#i tell him to ask someone for help so he did

[jensthwa]

a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget. 

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority. 

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever. 

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him. 

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound. 

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house. 

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them. 

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years. 

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek. 

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another. 

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street. 

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly. 

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.” 

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them. 

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love. 

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.” 

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment. 

His friend was a very proud but not that  out gay man. 

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway. 

“Good luck with that, love.” 

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!” 

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him. 

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even. 

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi. 

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all. 

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either. 

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.” 

“You said you felt he was not the one.” 

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?” 

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.” 

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone. 

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well. 

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in. 

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it. 

The noise quieting down, that is. 

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect. 

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you. 

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth. 

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it. 

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?” 

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart. 

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life. 

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you. 

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you. 

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship. 

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back! 

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you. 

��At some point you have to tell her about it, right?” 

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it. 

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.” 

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.” 

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.” 

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move. 

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him. 

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long. 

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present. 

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two. 

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily. 

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it. 

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?” 

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.” 

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.” 

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.” 

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.” 

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes. 

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.” 

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!” 

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm. 

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room. 

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.” 

“My eyes are literally closed!” 

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway. 

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct: 

“Look up and open your eyes.” 

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks. 

“Love… That's so chees—” 

“Just kiss me, you idiot.” 

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him. 

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.” 

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling. 

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!” 

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets. 

“This is beautiful, love…” 

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts. 

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs. 

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum. 

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!” 

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?” 

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card. 

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.” 

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction. 

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um… 

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.” 

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks. 

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart. 

Kind of. 

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace. 

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis. 

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—” 

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears. 

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't even know what to say. 

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?” 

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up. 

He points his finger at you “Wait here.” 

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat. 

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately. 

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart. 

Just like you hold his heart. 

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.” 

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger. 

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—” 

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him. 

“Shit, hold on—” 

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor. 

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?” 

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck. 

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again. 

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went. 

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his. 

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like. 

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared. 

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit. 

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him. 

He moans pathetically. 

You smile at the sound. 

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail. 

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone. 

“With the necklace on?” 

“And the sweater.” 

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression. 

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh. 

“Where did you learn this kink, love?” 

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…” 

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips. 

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?” 

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want. 

“Used her to get off?” 

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours. 

“Is that what you want me to do with you?” 

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want. 

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return. 

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you. 

He also knows you enjoy this. 

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal. 

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud. 

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?” 

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine. 

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?” 

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another. 

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home. 

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there. 

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then. 

Today, there’s not enough time. 

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin. 

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him. 

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched. 

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room. 

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well. 

He remembers he doesn't have much time. 

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue. 

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going? 

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling. 

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!” 

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace. 

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval. 

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.” 

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now? 

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you? 

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.” 

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before. 

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up. 

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully. 

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum. 

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately. 

“That was…” 

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.” 

He gasps in feign offense. 

“Stop projecting, love.” 

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you. 

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back. 

“I want to marry you, Y/N.” 

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes. 

“Now?” 

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.” 

“Good thing you got my ring size right.” 

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him. 

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again.  “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.” 

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.” 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.  

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off. 

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself. 

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you? 

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails? 

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time. 

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this. 

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility? 

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you. 

Does she know more than she’s letting on?��

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep. 

What is going on? 

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them. 

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion. 

She remains neutral. “Oh?” 

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?” 

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks. 

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.” 

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true. 

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience? 

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives. 

“I didn’t do it,” you insist. 

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes. 

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg. 

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card. 

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?” 

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods. 

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one. 

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic. 

What have you done? 

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you. 

You killed them. 

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself? 

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come. 

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally. 

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her. 

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.” 

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She 

But she’s not done yet. 

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?” 

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes. 

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you. 

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now? 

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road? 

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her? 

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life? 

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house. 

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you. 

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud. 

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.” 

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now. 

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.” 

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum. 

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints. 

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?” 

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you. 

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel. 

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back. 

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway. 

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together. 

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you? 

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple. 

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view. 

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you. 

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you. 

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you. 

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?” 

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?” 

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them. 

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet. 

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them. 

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes. 

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?” 

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn. 

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking. 

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist. 

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin. 

Blood.

More blood. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come? 

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward. 

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right. 

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down. 

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies? 

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?” 

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it. 

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?” 

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she? 

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells. 

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together. 

The Witch and Lady Death. 

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer. 

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble. 

If anything, they pushed you to do it again. 

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death. 

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get. 

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you. 

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks. 

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now. 

The only question is: why? 

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing? 

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight. 

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating. 

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight. 

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come. 

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest. 

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door. 

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay. 

Nothing. 

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth. 

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list. 

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there. 

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known. 

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there. 

You bend down to see what it says and 

Snow. 

The frozen creek. 

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick. 

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness. 

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that. 

Because the woman from your memory has a name now. 

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now. 

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.” 

Your head starts to pound. “How…?” 

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently. 

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember? 

What did she do to you? 

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.” 

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there. 

Fuck. 

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it. 

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail. 

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.” 

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.” 

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted. 

“What are you–” 

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.” 

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom. 

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. 

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out. 

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away. 

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts. 

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach. 

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.” 

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related? 

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer. 

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you. 

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories. 

Is Agatha the reason? 

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that? 

It seems to make sense. 

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble. 

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed. 

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb. 

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in. 

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now. 

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted. 

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy. 

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said. 

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled. 

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and 

Snow. 

Frozen creek. 

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her. 

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone. 

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes. 

But there’s another woman too. 

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback. 

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her. 

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in. 

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs. 

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going. 

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be. 

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that? 

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases. 

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow. 

Pneumonia. 

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia. 

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident. 

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods? 

Nothing is adding up. 

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly? 

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how. 

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them. 

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road. 

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt. 

It’s the smell that hits you first. 

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous. 

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room? 

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open. 

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower. 

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily. 

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue. 

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest. 

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left. 

OURS. 

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them. 

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out. 

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address. 

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have? 

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone. 

This ends tonight. 

[purplecrimson]

This made me think a lot about my own experience with non-queer people, thank you for both of your posts @genderqueerdykes and @kithpendragon ^^

As a (very) young queer adult who is still hiding from their aphobic and transphobic family, I am really glad I had queer friends who helped me out and comforted me during my childhood and my teenage years.

My experiences with cishet people of my generation were more mixed: while most women (/ girls depending on their age at that time) seemed to genuinely care about me and tried to understand the problems I was facing, I could not meet a cishet man who was an ally; in fact, I heard the most transphobic sh*t while trying to do so, and some of it came from one of my friends, which really hurt me (and I couldn't even stand up for myself, I was too weak...). Therefore, I started growing bitter towards all cishet men, which even resulted in me disliking myself for being transmasc. Online spaces I was in did not help me dealing with this insecurity.

But in September 2023, upon entering higher education, I met a professor - a cishet man - who has been making a difference in my life, by being kind-hearted, compassionate and thoughtful. Some gushing incoming :D

He was the first person outside of my friend circle I dared coming out to. I sent him a shy email asking if I could change my name and pronouns without the academic institution telling my parents, even if it was not technically authorised (I was still a minor). He had a perfect reaction, informed all of the other professors and offered his help in case someone decided to be transphobic.

But he did not just treat me decently. He went out of his way (even when he did not have to) to make my life as comfortable as it could be as a trans person, ensuring, for example, that I was misgendered in the least possible amount of documents. And when I was feeling scared or sad, I knew I could talk to him about it - he would always listen. Heck, he even called me during last summer holydays, even if he is not my professor anymore, when he somehow learnt that I was depressed and ready to quit my studies.

And of course, he is a brilliant, charismatic, motivating and captivating professor - everyone loves him. I ended up realising he made me want to become a researcher or a professor in his field, which gave me back some hope and energy. And I often come back to his classroom to chat or ask him for some advice - his door is always open. He is also rather skilled in reminding me that I should be more self-confident!

One could say he saved me, without knowing it. I don't think he has any idea how much of an impact he's had on my life. I am still trying to find a way to thank him, to tell him how much I admire and look up to him before I move to a university far away. I can't even begin to word it.

Weirdly, the fact that he is a cishet man has been sticking in my head too. Now, I understand why: I guess he gives me back hope from a more political point of view too, and makes me feel less shameful to say that yes, I am transmasc (even if I still have to work on this...).

i feel like the entire online queer community collectively forgot, or rather pretends that queer allies don't exist. like. we literally have a term and even a flag for queer allies. they exist. assuming every single perisex cishet person hates queer people isn't the way to go. allies are a very real and important part of our community. allies challenge the status quo by saying, i'm not queer, but i support what you're doing. they exist. they're out there- and yes, many of them are cishet men.

please don't forget this, or pretend that they don't exist: allies are an extremely important part of our history, community, and safety.

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[rqyup]

# experimental game pt 2

pairing.. sylus x non mc!reader

cw.. angst, ooc sylus(?), zayne appearance, implied suggestive scenes

a/n.. im srry guys this is so rushed 😔😔 pt 1.. (working on zayne ending!)

love and deepspace masterlist

It’s been a few months since everything ended between me and Sylus. Despite the time that’s passed, I can’t seem to forget the life we shared. Every kiss, every hug, every night tangled in each other’s arms—it’s all etched deeply in my heart.

Every waltz, every playful banter... it almost felt like we were perfect, didn’t it? That’s what I thought, at least. But then again, I was probably deluding myself. He never felt anything for me besides lust, right?

When I left Sylus, I also left behind the life of luxury that came with him. Now I’m back to paying bills, taxes, and—ironically—back to the same job I abandoned for him. Once again, I’m donning the coat of a doctor, walking the same hospital halls I thought I’d left behind forever.

I always prided myself on being a "law-abiding citizen," someone who wouldn’t bend for anything. But tell me, who could resist eyes like his? Looking back now, I realize how foolish I was. If I hadn’t wasted my time and effort chasing something so fleeting, I might have been promoted to chief doctor by now.

To cope, I’ve buried myself in work—exhausting shifts, endless patients. But even then, I couldn’t escape the emptiness, so I turned to people instead. That’s when I met Zayne, a brilliant doctor with an air of aloofness. I thought he was just a snob at first, someone too proud to speak more than a word.

But the more I got to know him, the more I saw the cracks in his façade. Like me, he carries the weight of being abandoned by someone he loved.

It’s strange, almost eerie, how our stories seem to align. The parallels are too close for comfort, yet I convince myself it’s nothing more than coincidence. After all, what are the odds?

Still, there’s something about Zayne—something that feels... steady. Safe. And I can’t help but wonder: could two broken people find solace in each other?

-

"Tell me, Dr. Zayne," you paused, your voice soft yet probing, the words carefully chosen.

He looked up from the desk, his usual composed expression wavering ever so slightly.

"Just what did your loved one do to make you feel this betrayed?" you asked, leaning forward slightly. "Even with my situation, I didn’t become that miserable. Could it be worse than mine?"

For a moment, Zayne stayed silent, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair. Then, with a deep exhale, he began to speak.

"I gave up everything," he said, his voice laced with a bitterness that made the air feel heavier. "I sacrificed it all because I thought she was worth it. I willingly betrayed people I never thought I would betray... betrayed myself... all to be with her."

His words hung in the air, striking a nerve you didn’t expect.

"It’s ironic, isn’t it?" he continued, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You think you’re making the ultimate sacrifice for love, that it’ll mean something. But in the end, you’re left wondering if you were just a stepping stone for them to find their happiness with someone else."

You swallowed hard, his confession cutting deeper than you anticipated. It was eerily similar to your own choices, the way you left behind your career for Sylus—a man who never looked at you the way he now looked at her.

"I needn’t elaborate further," Zayne said finally, his tone distant. "I suppose it’s just... that way. Love demands, takes, and often leaves you hollow."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His words echoed in your mind, a mirror to your own pain. You wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t always like that—but deep down, you weren’t sure if you even believed it anymore..

Maybe it was just the wind, or perhaps the faint growling of your stomach, but the longer you looked at Zayne, the more you began to notice the quiet elegance about him. His green eyes, sharp yet gentle, seemed to hold an unspoken wisdom. The way he carried himself—graceful, composed, and unfalteringly poised—made you realize how truly admirable he was.

"Ah," he broke the silence, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Did my talking bore you? Or is that your stomach making itself known?"

His voice was low, the faint laugh barely audible. But somehow, it was enough to send your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"It's nothing, Dr. Zayne," you replied quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of warmth to your cheeks. "I just... forgot to eat this noon."

"Forgot?" He raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement in his expression. "Well... if that’s the case, would you care to accompany me? I tend to have my lunch a little late as well, so if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind the company."

You hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. Yet the thought of sharing a quiet moment with him, away from the exhausting confines of work, felt oddly comforting.

"Alright," you said, trying not to sound too eager.

As he gathered his things, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him—the confident tilt of his head, the calmness in his every movement. He was everything Sylus wasn’t: grounded, thoughtful, and radiating a quiet strength.

And as you walked beside him down the hallway, you found yourself wondering: why didn’t you notice him before Sylus? Was it because you were too blinded by the allure of chaos? Or was it because, for the first time, you were starting to appreciate the kind of love that didn’t demand sacrifices?

Maybe, just maybe, there was something about Zayne you were beginning to see.

-

You walked alongside Zayne toward the small café at the corner of the hospital street. The air between you was light, your earlier conversations about work and shared frustrations creating an easy camaraderie. But as you entered the café, everything shifted.

There he was—Sylus. And beside him stood her, ms. hunter

Sylus’ gaze landed on you first, his smirk growing as he straightened from where he leaned against the counter. He hadn’t changed. That same magnetic confidence, the same cocky air that drew you in and tore you apart.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sylus drawled, his tone rich with mock surprise. His eyes swept over Zayne briefly before returning to you. “I see you’ve been busy.”

Zayne, at first, didn’t react, his body rigid beside you. But then his gaze locked on the woman at Sylus’ side. His lips parted ever so slightly, his normally composed expression faltering.

MC turned to glance at you and Zayne, her polite smile freezing when she saw him. For a second, the world seemed to stop.

“Zayne?” she whispered, her voice soft but unmistakable.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and Zayne. “You two know each other?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

Zayne’s jaw tightened, his voice cold as steel. “Briefly.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, guilt flickering across her face as her eyes darted from Zayne to you. Sylus, oblivious to the undercurrents between them, chuckled. “Ah, so you're one of those people in her old circles. Connections, am I right?”

Zayne didn’t answer, his sharp gaze fixed on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sylus said, looking at you now, his smirk ever-present. He gave an exaggerated grin, his arm tightening around MC. “It’s good to move on, wouldn’t you say?”

Your stomach churned. The jab was subtle but aimed with precision, as if Sylus had crafted it just to unravel you.

“Move on?” Zayne’s voice broke the tension, low but laced with restrained bitterness. He wasn’t looking at Sylus. His gaze was locked on the woman, the weight of his words aimed squarely at her. “Some of us have no choice but to.”

Her expression crumbled. “Zayne, I—”

Sylus interrupted her, oblivious to the storm building. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Small world and all. We should catch up sometime.” His smirk widened. “Doctor, was it?”

Zayne’s eyes snapped to Sylus, cold and unyielding. “Yes. Doctor Zayne,” he said, his voice clipped.

Sylus shrugged. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard about you—through some articles.”

Zayne didn’t respond, and Sylus didn’t seem to notice or care about the tension thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

“Anyway,” Sylus said, turning his attention back to MC. “We should head out. Busy day.”

She hesitated, glancing back at Zayne one last time. But he said nothing, his face betraying nothing despite the turmoil you could feel radiating off him.

As Sylus and ms. hunter left the café, Zayne turned abruptly, his back to the exit. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white.

“Zayne…” you started, unsure of what to say.

You reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut you off, though his tone wasn’t harsh. Just tired. “It was a long time ago.”

But the look in his eyes told a different story, one of wounds that never fully healed.

You and Zayne bid farewell, both aware that the tension from earlier would likely cast a shadow over the rest of your time together. By the time your 12-hour shift ended, exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and you collapsed into bed, grateful for the temporary escape of sleep.

But just as you were drifting off, your phone buzzed. You reached for it, blinking at the message from Zayne: "I'm sorry for yesterday."

You smiled, your fingers quickly typing a response. "It's alright."

The small joy that the message brought you was short-lived, and as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the lingering discomfort from earlier. It was almost like the weight of the day’s events was too much to just brush off.

So, you decided to get some fresh air, hoping the night might clear your mind. The streets were quiet, and the air was crisp, making the walk feel like a brief reprieve. Your feet carried you almost automatically toward a place that, despite yourself, you had visited before—a spot where Sylus frequently showed up, outside of the N109 zone.

It felt strange, walking there without really thinking about it. Maybe you were expecting to see him? Maybe you just needed to prove to yourself that you weren’t as affected as you felt. The thought lingered like a shadow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn back.

And then, as if the universe had been waiting for this moment, you heard a voice—chilling yet familiar—call out from behind you.

"Sylus."

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. It was him.

But as you turned the corner, you heard that voice—a voice you recognized all too well—calling out from the shadows.

“Well, well, if it isn’t you.”

You froze. You should’ve turned around and walked away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Slowly, you turned to face him, your heart pounding against your chest. Sylus was standing just a few steps away, leaning against the wall with that smirk you had come to both dread and expect.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, every word dripping with sarcasm.

You held your ground, forcing yourself not to show how uncomfortable his presence made you. “What do you want, Sylus? " you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

His eyes glittered with amusement as he pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps closer. “I’m just curious, that’s all,” he said, his gaze flicking to the phone still gripped in your hand. “Zayne, huh? Tell me, what’s he like? The 'good guy' type, I’m guessing?”

You didn’t like the way his words tasted, but you refused to show it. “What’s it to you?” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected.

Sylus chuckled, his smirk widening. “Nothing, just wondering if you’ve got a thing for the boring, predictable types. Or maybe you’re just tired of the excitement, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes, taking a step back. “Excitement? Is that what you think you are, Sylus? Exciting?”

He leaned in just a little closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I know I’m more exciting than anything Zayne could offer.” His tone was so smooth, it made your skin crawl. “He’s all ‘serious’ and ‘responsible,’ while I’m... well, I’m anything but.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of anger and frustration threatening to boil over. “You don’t know anything about me,” you said through gritted teeth.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, amused by your reaction. “Oh, I think I know enough,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not the type to settle for the boring, good guy routine. You want something more, don’t you?”

Before you could reply, he took another step forward, closing the distance between you. His proximity made you tense, the air thick with tension. It was as if he was deliberately trying to push you to the edge. His dark eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something darker—something you couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t think you’ve figured out what you want yet, sweetie.” he said softly, his words almost a challenge. “But maybe I could show you something... more exciting.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you froze. Sylus was so close now, you could feel the heat of his body. His gaze never left yours, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop your breath from hitching in your throat.

"You're still the same, kitten.

The room felt heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. You lay quietly beside Sylus, the silence stretching between you both, a tension in the air that neither of you seemed to know how to break. The rawness of the night still lingered, but it was different now—softer, almost like something deeper had replaced the sharp edges of your frustration.

Sylus broke the silence first, his voice unusually low and softer than you were used to hearing from him. “I’m not proud of how things went between us.”

You turned toward him, watching as he avoided your gaze, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “You’ve never really made people feel important, have you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the frustration you hadn’t been able to shake.

He didn’t immediately answer, letting the silence settle in once more. When he finally spoke, it was with a quiet honesty you didn’t expect. “I was selfish,” he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking about what you needed. I was too caught up in... other things.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a slow breath. “I left because I couldn’t keep being in a relationship that wasn’t real. I wasn’t getting anything I needed, Sylus.” Your voice softened. “I couldn’t keep giving when you weren’t even giving me anything in return.”

He met your gaze, his eyes full of a rawness you hadn’t seen before. “I get it. I wasn’t the man you needed me to be. But... I never got over you, kitten. Never stopped thinking about you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You didn’t know how to respond. You had tried to move on, to distance yourself from everything that happened, but now that he was here, so close, it was harder than you wanted to admit. “I tried to move on too, Sylus,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “But it’s not that simple.”

There was a pause, and you felt him shift beside you, a restless energy in his movements. He rubbed a hand through his hair, his eyes unfocused as if searching for the right words to say. Finally, his voice broke through again. “You know... I didn’t realize how much I still... felt for you until I saw you with Zayne. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The way you two were together... It drove me crazy.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “I felt so jealous, sweetie. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Seeing you with him... I realized that I still love you. And that’s when it hit me. How much I never really moved on. Not completely.”

Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His words, raw and unfiltered, hung in the air between you, and you didn’t know what to say. You thought you had moved on. You thought you were past this. But hearing him say it so plainly—hearing him admit it—brought all those buried feelings rushing to the surface.

“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But here we are. And I can’t just walk away from it.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the emotions that welled up inside you. “Sylus, you can’t just come back into my life like this. After everything...”

He reached for your hand, his grip tight but gentle, his touch grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. “I know I can’t fix everything, kitten. But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

You didn’t speak right away, your mind a swirling mess of conflicting thoughts. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him in. But you also knew the pain he had caused you before. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know where we go from here, Sylus. But... maybe we’ll figure it out.”

A softness you rarely saw crossed his face, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. We will.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, but it was different this time. The weight of your conversation still hung heavy in the air, full of unspoken truths. You could feel the tension creeping back in, but this time it wasn’t the kind of tension that had torn you apart before. It was a new kind of energy—one you weren’t sure you were ready for, but couldn’t seem to resist.

As you lay there beside him, your breath caught in your throat. The distance between you was closing, and you could feel the air between you crackling with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull. His hand brushed against your cheek, and his eyes darkened as he looked at you.

You didn’t say anything, but the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. And for a moment, all the pain, all the distance between you, seemed to disappear.

Sylus's body was pressed against yours, his lips dangerously close to yours as his hand slid down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat between you both, the undeniable chemistry, a raw tension that neither of you could ignore.

His breath was shallow as he leaned in, his lips just grazing yours, teasing. "You still want this?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, heart racing, your body responding to every inch of him. You leaned in, almost there-

"Boss!" said luke and kieran.. banging the door, unaware of what's happening inside.

"Seriously?" Sylus muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.

Reader shot him a look, equally irritated. "Of all the times... now?"

The tension hung in the air as the moment slipped through their fingers, the interruption pulling them back into reality.

But hey, atleast they're back together now. ;)

rqyup © 2024 – do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my content; dividers by me; likes and reblogs are appreciated !

[hxlxnaaa]

can i pretty please have the extended version of what happens in zaynes exclusive tutorial……. asking for a friend……..

ⁱ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ….

𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

★ synopsis: an extended version of zaynes exclusive tutorial 5-star ;)

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first person pov, quickie SMUT!!!!, a lot of the dialogue is just taken from the card

★ word count: 3.5k

★ a/n: i literally have not wrote smut since i was at least 13...i lowkey blacked out writing this so if it sucks i'm so sorry. it was good practice though so ty for the request!

Internally, I was dreading this. As a Deepspace Hunter, low-key yet high end, relaxed events were not something I was accustomed to. While it was a nice change from the chaotic atmosphere of my own work, I couldn’t help but worry I may embarrass myself.

When Zayne first invited me, I was a bit surprised he’d ask me of all people. I was sure the man was convinced I’d, at some point during the night, make a fool of him and myself. Though I was pleased he thought of me, and honored to be chosen, it put the stakes of the night higher.

I tried to make myself as fancy as possible, without overdoing it, because I was convinced these people would know I was trying too hard. I mean, they were all top med school alumnus who probably made more in a day than I made in a year.

Walking in with Zayne, the club lighting was low with soft jazz playing in the background. I scanned the perimeter, and observed the people around. Nearly everyone had brought a companion, and I smirked to myself. Mentioning I could tell why he brought me along, I gestured for him to lean down to my level.

“Did you feel left out because everyone else brought someone? Is that why?”

Zayne looked back at me, “Yes. It’s why I invited you.”

“Lame… I thought you’d make up an excuse and deny it.

Bantering with him for a second, one of his classmates approached us. The two make small talk with each other, when the man finally introduces himself as Steven to me, reaching out for a handshake. Before I can even respond, Zayne quickly grabs my hand instead.

“Let’s find a place to sit down and talk.”

-

Sitting at the bar with Zayne and his classmates, I get to finally turn off my brain and just listen. All of them go on and boast about him, Steven particularly going on about his pool skills. Zayne sits comfortably with the attention, and it’s safe to assume he’s well accustomed to being the center of it all; though it didn’t last when I quickly caught his eye, as he gave me a helpless look.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” He whispered to me, an edge to his voice that was practically begging me to get him out and away from these people.

Zayne grabs his drink, assuming I was going to agree, and I stop him. He gives me a confused look as I turn my body to fully face him. Deciding to have some fun, the drinks I’ve had giving me some liquid courage-

“I haven’t seen Dr. Zayne play pool either… Is he really that good?” I smiled at him.

He pauses, lips forming into a tight line, “Ah, so you’re ganging up on me.”

I was pushing the right buttons.

While another classmate comes up to Zayne, doting all over him like the others, as he goes on about “hands on learning” with him.

I smirk inwardly, taking a sip out of my wine glass. Oh yeah, I thought to myself, I’m gonna use that one.

After the man leaves, Zayne playfully pinches my ear, “I could see you eavesdropping from a mile away, did you find anything interesting?”

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “I heard…” Pretending to think for a second, I looked around the room, then back at him, “you’re incredibly considerate to your juniors and are highly respected by everyone, Dr. Zayne”

He sighs, looking away, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. “I guess you can be nice…” I tapped his shoulder.

Zayne raises an eyebrow, “You guess? Do I not treat you well?”

Shrugging, I shake my head and raise my hands, feigning innocence, “It’s hard to say…” I take another sip out of my glass. “You never did any ‘hands-on’ learning with me.” Sticking out my lower lip in a pout, “And everyone says it’s an honor to be taught by you, sir…”

Putting down my wine glass, I sigh, “I wonder when I’ll get to experience it…”

“It seems you truly do want to learn about surgeries.” Zayne retorts.

“Who says it has to be for work?”

He looks at me, almost startled.

“Follow me.”

-

On the club's second floor, the billiard hall is tucked away, secret, and empty.

Perfect.

Walking forward, I circle around one of the pool tables.

“Why are we playing pool all of a sudden?” Zayne asks from behind me.

I flip my hair and look at him over my shoulder, “Because I wanna learn from you of course. Dr. Steven was praising your pool skills, but you’ve never mentioned them before.” I pushed my back to the table, leaning back on my hands.

Zayne walks up to me, “He was drunk and just rambling.”

“Oh? He said you were really good…” Cocking my head to the side to look at him, he stared back at me with intent, “Like a professional.”

“Maybe because a surgeon has steady hands.”

“Then-” I stood up straight again, crossing my arms and smiling sweetly, “it’d be nice if I could get some tips from you.”

“While I can’t give any tips per se, we can play.” He looks at me and smiles back, “If you want.”

Picking out two cue sticks, handing me the shorter one, he walks to one of the tables in the corner, “Have you played before?”

“Once or twice. People say I have potential,” Zayne raises a brow at my confidence, “but I ‘can play’.”

“Are you gonna be strict with me, sir?” I playfully swing around the cue stick. Zayne crosses his arms, leaning into me, “Strict teachers make outstanding students.” He states, “Let’s start.”

Gesturing for me to go, I lean over the table, feeling his eyes boring into me. I hold my breath as I hit the ball, the only sound in the room the echoes of the balls scattering.

Zayne chuckles under his breath, and I look back at him, “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“You have more than enough strength. If you adjust your posture, you’ll see better results.”

“I need you to help me identify my weak spots via ‘hands-on learning’, sir.”

I watch as his facade begins to crumble a bit, before he quickly regains himself, “We’ll have to work on your posture then.”

Coming up next to me, I stand up straight as he leans down over the table, “Like this. Place your right foot back…” He strikes, graceful as ever. When I try, I look like a klutz.

Bent over the table, he comes up behind me. “Relax,” He whispers, “you’re too tense.” He places his hand on my back, and almost as a reflex to his touch, my waist immediately bends. “Now you’re too relaxed.” He clicks his tongue as I become jelly under his touch.

“Relax your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally.” His arm snakes up under mine, “Your head, right arm, and the cue stick should form a straight line.”

He places his hand softly on my cheek, shifting my head to the left, “How is it?”

“It,” I winced at the uncomfortable position, “hurts a little.”

I hear him smile, “That means it’s correct.”

Making a face, I try to give him my most pitiful look.

“You’re so harsh, sir.”

He grabs my chin, making me face the table again. The gesture makes me gasp.

“Don’t tilt your head.” Zayne remarks, “You messed up your posture again.”

“Is there an easier way? Like something I can do without much trouble?”

“Yes, but are you sure you want to do it?”

I groan, my body feeling stiff from holding this pose for so long, “Bring it on.”

I feel him shift from beside me, “Don’t move for now.”

Zayne comes up behind me, positioning himself where his chest is flush against my back. Reaching his arms around me, one of his hands comes up to grab mine. Lowering his head, I feel his breath on my neck as his lips settle next to my ear, “Your rhythm with the cue stick…isn’t quite there yet.” My eyelids flutter closed at his voice, “You need more hands-on training.”

He directs me carefully, “You should neither be too fast nor too hesitant.” His words sound distant as all I can focus on is the feeling of his body pressed against mine, as heat spreads in between my thighs.

My hand is enveloped in his, and the back and forth motion of the cue stick slows down, “Move the cue stick three or four times..” He instructs, everything about this feeling overwhelmingly provocative, “Stop at the point closest to the ball…”

“Did you get that?” He whispered, turning his head away from the pool table to face mine.

“Yeah…” Was all I could muster back.

Softly smirking, he turned back to follow my vision, “Keep your eyes on the ball, one…two…three…” I think I may actually combust if he keeps this up.

“Stop, and pull back the cue stick.”

He loosens his grip on me, “Snap out of it. Are you even listening to me?”

No, not really Zayne. I can really only focus on not grinding back into you right now.

“Ah yes,” I cough, “Pull back the stick…”

“Very good, just like that…” I bite back a whimper and the urge to rub my legs together at his praise, he knows good and well what he’s doing.

“Now…strike.”

I hit the ball, and when it goes in I snap out of whatever hypnotic haze I was in.

“It’s in!”

Zayne pulls back, and I stand up straight, placing my hands on my hips. “Did you see that? It was a great shot! I’m so cool…” Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I flash him a smile.

“I did.” He smiles warmly back, “You’re not a total beginner.”

“Maybe it’s because I practice shooting all the time. Or, it’s possible I’m a prodigy…” I started regaining my confidence after it had ever so slowly faltered on the pool table.

“Perhaps.” Zayne shrugs, “To be honest, all you need to be good at pool is…”

He leans over the edge of the table, looking over at me. My breath hitches at the sight.

“A steady hand, precision, and a calm attitude.” His eyes bore into mine, “Once you’ve locked into your target, don’t let go.”

I swallowed. Even though he was clearly talking about the ball, it felt oddly personal.

He has me play a bit more, teaching me as I go. I easily earn his praises and they ring like music in my ears.

“If a student does a good job,” I remind him, “shouldn’t they get a reward?”

He considers it for a second, “What do you want?”

Confidence bubbling up again inside of me, I sigh dramatically. “Well, it might be difficult to hit this next ball. Help me.”

“Is that all?” Zayne asks, clearly not convinced. Pausing before coming to help me, I give him a smug look, “What’s wrong Dr. Zayne? Are you scared?”

I was pushing my luck, and loving every second of it.

He frowned, “Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

“Then come here.” I nodded toward the pool table, giving him a sweet smile.

Zayne inches towards me, only moving slightly closer.

“Closer.” I demand, “Or else I can’t reach it.”

He gives me a confused look, “What exactly…”

I grab him by the collar, pushing him back onto the table. Zaynes cheeks turn pink as he stares up at me with a shocked expression. Lips slightly agape, I can see a million thoughts running behind his eyes. The dumbfounded look on his face makes me want to take him on the table right now.

“Look,” I pout, “the ball’s so far away. I think it’s time to use a cue rest.”

I tap the cue stick on each side of his head. Zayne narrows his eyes at me, “Using cue rests would be overkill.” He sits up, and I use the stick to slowly tug out his tie, “And this,” he glares, “is inappropriate.”

Though he feigns annoyance, the look in his eyes is a dead giveaway.

“But…” I pull the stick away leaning towards him, my breath dusting his ear, “I think you’re enjoying it…” He looks down and away at the table, clearly embarrassed, “I shouldn't have taught you so much” he mutters.

Running my fingers through his dark hair, I slowly tease my hand down his body, caressing his face, down to his chest, down to where I see where he’s aching for me to touch the most. I coo at him when I see the desperate look in his eyes, and quickly snap my hand away before I reach the bulge growing in his nice slacks.

Zaynes face is red hot as he sits up on the table enough that he’s eye level with me, “Who taught you to use your teacher as a cue rest…” he frowns.

“Well,” I place my hand on his chest over his heart, “this cue rests heartbeat is going to ruin my accuracy.” I tut.

“Is it my heartbeat affecting your accuracy, or yours?” His hand comes up to caress my cheek, “If you actually want to learn, I can show you another way…”

Zayne leans in, lips almost to mine before I grab his shoulder and push him back. He looks at me, wide eyed at the denial.

“Sir, this seems to be lacking professionalism.” Crossing my arms across my chest, his lips curve at my attempt to scold him.

“Weren’t you just using me as a cue rest?” He leans back in, “Talking about professionalism… is a bit too late.”

As he grabs me by my waist, I push him back onto the table again as a reply. The gesture only lasts a few seconds before Zayne smiles at me, quickly sitting up and using his hand around my waist to reverse us; flipping me onto my back and onto the table, he settled in between my legs. I squeak at the sudden change, as he now hovers over me, my head caged between his arms.

“Why don’t you let me show you…” Zayne pulls back, standing up straight. He grabs his cue stick, “Watch closely, I’m only going to do it once.”

Pushing his chest against mine, he goes for the ball right behind my head. His head hovers right above my face, and I lean up to place a kiss on his adams apple right as he strikes the ball. I have half a mind to bite into his neck, but he quickly stands back up as he watches the ball go in.

He looks down at me, and I’m sure I look utterly disheveled. From where he stood in between my thighs, my dress had ridden up high enough that every inch of my bottom half was almost on display for him to see. My hair was splayed out around me on the table, and my chest heaved with the breath I was so desperately trying to catch.

The sexual tension that had slowly built up throughout the night was now thick enough to cut with a knife. Smiling softly, Zayne tilts my chin up, caressing my jaw as his thumb slowly parted my lips, dipping it past my teeth and pressing it against my tongue. “Pretty little mouth…” he mutters, staring at the way his finger sits in between my lips. I look up at him through half-lidded eyes, sucking down on his thumb.

He frowns, “Always such a tease.” Zayne sighs, picking up my ankle, pressing a kiss to it. I craved his lips on mine, but I always enjoyed the shows he’d put on for me. He continued to kiss up my calf, closing his eyes as he felt my skin against his lips.

“Zayne.” I demanded, and he looked at me annoyed, as if I was interrupting something.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me…”

He leaned down, nose brushing against mine, but not meeting my lips. I pushed myself up, trying to connect us, but he pulled away at the last second. Frustrated and tired of his games, I grabbed Zayne by his tie, crashing my lips against his, pulling him down on top of me onto the table.

“Behave.” He groaned as I took his bottom lip in my teeth, tugging softly. Grabbing my wrists with his hand, he pinned them above my head. Zayne’s free hand roamed up my thigh, fingers dusting over the place I was praying for him to touch the most.

I squirmed under him as he toyed with the lace on my panties, never dipping his fingers past. His grip on my wrists tightened, lips leaving mine so our eyes could meet. Waves of lust crashed in his green eyes.

“What do you want?” His lips kissed down my neck and chest.

“You to touch me.” I whimpered.

He tsked, “Beg.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?” Zayne nipped at my collarbone, then kissed the skin.

“Please…”

“What was that?”

“Please, Zayne.” Everytime I said please, his fingers inched closer to the arousal pooling in between my thighs, “Zayne, please, please, fuck, please.”

I felt him smile against my skin, and he dipped a finger inside of me.

Clenching around him, I moaned at the satisfaction.

Zayne groaned, “God, you’re so wet. You’ve been eager all night…” Pumping in and out, I stifled my whimpers and moans against his shoulder. He let go of my wrists, and my hands flew to his collar, gripping for dear life as he added another finger.

Tracing his thumb on my clit, two fingers curling up inside of me, Zayne always knew just how to make me come undone. He could get off on this alone, watching me fall apart underneath him by just his hands. I was seeing stars, thinking nothing could get better than this.

Zayne pulled away, and I cried out at the emptiness. He stood there for a second, just taking all of me in, “You’re so beautiful.” He took off his tie, gently grabbing me by the back of my head and lifting it up so he could tie the fabric around my mouth as a makeshift gag.

“As much as I love to listen to you, I don’t want anybody else to hear. Is that all right?”

I nodded at him and he smiled, petting my cheek, “Good girl.”

Reaching forward, I palmed his hard on through his nice, business slacks. The idea of them being around his ankles as he takes me on this table was enough to almost make me cry from joy. Sighing at the friction, Zaynes eyes fluttered closed, and I worked my hand up and undid his belt. Getting too eager, he freed himself, and slid my panties down to where they loosely dangled off one of my heels.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” He pressed his tip against my opening, “but this will have to do.” Sinking all the way down to the hilt, I choked out a muffled scream, squeezing my eyes shut as the tie killed my lewd noises.

Zayne grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my skin, “Eyes open.” He demanded, pulling out, and slamming back in, “Keep looking.”

Already overwhelmed from the stimulation he provided earlier, tears welled up in my eyes from just how good all of it felt. The impossibly delicious way he could fill me up, lips dancing across my skin as he chased after his own pleasure. His hand gripping into my hips, most likely leaving bruises, as he drilled into me; kissing my palm before biting into the skin to muffle his own groans.

Zayne’s skin glistened with sweat, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his lips red and swollen from my aggressions. He railed into me like a maniac, like he was fucking starving. Gracefully, his hand found its way back in between my thighs, finding the bundle of pleasure that made me cry out. At the feeling I blinked out tears, my eyes burning from the mascara I was practically sobbing away. I was moments away from ruining this table beneath me, and Zayne knew that.

He grabbed my neck, almost as if for stability as he picked up his pace. Desperately rolling his hips against mine, I clenched down around him “Just.. like that, oh... God." He moaned. I lifted my hips up to meet his thrusts, trying to chase my own release and his. Zayne looked me in the eyes, squeezing the hand around my neck, “My girl. Mine.” He groaned.

With one last thrust and his praise, I was screaming behind the tie, shaking from my release beneath him. Digging my nails into his biceps, his hips stuttered, and with a moan he pulled out, finishing all over my nice dress.

Zayne nearly collapsed on top of me as we laid there for a while, just soaking in the aftermath. As he pulled away, I watched him cringe at the mess he had left on me. For some reason, I started laughing.

“What’s that for?” He questioned.

I continued to giggle, “I didn’t know you were that good at pool…”

“If we had more time, I’d show you more of my techniques…”

Slapping him on the shoulder, I sat up, and he swept me off the table and back onto my feet. Brushing my hair with his fingers, he attempted to wipe away the mascara stains on my cheeks. “I know the back way out of here,” He pressed a kiss to my temple.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[mikado-sannoji]

"Did you forget we're bringing Makoto back to life including everyone else who died during it all? If he tells everyone everything that transpired... They'd have a bigger chance of believing it and get more people to testify it's credibility can help our case. And i can always... Ask my creator to find a different place to live while you lay low at his place, you don't have to live under the same roof. I'm sure... He won't mind. And besides... What exactly is stopping them from changing their targets to those who were close to you once they think you're gone and think we'd be easy targets now that we won't have your protection? Some... People will try to refocus their hatred and anger at someone else. I'll help you rebuild your reputation. It's not impossible to fix and still allow the world to heal."

Lucky approached them and chuckled lightly.

"Case point... If everyone is getting revived... Tsurugi will undoubtfully go after Mikado's head more furiously than ever. Finding any reason to punish him. Like you said, they don't know what happened right? He has no reason to not pin a lot of it on Mikado. You think they'd be any safer from the people's wraths? Hardly. Mikado's own reputation is pretty low too so not many would take his side."

"You... Really don't have to remind me."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[caspiansinclair]

TRK KANDREW QUOTES:

- "Andrew twisted and punched the wall hard enough to split the skin along his knuckles. Kevin took a quick step forward, hand out like he could stop Andrew from landing a second blow"

- "You shouldn't be outside if you're coming down with something," Kevin said. "Such concern." Andrew grinned at Kevin's cool tone. "Don't cry, Kevin. It's nothing a nap and some vitamin C can't fix."

- Kevin had a knee hugged to his chest and his face hidden in the fold of his arm. His knuckles were white where his hand was clenched into a fist. Neil didn't think it was the bus that was making Kevin shake like that. "Look at me," Andrew said. "It'll be fine. You believe me, yes?" "I believe you," Kevin said, muffled but noticeably strained.

- "Andrew has neither purpose nor ambition," Kevin said. "I was the first person who ever looked at Andrew and told him he was worth something. When he comes off these drugs and has nothing else to hold him up I will give him something to build his life around." (my fav quote)

- Kevin had eyes only for Andrew as he crouched in front of the downed goalkeeper. "So," Kevin said, "did you have fun?" Andrew was too tired to put any heat in his words. "You are despicable, Kevin Day. I don't know why I keep you around."

- Kevin only smiled, slow and sure and pleased, and offered Andrew a hand. Andrew looked at it, then at Kevin, and let Kevin haul him to his feet.

- "Why do you have his drugs?" "I hold onto them when he's adjusting his schedule," Kevin answered. "Game nights or nights like tonight when he wants to go into withdrawal, it's better if someone else keeps the bottle. If he has his pills he'll take them. He won't be able to help himself."

- "When I said I wasn't Andrew's type, I meant it. It's not about my looks or faith. It's that I'm a woman." Neil heard her words but was slow to understand them. He blinked at her in confusion, blinked again when it clicked, and said a little too loudly, "Oh. Then Andrew and Kevin—"

- "Andrew won't agree to this," Abby said, a last-ditch effort to change their minds. "Going means leaving Kevin behind. They haven't had more than a campus between them since Andrew took Kevin under his wing."

- "Kevin," Andrew called from out of sight. Kevin nearly knocked the chair over in his hurry to answer. Neil watched from the doorway as Andrew stopped almost right up against Kevin. Andrew pat Kevin down for imaginary injuries and Kevin stood motionless until he was done."

- "Look at that face, Bee. He wants me sober more than almost anyone does, but only if the timing's right. I warned you, didn't I? Who will take care of Kevin if I'm gone? I can't trust him wandering around here by himself, and Coach can't be with him all the time. Kevin's kind of a full-time job."

- "I can't believe you're sending Andrew away," Kevin said, a little sharply.

- "She shouldn't have taken Andrew away," Kevin said in a low voice.

- Kevin is not like us; he is valuable but he is not property in the same sense. He escaped because he had family to run to." "Andrew?" Neil guessed.

- “Kevin had spent the better part of a year trying to get through to Andrew. He wanted Exy to mean something; he wanted Andrew’s best preformance like a dying man wanted one last breath of air. Andrew knew it, and he refused to play along.”

- (this one’s long:) "So you'll try," Kevin said through gritted teeth, "because Coach asked you to."

Andrew folded his arms across his knees, tilted his head back, and smiled up at Kevin.

"Careful, Kevin. Your jealous streak is showing."

"For eight months you've told me no. In eight seconds you told him yes. Why?"

"Oh, that's easy." Andrew stuffed the last of his gear into his bag and zipped it shut. He slung the bag over his shoulders and got to his feet, standing up so close to Kevin he almost knocked Kevin back a step.

"It's just more fun to tell you no. That's what you wanted, right? You wanted me to have fun. I am. Aren't you?"

For someone so small, Andrew made a lot of noise when shoved into the lockers. Andrew was laughing as he crashed into the orange metal. Neil didn't know what amused Andrew more: Kevin's violence or the splash of blood that now stained the front of Kevin's shirt. Neil hadn't even seen Andrew take a knife out, but it was in his hand in the air between them. Kevin retreated from Andrew with a sharp curse.

"Jesus, Andrew!" Matt said. "Kevin, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Kevin put a hand to his chest as if checking the truth of his words. Neil was at the far end of the lockers from them, so he couldn't see very well, but the relative lack of blood made him think the cut was shallow. It was long, but it wasn't serious. It was going to sting when Kevin put heavy armor overtop it tonight, though.

Andrew stepped away from the lockers and got in Kevin's space again. He put the edge of the blade against Kevin's chest over his heart and peered up into Kevin's face. Kevin looked more angry than intimidated as he stared back. Matt started toward them, maybe thinking he had to break up round two of their fight. Kevin didn't look away from Andrew when he motioned at Matt to back off.”

[spidybaby]

Holiday Vlog 🎄✨️

Barca Boys x Youtuber!Reader

Summary: You do your yearly Holiday Vlog, but this time you have a special guest.

Warnings: cursing, christmas celebration (for those who don't celebrate)

Pedri

"Okay, so the set is not the usual." You say, stating the obvious. "We are in my car, and we are going to my boyfriend's house to prepare some Christmas dishes." You explain.

You check if you have everything for the dishes you promised Pedri to do with Fer and him. You were going to make cookies, banana bread, Rosy's recipe of a canarian dessert, and more.

"So I have everything we need, I'll just need willingness from my boyfriend to be able to cook four Christmas dishes." You chuckle.

You talk about your adventure buying everything. Basically doing a voice-over because you'll place some clips over the voice.

You call Pedri as you are outside his house. He and Fer walk out to help you bring the ingredients inside and to the kitchen.

"Ven aquí." Pedri says, leaving the things in the counter and then turning to you to give you a hug. "Ready to spend the best christmas ever?"

You nod, giving him a kiss. "Are you ready to be my vlog partner?" You ask, separating and pointing at him with the camera. "Some words, pepi?"

He thinks for a while. "We are going to make banana bread, and we are going to kiss under the mistletoe." He smiles, giving a thumbs up.

You chuckle, putting the camera down and giving him a kiss. "Te amo."

"Yo más." He smiles and goes back to your lips. "Let's make some yummy dishes."

You organize the ingredients in his kitchen. Fer printed out some steps on what to do, you'll edit the clips to make them look aesthetic.

"Do we need to not mention something or what?" He asks, looking at you while you positipn the camera.

"You can say all you want, I'll edit it out." You smile. "Ready?"

He nods, positioning next to you on the frame. "Do I have to say something?"

"Want to say hi and tell what we are doing?" You ask, pressing recording.

He blushes lightly. "Vamo' a hacer pan de platano, unas galletas y vamos a hacer un postre canario que los va a dejar niquelaos." (We are going to make banana bread, cookies, and a canarian dessert that is going to make your brain blow)

You smile. "We are going to begin with the banana bread." You smile. "Thankfully, Pedri's brother Fer printed us the recipes with very detailed steps."

"Perfecto!" He says. "And we have the famous platanos de Canarias." He shows them. "I got them for free." He laughs.

You giggle. You start to read the instructions, following the steps with him. Pedri was so enthusiastic about it.

You two make all the recipes, taking a good time but being happy about being able to make it together and to be spending quality time together.

"We are going to load the dishwasher and wait for everything to cool." You smile. "Thank you, guys. I love you all. Pedri and I wish you a happy holiday and to those who celebrate a merry christmas."

You turn the camera off, taking the break time to charge the battery. You help Pedri load the dishwasher and place some clean dishes in their respective areas.

You feel two cold hands and a kiss on your neck. "Do you want to order some food and maybe watch something while we wait?" He asks, giving you more kisses.

You say yes to him. He grabs your hands and walks with you to his room. His parents are in Tenerife, and Fer is busy playing.

You order something and cuddle with him in bed. The movie and food were good. "Thank you for doing this vlog with me." You whisper, kissing his nose.

"Don't thank me." He giggles. "I love doing this stuff with you. Te amo."

"Te amo, Pepi."

Ferran

"Hola, Ferran here." He says into the camera. "And this is Y/n." He points at you.

You wave to the camera, hugging him by the neck and giving him a kiss. "Hi, guys."

"Today, we are going to buy some last-minute presents." He explains. "This happened because someone lost the gif-"

"He did." You interrupted him. "But we are not going to point fingers to anyone." You smile.

He scuffs. "Okay, so we are going to the mall, but before this is our outfit of the day." He smiles, placing the camera and getting a full picture of your outfits. "Go." He instructed you.

You smile at him, looking at him with lovey eyes. "I'm wearing a The North West jacket, I have Ferran's t-shirt under." You open your jacket a little, showing the t-shirt. "I have a pair of thermal leggings, some fuzzy socks from primark, and my boots are from ugg." You finish.

"My jacket is from Off White." Ferran says. "My polo shirt, same as my baby." He smiles to you. "Some cargos from I don't know and my jordans. I also will be wearing this over my mouth because I don't want to be recognized."

He grabs the camera, grabbing your hand and walking. He was loving taking over the vlogs, he loves being able to share more than he does in social media.

"We are going to get his sister and mother something and also we are getting a Christmas outfit for him." You say.

You two began your adventure with Ferran explaining everything you are doing. He likes taking the chance to make your channel his own.

"Pick this or that." He says.

You focus on the options. "That."

He makes a face. "Okay, this." He smiles, placing the item into the basket.

You move the camera to focus on yourself. "This is why I have trust issues." You pout.

You two move from buying the gifts to get his outfit. You explain to the camera that Ferran is someone who's very simple with his outfits, so this time, he allowed you to be the one to dress him.

"This is a, what is it called?" He asks you. "Impress dress." He says.

"Dress to impress, my love." You giggle. "Okay, so pick a store."

He thinks for a few moments, grabbing your hand and walking over to this store where you can get an ugly Christmas sweater.

"Do you want this?" You point to the sweaters. "Ferran, amor." You laugh.

"We can match ugly sweaters."

You nod, not wanting to end his happy grin. You search with him, he then sees something he likes.

"If I find your size, we are wearing this for Christmas night." He smiles.

You look at the ugliest sweater you have ever seen, but the way your boyfriend is smiling. You turn the recording back on, sighing.

"Guys, it seems like Ferran and I have our christmas outfits ready!" You say with a happy voice.

Gavi

"Do I look good?" He asks, checking himself in the small screen. "Is my hair alright?"

You smirk, h used to be so shy at the sight of the camera, and now he's used to it.

"You look good." You smile at him, fixing a string of hair that's looking weird. "I love the way your outfit looks, Pablito."

"We are matching." He giggles, hugging you by the waist. "What are we talking about in this vlog?"

"Just giving a small recap of our day, maybe a clip of us opening the gifts, and that's that." You explain. "Is that okay?"

He nods, understanding that you cut your vlog short because of him. Since you started dating, you changed your vlogging style. Trying to keep him out of it for the most part.

Pablo is not someone who likes cameras, even when his life revolves around cameras that picture hik from every angle while he plays.

He's not mad at the pictures you ask, and you keep to yourself or the memories you capture in video but never show to anybody.

He sometimes gets uncomfortable with the overexposure that people put him through, and he rejects the small moments you try to show him.

After some time, he got used to the idea of you being a vlogger. He likes the idea, actually. It was fun to see a recap of your day when he was away.

"Okay, my pumpkins," you say to the camera. "I'm over at my boyfriend's home. We are spending this Christmas together, and we have quite a tight schedule."

"Very tight." He remarks.

You chuckle at that. "And we are going to have dinner with his family, we will play some Christmas games and then open the gifts."

"Let's go eat," He shouts excitedly. "Vamoooos"

You show a very happy Gavi. You cut to the camera, walking with him to the kitchen. You charge the camera while eating with his family.

You have a nice talk with his parents and sister. You love them so much. Aurora and you planned on doing a small battle of building gingerbread houses.

You get everything set up. It was between Pablo Sr, Belen, Aurora, and you. Aurora's boyfriend, Pablo's grandma, and Pablo were the judges.

"Amor, come here." Gavi calls you. You see him with your camera on his hands. "We need to film this."

You smile at him, never thinking he would be the one starting the camera. "Pumpkins, we are doing this competition of building gingerbread houses." You explain. "Gavi, here. He's going to be the judge, and believe me when I tell you that he's not going to favor me."

He shakes his head no at your statement. "I'm a fair judge." He says, very serious tone.

You show the gingerbread building boxes, showing that each of them has a name. Gavi shows his family and asked them in a scale of 1 to 10 how confident they felt.

The competition began, you were never the best at building things, so obviously it was kind of messy.

Aurora, on the other hand, looked like an expert. Doing everything flawlessly. Your house was kind of tilted, and you can tell that it was not made with love.

After a fun, frustrating, but very full of love experience. It was time to judge. Gavi took the time to film the house and ask for an explanation.

"Y/n," He sighs. "Explain to us your very interesting architecture." He laughs.

"It's a modern and very revolutionary way of construction. Not for rockies." You joke.

The time of judging began, Gavi took the camera with him and filmed the audio of him and the judges picking the winner.

Obviously, it was not your almost destroyed house, you laugh when he offered you a peppermint candy as a consolation prize.

"If it makes you feel better, I voted for you." He smiles, hugging your waist.

"It actually makes it all better." You say, kissing him.

Fermin

Fermin is someone kind of shy. I think describing him is easy because he's not someone who's overly a sharer, but he's also not the shy and low profile guy.

When you explain to him that you were a youtuber and that you have a very successful vlogmas, that involved you doing different things during Christmas as decorations, gift shopping, outfits, different dishes.

He was confused because he didn't really got it. It was after that date that he ran home and searched your name in the YouTube search bar.

Your videos were very popular. It was a yearly series where you shared how you planned to decorate, how you were going to wrap your gifts, the usual.

He fell in love with how much you enjoyed doing these vlogs. At the same time, it was funny when he was away for games to see your vlogs and feel like he never left.

"This is the third time we tried to film this video, guys." You laugh. "The first time, Fermin lay down on the couch and fell asleep while I was getting the gifts."

"I love that couch." He says.

"The second time, we lost all the scissors. Turns out they were under the couch." You say, pointing at the different scissors.

"So, welcome to our vlog. Today, Fermin and I are going to wrap all the gifts we got for our family and friends."

"And before you say <oh, but what if they see it?> we got it covered, don't worry." He explains.

You love how he's now a vlog master, always taking over you when you needed the help.

"Okay, we have a dilema because my proposal was using the red wrapping for family and the green for friends."

"And I think that it's better if we do a white wrapping for family, green for close friends and red for other friends."

You two think for a while, you let him have his way and take his idea for wrapping. "We have two different wrapping paper of each color, so pick one."

"I want this for mom, this for dad and this for my brother." He says, picking one that is not even on the pile.

"That's not even an option." You say, pouting.

"Well, it is now." He smirks. Placing the wrapping out of your reach. "Pick yours." He says.

You do, picking the wrapping and selecting the gifts. You placed a lawyer of newspaper so the boxes weren't see-through, and you could show how you are wrapping the gifts.

You explained to Fermin how to do it since he had never wrapped anything before. It was a small tutorial for him.

Fermin was talking about a story of him and his family during the holidays. He was concentrated but also doing his storytelling job.

You were so happy to see him being so lost into the camera. He loved being with you at your daily vlogs, and he was from now on your new vlog buddy.

After a few tries and some not very cute wrappings, he grabs a small box, trying to be sneaky about it.

"Need help?" You ask him.

"No, no. Go back to your gifts." He says quickly, hiding the box. "No peaking." He says, pushing you to your side of the station.

You laugh at him, watching him being all secretive with what is obvious your gift. You let him do himself and finish his wrapping.

"Look, this one looks good." He says, proud of his very rough wrapped gift.

You clap your hands, happy for him. It was a hard-working wrapping, and you were not going to discourage it.

"Me encanta, Fer." You smile, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him.

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl 💛

[mavcancees]

Coldified about drituation, and talking to Dream in private:

Look, let me tell you something. I will be the first one to say this. When Dream's allegations came out, I didn't wait for Dream's response, and I should have. I was young and it was dumb. But I didn't come out to insult him publicly. You can like or dislike someone, but ... Like, for example: Dream talked to me privately the other day, and I had never talked to him before. I didn't know how he is in private. But out of nowhere, he started giving me advice for Youtube, helped me with some stream stuff, and I was like: Why does this guy have such a bad reputation? He's being so nice to me right now, and he doesn't have to. I did not ask for advice, he came to me and said "hey coldi, for the next recording if you wanted, you could use this program, and when you edit you could do this with this plugin". And like, it was so nice! And I remember when his response video came out, I watched it all the way. Nowadays sadly a lot of allegations like this are fake, or are telling you half truths. Imagine Dream did a whole trial about this, and he came out 100% innocent, even then people would be shitting on him. People are joined in this idea of hating on someone, regardless of truth. When I saw his video, I changed my mind completely about him, because I saw him as a weird Minecraft guy, but now I see he's just a guy who has been accused of things that don't even make sense. And what stuck with me from all that is that you really need to listen to both parties about a situation, not just one.

[leclerc-s]

track seven - i don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it coming

series masterlist

WINTER BREAK 2023

ines_alonso, oscarpiastri, and charles_leclerc posted new stories

last night's gingerbread houses, 3 guesses which one's mine babysitting duties today 😁 watching bluey because according to the kiddos it's the show that reminds them of danielricciardo, for the record he does give off bandit energy, so i agree petite fraise is very happy at the alonso-leclerc-piastri home gotham's greatest protector is so cute, villains tremble before him

liked by lilymhe, francesca.cgomes, kellypiquet and others

ines_alonso first year hosting in the alonso-leclerc-piastri home this year in spain next year its monaco, trust me. p.s. charles is officially banned from stepping foot in our kitchen.

tagged: charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, fernandoalo_oficial

view all comments

maxverstappen1 oh my god, what the hell did he do this time?

oscarpiastri the firefighters were involved this time max, that's all you need to know charles_leclerc okay, you people are being dramatic and i am not being dramatic ines_alonso THE OVEN WAS ON FIRE! THERE WERE FLAMES CHARLES! charles_leclerc you're being dramatic, there was no fire oscarpiastri the firemen laughed at you charles, there was a fire.

user1 two cats and charles leclerc? how the hell do they manage?

oscarpiastri i ask myself that same question every day charles_leclerc fuck you, i'm a delight ines_alonso except when we have to call the firemen because someone lit the oven on fire BAKING COOKIES!

user2 the matching pjs and slippers?? oh i'm in love with this trio

user3 inés, how did you convince them to get matching pjs and slippers?? i need tips on how to convince my partner

ines_alonso threaten to withhold sex, it does wonders user3 why didn't i think of that? fernandoalo_oficial i can read this... charles_leclerc what's sex? never heard that word in my life 😅 oscarpiastri what is this sex she speaks of?? fernandoalo_oficial watch your backs going into turn 1 in bahrain user4 peepaw, stop causing controversies, this is why they call you a war criminal

francesca.cgomes marry me and make me delicious treats??

ines_alonso meet me at the courthouse tomorrow?? pierregasly absolutely not! oscarpiastri now i'm thinking we should've had you and kika get fake married instead of charles and max charles_leclerc why are you always feeding into this shit? oscarpiastri why not?

user5 she has style and yet her partners always dress in the same skinny jeans and shorts

user6 oscar needs to step up his fashion style user7 charles needs to wear something that isn't those fuckass tiedye jeans user5 those jeans are a horror to humanity

alex_albon there is not a single thought behind those eyes, just like oscar

oscarpiastri stop slandering my name alex_albon tell your girlfriend to stop flirting with mine and i'll stop oscarpiastri carry on, there's no use in me telling her, she'll never stop

user5 nano living up to the chaos of fernando alonso

user6 i bet he knocked down the tree ines_alonso he did and the charles scolded him, it was quite hilarious to see

georgerussell63 why does honey always look like that?

ines_alonso like what? georgerussell63 lost charles_leclerc she gets it from her father oscarpiastri fuck you, she gets it from you georgerussell63 this was not about either one of you but i fear i may have just started a war

jensonbutton the wife is demanding to know where you got those slippers from

ines_alonso i'll send her the link in exchange for pictures of you in them! brittnybutton deal! ines_alonso pleasure doing business with you mrs.button

ximena.gomez nice holiday?

ines_alonso i'm still mad at you but they're at each other's throats ximena, help me. pierregasly at each other's throats or in each other's throats? ines_alonso blocked and reported.

user8 wait, so they did get a place in spain?

user9 it looks like they did but it could be a rental for the holiday season? user10 honestly, i would love it they got a place in spain because that would mean the s*inz mafia can't get away from them even in spain use8 they can't get away from them even in sp

user11 honestly can't tell who i'm supposed to be more jealous of, inés for having two hot boyfriends or charles and oscar for dating inés

user12 charles and oscar because they have inés. i mean who gets jealous over the men? user13 all three?? user11 i think all three is the only right choice

FEBRUARY 1ST, 2024 AKA DIVORCEGATE

FEBRUARY 7TH, 2024 AKA GASLIGHT, GATEKEEP, GIRLBOSS

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, fernandoalo_oficial and others

ines_alonso i've always looked good in navy 💙

tagged: redbullracing

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charles_leclerc words cannot describe how proud we are of you mon soleil. looking forward to racing against you next year! ❤ by ines_alonso

oscarpiastri so excited to be racing against you again sunshine. i can't believe we finally get to share the same tracks again, looking forward to it! ❤ by ines_alonso

patriciooward felicitaciones hermana! this is what you deserve and so much more, i can't wait to see what you do on the track! ❤ by ines_alonso

alex_albon INÉS JESSICA ALONSO, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?!

ines_alonso my middle name is not jessica alex_albon I DON'T CARE! HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME, YOUR BEST FRIEND?? AND I FUCKING BET MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN KNEW! maxverstappen1 I HAVE AN NDA YOU DIMWIT?! alex_albon I DON'T CARE?! THIS IS THE SHIT WE TELL EACH OTHER!!

fernandoalo_oficial no hay suficientes palabras para describir lo orgulloso que estoy de ti. te mereces esto y todo lo bueno que hay en tu vida. [translation: there are not enough words to describe how proud i am of you. you deserve this and everything else that is good in your life] ❤ by ines_alonso

ines_alonso papa, voy a llorar fernandoalo_oficial it's okay, i'm crying too

jensonbutton going to miss one of my favorite co-hosts, who else will help me terrorize the evil woman?? but congratulations baby alonso, glad your dream finally came true. ❤ by ines_alonso

ines_alonso it's okay jenson, we can terrorize her post race together, i promise. and thank you, it means a lot 🥹

isahernaez felicitaciones pequeña!! te lo mereces, no dejes que nadie te diga algo diferente! [translation: congrats little one!! you deserve it, don't let anyone tell you anything different] ❤ by ines_alonso

ines_alonso gracias isa! espero verte en una carrera pronto! [translation: thank you isa! i hope to see you at a race soon] isahernaez obvio! nadamas dime cuando y ahí estoy, tengo que apoyar a mi pilota favorita [obviously! tell when and i'll be there, i have to support my favorite driver] userxx i love the survived carlos sainz jr club ❤ by ines_alonso and isahernaez

sabrinacarpenter CONGRATULATIONS!!!

ines_alonso THANK YOU!!!

user14 wait, so who's the wag now?

oscarpiastri we're both her wags charles_leclerc we're just ken and she's everything user14 down bad, both of you

louieee BITCH?! HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!

ines_alonso I'M SORRY BABY!! I COULDN'T TELL YOU!! louieee I'M SO PROUD OF YOU BABY!! YOU DESERVE THIS AND EVERYTHING GOOD IN LIFE!!

carlossainz55 wow, what a way to stab your own brother in the back

ines_alonso womp womp oscarpiastri womp womp charles_leclerc womp womp maxverstappen1 womp womp louieee womp womp patriciooward womp womp fernandoalo_oficial womp womp alex_albon womp womp jensonbutton womp womp logansargeant womp womp aussiegrit womp womp pierregasly womp womp sebastianvettel womp womp lewishamilton womp womp kimimatiasraikkonen womp womp user15 KIMI? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!

redbullracing looking forward to working with you in 2025! ❤ by ines_alonso

user16 SHUT THE FUCK UP?! RED BULL RACING JUST EARNED A NEW FAN!!

user17 carlos sainz jr found screaming and throwing up in a ditch somewhere

schecoperez felicitaciones baby alonso!!

ines_alonso gracias checo!

taylorswift congrats little alonso 💙 ❤ by ines_alonso

ines_alonso I'M RACING WITH THE NUMBER 13 MOTHER!! patriciooward i'm begging you, be normal for once taylorswift that's a great number to pick 😉

user18 i bet oscar and charles are glad to have red bull in the house without seeming like traitors for going out and buying it

user19 bestie, what the fuck does that mean? user18 oscar once said he doesn't like monster but he does drink another energy drink (red bull i'm guessing) and charles just seems like he's hopped up on red bull 80% of the time. user20 those bitches love to drink red bull and you can't convince me otherwise

tkelce congrats inés and good luck next year!

ines_alonso i might be freaking out a little bit right about now but thank you! danielricciardo no inés, you must stand strong, go bills! ines_alonso i'm so sorry mr. kelce but my loyalties align with the honey badger tkelce okay? user21 nothing is better than someone like travis kelce getting involved in the world of formula 1 because these people are insane and he's not ready for their chaos.

kellypiquet congratulations, looking forward to spending time with you in the garage next year 🩷

ines_alonso thank you kelly, looking forward to terrorizing max with p 🩷 maxverstappen1 p does not terrorize me, you and alex on the other hand... alex_albon okay, so find other friends bitch. oh that's right, you can't!

pedri felicitaciones!!

ines_alonso gracias pedri!!

user22 all these people congratulating inés because it's what she deserves is making me tear up a little bit.

aussiegrit congratulations inés, there's no doubt you'll do amazing.

ines_alonso be honest, is oscar holding you at gun point? aussiegrit they're going to think i hate you ines_alonso jury's still out to be honest

lewishamilton it'll be an honor to share the track with you inés

ines_alonso thank you lewis, that means a lot coming from you

nicorosberg make sure you terrorize max for me

ines_alonso will do britney 🫡 maxverstappen1 i will wipe the floor with her nicorosberg i will destroy you on sky sports and will tell fernando exaggerating lies that you said about inés ines_alonso i just sit back and giggle at this chaos

danielricciardo make me proud baby alonso!

ines_alonso always honey badger user23 and this one goes to all the haters who were saying what about daniel? clearly he was aware of this and is fine with it. y'all are just misogynistic.

eliasowens congratulations kid, i might give you a lot of shit for stealing my kids but you deserve this, don't let lord voldemort ruin this for you

ines_alonso elias, i love your kids, jury's still out on you but thanks. eliasowens you suck sometimes inés

¡taglist!

@minmira95 // @lesliiieeeee // @vroomvroommuppett // @prongsvault // @justtprachisblog // @scuderiadevils // @cataf // @chezmardybum // @formulaal // @lilsiz // @norstappenvibes // @ironspdy // @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica // @niniluvsainz // @matchaverse // @fakeikeastore // @theseus-jpg // @six-call // @81folklore // @emppusofi // @luvsforme // @nichmeddar // @loloekie // @luvpedro // @donttouchthegnote // @nothaqks // @inferiusreggie // @mochimommy2002 // @rach3164 // @clove08 // @clove0 // @lillysbigwilly // @jenxjar // @blupblupfish // @thereadinggremlin05 // @meowiarty // @magical-spit // @camdensreg // @laneyspaulding19 // @ocyeanicc // @yelenasloverrrrr // @percervall // @blushmimi // @spilled-coffee-cup // @greantii // @ietss // @yeanoskrrt // @brakingboundaries

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 // @books-thingys-andstuff // @ale-522 // @aandreea_2005 // @Katness1 // @mgmoore // @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir // @xxx-betty // @ririyulife // @landonorizzz // @moldyshorts1997 // @itstimeforutogo // @yar16 // @em-andemm // @killjoycra // @◇Heart- Trees◇ //@michelleyw81 // @mgmoore //

¡leclerc-s speaks!

𝜗𝜚 i hope all of you that celebrate christmas had a great one, this was originally supposed to go up yesterday but i forgot to post it.

𝜗𝜚 and yes, this is 100% what the poll i posted ages ago was about, so writing this part, that deals with 2024 preseason is insane to me because the 2024 season was just so chaotic and heartbreaking. i am so not ready to write out logan and daniel's departures, even writing this part knowing what i know about daniel and red bull breaks my heart. plus even though it's a fanfic i don't feel good about this plot point and me just blatantly putting yuki to the side this way. i know why he didn't get the red bull seat but i have every right to be upset about it either way and i will be for a while.

¡disclaimer! 𝜗𝜚 this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[mylovesstuffs]

Seungcheol is THAT type of boyfriend

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

The Protective Boyfriend™: Seungcheol is the guy who will hold your hand while crossing the street like you might just wander into traffic without him. It’s sweet until you realize he’s also glaring at everyone within a 10-foot radius for daring to breathe near you.

Seungcheol’s idea of helping you pick an outfit for date night is standing behind you, his hands on your waist, whispering in your ear, “This one’s nice… but it’d be nicer on the floor later.” Then he smirks like he didn’t just turn your brain into static.

Calls you "jagiya" so often it feels like a title you should put on your LinkedIn. But don’t let that fool you, he’ll pout harder than you if you don’t jagiya him back.

You’re trying to get up after a movie, but he pulls you back down, trapping you in his lap with one arm around your waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he teases, his lips brushing your ear. “The credits haven’t even finished yet.” (the credits have been done for 10 minutes.)

He’ll put on his leader voice to scold you for skipping lunch, only to order your favorite food five minutes later and feed you the first bite because you’re too busy to take care of yourself.

This man right here is your personal radiator. Winter nights? Perfect. Summer? Good luck prying his arm off you because "you’re my pillow." (And he snores when he’s comfy, but you’d never admit you secretly love it.)

When you ask him if you’re bothering him by calling for the fifth time in an hour, he deadpans, “No, jagiya, I love being your 24/7 helpline. Shall I install a red phone like Batman?” But then he’s at your door in 15 minutes because he misses your face.

He loooooovessssss when you’re flustered, so he’ll accidentally brush his fingers along your collarbone while adjusting your necklace, all while holding eye contact. And when you stutter something about being ticklish, he just chuckles, “Oh? That’s good to know for later.”

If someone flirts with you, his smile gets tighter than his favorite jeans. He won’t say a word, but he’ll make sure to wrap an arm around you and loudly mention that his girlfriend loves this place.

He’ll kiss your forehead in public just to see you blush, then smirk like he just won a prize. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he’ll whisper, as if your face isn’t already bright red.

He’s not big on flashy displays, but when he kisses you, it’s deliberate, slow, and leaves you wondering how the world managed to keep spinning after that.

Seungcheol knows exactly what he’s doing when he leans in close, his voice dropping an octave to say something mundane like, “Pass the soy sauce, baby.” But the way his lips almost graze your neck? I'm sure that’s not about soy sauce, bro??? (did I just attempt to call him bro?)

He's the type of boyfriend who would die for you but pretends he’s chill. “Of course, I’ll help you move apartments,” he says, lifting all your furniture with a single grunt while you’re holding a throw pillow. “I’m totally fine. This is lightwork.” (I'm telling you, he’s not fine.)

SEVENTEEN is sick of hearing about how amazing, talented, and gorgeous you are but the sparkle in his eyes says he’s never shutting up about you.

Out of nowhere, he’ll text you, “You’re my favorite person.” No context. Just vibes. And when you ask about it later, he shrugs, “Felt like reminding you.”

Seungcheol isn’t just THAT type of boyfriend—he’s the blueprint, the standard, and the reason your expectations are now irreparably high.

[marauder-misprint]

Permission

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.5k words

cw: fluff, swearing

Sirius makes it his mission to find Regulus before dinner. He doesn’t have any idea how he would convince Regulus, but he figures he’d start with asking him. Worst Regulus could say would be ‘no,’ right? And then Sirius could work on wearing his brother down until he said ‘yes.’ You may be a dear friend of Regulus, but Sirius was confident he could sway him.

Sirius makes his way to the library. He is almost certain Regulus would be there. He had seen you walk down toward the Slytherin Common Room so all he can do is hope Regulus is in the library and not awaiting you in the dungeons. He feels uneasy as he opens the library door. He doesn’t visit the library often so the thick scent of old parchment and ink takes over his senses. Madam Pince gives him a cautious look from her desk. 

As Sirius walks in, he scans each table for his brother. He passes shelf after shelf, looking down each one. Each table is filled with students but none of the Slytherins are Regulus, and none are ones he could ask for his location. However, he’s on a mission. He has to find Regulus. Sirius looks throughout the entire library and stops right before the last shelf. He takes a deep breath. If Regulus isn’t at the table at the end of this aisle, he’ll have to search all of the castle. He takes a step forward and turns his head. 

There he is, sitting at the table which is covered in stacks of books. Sirius can’t help the massive grin that spreads across his face as he casually strolls down the aisle. The younger boy doesn’t notice him until he’s practically leaning over his shoulder.

“I remember Flitwick assigning that essay,” Sirius says lazily. 

Regulus stops moving for a moment. Then, slowly and mechanically, he turns his head to look at Sirius and sits up straighter.

“Sirius.”

His blank stare quickly turns unnerved as he sees Sirius’ smile. Whenever Sirius hunted him down, it was to give a message to their parents and therefore, he usually had a grim or annoyed look on his face. This unbridled joy is a new look. 

“I need to ask you something,” Sirius says.

“Then ask it, brother.”

“I need your… permission.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “For what?”

“To take your friend on a date.”

He blinks at Sirius. 

“My friend?”

“You know which one.”

“Yeah… The dog person.”

“So, can I take her out?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me. She’s her own person.”

Sirius pulls out a chair and sits down. 

“She said you have to think it’s a good idea. Otherwise she won’t go with me.”

Regulus hums and looks back down at his essay. “That’s interesting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“After she came back smelling of you twice, she said she’d tell me if you made a move,” he laughs. “Didn’t know she was going to make you tell me yourself.”

“She isn’t making me do anything,” Sirius says, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair.

“She’s making you get permission, isn’t she?”

“Yes…” Sirius pauses. “So can I take her out on a date?”

Regulus sighs as he takes a long look at Sirius. Sirius sits there silently, trying to get a read on his expression. He couldn’t quite tell which way this conversation was going.

“What do I get out of it?”

“Anything.” 

That was a dead giveaway for Regulus. If Sirius was willing to owe him anything, he really wanted to take you out on a date. It was also a game changer for him. Regulus had been planning on saying no the entire conversation; if you sent Sirius his way for permission, you figured out that Sirius wasn’t taking no for answer from you and needed someone he might actually listen to. 

“She thinks you’re pretty, by the way,” Regulus finally says. “But if you hurt her in any way, I will personally make your death look like an accident. Or they’ll never find your body. I’ll decide on that later.”

Sirius gapes at him. 

“She thinks I’m pretty? Did she say this to you?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, you said if I hurt her. So you think me going on a date with her is a good idea?”

Regulus snorts a laugh. “Well, no. But we’re going to say I do. I think it’d be good for her. And you.”

“Huh,” Sirius says, not completely sure what his brother meant by that but he wasn’t going to ask.

“Huh?” Regulus echoes.

“Yeah. … What else did she say about me?”

Regulus rolls his eyes before actually returning to his essay. “Fuck off. Be glad I think it’d be funny to hear about a date with you from her perspective. Go.”

Sirius claps a hand on Regulus’ shoulder before he leaves the library with a new spring in his step. Was he technically in Regulus’ debt? Yes. But Sirius is certain it will be worth it, and there’s always the chance that he will never redeem this favor. 

He’s surprised when he doesn’t see Regulus at dinner. Dorcas and Pandora sit on either side of you. Sirius spends far too much time watching you with a permanent smile on his face during the meal.

“Did… something happen?” Remus asks cautiously.

“Mhmm.”

“Okay so what happened?” Peter follows up.

“She’s going on a date with me.” Sirius’ voice is giddy.

James nearly chokes on his juice. “She agreed to a date with you?”

Sirius shoots him a look before saying, “All I had to do was get Reg on board. Surprisingly easy.”

“I don’t believe that,” Peter says through a mouthful of food. He swallows. “Why would your brother need to be ‘on board’?” 

“They’re friends, remember?” Remus answers. 

“Probably thought he’d say no or something,” Peter says. 

“But he didn’t. And now we’re going to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

Sirius continues to watch you for the rest of the meal. You don’t look his way once. You think there is no way that he’s already talked to Regulus and managed to get him to say it’s a good idea. You don’t even bother to tell your friends about it. You’re certain it’s not happening. That’s why you sent Sirius to Regulus; the brothers never agreed on anything. They never talked. 

After dinner, you’re leaving the Great Hall with your friends when you hear Sirius calling your name. You turn and cross your arms. Dorcas pulls Pandora away with her, somehow understanding that Sirius would want to talk to you alone again. 

“We’re on for this weekend,” he says confidently with the same giddy grin that was on his face all meal.

You choke on air. “Excuse me?”

“Regulus gave me permission. Said it was a good idea. Whatever you want to call it. I have his blessing.”

“No. No. No.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes, my darling,” Sirius replies, his eyes lighting up. “We are having a Hogsmeade date and you can’t get out of it.”

“No. No. No. No. No,” you keep repeating.

“Come on, love. It won’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“I’m not getting my hopes up,” you say before running a hand through your hair with a groan. “I’m not believing you until I hear it myself from Reg.”

“That’s fine. But I talked to him in the library before dinner. We’re in the clear.”

You turn away from Sirius and walk away. Your mind is spinning from the idea of actually going on a real date with Sirius Black. There is no way Regulus actually said it was a good idea. He wouldn’t betray you like that. You’re suddenly at the common room entrance. Your body had gone into autopilot while your thoughts and worries about the possibility of this weekend swirled in your mind. However, worry quickly melts into anger as you descend into the common room and see Regulus lounging on one of the couches. 

“Black!” you yell from where you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m going to murder you!”

He glances over at you. Even from a distance, you can see the slight glimmer of fear in his eyes. You approach the couch with purpose in your steps. You grab his shirt collar and pull his face close to yours.

“What the fuck did you say to your brother?” you hiss. 

“You kept saying no to me. Thought you might like to go on a date with a different pretty bloke. At least he’s occasionally funny,” he teases, although there is a slight tremble in his voice.

You furrow your brows as you drop his collar. 

“You were supposed to say no!” you groan, moving around the couch so you can fall down next to him. “You were the one accusing me of dating him!”

“I’m giving you the chance to find out if you actually like him. See if it does go anywhere beyond him being pretty like me.”

“Regulus. I might actually kill you.”

“Why?”

“Because of you, I’m spending my Saturday in Hogsmeade with your goddamn brother!”

“Yeah and thanks to you, Sirius is now in my debt.”

“No,” you gasp. 

Regulus’ lips twitch upwards. 

“He said he’d do anything.” 

“I hate you.”

He shakes his head. “If it’s really so bad, you can decide what Sirius owes me.”

“I think I should get to decide that anyways.”

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine

[flwrkid14]

Hi! Can we get some more Jason Todd: Dad Mode Activated? 🥺👉👈 maybe about how Jason helps Tim with his crushes or maybe like how to cope with some mental health struggles/ Tim comparing how different Jason lectures him to Bruce’s lectures?

Hi!! Thank you so much for the ask! <3 These are such great concepts, and I’d have so much fun exploring them! While I’m not sure I’ll make a full post for this, I’d love to share my thoughts on how these ideas could play out!

For Jason helping Tim with crushes, I feel like he’d totally be that dad—the one who embarrasses you in front of your crush on purpose. Tim, of course, doesn’t tell Jason about his crushes for this exact reason, but Jason is way too observant not to figure it out anyway. Imagine them out together (because Jason has once again dragged Tim away from his work to make him take a break), and Jason spots Tim’s current crush walking down the street. He’d nudge Tim with that smug, teasing grin of his, going, “Timmy! Look, Timbo! It’s Bernard! Isn’t he a good friend of yours? What’s he doing out here? Let’s go say hi!” And then, before Tim can protest, Jason’s already dragging him over, while Tim is blushing furiously and muttering curses under his breath. Jason’s embarrassing as hell, but... it’s also endearing. And for Tim, who didn’t grow up with that kind of playful, teasing love, it felt oddly nice... even if his dad was now enthusiastically talking about his cuddling habits when sleeping (screw him for being touch starved) to a very confused Bernard.

As for coping with mental health, Jason would be such a huge advocate. Realizing that Tim is his kid now—and that he’s essentially a dad—would really push Jason to work on his own mental health. He’d know he can’t preach good habits to Tim if he’s not setting a good example himself (because independent Tim Drake—who grew up without much supervision—definitely needs someone to lead by example. He needs proof that taking advice from someone else is worth it, especially when his own methods have always worked just fine for him).

So Jason starts his own mental health journey, taking active steps to improve himself, and Tim notices. And it hits him hard, because none of his parental figures before—Bruce or Jack—ever did that. They never cared about their own well-being for his sake, to be better parents to him. Seeing Jason make that effort makes Tim feel so incredibly loved and valued.

Jason wouldn’t just lecture Tim or bark orders at him; he’d actively help him build better habits. He’d set up mandatory family dinners once a week to encourage better eating patterns and help Tim develop routines that supported a healthier sleep schedule, tailored to his needs, once they realized the standard eight hours a night just wasn’t realistic for him.

It’s these little changes that make Tim realize just how different Jason is from Bruce.

Jason doesn’t demand things from Tim that he doesn’t practice himself. He wouldn’t tell Tim to stop working late if he wasn’t also putting his own work aside and calling it a night. If he’s telling Tim to eat better, he’s leading by example—packing ready-to-go meals for both of them when there’s no time to cook. Jason shows Tim why these changes are worth it, through actions and positive outcomes.

Bruce, on the other hand, never did that. Whatever Bruce told Tim to do was just an expectation. He’d demand Tim do better or lecture him without ever showing how or why it mattered. If Bruce criticized Tim’s performance in the field but was himself guilty of being distracted—like running off mid-patrol for a rendezvous with catwoman—Tim just nodded along and tuned him out. Bruce’s hypocrisy made it impossible for Tim to take him seriously.

But Jason? Jason shows Tim why he should listen, fixing his own behavior and performance first before ever asking the same of Tim. And that difference speaks volumes. For Tim, who’s used to parental figures endless demands with no understanding behind them, Jason’s approach feels like a breath of fresh air—and the kind of support he never knew he needed.

hopefully that lived up to your expectations! <3

[crystaistar]

𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ⋆˙⟡ (that no one asked for)

Warnings : Stalking mentioned, obsessive behaviour, (obvious) mental issues, fluff, comfort/hurt, friends (w benefits?), no relationship, y/n mentioned,

A/n : Josh's sisters are dead in this (hence the comfort). I also made this out of nowhere, which is why it wasn't on my 'upcoming' post!

☆ After his sisters death, you, Chris, and Sam were the only people he talked to for a while. He didn't trust anyone else to care for him as much as you. "I can't trust them, not as much as you, y/n"

☆ Josh had trouble sleeping, continuous nightmares of his sisters coming back to haunt him. So, he always asked you to stay with him until he went to sleep.

☆ Sometimes, he even asked you to sleep over in his room

☆ His sisters used to play baseball with him. You took their place after (to help him cope)

☆ After the prank took place, you became even closer with Josh. No one wanted to be around him (apart from you)

☆ You had to force him to apologise because he didn't think what he had done was wrong

☆ He followed you (much like the wendigo did it's prey) to make sure you weren't sneaking off to see someone else (when you were supposed to be around him)

☆ When you were interviewed with the police you didn't lie, unlike the rest of the group. The practised speech was wasted away on you, as you cared for Josh too much

☆ "I don't want you to leave me, you have to stay.."

☆ Josh said hurtful things sometimes. It made you feel like shit but you knew he didn't mean it

☆ You encouraged him to see another therapist to help with the heaps of trauma that enveloped him

☆ He bought a baseball bat just for you (in your favourite colour) as a thank you gift

☆ When the others started warming back up to Josh (which took some time) they also joined in on the games.

☆ You and the group played in the snow for a whole day after baseball

☆ He made you watch movies with him in the movie room (with was almost always a romcom..?)

☆ Every comforting message you tell him makes his heart melt

☆ He'd tell you dad jokes and then say, "I'm just joshin' ya!"

☆ "Let me help you" he'd say before simultaneously failing at the task

☆ You suggested going ice-skating together, and he agreed only to immediately fall over and become embarrassed

☆ He secretly loves you and never wants you to leave him ᡣ𐭩

 crystaistar 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

Merry Christmas everyone, hope you all got what you wanted ♡☆

[psychemochanight]

You know everyone in the family has this little gestures that mean something, right?

Dick just knows his family very well.

Bruce is tired? he makes a small gesture that simulates supporting his weight on one leg, but in reality he only slightly lowers one of his shoulders.

Tim leans against his desk when he's frustrated with something and won't ask for help.

Jason still tenses his legs when something makes him happy, a reflex from when he was a kid and would bounce on his feet when he was happy.

Damian is the easiest for him to notice, not only because of the time he spent with him, but because he no longer actively seeks to hide his emotions from him. But he still has to look for that slight tension in his jaw every time he tries to hold back a yawn when he's sleepy.

Cass lets Dick see her body language, she knows how important it is to convey her emotions, so she lets him see it. Dick especially appreciates it when she picks something up from the table and plays with it in her hands, she always does this when she's about to confide something to him.

Duke and Steph are always open about what they think, so you don't need to look for anything in particular. Still, he can usually tell whether the conversation is going to be about something happy or not based on the way they walk when they approach him.

Barbara still does that thing where she squints her eyes whenever she thinks too much and needs someone to take her mind off it so she doesn't give herself a headache. She is just like her father in that.

Even Alfred has his mannerisms that Dick knows, which usually involve him going over and handing him things in the kitchen or living room, silently accompanying him.

It doesn't just happen among immediate family.

Donna: How did you know I was angry?

Dick: Aside from the obvious fact that you look like you're about to go kick Wally's ass?

Donna: Good point.

Wally: How do you always know when I'm hungry?

Dick: Maybe because I don't need to be a metahuman to hear your stomach growling from a mile away?

Roy: How did you know I fought with Oliver?

Dick, watching Roy practicing his aim with a photo of his mentor in the middle of the target: Instinct.

Not all gestures have to be subtle.