find it.

If Paul and Devon would know what was happening to then right now, they would be devastated.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Your gravity falls fanfics are so good!! :0 if you’re still taking requests could I request a one shot where Stan’s s/o is with him during the fight between him and ford and they get sucked into the portal instead of ford? I love your angst so much hehehe

Part two is right here

You had originally came with Stanley as support for when he confronts Ford after spending a long period of his life with no contact, no nothing to reassure his twin that he was fine and not dead in a ditch somewhere.

‘The nerve of him, living it up here and not so much as a word to his one brother, his twin no less.’ Stan muttered, his gip tightened on your hand as you both walked up to the lonely shack amidst the snowy forest, but there was something else there besides anger it was nervousness or perhaps worry that his brother didn’t contact him for one reason or another.

‘And here’s your chance to make yourself heard,’ you said as you squeezed his hand, hoping to comfort Stan during this difficult moment for him, ‘you’ve spent enough time to mull over what it is that you want to tell him, now is the time to let him know how much this has affected you and he will have to listen regardless.’

However you’ve came to realise that there was a lot more going on that Ford claims that you and Stanley weren’t aware of as his eyes shifted everywhere out of paranoia. You were still blinking your eyes after getting abruptly blinded by Ford upon first meeting, something about possession? You were certain this wasn’t how you thought you’d be meeting Stan’s twin -not in the slightest- but it was clear to you that Ford was afraid of something, what it was he wouldn’t tell only saying that he needed Stan to hide his journals, scatter them as far from each other which did nothing but annoy Stan.

You could see the clench in his jaw and his fists and were about to reach out and ground him but before you could blink, Stan and Ford were tussling over the journal across the lab as the portal thrummed with power, almost as if entertained by the fight between twins and you were left unable to do anything but watch.

‘Is that all you brought me here for! To help you hide your journals?! I bet I didn’t cross your mind not even once!’ Stanley shouted as he kept the journal close to his chest with his lighter as he managed to keep Ford where he wanted him.

‘You don’t understand Stanley! This is dangerous things you are holding in your hands!’ Ford replied, eyes firmly locked onto the journal and the flickering flame of his brother’s lighter that got too close to the journal’s pages for his liking. ‘Think about the potential threats-‘

‘Fuck that! I want my brother back!’ Stanley cuts his brother off as he grew frustrated at how his brother was - once again- not listening to him or what he had to say. ‘You could’ve called upon me any time! But you only call upon me when you want someone else to do your dirty work for you! What about what I want! My life is in ruins because of you!’ Ford lunged towards Stan and managed to knock the lighter out of his hand, grasping at the bottom half of the journal while Stanley tightened his grip on the upper half of the journal.

‘You ruined your own life and you’ll ruin y/n’s with the way that you are going!’ Ford retorts in a strained voice as he and Stanley tugged the journal in two different ways, just for Stanley to loose his grip, fall backwards and hurt himself on a hot surface that caused him to scream in pain. ‘Stanley!’ You and Ford yelled as you both went to rush to Stan’s aid, hoping he wasn’t too hurt, only for him to Punch Ford in the face and as Ford stumbled backwards he bumped into you. which then caused you to fall back into a lever of sorts; before soon finding yourself beginning to float and be drawn towards the portal with nothing to grab onto to prevent it from happening.

Freaking out you yelled, ‘STANLEY! HELP ME!’ You screamed as you found yourself getting closer and closer to the entrance of the portal, helplessly flailing out of pure panic and need to get away from it, not realising that your attempts to get away were fruitless. Your screams had dragged Ford and Stan from their fight as they could only watch in horror as half of your body was already in the portal.

‘Y/n! Baby! HOLD ON! JUST HOLD ON BABY IM COMING!’ Stanley yelled back as he frantically looked for anything he could use to rope you back to the ground, but grew frustrated when he couldn’t find not a single piece of rope or metal rod lying about, the lab was clean of any and all obstruction. ‘FORD HELP ME!’ He cried as he looked back at his twin, who was frantically looking himself for anything to get you away from the portal, just to face the same problem that frustrated Stanley. ‘I’m trying!’ He shouted over his shoulder as his guilt for bringing both you and Stan here began to weigh down on him heavily.

‘Well you’re not looking hard enough!’ Stanley barked as the fear of losing you was slowly crushing his chest, making it harder for him to breath as his mind raced with the thought of having to live a life without you, his anchor, his best friend and his beloved partner. He hated it, he didn’t want to envision it but here he was living the nightmare he swore would never come true, feeling helpless and useless as he was forced to hear your frightened sounds and not be able to do anything about it.

He didn’t even get to say the words ‘I love you’ yet as he was scared that you’d find someone better then him before he even mustered up the courage, but you never did. You stayed by his side, even if it mean moving from state to state almost every week because of him and Stanley knew he didn’t deserve you, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to loose you from his life either.

Stan and Ford tired their hardest but it wasn’t enough as by the time they looked back at you, your outstretched hand was the last thing the pair saw as the portal closed, leaving them to stare at the portal in denial of their failure to rescue you. ‘Baby?’ Sanely said as he stepped forward hesitantly. ‘BABY! THIS ISNT FUNNY! COME OUT PLEASE!’ He cried louder now when the realisation began to set for him as he ran towards the lever, pulling it and pushing it in desperation of re-opening the portal in hopes of seeing you rush out and right into his arms; where he would keep you for as long as you’d allow him to.

Only for neither of those things to happen, the portal remained shut and you remained lost to whatever was on the opposite side, scared, confused and alone.

‘WHY ISNT IT WORKING!’ Stan screamed as he pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled the lever so much that Ford had to physically drag him away from it before he broke it, thus making more work for them in getting you back. ‘Stop Stanley, it’s not working!’ Ford said as he managed to stand between his twin and the lever, ‘the portal is out of power, it won’t open up unless we get the necessary materials to open it again.’

‘Then what are we doing! Let’s go get it!’ Stanley said as he was about to leave the lab but was stoped by Ford’s hand on his arm, which he shrugged off violently. ‘It’s not so easily obtained Stanley,’ Ford said as he let his hand drop to his side as Stanley glared at him, ‘we need money to get the parts needed to power the portal up. I only had enough to open it once and that took a lot of time, even with Fiddleford’s help, and without him or the necessary materials…’ Ford trailed off which didn’t help Stanley’s mood as he grew angrier at his brother’s insinuation.

‘They’re trapped on the other side forever?!’ He yelled. ‘Bullshit! I don’t believe that! I want them back now!’ Stanley then grabs Ford by the collar and brings him so that they were eye to eye. ‘Give them back or I swear to fucking god Stanford-‘

‘I can’t bring them back without the necessary materials Stanley I told you.’ Ford reaffirmed as he started at his heartbroken twin as the first signs of tears left his eyes, Ford felt Stan’s grip loosened on him until they went completely slack at his side as he fell to his knees, chin dropping to his chest as he silently wept. ‘Bring them back.’ Stanley chanted softly, ‘being them back to me, I can’t loose them. You don’t understand. They’re everything to me and now I’m nothing without them.’ Stanley whispered to the air as if someone with the power to grant his wish will hear him, but instead elected to ignore him and his pleads.

Ford, heartbroken at seeing how distraught and lifeless his brother had became, slowly knelt in front of him in silence, not knowing how to comfort him correctly as he felt himself to blame for your disappearance into the portal. He had taken away the one person who cared for Stanley in the times where his family couldn’t be bothered, someone who loved him unconditionally regardless of what he did and Ford had taken you away from him seemingly forever, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley would hold a grudge against him for it.

However one thing was for certain, he’d help his brother get you back however he could, no matter how long it would take them, even if it took them thirty years to do so; it was a risk that Ford originally wasn’t willing to take but if it meant getting you back to Stanley then he’d do anything to see his brother happy again.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Cover Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: implied smut

Summary: You hooked up with someone expecting to keep him as a one-and-done. You didn't expect him to show up at your college.

Square Filled: "You are one fine specimen, and I'm not saying that because I'm drunk.” for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Shit. Shit. Shit. You’re so late. You can’t be late for your first day of college. You had a bit too much to drink last night which caused you to sleep in longer than you wanted to. You’re so late that you didn’t have time to do your makeup. Eh, you can do it when you get to school. The drive is only thirty minutes but with morning traffic, it takes forty-five.

Meet me in the bathroom by the cafeteria! Emergency! You send to your best friend.

You rush from your car all the way to the bathroom before anyone else has a chance to see how messed up you look. You have everything you need in your backpack to fix your look, and you almost cringe at yourself when you look in the mirror.

“Man, I need to stop drinking,” you shake your head.

You take out your brush and comb your hair when Madison walks in.

“Y/N?”

“Over here.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I woke up late. I didn’t have time to do my makeup. I need to use yours.”

“You texted me this is an emergency. I blew off Jason just to come here.”

“Mads, this is an emergency. Look at me. I can’t go to class looking like this. I still have pimples on my face. Can I use your makeup or not?”

“Of course.” She sets her backpack on the counter and takes out the massive bag containing everything she needs for a full face of makeup. It’s a damn good thing you’re the exact shade as her. “Why’d you wake up late?”

“I was out late last night.”

“And?”

“Why does there have to be an and?”

“Bitch, I know you.”

“I had too much to drink,” you sigh.

“There it is,” she laughs. “Who’d you do?”

“Why does there have to be a guy?” you chuckle and look at her. She raises an eyebrow as if you could actually fool her. “Okay, I don’t know his name. I was too busy making out with him to ask.”

“Do tell,” she smirks. You grab an elastic and put your hair up to have it out of the way while you do your makeup. She gasps when she sees the dark purple marks on your neck. “What the fuck are those?”

“So, they’re noticeable?”

“Noticeable? It looks like he was trying to suck your blood. God damn.”

“Mads, when I tell you this man was so fine, I mean it. I thought he was shy and awkward because he had that look about him, but he was the complete opposite. He took me to the back where the bathrooms were and had his way with me. God, he was so big,” you gasp.

“Tell me you got his number.”

“His friends came and got him before we could say anything. I don’t even know his name. I had to go home and put my vibrator to good use even after the orgasms he gave me.”

“Okay, new mission in life, find that man. It’s been a while since you let someone ruffle your feathers.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

You grab what you need and cover your marks as much as you can. They’re so dark that the foundation can’t cover it completely, but with your hair down, it’s manageable. Once you feel like you can walk out in public, you hand everything back to her.

“Okay, we’re good to go. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she winks.

You take one look at yourself and remember what it was like to have his hands on your body.

You’ve never done this with a stranger before. Sure, you’ve had public sex before but nothing like this. None of your flings had this much passion. You’ve only met this man not even an hour ago and his tongue is down your throat.

There is a family bathroom next to the men’s and women’s restrooms, so he shoves you into that one and locks the door behind him. He grabs your hips and lifts you so that you can wrap your legs around his slender waist. He shoves his hand between your legs as his lips trail down your neck.

“You are one fine specimen, and I'm not saying that because I'm drunk,” you moan.

All you can focus on is the way his fingers are rubbing on your clothed clit and how his lips are sucking on your neck.

“Y/N!” You snap out of your trance and look at her. “We’re going to be late. Come on.”

“Right.”

You two leave the bathroom and head in the direction of your first class, Criminal Justice 101.

“Tell me what he looks like. It’ll help me try to find him.”

“Curly brown hair, brown eyes, very tall, slim build, and he was wearing a sweater vest. Not what you’d think he’d be like. He knew what he was doing, that’s for sure,” you chuckle. “I don’t know anything about him.”

“You just know what his tongue and cock feels like.”

“Madison!” You look away once and run into someone who is reading a book. “Watch where you’re going.”

“That is no way to speak to a professor, young lady.”

You look back and see the Dean of the school escorting one of the new professors. You lock eyes with the new professor with wide eyes. He’s the man you fucked last night. He recognizes you but doesn’t say anything about it. Madison can guess what happened based on how you’re looking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, it was my fault,” he chuckles.

“Come, Dr. Reid. I’ll show you to Criminal Justice 101.”

“Wait, you’re teaching that class?” you ask, stopping the two men from leaving.

“Yeah.”

Madison grabs your shoulders and grins at Dr. Reid.

“Lucky for us, we’re your students.”

“Can’t wait,” he chuckles.

The Dean leaves expecting Dr. Reid to follow but the young doctor leans closer to you so you’re the only one who hears him.

“It’s a shame you covered them up. I’ll just have to make more.”

Your mouth drops open as he jogs to catch up with the Dean. You’re totally fucked. It’ll make class more interesting though.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[runninriot]

...✍️

“I want that too, y’know. The touching and kissing, everything. But the problem is, that I- I want all that from someone I can’t have. And that sucks.” Steve chuckles bitterly.

Isn’t that funny? That there he is, the wonderful man that stole Eddie’s heart, being just as miserable, just as heartbroken as Eddie is. It’s hysterical, really. Eddie wants to laugh, wants to ask who Steve is talking about. Finds it impossible to think there could be a single person in this world that would pass on the opportunity to be with Steve in all the ways Eddie would kill for.

   “Guess that makes two of us,” Eddie confesses and Steve perks up at his words, opens and closes his mouth as if he, too, doesn’t know if it’s okay to dig deeper.

There’s a sadness in his eyes Eddie thinks must mirror his own; two sets of brown eyes searching for comfort in each other. Eddie feels so small, so angry for Steve and himself because love could be such a beautiful thing but isn’t when the rhythm of your heart doesn’t match the one it’s beating for. When love is a one way road with no exists.

   “What do you mean?” Steve asks but Eddie just shakes his head and smiles weakly, trying to take some of the heaviness away for both their sakes.

People don’t choose to fall in love, it just happens. And when it does, there is always a fifty-fifty chance that your love is requited. That the person you fell for likes you in the same way, wants you just like you want them.

Sadly, Eddie has yet to be one of the lucky ones to experience that. The real thing. And while they are still staring at each other, each wallowing in their own sorrow because being in love hurts – he realises that this is so much more than a stupid crush. That this goes deeper than anything he’s ever felt before. That maybe for the first time in his 25 years on earth he understands what true love feels like. Feels the crushing weight of it. Knows it won’t fade so easily. But-

   “You’ll always have me.”

He can pretend. He can be Steve’s friend even if it hurts. Eddie would rather pull his own heart out than not to have Steve in his life. He’d rather be Steve’s friend than nothing at all.

   “What?” Steve seems confused at his statement and Eddie can’t blame him.

   “I’m sorry you can’t have who you want but you’ll always have me.”

   “Why do you say that?”

   “Because I mean it, Steve. No matter what, you’ll always have me. It might not be enough for you and I get that. But for me, this is everything I need even if I can’t have all I want. You wanna know why I came home so early? Because when you texted me, I realised that I don’t need to be anywhere else, with anyone else.”

    I just wanna be here. With you.

Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from saying more, knows he’s already said too much. Probably shouldn’t have said any of it.

The confusion in Steve’s eyes turns into something else – anger maybe? Frustration? He pulls away from Eddie, jumps up off the sofa and walks a few steps back.

   “You- you can’t just say things like that, Eddie.”

Eddie hates that there is so much space between them, so he stands too, approaches Steve like he would a scared animal, taking slow steps to close the distance between them.

   “I can’t say the truth?” He doesn’t think about his own words, just lets his emotions take over his brain and mouth, doesn’t care about the consequences.

   “N-no! You can’t just say it like it means more than what you’re actually saying. You’re doing this enigmatic bullshit I never understand because I’m too dumb to read between the lines!”

That causes Eddie to freeze on the spot. He’s only inches away from Steve now, could lift his arms easily to reach out for him. But Steve’s words stop him.

He’s right, isn’t he? Eddie does that a lot. Says only half of what he means or says one thing and means another entirely. He just never realised Steve knew. That he can see right through him.

   “You’re right,” he agrees.

Steve huffs annoyed, rubs his hands roughly over his face.

   “Then tell me what you mean. What you really mean.”

It doesn’t matter now, does it? He already said too much anyway. Steve is already onto him, knows Eddie is playing a game of hide and seek with himself – hiding the truth and seeking for an easy way out. But it’s too late to try and turn this conversation around.

   “What I mean is-“ Eddie takes a deep breath, summons all the courage he can find in himself. “It makes two of us because I feel that same way you do. Wanting someone I can’t have? Because you’re my friend, Steve. I can’t have you the way I want you and that’s fine. It hurts like hell but it’s fine. I can live with that. You’ll never be alone because you’ll always have me as a friend.”

Steve stares at him with eyes full of rage.

   “But I don’t want you as a friend.”

Steve’s words hit him like a fist to the face. But before Eddie can let them sink in and start spiralling about the meaning behind them – Steve not wanting to be friends anymore because of Eddie’s confession, obviously – Steve closes the distance between them in one swift motion, grabs Eddie’s face on either side, looking at him with determination in his eyes.

   “I want you as more than a friend, Eddie.”