#i was starting to think i forgot how to do it

[crookedteethed]

18+ - mdni

ᥫ᭡. rafe wants you to make yourself squirt on camera.

"There'ya go baby, push it out." Rafe praised you. "fuck, I love you." 

You looked away from your glossy cunt to the bright flashlight of Rafe's phone camera lens. His left hand hovered the phone over your bare body, and his right hand roamed everywhere, peeling your wet folds back or caressing the meat of your thigh. 

Rafe eyes stayed glued to his phone screen--which was just a digitalized version of you relentlessly pumping your fingers into your cunt, trying to make yourself squirt.  

You felt Rafe's thumb peel back your fold again and begin to pinch your clit. 

Rafe pinch had stung, but fuck did the extra stimulation felt good as you fucked yourself closer to your release. 

"Fuck, push it out baby." Rafe told you once more, and you did as told and pushed your core right when you felt your release, but once more, nothing happened, causing you to get frustrated, and you told Rafe to cut. 

"What is it baby?" Rafe asked you, kissing the side of your mouth and craddling your jaw.

"Rafe, I can't do this."

"I made you do it before." Rafe muttered into your skin. "Twice, actually." he smirked.

"Yeah, exactly." You said "You were the one to make me do it."

Rafe stopped pecking your jaw, "Y/n, you never made yourself squirt before?"

You shook your head 'no', and you could have sworn you saw Rafe's cock grow twice its size.

Rafe harshly gripped your head and quickly pecked you cheek. "Fuck, I love you. You don't know how much I really want to get this on video.” Rafe had nearly whined.

You whimper as Rafe gently leaned you back into your previous position and got ready to press record but before Rafe had pressed that red button he told you:

"Just some advice sweetheart, when you reach that special spot inside you, start to bend your fingertips."

And with that being said, he pecked your cheek once more and pressed the red button on his camera.

You started fingering yourself again with slow lingering pumps, that increased each thrust as Rafe praised you.

You arched your back into your touch, feeling the waves of pleasure building inside you. Rafe's words fueled your desire, and with each passing moment, the intensity of your movements grew.

"Look at my good girl, slutting herself out just for me." Rafe praised, putting his phone closer to your drooling pussy.

"Fuck, Rafe, I think I'm close" you whined.

"Bend your finger, baby and push." Rafe cooed.

You whimpered as Rafe's instructions sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Obligingly, you arched your back and bent your finger, feeling the sweet tension building within you. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the air thick with the heady scent of desire.

Rafe's gaze was intense as he watched every move you made, his voice husky with arousal.

With a final whisper of encouragement, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, ready to plunge into the abyss of pleasure he had so skillfully guided you towards.

And it wasn't long until you were pushing out your arousal--your squirt splashing everywhere, but mostly on Rafe and his phone.

You were spent.

Rafe let out a surprised yelp as the cold liquid splattered across his phone, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

In the sudden silence that followed, you both locked eyes, the air heavy with a mix of embarrassment and adrenaline.

As you caught your breath, a sheepish grin tugged at the corners of your lips, unsure of how to salvage the situation.

"Shit, looks like my phone and I just got baptized," Rafe quipped, filling the awkward tension.

a/n: I wrote this back in October but forgot to post it--oops.

as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. 🫶🏾

[lo-bo-tomia]

you open up your phone and look for a picture to show them. You look and look but you can't seem to find any pictures of your friend's face. You tell them your plan and they say they've never taken a picture because it would defeat the whole purpose of hiding in plain sight when they're hiding. You remind them that they could just shapeshift into another face, and they laugh. I sure could...

What an idiot. They're desperate. They need their original form for that date. Certainly they can't go as a hawk. You're good at drawing faces, you say that.

You've been doing that your whole life, to capture people's essence. You enjoy drawing random faces you've seen by memory and sometimes the cute and funny expressions your friends make. They're not really contempt but they seem to absolutely need to go back to their original form.

So you start drawing. It doesn't take long. It looks good, or at least that's what you thought. That moron looks at the picture, and immediately shapeshifts into their original form. But something's deeply wrong. They look like... a shell of themself. It's like they couldn't remember their face even after seeing the drawing and they could only shapeshift into the drawing itself. It looks inhumane. They seem to notice right away, and break down crying. You try to comfort them. There must be a way to make them remember a vivid image of their face. You think about that old guy at the edge of the realm that knows how to communicate telepathically, even with images. And you think they could be able to show your friend their face, recover their memory or at least help them recover it. It's not a bad idea, but what about the date? The best solution would be to just tell the truth. It's a complex situation. Your friend is reluctant, and it takes you a solid half hour to convince them. But they refuse to talk. Your idea means you have to break the news. You go out and your friend shapeshifts into a hamster. It's cute, discreet, and they've got wet eyes. They want to look as pitiful as possible. The date's been waiting. You're late. Your friend points at them and you sit down next to them and say hi. They're confused. "I'm sorry, I'm waiting for someone" squeak. You didn't think a hamster could convey emotions so well with a simple squeak. But you swear that sound your friend just blurted out sounded so sad. "I know" You say "You've been waiting for this" and you point at your friend, the hamster. This didn't clarify anything. "I'm sorry, what?"

Your friend starts talking, in a very high pitched voice. "Hi Erin, it's me Alex. I know you were expecting a human but here we are"

"I swear I'm not a hamster, just an idiot. I'm actually a shapeshifter and forgot how to turn back to my original self. This friend over here is trying to help me with that. Could we maybe reschedule the hangout maybe when I look more... bipedal?" - "We were planning on blasting a memory of their original body in their mind, so that they can remember."

"Oh you mean to go to the mindreader at the edge of the realm to do this?"

"Well yea that was the plan"

"No need, that's my dad, I can do pretty much the same thing and I've seen Alex before. Just, I can't communicate telepathically with animals: I'm a little limited like that. It's not even that I literally can't it's more of a mental limit that I can't seem to shatter"

"No problem! I've got the solution" Squeaks Alex the Hamster. They immediately shapeshift into your drawing. It looks so wrong, even Erin is startled. "Yea I tried to make them remember by drawing them, but they just look like a shell of themself"

"That's terrifying, but I can work with that" Erin lays their hands out towards Alex. Their face lights up and immediately they shapeshift into their original form. "That's much better, thanks Erin, thank you friend"

"I guess there's no need to reschedule now, see you around Alex" You ditch them and go home. That seems to be a good combo. You hope the date goes well.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[knavesflames]

heyyy el

requesting politely reader ... tending to ... arlecchino with her mouth and going from starting timid to taking a bit more control to arles surprise

lots of care and love just like in the one you just posted :3

mhm ty

Hi anon<33 I hope you are doing well and having a nice night (it’s night for me). I liked this idea >:) sorry lol it took me a while to come up with a concept but I hope this suffices 😁😁😁 (hi guys the dirty words are slowly making a reappearance)

Word count: 2.2k

Contents: soft dom!reader (kind of yes), bottom Arlecchino, cunnilingus (funny word), fingering at the end, orgasm denial (ONCE GUYS OKAY ONCE), also praise (guys I’m cooked)

Songs I listened to (for fun): fantastic- king princess (is this one obvious or not), disease- lady gaga, shhh!- viviz, pivot- HEYOON, boyfriend- dove Cameron, impurities- le sserafim

There’s more but I forgot

Nsft utc<3

Arlecchino is not a receiver. She gives and takes nothing, it’s how she’s always liked it, whatever the reason may be. She has not explained, and you doubt she will. Arlecchino is very secretive, you’ve come to learn. She divulges what she must, and keeps the rest hidden. Even you, who seems to know more about her than anyone ever has, is kept in the dark about a lot of things– what exactly triggers her nightmares? What truly happened with that ‘Mother’ of hers? There are rumours, of course. Arlecchino is mad and cursed, she killed her Mother ruthlessly without reason, she killed her best friend for nothing other than a simple quarrel. You know them to be false, now you know her better, but what you can’t seem to understand is why she lets the lies fester, why allows herself to be portrayed as a cruel monster. She can’t seem to answer you.

Arlecchino also refuses to tell you why she pushes herself so hard, or why she has such strict rules for herself. You beg her to take that damn suit off constantly (for.. Multiple reasons, both you and her know that well enough– she only obliges when it ends in you as a quivering mess on the bed). “What happened to regular clothing? I know you dislike dresses, but you don’t have to force your body into that silly suit all the time.” is a phrase often uttered. Silence is the only answer given.

Silence seems to be an answer you get from her often. In different contexts, of course. Sometimes, she is silent when she is comfortable, when she is thinking, when she is angry.. You realised long ago that she is a woman of few words– and even fewer sounds. During the rare occasions you get to make her feel good (whether that’s simultaneous to your own pleasure, or before), the only sounds you really hear are the soft breaths and the slight grunts whenever you do something she particularly likes. You have made it your mission to coax more sounds out of her, even if it’s the last thing you do. You experiment with different things each time you get to make her feel good, anything remotely sexual she’s done to you, you try with her. Degradation doesn’t work, her only response is a cock of her eyebrow and a scoff. Praise is a little bit better, earning a soft kiss on whatever part of your skin she can reach. Tying her up is out of the question– she has made it abundantly clear multiple times she only enjoys the act of bondage, however small, when you are on the receiving end. It’s the case for a lot of things, and it almost irritates you. Almost. it turns out the answer is something much simpler than anything you’ve ever tried, and you mentally curse yourself for taking so long to figure it out (for Arlecchino, that was the point. She likes the game, even if she truly is trying to keep her weakness hidden).

The answer was something she had done to you almost every time you had engaged in some form of intimate act with her. There aren’t many acts more intimate than your partner giving up the ability to speak because their tongue seems to be.. Busy. You just hadn’t realised that Arlecchino would ever be on the receiving end. So, after much pleading (and begging to the point it almost seems you’re begging her to fuck you instead of the other way around), she seemed to relent. Barely.

“Let me try,” comes the soft whisper from your lips, hitting the side of her neck as you gently place kisses there. There’s no reaction, but you could swear you felt a shiver. Moving away from the milky, unmarred skin of her neck (one of the only places that isn’t marked with either her curse or an array of scars), you almost expertly push the blazer off her shoulders before slowly sinking to your knees. The carpet is fuzzy, but it doesn’t do much to soften the hard wood underneath. You can’t find yourself caring. The blazer lands on the back of the desk chair. Excited, desperate fingers tug at the buttons of those godforsaken trousers until they finally do what you want them to do. You’ve done what you can, you can’t push her hips up so you can continue to take them off, she’s stronger than you’ll ever be (you like that). “Don’t you think it would feel nice? You know it feels nice. Do you not think you deserve it?”

“I do not deserve the pleasure you give me,” she murmurs, a rare show of her inner thoughts. The woman criticises herself too much, you think. You wish she wouldn’t be so strict with herself.

“Irrelevant,” She shivers at the slight sternness of your voice. It mirrors her own. “Do you want it?”

Arlecchino doesn’t respond for a while. Her hand moves to your head, and she caresses your hair, gently stroking and tugging at the strands before she eventually speaks, a whisper, a subconscious attempt to hide the fact she’s about to chase something she never allows herself to. “Put a pillow under your knees, at least.”

You grin, so pleased with yourself. You stand again, only to sprint and find a pillow. It happens to be the pillow you sleep on, it doesn’t matter. You return to your position only to find her trousers messily on the ground, and the top four buttons of her dress shirt undone. The look in her eyes is one you’ve rarely seen– want. “Beg.” you whisper, the grin still on your face. Arlecchino’s own face twists into a frown.

“I will die before I beg for anything.” Her tone is resolute, and you sit there nonetheless, unmoving apart from the finger tracing up and down her toned thigh. You both stay like that for an agonising two minutes before she barely mumbles. “Please.”

You are incredibly aware that you won’t get more than that, so, even though you know it doesn’t do much, you mutter “good girl”. It does do something, though. You barely hear it, but her breath shakes. You take it as an initiative to start, so you let your lips find her thigh, planting wet, open mouthed kisses up towards her inner thigh. You continue, and– she’s soaked already. You’ve done exactly nothing and she’s as wetter than you’ve ever seen her. Your eyes move up to hers, a raise of your eyebrow as you open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off before you can speak.

“Do not. I am aware of the.. situation.”

“But you’re all wet and it’s all for my tongue. Isn’t that sweet?” You’ve never been this cocky at all, and Arlecchino would be a liar if she said she didn’t like it. She tries to find words, something to refute the claim, but her words are ripped from her lips when she feels your own lips graze her clit. It’s a tiny movement, really, but one she isn’t entirely used to. The only reaction she makes, however, is a slightly sharper exhale. Until your eyes stare straight into hers and you do it again, though for longer. Then again, though this time your tongue presses flat against it. Your tongue doesn’t move, much to Arlecchino’s dismay. The hand that rested in your hair gently tugs.

“Continue.” She speaks breathily, and her words shake. You can practically hear her gulp as she tries (and fails) to calm herself, and you know she’s probably telling herself to show no emotion. Though, when you finally start moving your tongue in slow, languid motions, you hear her shaky sigh and feel her hand in your hair tighten even more. You try to find a rhythm that affects her the most, alternating between soft licks and harder presses— you find that swirling your tongue around her clit, occasionally moving down to dip your tongue into her aching cunt. Your eyes dart up to her every few seconds to catch her mouth falling open and her head tilting back. When her mouth isn’t open, she’s stifling any noise she could possibly make, gritting her teeth so hard you’re almost certain they’re going to crack. The next time you tear your eyes away from her skin and move them to her face, her eyes are squeezed shut, and only then does a quiet groan escape her.

Something seems to change in your mind, because your hands move to grip her thighs, holding them apart despite them trembling. She’s sensitive, after all, it isn’t often she gets taken care of, is it? The blackened hand not pulling greedily at the strands on your head moves in an attempt to push your hands away, but your voice vibrates against her (which of course, causes another quiet sound to slip from her). “Keep your hands on the chair.”

Arlecchino’s eyes shoot open, a gasp practically ripping through her lungs. “You cannot expect me t—“

“Do it or I stop. Let me finish making you feel good.” She scolds herself internally for letting you get too comfortable with her own tricks. Either way, it feels good and she doesn’t want you to stop, though she’d rather cut off her own arm than admit it. She doesn’t need to say a word, though, the small groans (and whimpers) tell you everything. Especially when they grow louder, and her chest begins heaving, and her voice breaks with every utterance of your name. It’s the most pleasure she’s ever outwardly expressed.

“Why did you stop?” Her exasperated, breathless voice echoes the room. You stopped just as her orgasm was reaching the peak, causing it to ebb away quickly, a sense of disappointment growing in Arlecchino’s stomach. Her eyes, now piercing into you with that familiar irritated stare, meet yours, your own full of amusement. Wiping your chin (when you’re eating pussy like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat, it tends to get messy, doesn’t it?), you chuckle and respond in your own teasing lilt.

“You taste so good, and your pussy is so damn pretty, Arlecchino. I don’t particularly want to stop right now. You can take it, can’t you? Keep your hands still.” Her face twists into some odd mix of mortified and aroused, but your tongue meets her clit again, and the only sound she can make is something so uncharacteristic, a whine. You continue exactly what you were doing before, though this time you decide to slide a finger into her— the reaction she gave was definitely a pleasant one, her back arching off of the chair, her hands squeezing the seat of it in an attempt to keep them still. Arlecchino reaches the peak quicker this time, and despite your bossy orders, she finds herself melting into you completely, her hips grinding herself onto your tongue as much as she possibly can. It’s completely different to how she was at the beginning, her plan to remain unbothered and stoic foiled.

“Can I�� please don’t stop this time.” When there comes no response from you other than a curl of your finger, she moans your name in a useless attempt to get you to answer her. You’re being mean, she thinks, and you’re using everything she does against her. “Answer me. Tell me I can cum.”

How is she still demanding things from you even in this position? She lost all control a long time ago. You find your eyes opening though, and while adding a second finger, your voice softens and you speak, voice full of affection. “Be good and cum for me, then. Now, before I change my mind. Let yourself feel good, yeah?”

Arlecchino doesn’t need to be told twice, because her hips lose whatever rhythm they had when your tongue presses flat against her, letting her choose the pace and the rhythm she knows will get her there quickest (it doesn’t take long, the woman is so sexually pent up it’s laughable). Within a minute, she’s crying out, her hands flying up to her face to cover the obscene expression she knows is there. You pay no attention, only watching every movement with a sense of satisfaction and a smile in your eyes. You keep your finger curling and your tongue still until her body stops rocking, and her hands leave her face. When her face, the one you find so beautiful, emerges from behind her hands, mascara slightly smudged, you can’t help but snicker as you pull out and away from her.

“Better?” You ask, wiping your chin once more with the back of your hand. You somehow look so smug and the look on your face pisses Arlecchino off, just a little. How you’re so calm and collected and she’s a fucked out mess sat in her desk chair.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sharper than she intends it to be really, but she continues in the same tone. “I do hope you don’t think we’re finished, hm?” Your head tilts in slight confusion, but the smile remains on your face. After a while, Arlecchino’s own lips twitch upwards, barely noticeable, but you notice nonetheless. “How could I leave you without feeling good, too? Go to the bedroom, please.”

[sturnsrecord]

OVER THE PHONE

— [ex!matt x reader. angst] matt bites the bullet and decides to call you on a lonely night, desperate to just hear your voice.

ʚ part two ɞ

the thought of you often appeared in matt's head. and when it didn't, he'd consciously think about you, all the things he remembered loving about you.

it could be as simple as your smile, or even the way you rolled your eyes at him. 

he contemplated your entire relationship. going over how it ended, as well as every mistake he ever made.

he hadn't been like this with any other girl he'd seen or dated. he'd usually shut all the memories out and move on. convincing himself that it was for the better, which apparently it was. 

but you – you plagued his mind, with both wanted and unwanted thoughts. 

he tries to keep some dignity, acting like he's fine and that he doesn't miss you. but despite the persona he plays in front of his friends and family, he knows the truth. he knows how much he misses you. 

he's considered calling you a few times, mostly on nights where he feels lonely and nostalgic, his memory of your voice not being quite enough to fuel his dopamine. 

so he drops his pride, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. his finger hovers over the call button, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip nervously.

maybe he should just send a text, he thinks to himself. but he knows he doesn’t want that – he wants to hear your voice, and your tone. 

he decides to go for it, starting the call as he brings the phone up to his ear. his heart pounds in his chest, there's a good chance you won't even pick up, or that you'll hang up as soon as he starts speaking. 

but his heart stops as soon as he hears your voice.

“matt?” you question, confused. his mind goes blank, short circuiting. he hadn't really thought about what he was gonna say, now just sat there, his mouth run dry as he listens to you.

“matt?” you say again, now slightly worried. “hello?” you chime, wondering what the fuck was up.

he finally speaks up, his voice coming out in croak. “uh, he- hey.” he mumbles, his palms sweaty. he swallows, trying to calm his nerves.

“hi?” you say, still not understanding what was going on. you sigh when he doesn't respond, considering hanging up on this non-eventful phone call. 

he notices the way you sigh, his heart picking up again. “don’t - just don't hang up.” he panics slightly, taking a deep breath.

“ok.” you mumble, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “i just wanna talk - just about anything.” he mumbles weakly, trying not to sound pathetic. “tell me ‘bout your day.” he says quietly, a meek suggestion.

you sigh again, reluctant to do this. but you'd be lying if you said a part of you didn’t wanna talk to matt. you thought about him sometimes too.

“tell you about my day?” you question, frowning a little at the suggestion.

“yeah.” he breathes out, trying to relax his body a little. “anythin’, just wanna hear your voice.” he admits. you sigh, rubbing your temple. what the fuck were you doing? 

“i've not been doing much - mostly just work.” you mumble out, abiding by his simple request. he lets out a small breath at your words, happy that you'd decided to continue the conversation. 

he smiles to himself, reminding himself that you were in college now, living a whole other life. “right, college. forgot ‘bout that.” he mumbles out, fiddling with the bottom of his top as he speaks. “how is it over there?” he asks, suddenly desperate to know everything about your new life.

“it's ok. hard work, but it's good.” you nod as you speak, trying to respond as casually as possible. “nice change in pace.” you add quietly.

he swallows, listening to your every word. he sat there imagining you in your new life, studying at college. you were always smart, and it made him happy that you were doing something good with your life, something you'd spoken about to him when you were together. 

“they’re not workin’ you too hard are they?” he jokes, keeping the conversation light and interesting for both your benefit.

“what, at college?” you joke back sarcastically. “nah, it's just what i signed up for.” you sigh, smiling to yourself without even thinking.

he nods, biting back a smile. “you happy though?” he asks sincerely, wanting to make sure you were good. 

you think for a second, nodding to yourself. “yeah, i am.” you respond quietly and honestly. “social lifes good, turns out not every girl here is a bitch.” you joke, getting more comfortable in the conversation. 

he raises his eyebrows, chuckling under his breath. “that’s surprising.” he chimes back, amused by your lack of filter that he knew so well. “s’no surprise though, you've never been bad at making friends.” he says kindly, knowing damn well how easy you were to talk to. how you'd effortlessly charm everyone with your addictive personality, in a way he admired and wished he could do.

his compliment makes your brain fizzle with happiness, but you push past it to keep the conversation lighthearted. “yeah, not socially awkward like you.” you retort back playfully, smiling ear to ear as you speak. 

he scoffs at your insult, although he found comfort and relaxation in the light teasing. finding it easy. “wow, rude.” he responds, shifting around his bed to get more comfy. “s’not my fault i like a smaller social circle.” he defends.

“yeah, you tell yourself that.” you snap back quickly, lightly chuckling as you speak. then there's a silence across the call, one where it would feel like a good time to hang up. but neither of you wanted to, that much was clear. 

“you doin’ okay?” you mumble through the phone, knowing that now was probably the only time you'd be talking like this. checking in on one another wasn't exactly a usual occurrence.

he swallows hard, his whole body feeling hot at the caring tone in your voice. “yeah - i mean, i've been better.” he mumbles awkwardly, trying to sugar coat his emotions. he was fine, just not great. but you weren't in his life like that anymore, you didn't need to know. 

your face drops a little at his words. right, so he wasn't doing okay. “m’sorry, ‘bout that.” you mumble quietly, unsure what to say. 

“it's fine” he huffs, fidgeting with the blanket under him, also unaware of what to say. the conversation veering in a slighter deeper direction, a direction he didn't particularly wanna go with you right now.

but his words escape his lips quickly and quietly, his emotions coming out over his logical thinking. “i miss you.”

his words send a thrilling shock through you. you let out a sigh, trying really hard not to say it back and make this whole stupid phone call an emotional breakdown over your past relationship. 

he swallows at your lack of response, knowing it was stupid of him to say. but talking to you on the phone like this was driving him insane, knowing he couldn't just do this whenever. it's like he was on a time limit to get everything off his chest before he went back to his life without you. 

the call is silent, but he knows you won't just hang up without saying anything. he feels his emotions bubbling over within him, the hurt consuming his mind with thoughts and questions, consuming his everything.

one question rattles in his brain, gnawing at him on a replay, so much that he didn't know if he was saying it outloud by accident or if his inner voice was just that loud. but considering the hole he's already dug himself into he stupidly lets it slip, needing to know the answer so deeply.

“are you seeing anyone?”

you shut your eyes firmly, hoping you hadn’t just heard that. “matt.” you whisper, practically pleading him to stop with just the tone of your voice. 

“i know, i know.” he mumbles, backtracking as he realises what he's just said. he knows he shouldn't have pried like that, but the need to know overtakes his pride. “i just.” he begins, sighing to himself. “i just need to know.” he croaks out, voice breaking. 

“matt.” you whisper again, in the same pleading tone that was telling him to stop asking questions he didn’t wanna know the answer to. “please don't.” you huff, practically warning him of the answer already. 

his stomach drops. fuck. you’d just answered his question, and fuck did it hurt. he was taking this a lot worse than he thought he would, jealousy surging into every nerve ending of his body. an emotion he didn't often show because of how ugly it was.

“just tell me.” he mutters, his voice coming out in a rasp of both desperation and pain. you bite down on your bottom lip nervously, honestly debating hanging up, but you owed him at least this. to be honest with him.

“yeah.” you say weakly, your heart rate picking up as you become nervous. “i have a boyfriend.” you mumble out. you know that's not what he wants to hear, but what were you meant to do.

“fuck.” he whispers under his breath, his body relaxing from its tension as the words finally leave your mouth. but what filled in was much worse, the pain and jealousy of knowing you'd moved on whilst he was still sat here thinking about you almost everyday. he felt pathetic in all honesty. 

“matt, m’sorry-” you begin, feeling bad. but he cuts you off quickly. “no, no- you don't need to.” he sighs, rubbing his temple. “you don't need to apologise, for that.” he speaks softly, trying his hardest to rationalise with that part of his brain. the logical part screaming at him to not get upset over this, to not let it completely ruin him. 

“m’happy for you.” he mumbles out, the words catching in his throat, like he's struggling to say them. maybe thats because deep down he didn’t really mean them, some fucked up, jealous part of him cruelly wishing you weren’t happy. but he couldn't act out on that. he was smart enough to understand this wasn't his place to comment, nor let his ugly emotions get the better of him. 

“thanks.” you mutter back, trying to keep the situation civil. you knew he was upset. you knew because if he had a new girlfriend you'd be freaking out, probably hating it more than you'd like to admit. and maybe that wasn't fair, but weren’t gonna dwell on the logistics of the situation.

he takes a deep breath, trying to keep up his calm demeanour, not wanting to pathetically slip up. but it's difficult trying to keep his mind at bay with thoughts of you happy with someone else. a part of him crumbled, knowing that something he had dreaded for a while now was true, and it had been for a while.

“i'm uh- i'm gonna go.” he mumbles, deciding that he couldn't talk to you anymore without practically breaking down. 

“right, okay.” you mumble, mentally smacking yourself for letting the conversation get to this. you scrape your brain for something else to say, something to fix the now low mood. but nothing comes to mind, regret taking over. 

“bye matt.” you whisper softly, the shock of the situation beginning to take over, your eyes brimming with tears as you think about the fact you've just hurt someone you care so much about. 

maybe it had been easier this whole time when you weren't talking to matt, able to keep him so incredibly separate from whatever life you were living now.

the only reason you'd been able to move on is because there was hardly anything else in your life that had any attachment to matt anymore. but getting a call from him, and hearing his voice, it really fucked you up.

“bye.” he whispers back before hastily hanging up, letting out a sigh as his eyes water. god was that a bad idea. he takes a few deep breaths, stopping himself from crying over this.

he felt pathetic and sad for himself. here you were moving on and he was just stuck, stuck on a part of both your lives that you had so easily left behind.

he hated himself for it, because he only had himself to blame.

©sturnsrecord

notes . this was inspired by @pearlzier c.ai chris bot lmao

tag list . @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss @hearts4sturniolo @emely9274 @dominicfikeenthusiast

[flowerywoso]

the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[kvroomi]

it's 9 o'clock in the evening when atsumu barges into your bathroom while you're taking off your makeup

“hey, babe, yer phone’s charged, right?”

his voice breaks through the quiet hum of your evening, pulling your attention away from the bottle of moisturiser you'd been trying to open for the past 5 minutes. you glance up to find him leaning in the doorway. his black dress pants and light blue button-up are long gone, now replaced with a large white t-shirt and his obnoxious 'world's best setter' boxers that he must've left in the dresser you bought for him when he started staying over more often.

“yeah, why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

he holds up his phone with an exaggerated sigh, the screen dark. “mine’s dead." he sighs and you look at him confused.

"i was gonna call ‘samu—messaged me somethin’ about the shop. think he forgot to order noodles or… or whatever. can i borrow yours for a sec?”

you furrow your eyebrows, skepticism creeping in. atsumu wasn’t exactly known for prioritizing osamu’s last-minute “emergencies” unless they directly concerned him. “can’t you just use the landline?”

“the landline?” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“what am i, a fossil?" you turn your gaze back to the mirror with a roll of your eyes.

"c’mon, babe, it’ll only take a minute. please?”

you stare at him and he stares back, the two of you locking eyes in a silent standoff. atsumu, for all his dramatics, was never great at hiding when he was up to something.

alas, as much as you wanted to pry, you also didn’t have the energy to argue over something so trivial when it was so late into the day.

“okay,” you breathe out, followed by a long sigh as you hand your phone over.

“just don’t mess with anything.” your eyes narrow threateningly.

“mess with things? me?” he shakes his head around, feigning shock. “never. yer phone’s in the safest hands imaginable.”

that already should’ve been your second red flag—though before you can even question him, he's got his back turned halfway out the door yelling “thanks, babe! yer the best!” over his shoulder.

a brief fifteen minutes have passed, which you only vaguely realise in the haze of beginning your book. you're comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch when he strolls into the living room. plopping your phone onto the cushions beside you and pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head—he pokes your cheek.

“yer a lifesaver,” he says with a grin, flopping down beside you. “what would i do without ya?”

you offer him a glance, “what did osamu need?”

“huh?” you notice his grin falter. it's a split millisecond, but he's quick to cover it with a casual wave of his hand. “oh, somethin’ about… rice.”

you squint at him, trying to read his face. “i thought you said noodles earlier?”

“rice, noodles—same difference,” he says, getting up and walking over to the fridge to pull it open. “food stuff... y’know how he is.”

you let out a hum, satisfied with his answer. and just like that, the moment passes. your attention is drawn back to your book while atsumu rifles through leftovers.

it isn't until later that night when you're climbing into bed and reaching for your phone to set your alarm that you notice. the screen lights up, and instead of your usual photo of cherry blossoms, you're greeted by him—a photo of atsumu.

and it's not just any photo of atsumu, though. this one was pure chaos.

his entire face filled the frame, nose slightly scrunched, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and his golden-brown eyes wide with faux innocence. his lips were puckered in an over-the-top kissy face. across the bottom of the image in bright, white text were the words: “miss me yet, babe? ;)”

your jaw drops.

“what the—?” you're immediately sitting up and unlocking your phone, going straight into your photo gallery. what you find only makes your disbelief grow, (and maybe your heart too, out of fondness).

the first photo was relatively tame: a selfie of atsumu sprawled out on the couch with his head sitting in his hand with a cheeky and flirty smile. of course, you think.

the second was him in the doorway of the living room with his finger pressed to his lips in a "shh" gesture while you sat on the couch, engrossed in your book.

and then things get progressively more ridiculous, (assuming that's even possible).

there's a close-up of atsumu holding up your favorite snack with an inflated, brash grin, almost as if he was offering it to you. the caption reads: “this one's for you, babe."

another captured him perched on your desk chair, holding your pencil like it was a quill. his nose is scrunched again, an attempt to portray his concentration as he pretends to scribble something brilliant.

it's the final photo that stops you in your tracks.

it's atsumu stood on the balcony, wrapped in your favorite blanket like a superhero while his arm stretched dramatically toward the sky. the caption read: “protector of this household and defender of snacks ;)”

you stare at the screen in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. quite frankly, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to laugh or cry.

atsumu was many things: he was ridiculous, he was almost always over the top, and he was also occasionally the most infuriating person you’d ever met. but, there was one thing for certain—he was undeniably, wholeheartedly yours.

many people don't understand him the way you do. atsumu hadn’t just messed with your phone for the sake of it—he’d left you a trail of love notes that were neatly tucked behind each photo’s absurdity. it was his way of saying "i’m here, even when i’m not," without actually saying the words verbally.

and it worked.

you didn’t text him right away. instead, you curled under the blankets, scrolling through the photos again and again. your heart swelled with every outlandish caption, every childish expression, every trace of him.

eventually, you couldn’t help yourself.

you: you’re a menace.

his reply was almost instant: atsumu: a menace with a pretty face, though. miss ya, babe x

you beamed, your thumb hovering over the lock screen settings, conflicted between whether or not you should switch back the photo. though how could you? not when you already knew tomorrow would bring another excuse for him to check your phone again, just to see if you’d kept it.

so you decide to leave it—his face on your lock screen as a proud display of the world’s most unconventional love letter.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[rafedarling]

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

request: open

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader

summary: new parents and beloved hollywood couple drew and you take to the jimmy kimmel live stage to discuss your latest movie project together, which releases in may. between balancing new parenthood and demanding film schedules, you two finds yourself sharing a funny, heartfelt stories about life on set with their baby girl, emma starkey. a viral behind-the-scenes video brings laughter to the show, as you discuss how parenting has influenced your lives and careers. based on today drew interview on jimmy kimmel live interview.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, humorous parenting moments, discussions of balancing work and family life.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy

gif: rafedarling

“Ladies and gentlemen, our next guests are not only Hollywood’s favorite power couple but also the stars of the highly anticipated romantic-action film Against All Odds, which hits theaters this May. And if that’s not enough, they’ve recently stepped into the chaotic world of parenthood with their baby girl, Emma. Please welcome Drew Starkey and Y/N!”

You can hear the audience roared with applause as Jimmy Kimmel welcomed his next guests.

You and Drew walked out hand in hand, smiling and waving to the audience. Drew’s free hand rested on your back as he guided you to the guest couch. The applause was deafening, with some cheers and whistles peppered in. You laughed as Jimmy gestured to quiet the audience.

“Wow,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.

“You guys have the crowd in a frenzy. I mean, Hollywood’s hottest couple and now officially parents? Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at the crowd. “It’s been a crazy year.”

“Yeah,” Drew chimed in, “between the movie and the baby, I’m not even sure what sleep feels like anymore.”

The audience laughed, and Jimmy leaned forward.

“Okay, we have to start with the most important question: How’s parenthood treating you? You’ve got a baby girl, Emma. How’s life with a newborn?”

Drew chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s… humbling, to say the least. Being a first-time parent is no joke. I don’t think I could survive it without this one,” he said, nodding toward you.

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, stop it. You’re doing great.”

Jimmy smiled. “Okay, Y/N, your turn. How’s life as a mom?”

“It’s amazing,” you said, your voice softening.

“I mean, it’s exhausting, but Emma’s such a sweet baby. Watching her grow and discover the world makes all the sleepless nights worth it.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Sleepless nights? Drew, are you pulling your weight with those 3 a.m. feedings and diaper changes?”

Drew grinned, holding up his hands defensively.

“Absolutely. I’ve mastered the art of the one-handed diaper change. My record is forty-three seconds.”

The audience erupted in laughter, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s not lying. But let’s not forget the time you forgot to put the diaper on at all.”

The crowd gasped with laughter as Drew shook his head, groaning.

“Okay, in my defense, I was running on two hours of sleep. And the burp cloth worked just fine… temporarily.”

Jimmy laughed, slapping the desk. “You’re officially a dad now, Drew. Forgetting a diaper is like a rite of passage.”

Drew nodded solemnly. “It’s a learning curve.”

Jimmy turned his attention back to you. “Now, let’s talk about Against All Odds. The trailer has everyone excited. What can you tell us about the movie?”

You leaned forward slightly.

“It’s a romantic-action film about two rival spies played by Drew and me who are forced to work together on a mission to stop a global threat. Of course, things get complicated when they realize they have a shared past.”

“Ah, a little romance, a little action,” Jimmy said. “And a lot of explosions, I’m guessing?”

“Definitely,” Drew said.

“The stunts in this film are insane. We’ve got car chases, hand-to-hand combat, and this one sequence where Y/N literally jumps out of a helicopter.”

The audience gasped, and Jimmy’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me Y/N did her own stunts?”

You shrugged with a smile. “Most of them, yeah. The helicopter scene was terrifying, but the adrenaline rush was worth it.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And how did you feel about your wife jumping out of a helicopter while pregnant?”

“Oh, that scene was filmed before we knew about Emma,” Drew said quickly.

“But I still worried about her constantly. Every time she’d do a stunt, I’d be off to the side like, ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’”

You laughed. “He was basically my personal cheerleader-slash-bodyguard.”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling. “And Y/N, how was filming while pregnant? Did the crew make accommodations for you?”

“They were amazing,” you said.

“They adjusted the schedule so that I could rest when I needed to, and they made sure I always had plenty of snacks on set.”

“Snacks were essential,” Drew added. “She had a bag of trail mix with her at all times.”

Jimmy laughed. “It sounds like the two of you had a lot going on behind the scenes. Speaking of which, I have to ask about the viral video. You know the one.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. Drew laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh no. You’re not really going to show it, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Jimmy said, grinning.

“For anyone who hasn’t seen it, this is a behind-the-scenes video of Drew and Y/N on set. Drew’s building a baby crib, and Y/N is… well, just watch.”

The screen infront and behind you lit up with the video. The audience howled as they watched Drew hammering away at a crib while you sat on a couch with a breast pump. The rhythmic “whirr, whirr” of the pump provided the perfect comedic soundtrack as Drew worked intently. At one point, you casually scrolled through your phone, looking completely unbothered.

When the video ended, the audience erupted into cheers and laughter. Jimmy was wiping tears from his eyes.

“So my question is… is this what you do on set?”

“Well,” Drew said, still chuckling, “Emma needed a crib, and we didn’t have one on set. So, naturally, I decided to build one during a break.”

“And I,” you added with a grin, “was taking care of my part of the parenting duties. Multitasking at its finest.”

Jimmy shook his head, laughing.

“You two are the epitome of modern parenthood. Drew, do you moonlight as a carpenter now?”

Drew smirked. “Not yet, but give me a few more months of parenting, and I’ll be building treehouses.”

The audience laughed again, and Jimmy leaned back in his chair.

“Okay, last question: How do you balance it all? Filming, parenting, being a couple; what’s the secret?”

You exchanged a glance with Drew before answering.

“Honestly, communication is everything. We make sure to check in with each other and divide responsibilities as evenly as possible.”

“And coffee,” Drew added. “Lots of coffee.”

Jimmy nodded sagely. “Coffee and communication. Words to live by.”

The interview wrapped up with more laughs, and even a clip from Against All Odds. As the applause filled the studio, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life you and Drew had built on and off the screen. together.

[xetlynn]

season 2 claggor x fem reader maybe they get caught making out?? thank you for keeping the tag alive 

of courseee and thank you!!!<3

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Preheat

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: in which you and claggor get caught in a lil steamy moment.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Powder and Ekko wave goodbye, leaving our home to go out on a well-needed date. Claggor, Mylo and you tell them to have fun and enjoy themselves. You bring your legs up on the couch, playing around with your necklace. “Welp, this is boring. I’m leaving.” Mylo stands up, grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t even say anything when walking out the door.

 

Claggor and you turn to one another before chuckling. “We have the house to ourselves it seems.” He smiles. The corners of your lips doing the same movement. “What should we do?” You ask, holding onto your knees. The two of you had recently started dating after being friends since you two were children. You were raised by a close friend of Vander’s and Benzo’s. You had grown close with the others, especially Powder, being best friends. Claggor was her older brother and it felt weird to go after him but then he pursued you. It was kept a secret from the others and still is. You didn’t know how to tell Powder you were dating Claggor at all. Not knowing how to bring it up. 

“Want to cook?” He proposes and you purse your lips, shrugging your shoulders as if to say “why not.” He stands up from his chair, going over to you to help you up. 

You lead the way to the kitchen. “Pizza?” You tilt your head, opening the fridge. “Sounds good.” He hums, getting the cutting board out along with the flour and oil. You grab the cold ingredients. 

“I hope it turns out better than when Mylo did it.” You comment, throwing the stuff on the counter. Claggor laughs, “I don’t think we’d have the skill to catch the pizza on fire and only burn the inside.” He shakes his head, remembering when Mylo woke everyone screaming that there was a fire. “Fun times.” You whisper. 

You leave the room momentarily to put on some music before joining back. “Alright, let’s start.” You roll your sleeves all the way up to wash your hands before actually touching anything. Claggor had already done that when you left the kitchen. 

The two of you start off together before you get distracted by the song that came on. Dancing around the room, pretending to smack your boyfriend’s butt. He didn’t mind taking care of the pizza, this usually happens when you cook. In the middle of it you’d get bored or distracted by something small. Forgetting about the ingredients on the counter. 

“Alright, did you preheat the oven?” He asks suddenly, already knowing the answer though. You forgot to do it. Your arms drop to your sides with a frightened expression. He bursts out laughing. “It’s okay, babe. I figured you wouldn’t have.” He kisses your forehead and you frown. “Rude.” You cross your arms and look away. “But true.” You mutter. He gets the oven started and you both watch it heat up, leaning on the opposite counter. 

“Sorry.” You say sadly, upset that you can’t have the pizza sooner. “It’s okay, I promise.” He snorts, pulling you into his chest, hugging you. “I’m so hungry.” You whine, tugging on the chest of his shirt. 

“Same, but it’s only going to take a couple minutes.” He says, but right as he says that the oven dings meaning that it’s done heating up. He lets me go and you  open the oven door for him as he grabs the pizza and sets it in. Shutting the oven. 

“Set the timer.” He points over to the tiny little timer next to the oven on your side. You set it to twenty-five minutes, clapping your hands after placing it down. Since you two had some time you decided to go back to the couch and cuddle for a little bit. You were snug between the cushion and partly on top of him. Legs tangled together. He pets your head as you stare at the coffee table. Only thinking about how good his fingers feel on your scalp. 

He stops after a couple minutes, staring down at you. “You’re very pretty, y’know.” He compliments, you lift your head to look at him. “Really? Say more.” You tease making him snicker. “I could compliment you all day.” His hands travel down to your waist, rubbing up and down. “I’d love to hear just a few.” You cross your arms on his chest to rest your chin on them. 

“You’re very smart even though you get easily distracted.” He begins and you pout. “Not off to a good start.” His body shakes under you with laughter. “Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes. 

“You are incredibly kind, I don’t understand why. Kind to people who don’t deserve it. Also just beautiful. Your inside matches the physicality and not a lot of people can say the same.” He tells you. “So nice on the eyes. More than nice. I love admiring you.” His hands start to get lower and lower on your back/ hips. “An amazing kisser.” He raspily says when his face gets closer to yours. 

“You think so?” You hum, eyes flickering between his lips back to his eyes. “I know so.” He pecks your lips. You slowly move your legs so that you are straddling him now. You butt right above his crotch. 

“Let’s make sure I’m truly right though.” He sits himself up a little more and kisses you. 

You moan into the kiss, lips cushioning one anothers. You press further onto him, gripping his shirt for dear life. “Mm, you drive me crazy.” He musters taking a small breather before getting right back to making out. His tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You open your mouth allowing it. 

He takes it and battles with your own tongue. Going back and forth not even noticing the fact that the front door opened. 

You move his hand from your back down to your ass before bringing your own hand to the back of his neck. Not wanting to let him go. He grips your clothed flesh. You pull a little bit on his hairs on the back of his head on accident, getting a low groan in response, vibrating your lips. His free hand is holding you tightly by your waist. Making sure you were right against his torso. 

You do it for another time to take another breather, but really it was because you wanted to do something more. “Wow!” A voice laughs from the corner of the living room, startling you both. You jump off of Claggor. “In the family room!?” Ekko grips onto his stomach with laughter as Powder was trying to bite her own giggles. Claggor and your faces flushing tremendously. “I- sorry.” You put your head down, not believing that neither of you heard the door open or close. 

“We already knew about you two, don’t worry.” Powder puts her purse on the hook. “You guys made pizza?” Ekko excitedly asks, heading to the kitchen. 

“It’s not… done yet.” You say, not understanding why they’re home from their date not even an hour into it. “Oh can’t wait to eat it then.” He chuckles from the kitchen. Powder smacks her brothers back, plopping down on the couch. “Have fun there, didn’t ya.” She teases him. He rolls his eyes. 

“[Name], you okay? You look mortified?” She asks me and you turn to her, blinking slowly. “You knew?” 

“Of course we knew, you two are not discrete… whatsoever.” She smirks up at you. “And you just let me think you didn’t know!?” You cry out, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment. “Mm I knew you’d tell me when you wanted to or I’d “find out” like this.” She uses finger quotations then does a hand motion to the room. 

“At least we don’t have to hide it anymore, babe.” Claggor stands up, rubbing your back. “Doesn’t stop the shame I am feeling right now.” You turn into his chest, still hiding your face. 

“Bleh, babe.” Powder mocks, playfully gagging. “Oh you can’t be talking, sweetie.” Ekko sits down beside his girlfriend and you turn to see her face turn red. “Shut up.” She looks away. 

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

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[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 2

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

warnings: we meet jk's friends and tae makes his first appearance (we'll be seeing a lot more of him in future), oc is sick with a cold, jk is a simp and drops everything to make her feel better, lots of fluff, nothing explicit in this one, we find out some more of oc's rules, SATC mentioned, some marvel talk, talk of jk having a nice ass, mostly just lots of soft feels in this one <3

word count: 2.7k

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

author's note: i'm so happy to see the amount of love part 1 got !!! part 2 is a bit shorter, but i think it's important to see their dynamic outside of the whole fwb thing. i'm aiming for the upcoming parts to be longer, i promise. i hope you enjoy all the feels in this one, and don't be shy to send me your feedback 🫶🏻

find tmhtl masterlist here

Jungkook sits at a table in a rather fancy restaurant, half-listening to his friends as they joke about something over dinner. They've been meaning to get together for a while but they've all been so busy with work and their personal lives that it just never worked out until tonight. Well, it worked out tonight because Taehyung practically forced everyone to come.

"Yo, earth to Jungkook."

He looks over at Jimin with raised eyebrows, realizing he was caught staring at his phone in his lap. He knows he should be paying attention to the conversation happening around him, and he knows that it's rude to be on his phone while he's in company, but he hasn't heard from you all day and usually you would've exchanged words (or funny memes) by now.

It's not that he MUST speak to you all day, every day to survive, but it just happens. If he sees a funny video of a cat on TikTok, he sends it to you. If you forgot how to do something on Excel, you text him and he replies within two minutes to explain how to do it. Sometimes he even goes through the trouble of doing it himself, screen recording it and sending it to you to give you a step-by-step guide. That's just how it goes with the two of you.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just asking if there's a special someone in your life," Jimin says with a little grin, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"Actually, what he asked was if you're still on track to die alone," Namjoon quips, Jimin waving him off with a little "eh, same thing".

Jungkook rolls his eyes, flatly denying any romantic relations. It's not like he's lying. He just can't say that he might have started developing feelings for the woman he's casually sleeping with, so he just settles on, "Naah, I'm too busy with work." It's easier.

They know their friend is a terrible liar, but they also know that he would tell them if he really wanted to, so they don't pry. They've heard your name once or twice in passing, a little comment here and there like 'y/n likes that movie' or 'y/n uses this perfume'. As far as they know, you're his work friend. That's it. Even Taehyung doesn't know much about you, and he works at the same university as an English Literature lecturer, which brings us to rule #2.

Rule #2: It stays between us. It's just less complicated if less people know, and Jungkook knows that if his friends knew about it, they'd be pestering him about you all night and he doesn't need that right now, especially when his eyes drift back down to his phone and there's still no text from you.

You're in bed, surrounded by snotty tissues and a sleeping Miso, who really couldn't care less that you just underwent a violent coughing fit. You're about to doze off, when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You check the notification, and when you see who it's from, you swear you feel your heart rate rise, but maybe it's just from all the coughing.

prof jeon |7:50pm]: hey, you. prof jeon 17:50pm]: haven't heard from you all day... prof jeon [7:51pm]: are you mad at me bc i said sex in the city was boring??? 👀😭😭

You [7:51pm]: first of all, it's sex AND the city 💀 You [7:52pm]: and it's not boring, you're just a nerd who can't watch anything other than marvel

He laughs, knowing he should've expected that response. Your next message comes through shortly after.

You [7:53pm]: sorry for the radio silence You [7:53pm]: i have a nasty cold 😵‍💫 You [7:53pm]: feel like i was hit by a bus You [7:53pm]: took some cough drops and slept for most of the day

He really shouldn't feel the need to immediately rush to your aid, but he does.

prof jeon [7:53pm]: want me to come over?

You [7:54pm]: you don't have to do that, kook You [7:54pm]: i don't wanna get my germs all over you 😕

prof jeon [7:54pm]: don't be silly   prof jeon [7:54pm]: i’ve had your bodily fluids on me before, who cares about a little snot 😂😂😂   prof jeon [7:55pm]: i can be there in a little bit 

You [7:56pm]: you're gross 🙄 You [7:56pm]: and really nice

prof jeon [7:56pm]: see you in a bit x

He excuses himself from dinner with the excuse of a family emergency and promises his friends to hang out again soon. He grabs his coat and heads out to his car, making a stop at your favourite Thai restaurant for some pho before driving over to your place.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and dragged yourself back to bed as soon as he texted you to let you know he's on his way up. You hear the door open and in walks Jungkook, looking very handsome you might add.

"You're dressed awfully fancy to take care of my cold," you tease with a little smile, your eyes drifting down to the plastic bag in his hand, a bag you know all too well due to countless trips to that specific Thai restaurant. "And you brought food?"

He smiles as he removes his coat and walks over to the side of your bed, placing the pho on your nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the bed, clearly not bothered by the array of tissues scattered around the duvet. Miso sees him and gets up from her spot on the bed, sauntering off to the living room, almost as if she knows her mom is about to get folded like a pretzel again. But Jungkook's not here for that tonight.

"I was actually out at dinner with some friends when I texted you. And I thought you might've been too lazy to get up and actually eat dinner, so I brought soup."

The thought of him dropping his plans with his friends just to come over and take care of you fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Maybe it's just your high temperature. Maybe it's the fact that he's just so kind to you. Whatever the reason may be, you're too sick and weak to fight the soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

"Don't thank me. I just didn't want you to drown in your own mucus."

Your laugh makes his heart feel funny, even if it barely managed to escape your sore throat.

He opens the lid of the steaming hot pho and holds a spoonful to your lips. If you were your usual healthy self, you would've told him that you're fully capable of feeding yourself, but you're sick and vulnerable and he has that soft look in his eyes, so you let him feed you the soup. It's warm and a little spicy, and it instantly makes you feel better as it slides down your throat. It's just that good. That, and the fact that he bought it for you and drove all this way to feed it to you.

He makes sure you take any necessary medication and even helps you flip over to lay on your stomach so that he can rub some VapoRub on your back, his hands giving you the comfort you didn't know you so desperately needed.

You aren't used to being taken care of by such a gentle man. He blows on your soup for you so that you don't burn your tongue. He wets a cloth with cold water and lays it on your forehead to bring down your temperature. He touches you like you're some delicate porcelain that could break at any moment. When he lays down with you and runs his fingers through your hair, you don't fight it. When he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, you don't protest like you normally would because rule #3 is no kissing outside of sex but you don't even care right now. You let him take care of you when you normally wouldn't. You allow yourself to be taken care of because it feels too good to overthink.

Jungkook feels a bit selfish for relishing in your current state because it allows him to care for you in your time of need. He would do it for any of his friends because that's the type of person he is, but this is different. This is you, and he would drive for hours and hours to get to you if you ever needed him. He would put everything on hold to be there for you. Hell, he would run into a burning building if you were in there. Because it's you.

He props his head up on his elbow and looks down at you, taking in your fevery flushed cheeks, your heavy-lidded eyes, your stuffy nose, and he thinks that no other woman will ever be as beautiful to him as you. He's not Taehyung. He doesn't teach literature and he doesn't have the best way with words, but he could spend hours writing poetry about the sound of your laugh or how animated you get when you're really passionate about something. He could sit and watch paint dry all day if you sat by his side and did it with him.

Jungkook takes the tv remote from the nightstand to turn on Sex and The City, clicking on a random episode from season 6 and getting comfortable next to you.

"What happened to Sex and The City being boring, hm?" you chuckle, giving him a teasingly pointed look.

"What, you want me to turn it off?"

"No, I just thought you didn't like it."

"But you like it."

You turn your attention back to the tv as a smile threatens to break out on your face, your head turned so that he doesn't see how much that simple response affected you.

He barely remembers the characters' names or much of the plot, but you enjoy the show, so he watches it with you, making comments here and there and even asking questions just so he can listen to your voice as you explain why Carrie Bradshaw does what she does. He mentally pats himself on the back for getting through a good handful of episodes before inevitably getting bored.

When you get up to go to the bathroom, he just can't help himself and turns on one of the Avengers movies, offering you a sheepish grin when you come back and see what's on your tv.

You roll your eyes and get back in bed, watching Iron Man perform a monologue for the millionth time. "Captain America's better."

He gives you a look like you just killed his dog or something, and you already know what's coming.

"Are you insane?! Iron Man is so obviously the best Avenger, y/n."

"He doesn't look like Captain America, though."

"He doesn't have to," he scoffs, looking back at the tv. "He's got that whole rich CEO thing going for him. Plus, he's like, a genius."

"Nerds defending nerds, I guess," you tease with a faint smile.

He grins, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Are you saying I'm like Iron Man? Because if you are, that's a huge compliment."

"Iron Man's a bit more of a bad boy," you chuckle, narrowing your eyes at him as you try to think of who he resembles in the Avengers. "You're more...boy next door, kinda like Spider Man."

"Wha- excuse me, I can be a bad boy too if I want," he quips, trying to sound offended, but when you mention Spider Man it kinda makes up for it. "I guess I'll take Spider Man. I do have a nice ass."

You laugh, giving him a puzzled look. "Who said anything about Spider Man's ass?"

"He's like, known for having a great ass. Have you seen him in his suit?"

"So, that's it? That's why you'd make a good superhero? Because you have a nice ass?"

"Well...not just my ass. I'd make a great superhero because...y'know...great power, great responsibility and all that other stuff."

You scoff, shrugging like you can't argue with that.

He's quiet for a while, a full-blown fight scene playing out on the tv, his mind starting to wander a bit.

"You'd be Black Widow. You've got that badass, independent woman vibe," he murmurs, looking over at you with a soft smile.

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah. You're smart, confident, you don't take crap from anyone. Plus, you'd look really hot in the tight outfit." He just can't help himself.

You roll your eyes, softly swatting his bicep. "Of course that's what you think of."

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, feigning innocence. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a man, I like what I like."

And I like you. He can't say it out loud, but acknowledging it is enough for now, and when the cough syrup starts taking effect and your eyes slowly start to droop, he feels content with just having your head on his chest.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Taehyung, and your eyes are barely open when they land on the screen. You didn't even mean to look, it was kinda just an instinctive thing, but you're not interested in his private texts from his friends. What catches your eye is the photo on his lock screen. It's a photo of the two of you from a year ago, both of you making silly faces at the camera. It's a cute photo. If anyone else were to see it, they'd think you're a couple.

“I didn't know that’s your lock screen,” you mumble, your voice a lot sleepier than it was an hour ago.

“Are you snooping?” he teases with a little scoff.

“I didn't mean to look, your phone is kinda in my face from this angle,” you murmur through a soft chuckle, looking down at the photo.

“I like this photo of us.” He smiles when you tap the screen after it goes black, wanting to get another look.

“Coulda used one that I actually look pretty in,” you murmur jokingly, and as the cough syrup drains the last of your consciousness, the last thing you hear is a soft, “But you’re always pretty, y/n.”

The next morning, you wake up feeling a little bit disorientated after taking all that cold medicine, blinking a few times to clear your vision. You slowly sit up in bed and check your phone, seeing that it's 10am. You almost think you overslept for work, but you realize it's Sunday. You think back to the night before, the way Jungkook came over and fed you soup, the way he gently put VapoRub on your back and made sure you were well taken care of. You turn your head to find Miso in the spot that Jungkook was in last night, and you would feel disappointed that he’s not there anymore if Miso weren't so damn cute. It's not like you expected him to still be here this morning. After all, staying the night is another boundary you don't cross, and he respects that, which explains why he left a little while after you fell asleep.

You feel that fuzzy feeling in your chest again when you take a better look at what's on your nightstand. Your water bottle stands tall, which Jungkook filled before he left last night, along with a little note from one of the notebooks on your desk.

The note says, 'Hope you're feeling a bit better. Get lots of rest and drink your fluids. Don't worry about falling asleep, Miso made sure I saw myself out. Hope to see you at work tomorrow xx'

You read the note again, and then again. It's simple but thoughtful. He didn't have to write a note. He didn't have to come over last night to tend to your illness, but he did, and you aren't surprised because he's him. That's just what he does.

You think about last night until you have to consciously stop yourself from smiling so much because your cheeks feel a bit stiff. You grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll to his contact, your fingers quickly sliding across the keyboard.

You [10:23am]: thank you for coming over last night, kook You [10:23am]: i owe you fr

prof jeon [10:25am]: you really don't 🙄 prof jeon [10:25am]: i just wanted to be there for you prof jeon [10:26am]: it's what spider man would've done 👀

You [10:26am]: 👁️👄👁️ You [10:26am]: nerd

[f1swiftiee]

Tipsy - LN4

pairings: lando x fem!reader, leclerc!reader

summary: lando has a massive crush on his rival's teammate, and his efforts to catch her attention never actually catches her attention, but rather everyone else's, until one day, when all things go downhill.

a/n: hii!! sorry it took me so long to write this! not proofread, so feel free to point out any mistakes. i changed a few details to make the story make sense. thanks and enjoy! there will be a part 2!

warnings: drinking, unplanned pregnancy, mention of sex, and thats all i think??

______________________________________________________________

It was no secret that Lando had a crush on you. Everyone seemed to just simply know that he was head over heels for you. Well, everyone, except you. Lando had tried countless times to make a move, but each time, you either didn't notice or took it as a joke. Lando was determined. No matter how long or how much effort it was going to take, he was willing to do it, for you.

౨ৎ

The sunlight of Miami shone through the blinds in your hotel room, which you were sharing with your brother, Charles, and his girlfriend, Alex. You didn’t mind staying with them, as you and Alex got along quite well. As soon as you fully woke up you saw that Alex was still asleep and that Charles had already left to head to the track. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked over and woke up Alex. Together, you two got ready and headed out the door.

On the drive there, Alex was driving, and the conversation somehow drifted over to which drivers would win the Dutch Grand Prix that day. “I bet you $100 that Charles is going to beat everyone today,” Alex said.

“You’re just saying that because he’s your boyfriend. I bet that Lando’s gonna win today. He’s been performing a lot better recently. Have you noticed that?” You had your mind set on Lando, for no reason at all, but you had a strange gut feeling.

“Maybe that's because a certain someone has been going to all the races recently,”, looking over and winking at you.

“Huh? I didn’t say anything about me? I was just saying that Lando and the team have been doing a lot better recently, unlike a certain someone. *cough* *cough* Charles.”

“No way you just said that! He got P5 yesterday!”

“Yeah exactly, and who was P1 in quali?” As you said that, Alex pulled the car into the parking lot and parked the car. After this, the two of you got out of the car and headed towards the garage, but not without passing the McLaren garage.

As you and Alex were passing McLaren, the two of you heard a voice, which you knew all too well call out. "Y/n!" You turned around and saw Lando standing a few feet away, beaming. He began running and quickly caught up to you and Alex.

"Y/n! I didn't know you were coming to the grand prix! You know, you should ditch Charles in the Ferrari garage and come over to the McLaren garage. Plus, Oscar brought Lily," Lando said, but not without his whole face turning red.

"Lily!! Wait, Lando, I'd love to, but I can't just leave Alex! Wait, can she come too?"

Quickly, Alex interrupted and said, "No, no, Y/n you should go to the McLaren garage. Also, I have Rebecca, so I won't be alone. Plus, Charles would kill me if he heard I was in McLaren."

"Soo, is that a yes, Y/n?" Lando said, and this time, even you could sense the excitement in his tone.

"Yeah, sure! Alex, I'll catch up with you later sometime during or after the race."

And with that, Lando led the way back to his garage. He showed you his car and led you towards his driver's room. As you were stepping into his driver's room, you spotted Lily, who was passing by with Oscar. "LILY!!" you called out.

"Y/N!!" Lily yelled. Lily started running towards you, and the two of you shared a tight embrace.

"Lily! It's been forever since I've last seen you! You haven't come to any of the races recently. Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you about the cute guy I saw at this new cafe!"

Upon hearing that, Lando felt a sudden pang of jealousy. He decided that he was going to make a move that day so that no other guy would have the chance to date you before he did. Oscar glanced at Lando, and he was easily able to read Lando's face and understand what he was thinking. "Mate, if you really like her, you should do it. You know, she'd probably say yes," Oscar said, empathetically.

౨ৎ

It was now time for the drivers to head to the garages and get into the cars. You were still in the McLaren garage, and you were standing with Lily. The two of you's hearts were racing like crazy, as they always did before a race began. The drivers lined up, and the lights went out. The first half of the race went smoothly, until lap 38. Lando, Charles, and Max were all battling for the first-place spot. Not to mention that Carlos, Oscar, and George were not too far behind as well. The battle continued for a few more laps until Lando somehow managed to pull through and take the lead. Seeing this made you and Lily quite anxious, so you both talked for a bit and took a break from staring at the screen. After a few minutes, loud commotion was heard from the screen, and you both looked up to see a papaya car cross the line, earning first place. Seeing this, you blurted out, "Was that Oscar?"

Lily replied, "No! That was Lando! Oh my gosh! He won!! BY TWENTY SECONDS?" "WHAT??"

After learning that, you couldn't help but smile. You were so proud of Lando, after all that hard work that he had put into his performance and training, and it finally paid off. Seeing this, Lily smirked at you and said, "Ooh, someone's got a crush!"

"No! He's just a friend, Lily. I'm just really proud of him."

"Whatever you say," Lily said while shrugging her shoulders.

As you watched the drivers on the podium, you couldn't help but stare and Lando. The way his messy curls sat atop his head so perfectly and the way his green eyes reflected the sun was just so beautiful. The way that he did his champagne pop simply mesmerized you. You couldn't help but notice that he did look down at you quite a few times while standing on the top podium, with Max in second, and Charles in third.

Later that night, most of the grid went to a club nearby to celebrate and party. You were planning to meet them there afterward, with a few of your friends. After you arrived, you saw Carlos, Charles, Rebecca, and Alex at the bar and headed over to them. As the night went on, you and the drivers kept downing drinks, but no one was nearly as drunk as you were.

"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N?" one of your friends asked, as she approached the group.

"Uhh no? I thought she was with you guys? No?" Carlos said, clearly concerned.

"Yeah, me too. I thought she was with you too," Charles said.

"While we're on this topic of missing people, has no one else noticed that the race winner's gone too?" Daniel added. As soon as Daniel said this, everyone seemed to understand simultaneously.

"Daniel! Lando and my sister? Seriously?" Charles denied.

"You never know, mate," Oscar said, a large smirk evident on his face.

______________________________________________________________

austria gp

Later that day, all the drivers and wags were meeting up at 7 for dinner before the race weekend began, and you were planning to attend. It was currently 4 PM, and you were feeling quite nauseous. This had been going on for the past month or so. At first, you thought you had caught the stomach bug or something, but you were beginning to think that it wasn't.

_____________________________________________________________

30 minutes had passed since you had texted Alex, and you heard the door of your hotel room swing open. "Y/n!! I'm back!!!" Alex exclaimed. Alex ran over and hopped onto the bed next to you.

"What'd you get?" you asked, reaching over for the bag, "Wait, wasn't Charles with you?"

"No, he said he was gonna go with Carlos and that he would meet me at the restaurant," Alex replied.

You began digging through the bag, "Advil, Tylenol, Ibeuprofen... did you really need to buy all of this?" you remarked.

"Duh! I didn't know what you needed, so I got everything!"

You continued rummaging through the bag, and felt some sort of box at the bottom "Thanks Alex- wait what's this?" you questioned. You pulled out the white box and read the front, "PREGNANCY TEST" "Really?" you questioned.

"You never know! Better to be safe than sorry!" Alex said, shrugging her shoulders, "You might as well take it just to be sure!"

______________________________________________________________

You took the test in the bathroom, with Alex waiting outside the door. By now, it was almost 5 PM. "Can I come in?" Alex asked. "Yeah, one sec," you said while washing your hands. After you dried your hands, you opened the door and let Alex in. As soon as she stepped into the bathroom, your alarm went off. "Okay, you check for me. I'm too scared," you said nervously.

Alex flipped over the test. "OH MY GOD! Alex exclaimed.

"What? What? Is it bad? Let me see!" you said.

Alex handed the test and you gasped in horror at the test. "PREGNANT" This couldn't actually be happening, right? You were pregnant? You thought of what you had done the past two months and of anyone you had slept with, and one name came to your mind, Lando.

"OH MY GOD! I'M AN IDIOT!" you exclaimed, tears brimming your eyes.

"Hey, hey. It's okay! Do you know who the dad is? Wait, is it Lando?" Alex said, trying to calm you down and figure everything out.

Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back into your mind. Lando had driven you home that night, and you two ended up in the backseat of his McLaren. "Lando. Me and him had sex in his car when he took me back to my hotel room in Miami," you said, sobbing, "I can't believe this! I'm not ready to be a mom yet!"

"I'll go ahead and let Charles know that we won't be attending tonight," Alex told you, pulling out her phone.

______________________________________________________________

Charles and Carlos drove to the dinner, and Carlos could tell that something was off with Charles. "Charles, you've been acting off all night. Tell me what's wrong; I can tell when you have something bothering you," Carlos said, trying to pry an answer out of him.

"I-I'm not really sure. You know how y/n and Alex were supposed to attend the dinner, right?"

"Yeah," Carlos said, nodding. As he and Charles continued talking, they pulled into the parking lot and began making their way into the restaurant.

"Well, Alex texted me randomly and said they wouldn't make it, and when I asked her why, she wouldn't answer me. I think something's wrong with y/n. I told her I was going to come back to the hotel, and she freaked out on me. I don't know what to d-" Suddenly, Charles was interrupted by the ringing to Carlos's phone. He pulled it out and answered.

"Er, Hello?" Carlos said, sitting down at the table, waving to the other drivers.

"Hey, sorry for the short notice, but I can't make it tonight. Neither can Kika, Lily Z, Lily M, or Carmen."

"What, you too?"

"Yeah, I got to go! I'll call you later!"

Carlos glanced back at his phone. "CALL ENDED" Upon seeing this, he put his phone away back into his pocket.

The dinner continued, but Charles and Carlos couldn't shake away the feeling that something was wrong. None of the other drivers knew what was going on either.

౨ৎ

lando's pov

Lando was disappointed, as he was going to take this as an opportunity to try to talk to you after the night you spent together because you had been avoiding him ever since. He decided to send you a text, to see if you were okay and ask why none of the wags were attending.

He started at his phone for a moment, hoping for a response, but got none. He checked his phone a few minutes later and saw that he had been left on read.

౨ৎ

Back at the hotel room, it was as hectic as ever. Y/n was a complete mess, her mascara running down her face, as the wags sat around her, trying to comfort her.

"Are you completely sure you're pregnant? I mean, you only took one test. It wouldn't hurt to take another one just to be sure," Lily M said.

In unison, the rest of the wags nodded in agreement, and Carmen ran over to the corner, where the pharmacy bag was lying and got out another test. She walked back over and handed it to you.

Slowly, you got up and walked over to the bathroom, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Was this really happening? Were you even ready to be a mom? How would Lando react? Would he have time to be a dad, considering his F1 schedule?

The timer on your phone rang, and the wags sat on the bed, waiting in anticipation. You, however, could not bring yourself to turn over the test. "Hey, can someone come in here and see the test? I'm too scared to flip it over!" you called out. All the wags rushed over, and suddenly there was a whole group of you in the small hotel bathroom. Kika was the first to grap the test, and she gasped as she saw the result. "PREGNANT" She showed the test to everyone in the bathroom. Your knees gave out, and you slid down the wall, into a sitting position, leaning against the wall.

Lily Z crouched down and gave you a hug. "Hey, everything's gonna be okay. We're all here for you!", she said while comforting you.

The rest of the wags squatted down to face you, and they all assured you that no matter what happened, they would all be there for you.

part 2 coming soon!!

[reaper2187]

Caitlyn kiramman x female reader

The Shadows We Share

The damp, cold air of Stillwater Prison clung to every stone, the metallic tang of despair thick in the narrow corridors. Caitlyn adjusted her rifle strap as she followed the warden, her sharp eyes scanning for any sudden movement. She wasn’t here to gawk; she was here to get answers.

Vi, walking ahead of her in tense silence, had been more than reluctant to return. Stillwater was a scar, a place where guilt and anger intersected with memories she couldn’t fully ignore. She had grudgingly agreed to let Caitlyn help her—after all, Caitlyn wasn’t one to give up once her mind was set. And Vi? She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d left something behind here. Or someone.

As they reached the farthest block of cells, the warden slowed. “You sure this is the one you’re looking for?” he grunted, gesturing to a cell shrouded in shadows.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Vi shot back, her voice sharp. Caitlyn glanced at her, sensing the tension beneath her bravado.

The cell in question wasn’t like the others. Its occupant didn’t bother pacing or glaring through the bars. Instead, they sat on a cot at the far end, back straight, head tilted slightly as if aware of their observers before they even approached.

When the figure turned, Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice how striking they were. The sharp planes of their face, the unmistakable strength in their posture, and yet, there was something else—a cold, calculating air that seemed almost suffocating.

Vi’s breath hitched. “Y/N?”

The woman blinked, recognition flickering across her stoic features. “Vi.” Her voice was low, even, as if the years hadn’t passed. “Took you long enough.”

Caitlyn watched the exchange curiously, her rifle steady in her grip. Y/N—Vi had called her that—wasn't just another inmate. There was a history here. She could see it in the subtle shift in Vi’s demeanor, the way her usual cockiness dimmed into something more subdued.

“Who’s this?” Y/N asked, her tone neutral but her gaze landing on Caitlyn with an almost clinical assessment.

“Caitlyn,” Vi muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s with me.”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked into what might’ve been a smirk. “With you? Didn’t think you’d take to making friends with enforcers.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Vi shot back, her fists clenching. “But you—you’re alive. How the hell are you here?”

Y/N leaned back slightly, the chains on her wrists clinking faintly. “Where else would I be? People like me don’t get to walk free, Vi. You know that.”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “And who are you, exactly?”

Y/N’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and unyielding. “Someone who doesn’t need to answer your questions.” Her eyes flicked back to Vi. “But maybe you should answer mine. What are you doing here?”

Vi exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “We’re here for something else. Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”

“You didn’t expect to see me because you forgot me,” Y/N replied flatly, her tone cutting but not bitter. “Not that I blame you. You had other priorities.”

“I didn’t forget,” Vi said, her voice low, almost pleading. “I thought you were—”

“Dead?” Y/N offered, tilting her head slightly. “Close enough.”

Caitlyn, feeling the tension growing, intervened. “You’re from Zaun?”

Y/N raised a brow. “A long time ago.”

“She’s more than that,” Vi interjected, her voice laced with guilt. “She’s—she was like a sister to me. She taught me how to fight, how to survive. Vander trusted her with everything.”

Caitlyn frowned, the pieces starting to fit together. Y/N wasn’t just another criminal. She was someone Vi had cared about deeply, someone who had been part of her past long before Stillwater.

The conversation shifted as Caitlyn pressed further. “If you were that close to Vander and the others, why are you here? What happened?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened, her expression unreadable. “Zaun has no shortage of people who want you dead. I made a living off that fact.” She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Apparently, the Piltover authorities don’t appreciate hitmen in their streets.”

“You were arrested for assassination?” Caitlyn asked, her voice sharp.

“Among other things,” Y/N replied nonchalantly. “Stillwater’s my penance.”

Vi shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration flashing across her face. “You could’ve gotten out. You’re too smart for this.”

“Getting out isn’t the problem,” Y/N said quietly. “Staying out is.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Caitlyn glanced between them, sensing that there was far more to this story than either of them was letting on.

Before the conversation could continue, the warden returned. “If you’re done reminiscing, we’ve got schedules to keep.”

Caitlyn nodded, but Vi hesitated, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “We’re getting out of here,” she said firmly. “All of us.”

Y/N raised a brow, her expression skeptical. “You really think it’s that simple?”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “It’s not simple, but it’s possible. If you’re willing to work with us.”

Y/N studied her for a long moment, her piercing gaze seeming to dissect Caitlyn’s every word. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

Vi smirked, the tension easing slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they turned to leave, Y/N’s voice stopped them. “Vi.”

She looked back, her expression softening slightly. “Yeah?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Henlo, I do have a second part of this if you all want it. So if you do comment and like. If anyone of y'all have any requests then you can also leave those in the comments or in the submission box thingy

Okiee byeeee

[arcanewhoosh]

Could you right a story where jinx’s S/O is scared of bombs or loud things in general and one of jinx bombs went off scaring S/O and jinx comforts them.

So I forgot that the inbox was a thing and found this two years after you asked for it. Sorry lmao.

I think I completely failed this cause I chose season 1 Jinx and hooboy Season 2 Jinx would've been a better choice.

Also this went over 2k words I realize I may be a yapper.

The Monsters We Allow

2k words (Jesus this wasn't supposed to be this long)

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Descriptions of injuries

You're no stranger to the hazards of working for the Eye of Zaun. Even the more hardened residents of the Undercity oftentimes couldn't stomach some of the work the job entailed, more so the people involved in those jobs.

So now here you were, helping build an explosive device of some sort. Fishbones Jinx had called it. You guess that you should add assistant weapons maker to the long list of jobs you've held working for Silco over the years. It wasn't always like this, though.

You started out as cleanup crew, showing up after fights. You didn't want to at first, but if you crossed Silco, you'd most definitely cross his daughter, Jinx. If you crossed his daughter, then it was almost a certainty that you would end up in pieces and puddles on the walls and floors. You'd rather be the one cleaning than be the one being cleaned up. So you put your head down and went along with it.

It was messy work, but it turns out even with all the fucked up things tolerated in the Undercity, rotting body parts weren't one of them. It wasn't pretty, and your first few days you had to include your vomit in the list of things you had to clean up. Eventually, though, you got over it, got better. Well enough that Silco would only trust you to do cleanups of whichever unfortunate soul was on the receiving end of Jinx's chompers. You could figure out which weapon was used to do what, what the direction of the splatter on the wall or floor meant. You could look at a scene once and replay how the entire fight went.

The job wasn't pretty, not at all, but it put money in your pockets, good money. It put food on your table and clothes on your back. Most importantly, it gave you security. A blanket of protection that ensured people would think twice to cross you. Silco only kept a select few on constant contract. Sure, you didn't run around beating the shit out of people during collections, or blowing them up. You didn't have a robot arm or guns-choice of weapon was bucket and shovel-- but hey, you were deeper in his inner circle than most people.

Eventually, he started bringing you along to meetings. After those meetings, he'd ask you, What's the quickest, and cleanest way we can get rid of this person?

It was jarring at first, being asked how to kill someone. But whatever reservations you had about becoming a murder consultant was heavily outweighed by your fear of being the one consulted about. So you'd answer diligently, if a little hesitantly. The first time you answered, he had looked pleasantly surprised. As if getting recommendations on assassination was pleasant. You remembered thinking.

It didn't take long for people of the Undercity to associate your presence in these tag-alongs with the sudden death of whoever you and Silco were visiting. Whispers about how you wouldn't even talk during the meetings, how you'd sit and simply look around. If you were addressed by the person you were meeting with, Silco would politely redirect their attention back to him. Sometimes, sometimes, that person wouldn't die. Silco once credited it to you, that people suddenly became more pliable once he brought you along. Another blanket of security. People started treating you differently, more respect, fear maybe. It was a little funny, how typically aggressive brutes would become the politest people towards someone who had just barely reached the age of eighteen.

One day, Silco had asked you to his office. You thought it would just be regular stop before another meeting, standard procedure by then, really. But that day he had another guest in his office. The blue braids were already a dead giveaway, but you still politely introduced yourself.  She laughed, and identified you as The one who ruins my fun because she had to follow your instructions when Silco needed her to get rid of people.

You knew back then that she was dangerous. Quite frankly, she scared the shit out of you. You didn't have a problem with seeing dead bodies and parts, sure. But she was younger than you, and already had no qualms about taking lives. She was the one leaving behind entrails that you had to clean up. And apparently, she was now to be occasionally under your watch. Silco thought you'd be a good fit for a companion. Around the same age, he had said.

You kept a respectful distance from her, but she unfortunately grew fond of you and decided to keep you around more often than not. Silco didn't see anything wrong with it, if anything it made the both of you more notorious. His Loose Cannon and his Harbinger of Death. A deadly combination in theory, but in practice, it was mostly you having to accompany Jinx for her less dangerous - there were still casualties - pranks, and bailing her out of sticky situations.

And now here you were, two years later, making a launcher with her- making was a generous word, more handing her stuff - and getting ready to probably blow more people up.

You feel your stomach begin to unsettle again. You were used to seeing dead bodies, parts of bodies, what was left of bodies. But never in the stretch of time that you had worked for Silco, had you ever had to see dying. You always showed up after. It had only been two days since the explosion at the bridge, but somehow Jinx was walking around as if nothing had even happened to her. As if she didn't blow herself up the last time you had seen her. If you were making an educated guess based off of her eyes, you'd say she was hurt and got pumped full of shimmer; or maybe she was just living off of pure mania at this point.

You've cared for her, but now you also care about her. It seems that no matter how much respectful distance you put between yourself and her, propinquity eventually came into play, and affection followed. And the only sense you had was to go along with it.

It took you a while to get used to being around her. She was temperamental, to say the least. But you eventually learned not to ask any questions about her family, not to bring up the dolls she kept at her place, and avoid asking any questions at all about her past. If she wanted to, she'd tell you. The only time she wasn't unpredictable was when she was tinkering away at her little station, blasting her music.

She was calm, placated, almost normal. If you had never met her before and had seen her then, you would have thought she was beautiful. Not that she isn't, it's just that her reputation tended to precede all her other perceivable qualities. More than all of this, she was vulnerable. Her back turned to you, not a care in the world if you wandered around touching things. You realize now that it was in those moments probably that your affection for the girl grew. All of a sudden, getting her out of unideal predicaments included treating her wounds; then nursing her back to health if she was sick; staying over when she had nightmares. And yet you were still cautious, careful not to trip on some invisible wire that would trigger her temper.

"Whoops-"

A bang, a clattering of tools, and you're back at the bridge. Back at looking at screaming people, crawling on the ground because their legs had been blown clean off, some with limbs partially attached, some falling off, someone trying to feel where half of their face had gone. All moving, breathing, alive.

"Easy there, jelly legs." You look up to meet Jinx's eyes. Once a soft powder blue, now striking orbs of red violet. She's holding onto you. At some point you had lost your balance and was now kneeling on the floor, one hand on the side of Jinx's desk for support. "You sick or somethin'?" She asks.

"Sorry," You breathe out. "I think… I think I'm still reeling from what happened at the bridge."

She lets out a laugh. Loud, boisterous, manic.

"The bridge? The little ol' light show? You didn't like it?" Her smile falls, and she cocks her head to the side. Fuck.

Now you're on thin ice. "No, no. It was nice." You quickly say, shaking your head. "It's just, I'm not- I'm not used to seeing the before part, you know?"

She guffaws. "Wait, wait, wait." She stands, walking over to her desk littered with metal scraps and remnants of her previous projects, picking up one of the butterfly robots she had made. "You're telling me-" She plucks off a wing, the remaining one flapping aimlessly. "You" Points it at you. "Who's in charge of cleaning up exploded bodies, and telling Silco - who tells me - how to kill someone without a mess," Plucks off the other wing and throws the body away. "Gets queasy over a few blue bellies kicking the bucket?"

You take a breath to steady yourself. "I don't know. I never- I never thought about that part. I've never had to see it."  You unconsciously start clenching and unclenching you hand not holding onto the desk. A nervous habit, one that you tried to shake off. A habit that Jinx had taken note of the first few months of her dragging you along with her escapades.

"I'm sorry." You say after a few beats of silence.

In one quick flash - too quick, inhumanly quick - Jinx is kneeling again in front of you, cupping your face in her hands.  "Hey now, it's alright." Her tone is soft, caring, tragically comforting to you. "We all got our little quirks. I sure do."

She frees up one of her hands to brush your hair back. "Come to think of it, I think that was the first time you had to see something like that, huh?"

It always astounds you how quickly she can disarm the guard you put up for her. You know she's dangerous, you know you should be cautious. But a few sweet words from her and you're putty in her hands, completely at her mercy. You wonder if it's normal to love and fear someone at the same time.

"We'll be okay." She presses her forehead against yours. "I've got you, like you've got me." You nod.

"You can handle helping me with one more thing, right?" There it is. "We just need to do this one teeny thing, and then we can chill out."

You put in active effort to keep your breathing steady. Your stomach still in knots. "What thing?"

She grins. "A dinner party. You're my co-host." She pulls you up with her as she stands, leading you over to where she was working, where Fishbones was seemingly complete. "Wanna see something cool?"

You nod, and she fishes out the HexTech gemstone she had stolen during Progress Day. She opens up a slot near the handle and inserts the gemstone, Fishbones immediately lighting up, a blue hue illuminating her dark room. You contemplate asking her about her new weapon, weighing out the pros and cons. But the fact that her hand was still holding yours, her thumb idly grazing your knuckles was enough to encourage you.

"What are you gonna do with this?"

She runs her free hand above the clear panel where the gemstone is. "We're gonna go make a point."

The rational part of your brain is telling you to stay behind, that whatever this was, being in the vicinity of a HexTech-powered weapon was not a good idea. But this was Jinx, and she had already decided that you were coming with her. Incurring her wrath now, also in the vicinity of the HexTech-powered weapon, was not a good idea either.

So you do what you do best, and go along with it.

[sinsirellaxx]

Slytherin Boys – They Hurt Your Feelings

Warning: Toxic!boys, not proofread, cheating, etc.

Enjoy!

Mattheo …

… watches you with disinterest as your eyes grow wet with unshed tears. He’d just told you that he simply forgot about your birthday and had spent the whole day with some random female students.

… shrugs his shoulders when you ask him whether he is being serious. “It’s not that big of a deal – I simply forgot.”

… groans when you start pointing out all the times he stood you up and neglected you for the sake of being with other people. “Please – not this again.”

… plays the “If I’m really such a bad boyfriend then leave”-card.

… will smirk if you decide not to leave.

… will quickly get up from his bed if you actually turn around and slam the door behind you as you rush out of his stinky teenage dorm.

Theodore …

… sits on the edge of his bed, completely unfazed when you confront him about the girl you saw him kissing. “You’re overreacting. It didn’t mean anything.”

… doesn’t try to explain himself, running a hand through his hair as if the conversation is exhausting him. “Merlin, can’t you just drop it already?”

… scoffs when your voice cracks, and tears spill down your cheeks. He is obviously annoyed by your display of emotions, “Honestly, this is pathetic. Do you have to cry about everything?”

… rolls his eyes when you demand answers. “You weren’t exactly keeping me entertained. What did you think was going to happen?”

… doesn’t even try to stop you as you storm out of his dorm, muttering under his breath about how dramatic you are.

Lorenzo …

… lets out a mocking laugh when you trip over your words in front of his friends, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Did you seriously just say that?” he sneers.

… dismisses your protests when you pull him aside after the incident. “Oh, come on, it was just a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.”

… refuses to acknowledge the hurt in your eyes as you try to explain how humiliated you felt. “If you can’t take a little teasing, that’s on you.”

… crosses his arms when you demand an apology, shaking his head. “No one else would’ve made such a big deal about this. Maybe grow a thicker skin.”

… rolls his eyes when you walk away, but for a fleeting second, guilt flickers in his eyes before he brushes it off.

Draco …

… sneers at you in front of a crowd after you tried to share your opinion during a heated debate. “Why don’t you leave the thinking to people who actually know what they’re talking about?”

… watches your face fall as you try to defend yourself, a cruel smirk playing on his face. “You’re embarrassing yourself, you half-blood.”

… doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t start crying now. You’re acting like a child.”

… shrugs his shoulders when you call him an ass before storming off.

… feels the slightest pang of regret later, but he buries it deep down, convincing himself you were overreacting.

Blaise …

… snaps during an argument, his voice icy and sharp. “You’re so goddamn needy all the time. Do you ever stop to think about anyone but yourself?”

… watches as your eyes widen, but instead of softening, he doubles down. “Oh, now you’re crying? Of course, you are. That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it?”

… crosses his arms and leans back, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to defend yourself. “You always have to play the victim, don’t you?”

… rolls his eyes when you try to leave the room, grabbing your wrist. “Don’t walk away from me. We’re not done here.”

… later sits alone, the weight of his words sinking in, but his pride won’t let him admit he went too far.

Tom …

… grips your wrist too tightly during an argument, his voice low and venomous. “You will not walk away from me while I’m talking.” You had been fighting due to his treatment towards your muggle-born friends.

… shoves you backward when you try to push past him, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Don’t test me, darling. You won’t like the consequences.”

… watches you stumble, your eyes wide with shock and fear in annoyance – you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend. You knew who he was.

… sneers when you try to regain your composure, his tone dripping with condescension. “Wipe that pathetic look off your face. It doesn’t suit you.”

… takes a step closer, his shadow looming over you as his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Do you think they’d risk anything for you? Those mudbloods you’re so desperate to protect?”

… brushes past you with deliberate force when you don’t respond, his shoulders rigid, muttering, “You’re lucky I don’t make an example of them for your insolence.”

[childrenofcain-if]

How would W react to an MC who is obsessed with them? Like they need help with a small thing? MC drop everything and run to the rescue. W doesn’t take care of themselves? Why bother when MC takes care of them.

W’s presence wasn’t always loud, but it was startling, an emotional thunderhead that you could feel rumbling in your ribs before it even fully cracked.

when the call came, their voice tried to sound casual but failed miserably. “i, uh, could use a hand with something.”

it didn’t matter what it was—something about a deadline they’d forgotten or a lamp they’d broken while pacing in frustration. you didn’t even ask. you dropped your coffee cup on the kitchenette counter, grabbed your jacket, and bolted out the door without thinking twice.

the quick walk to their suite was a blur and when you arrived, W was sitting cross-legged on the couch, their thin frame curled in on itself. they were wearing a mismatched pair of socks, one of them being yours—the blue one with the tiny stars that you’d lost weeks ago—and it was enough to make your heart ache.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, dropping your jacket at the door and crossing the room in three long strides.

W didn’t answer right away. their fingers were busy tracing invisible patterns on the edge of their sweater, which was so oversized it might as well have been a blanket. their silence stretched like a taut wire, and then, finally, they said, “i forgot to eat again.”

your chest tightened. not with anger, not even with frustration, but with the unbearable weight of love for someone who couldn’t always love themself. you didn’t say anything. you just walked into their kitchenette and started rummaging through cabinets and the refridgerator.

there wasn’t much to work with—a box of crackers, a bruised apple, a carton of almond milk. it didn’t matter. you threw together something small and easy and brought it back to W, sitting beside them on the couch.

they looked at the plate like it was a challenge, their fingers twitching toward it but never quite making contact.

“i’m sorry,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “you don’t have to apologize.”

“i do,” they insisted, their voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have to—”

“W,” you interrupted, your tone firmer than before. “i’m here because i want to be. because i love you. that’s it. that’s all there is to it.”

they looked at you then, their sapphire blue eyes watery and wide, and for a moment, you thought they might cry. instead, they reached for the plate and took a small bite of the apple. it wasn’t much, but it was definitely a start.

that night, after they’d eaten what they could and you’d cleaned up the remnants, you found yourself sitting together on the couch. W was curled against your side, their head resting on your shoulder, their fingers absently tracing shapes on your arm.

“you’re warm,” they murmured, their voice soft and sleepy. “and you smell nice. like fresh laundry.”

you smiled, pressing a kiss to their temple. “and you’re wearing my missing sock.”

“it’s a good sock,” they said with a tired chuckle, tugging at the hem of it. “better than the pairs i own.”

“you could’ve just asked for it,” you said.

they tilted their head to look up at you, their expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a fond smile. “and where’s the fun in that?”

***

later, as the night deepened, W began to fidget. their fingers, which had been drawing lazy circles on your arm, began to scratch at their own thigh, leaving faint red marks in their wake.

“stop,” you said gently, catching their hand in yours.

they flinched but didn’t pull away. “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” you said, your voice kind. “just… tell me what’s wrong.”

they hesitated, their gaze fixed on the floor.

“i don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” they admitted. “like i’m… too much. or not enough. or both at the same time.”

your heart broke for the hundredth time that day. you pulled them closer, wrapping your arms around them like you could shield them from the weight of their own thoughts.

“you’re not too much,” you said. “and you’re not not enough. you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

they didn’t respond, but their body relaxed slightly against yours. after a moment, they said, “i love you so much, i can’t bear the pain.”

the words were so quiet you almost missed them, but when they sank in, they hit you like a freight train. you tightened your hold on them, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head.

“i love you so much, i’ll bear it for you,” you whispered.

W looked up at you then, their eyes soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“you mean that?” they asked tentatively.

“every word,” you replied, leaving no room for doubt. W said nothing but their smile was brighter than the lights in the room.

after a while, W whispered in latin, “te amabo aeternum.”

you recognized the words instantly, even though W’s accent was softer, less confident. i will love you forever.

“amabo te in aeternum,” you corrected gently, your voice warm and teasing. the structure mattered less than the sentiment, but you couldn’t help it. W’s latin was too endearing to leave unpolished.

“of course you’d fix that,” they muttered with a faint smile, their tone holding no actual irritation. “you always seem to know everything, don’t you?”

“not everything,” you said, smiling softly as you ran your thumb along the back of their hand. “just the important parts. like how much you mean to me.”

W looked up at you then, their blue eyes catching the light and you leaned in closer, your nose brushing against theirs.

“et ego te amo.” and i love you, you said, soft but firm, as if the words themselves could shield them from everything clawing at their mind.

they sighed, a sound that carried equal parts relief and exhaustion, and melted against you. “thank you for everything, mein stern.”

***

as the night wore on, W continued murmuring fragments of latin into the quiet—“es somnium meum,” they said at one point, and it took you a moment to piece it together. you are my dream.

you tightened your hold on them. “tibi in somniis et re in aeternum pertinebo,” you whispered back. i will belong to you in your dreams and reality forever.

that earned a smile from W, small but real, and when they finally closed their eyes, you stayed awake, holding them close. you whispered one final phrase into the night, one you weren’t even sure they’d catch:

“in saecula saeculorum.” forever and ever.

they didn’t respond, but their breathing slowed, steady and even, their body curled against yours with all the trust and affection that they could ever afford to give back.

[i-have-no-idea-for-name]

Don't ask me what I was thinking-

so, it started when I started saying that Genie, Sarah and Yolay were my queens and I was saying something like - "in the Bible there were three kings, in Dog man there are three queens XD" and some time later it started coming to me realizing that Lil Petey is like a second cat Jesus to the fandom, and then I thought about the nativity play and... this thing came out of my thoughts...

and I can't believe how perfectly each one fits 🤌:

Lil Petey- Jesus (xd)

Petey- Mary (xd)

Dog man- Joseph (xd)

Sarah, Yolay and Genie- the kings (here queens xd) Sarah- with incense, Yolay- with gold, Genie- with myrrh

Molly- the Star of Bethlehem

Flippy- the Archangel

Crunky and Bub- bullock and donkey (xd)

Zuzu- the lamb

Chief and Big Jim- the shepherds (xd)

some of Flippy's kids- angels and lambs

I think if we knew the exact date of Lil Petey's birth, we would celebrate the second Christmas fr XD and let me tell you that while I was doing this, I was listening to only Christmas carols and songs, especially "Mary did you know" and I'm waiting for someone to cover "Petey did you know" XDDDDDDDD

and here are my comparisons of Lil Petey to Jesus:

-both were not conceived naturally

-they changed lifes of many people

- they are the most wonderful creatures in this world

also, I was doing this on the WORST paper in the world 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I can't believe it's my first ever dog man art- 💀

~Petey did you know~ ~that your baby boy...~

XDDDD

Edit: also, I forgot to add the sketches

(God, I'm NEVER drawing on that paper again 😭😭😭😭)