#if he had he wouldn’t have to go through all this shit

[shyamanuensis]

Showers & Scourers - M.R

a little angsty - a little sweet - a little riddle. enjoy xo

“Has anyone tried talking to him?” “What - and enter the dorm room of that volatile little shit? No fucking way!”

This is where you came in. The friend turned lover turned ex. Your presence hadn’t exactly been a common request when it came to Mattheo Riddle since the rather explosive and episodic breakup you’d had; rumour around the castle being you broke his heart first before the poor boy even stood a chance. However, his mates were well aware of the influence that you once had on him - that you now still, had over him. As such you had been summoned by requests, pleas, and near-begging to try and talk some sense into someone you had once loved who was so far removed from reality and lost in his own thoughts that you could only describe him as emotionally erratic.

Tomes, scrolls, notepads, furniture, curtains, clothing, shoes, a trunk, bedsheets,  quills - all tossed around the dorm as if a ventus charm had been cast and let loose to cause havoc within the confines of the room. Mattheo wasn’t usually violent - or well towards you at least. In the years that you’d known him; an intimidating threat or smartass comment were his more popular choices of menacing actions than a raised wand or fist; but this - the state of everything; discarded like trash made you thankful you nor anyone else was in his firing line.

The sound of running water from the ensuite he shared with the other 7th-years had you curious. Before you knew it; you found yourself still clothed beneath a heavy cascade of warm running water; steam challenging your breath as you pried the steel scourer out of Mattheo’s hand he had swiped from the kitchens and was using vexatiously upon his skin to try and rid himself of a mark he knew all too well was permanent. 

“Stop.” “No.” “Please?” “No.”

Any attempt to turn the shower off was blocked. His eyes were as red as his skin. His cheeks flushed, lips swollen from how harshly his teeth had taken to them. There was no use trying to argue with him. Trying to talk sense into him. Trying to reason with him. Trying to use logic. The boy was blighted, busted, broken. A rare sight; one that your memory wouldn’t miss. Deprived of all sense and sensibility - too messed up, too tortured, too destroyed; your arms snaked a little too comfortably around him; Mattheo closed his eyes immediately, his body betraying him as he sunk into the comfort of your embrace. The tender ministrations of your fingertips gliding through his hair calmed the turmoil within him suddenly. When you told him that everything was okay - that everything would be alright; it was like your words were a balm to his wounds, his soul.  Mattheo’s arms around your waist tightened. His grip was firm yet so, so far from bruising. It almost felt like he feared that if he let you go, you would disappear from him like the end of a dream. 

“I know you said you never wanted this - but it’s just a mark. It doesn’t change you.”

Oh, how he so desperately wanted those words to be true. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, you felt his breath hotter than the shower’s steam burning across your sensitive skin. You began to hum his favourite song; something you’d learned a long time ago would calm his nerves and that along with the feeling of your fingers still running through his hair managed to lull him into a sense of composure, of peace, that Mattheo had almost forgotten he was capable of feeling. His hands still resting at your waist moved unconsciously; almost habitually having his fingers curl into the dampened fabric of your shirt, acting almost like an anchor on you - like a sailor would to find refuse amidst a storm.

How long the two of you stood there for? You weren’t sure. The seconds turned to minutes turned to hours and his ragged breaths and half-choked, incoherent words indicated not so subtly that in and at this moment, Mattheo needed you. His once light, once angel, once love - and little did you know with everything going in the world outside of this shower, that you, undoubtedly would need him to.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Special Delivery

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, possessive Simon, arguments, annoyance (spouse and nonspouse annoyance)

Author’s Note: Simon forgot some stuff at home, you are a firecracker if anyone has ever seen one so here we are. Inspired by one of my favs @bi-writes and her younger!wife x John Price fic

Masterlist | Bi’s Fanfic

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It starts with a text.

My Ghostie: Forgot my wallet.

Then another.

My Ghostie: And my lunch.

And another.

My Ghostie: ...And the file on my desk.

You stare at your phone, lips pressing into a flat line. Unbelievable. You love your husband, truly, but some days? Some days he tests your patience.

With a sigh, you gather everything—his wallet, his carefully packed lunch, and the stupid file he swore he wouldn’t forget—before grabbing your keys. You could ignore it, let him suffer, but you both know you won’t.

Which is how you find yourself at the base entrance, staring down a soldier who looks entirely unimpressed with your existence. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, like he’s guarding the last bastion of civilization.

“I can’t just let you in, ma’am.” His voice is flat, bored, like this is the most mundane problem he’s dealt with all day.

You, on the other hand, are vibrating with irritation. “Look,” you huff, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder and waving the brown paper lunch bag in your other hand. “I’m not some crazy stalker trying to infiltrate your little clubhouse. My husband, Simon Riley, left his wallet, his lunch, and some other important stuff at home, and I’m just here to drop it off.”

The guard doesn’t budge. “Can’t confirm that without proper clearance.”

Your patience is wearing thin. You exhale sharply, then, with slow, deliberate movements, hold up a very distinct leather wallet between two fingers and shake it slightly. “Alright, genius, let’s use some logic. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, do you think I’d just so happen to have Ghost’s actual shit?”

The man hesitates, clearly uncertain. “That… that could belong to anyone—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, resisting the urge to fling the wallet at him. “If I was trying to sneak onto base, don’t you think I’d pick something a little less obvious?”

You go in for the kill. Flipping open the wallet, you shove it right into his face. “Does that look like just anyone to you?”

The poor bastard leans in, eyes locking onto the ID tucked inside. His face blanches.

It’s right there. Simon’s name. Simon’s face. Your husband’s face.

“…I mean, I still can’t—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, listen here, Private Dumbass.” You shift your stance, letting the overhead lights catch the big-ass rock sitting pretty on your ring finger. You tap it against the metal of the gate for good measure. *Clink, clink.* “See this? This means I can make your life very difficult.”

The man stiffens. You decide to twist the knife. “I may not have rank here, but I am married to a lieutenant. And if you don’t let me through in the next ten seconds, I will personally make it my mission to have you running laps around this base until your legs fall off.”

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “You… you can’t do that.”

You smirk. “You sure about that? ’Cause my husband definitely can.”

That does it. With a sigh, he gestures for another soldier to let you through. “Fine, fine. Go.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, marching past him with your head held high.

Smart man.

——

After waiting at the gate for so long, you storm onto the base with a paper bag in one hand and a duffel slung over your shoulder, exuding confidence as your boots click against the concrete. The guards barely had time to stop you before a sharp-tongued remark had them stepping aside, unsure if they were more intimidated by your presence or impressed by your sheer audacity.

Simon’s dumbass forgot his lunch, his wallet, and a few other essentials, and you’ll be damned if he goes without just because he’s too stubborn to admit he needs you. He might be the terrifying "Ghost" to everyone else, but to you, he’s just your husband—the same man who forgets his keys and leaves his socks all over the damn house.

Walking into the common area is like stepping into a lion’s den—if lions had the audacity to gawk at you like a bunch of wide-eyed recruits seeing their drill sergeant off duty for the first time. A few soldiers are loitering, some cleaning their gear, others playing cards, but the moment they spot you, their focus shifts. You can practically hear their thoughts.

Who the hell is this?

Why does she look like she owns the place?

Did we miss a briefing?

The most unsubtle reaction comes from a particularly cheeky Scot lounging with his feet kicked up on a chair.

“Well, now,” Soap drawls, an impish grin spreading across his face. “And who might you be?”

You don’t bother stopping. “Not in the mood, Braveheart. Where’s Simon?”

Soap lets out a low whistle. “Oi, no need to be feisty, lass. Maybe if ye tell me who ye are, I can help.”

You sigh, shift the duffel on your shoulder, and lift your left hand just enough for the overhead light to catch on the massive wedding ring decorating your finger.

“His wife.”

The room goes silent.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. His mouth opens, closes, then—“No shit.”

“No shit,” you confirm dryly. “And unless you lot want to deal with a grumpy, starving Ghost, you’ll tell me where he is. Now.”

Before anyone can answer, a deep, familiar voice rumbles through the space.

“Don’t need to.”

The effect is instant. The tension in the room shifts as every soldier in the vicinity straightens instinctively.

You turn just as Simon strides in, the mask covering his face doing nothing to hide the sheer command he carries with every step. He looks at you, and even though his expression is unreadable, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

You plant a hand on your hip, tilting your chin up. “Bringing you your shit.” You shove the paper bag into his chest before shrugging the duffel off your shoulder and letting it drop at his feet. “Your lunch. Your wallet. And the file you swore up and down you wouldn’t forget.”

Simon catches everything with practiced ease, his gaze dropping briefly to the items before flicking back to you. “…I would’ve managed.”

You snort. “Yeah? And by ‘managed,’ you mean sulking around all day, hangry as hell, making everyone else suffer for it?”

A muffled snicker comes from Soap. Simon’s head *slowly* turns toward him. The room collectively holds its breath.

Soap lifts his hands innocently. “What? She’s got a point.”

You smirk, smug. “See? Even he agrees with me.”

Simon exhales sharply, a sound you know is the closest thing to a fond sigh. Then, before you can react, he hooks a hand around your waist and tugs you in, pressing your body flush against his. It’s firm, grounding, and entirely possessive. His fingers spread wide over the small of your back, holding you there like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You shouldn’t’ve come all this way,” he mutters, voice softer now.

“You love when I show up unannounced.”

His grip tightens slightly. You know you’ve won. His hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer if that was possible. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you in a sense. You tilt your head up at him, grinning. “Besides, I know you missed me.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he rumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“And you’re lucky I love your grumpy ass.” You grin up at him, reaching up to brush your fingers over the side of his mask. “Eat your lunch, alright? I made sure it’s still warm.”

A long beat passes before Simon finally responds.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

Soap mutters something under his breath, and Simon growls, “MacTavish, if you don’t shut it—”

But before he can finish, you press a quick kiss to his mask-covered cheek. His grip tightens slightly, and you catch the subtle shift in his stance. Oh yeah, he missed you.

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, stepping back with a playful salute. “Try not to forget anything else next time, yeah?”

Simon grunts, his version of a reluctant thank you. But as you turn to leave, you hear him mutter, “Get home safe, love.”

As you turn to leave, you call to your husband, “Oh, by the way—told the guy at the gate he’s gotta run laps for giving me a hard time. Make sure he actually does it, yeah?”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder before strutting out, leaving a room full of stunned soldiers—and one very flustered Ghost—behind.

You don’t stay to hear the response, but you do catch the sound of Soap absolutely losing it as you step out the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[venuslarkspur]

Can I please request a teen female reader (15-17?) who’s entered the games to help her family, like all the responsibilities have fallen to her after her dads death 🥺💕(ANY CHARACTERS WILL DO) ILY UR PINK HAIR FIC AS WELL)

Playtime’s Over.

Pairing(s): Squid Game Characters meet Fem!Teen!Reader, (ALL PLATONIC). Contains: Thanos, Se-Mi, Kang Dae Ho, Seong Gi Hun, Cho Hyun Ju, Park Gyeong Seok.

Summary: Them just doting on Teen Reader and wanting to protect her!

Note: This can be read as gender neutral as well! I didn’t really go out of the way to make it female looking back. NOT PROOFREAD I COULD NOT BE ARSED

Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of eating, VIOLENCE, family problems.

Thanos

- He immediately takes a liking to you and can straight away tell you’re not actually 18. (I’m with the firm belief this man would have a soft spot for kids)

- Forces the rest of the group to refer to you as “yeodongsaeng” (or little just sister) and it makes you feel loved, even though you know he’s full of shit , kids see everything.

- You swear that sometimes he thinks you’re his actual sister, with the way he acts towards you; others in the game constantly think you’re actual siblings.

- Nearly gives you some of his drugs before he remembers your age and tells you to scram and do your homework.

- Doesn’t let Nam-Gyu shit talk you, would sooner slap him on the head than let him do that, and firmly reminds him you’re his younger sister now as well. That thought of being his sister made you want to vomit, but you wouldn’t mind Thanos being your brother though.

- Bonding over your father’s not being around anymore! Even though your circumstances are very different.

- When 2 players are called In mingle. He hesitates, despite the drugs running through his system; he shouts at Nam-Gyu to go with Min-Su while he drags you into a nearby room. Dumbfounded you still were, as he picked you first.

- You had found someone, despite his countless flaws and bullshit. There was still someone, until there wasn’t anymore. And you were left alone again.

Se-Mi

- You’re the only one she’s letting call her ‘unnie’, very protective of you even before knowing your true age.

- If you need a distraction she will let you play with one of her rings while she asks you how school is and how you are doing.

- Very torn when she hears you’re providing for a whole family by yourself, wants to be there for you. Since you’re a kid with no parents to guide you here.

- Would give you her milk carton and egg. She doesn’t want it anyway just take it!

- Lets you trail after her like a duckling.

- Isn’t afraid to tell anyone to leave you alone if you’re getting picked on.

- Has an epiphany when she realised the reason your so good at the games is because it probably hasn’t bee long since you played them on the school courtyard :(

- Protects you in mingle, even though she knows she won’t always be able to keep you safe. But it ended up being her you failed to save.

Kang Dae-Ho

- Was the first person to jump in and help you when you were getting abused by one of the other players, an older man that you had pickpocketed quite recently; naturally, he longed for his revenge, firmly punching your stomach, you fell to the ground immediately; he grabbed your hair and before he could land a blow on your face another player stepped in.

- “Leave the kid alone.” Another man, younger this time whose number read “388” had jumped in to defend you. The older man backed off slightly, but still felt the need to verbally attack you. “You know this little bitch?” He spat out, locking eyes with you. “This kid stole cash from me!” He screamed pointing an accusatory finger at you. You weren’t denying, you hanged your head in guilt; even if you explained your circumstances, he wouldn’t care. “Maybe she did, but shes just a defenceless kid,, lay off.” and with that the stingy man trotted away, maintaining eye contact with you.

- Player 388 had checked up on you after that, since that day you were overly attached to him. Trailing after him, he didn’t mind at all not one bit. He told you he actually had several older sisters and it was nice to have a younger one for a change.

- He respects your strength and perseverance more than anyone, having to provide for an entire family when you’re just a kid yourself is TIRING work and unimaginable for him.

- Encourages you to make your own choices, like don’t pick “O” or “X” just because he did.

- Makes sure you are one of the first prioritised during mingle, he saw what happened to Young-Mi and couldn’t live with himself if the same happened to you. You do a lot of hand holding after what happened to Young Mi; he’s scared to let go.

- He hates seeing how little hope there is in your eyes for someone so young, it’s his personal mission to make you feel hope again.

Seong Gi-Hun

- Even though he’s kind of in his depressed era rn, all he sees when he looks at you is his daughter staring back at him. Acknowledges straight away that you’re only a bit older than her.

- It takes you a while to catch on, but you eventually realise why he’s protective of you. His own daughter wasn’t around anymore is the conclusion you came to, where she is or if she is you don’t know. Only that he must not see her anymore.

- scolds you quite a lot, telling you that you shouldn’t even be here anyway. That instead you should be doing your homework or studying for your next exam.

- When the cameras watch he has to distance himself from you, he doesn’t want the Frontman to know of his now emotional connection with you.

- You remind him of Sae-Byeok in an odd way.

- Would never forgive yourself if you died, you’d constantly be on his mind.

Cho Hyun Ju

- I can’t lie she initially tries to stay clear of you, she knows if she gets too attached and you die, she won’t be able to live with herself.

- But she can’t seem to get rid of you, you follow her around like a baby duck.

- You, Her and Young-Mi become like a sisterhood, she’s the oldest and you’re the baby of the group. You both call her ‘unnie’

- Young Mi gives you her food and Hyun Ju follows along and passes you some milk. Because you need it to be “big and strong”

- She has so many questions about how you ended up in here. Where are your parents? What are your family doing if you’re here? Shouldn’t you be in school?

- When Young Mi dies she gets very protective of you, she’s not losing you as well.

Park Gyeong-Seok

- Projection!!! He’s missing his daughter, you’re missing your dad! The perfect duo.

- On a serious note he hates how attached he is to you.

- You joined his group in the 2nd game and you played Flying Stone. He knows something was off about you, even putting on a tough exterior you seemed so childlike. When you confess your actual age he’s horrified, he didn’t want to believe it. How on earth are you in debt?

- He can’t believe you’re providing for a whole family. He struggles just providing for his daughter.

- Encourages you to hit “X”, trust me you don’t want to die here, you can’t help your family from your grave.

- If you seem a little hungry he offers you his food.

- You’re attached by the hip during mingle, you never left his side.

- He comforts you during the riot in lights out. Cradling your body, and running his hands through your hair to calm you down; wondering if this is how he’d hold his own daughter if she were here.

- You beg him not to go with the others in the revolt, he almost doesn’t. And later he’d wish he didn’t.

[darnell-la]

I just saw a post where they mentioned what if Logan mocked your moans while he fingered you, or was doing anything really. It seems like it would feel silly coming from him but also so perfectly degrading

summary: y/n had always had a crush on Logan. not the worst Logan, but her timeline Logan. sadly, he died, and now she was stuck with this variant Wade had brought back home. sharing an apartment with an asshole was bad enough, but sharing one with an attractive, cocky, asshole, was far worse. especially when he knew how he made you feel.

note: this story will be the worst Logan. as always, he’s grumpy, and just an open asshole who thinks he’s better than the people he’s around.

———

“Who do you think you are?” Y/n looked up into the man’s eyes with anger, upset that he wouldn’t let her leave the apartment to go out with her friends. She goes out every weekend, and every weekend, he tries to stop her.

“Wade’s gone, and you’re out again — What are you hiding, y/n?” Logan asked, knowing whatever she did was none of her business. “I’m the legal age to drink and club, and you’re in my business about it? — Let me go,” y/n tried taking her arm away.

“You don’t pay for the bills here. Wade does, and-“ Logan tried making up some story about how disrespectful she would be to do what she wants. “And, Wade doesn’t give a shit. What now? I’m a grown woman. I could have a whole family if I wanted to, and you’re trying to trap me in the apartment like I’m some teen,”

“You don’t need to be out there, y/n,” Logan said, knowing what she goes out there for. He couldn’t stand it. Usually, when he teased women and they played hard to get, they didn’t just go out and party. Y/n did, and he couldn’t handle that.

“Get off of me, or I burn you,” y/n threatened as her body temperature heartened. “I’ll heal, and I don’t think you want to deal with me after I do,” Logan threatened as he moved his face inches from hers.

Within seconds, the man let go of how hot her skin was getting. Y/n instantly turned around and left to get out and away from the man who was trying his best to control her.

Fast-forward several hours, y/n finally returned from the nightclub she had attended with her lady friends. Many hours of drinking and plenty of hours of kissing random men had accrued that night.

That only made Logan’s blood boil as he watched every second of it pass by. He debated on lashing out at her every time she went to the bathroom, but when she went, she was always with a girl-friend.

The older man had to suffer for hours as the woman he’d been dying to have, had been kissing other men.

He couldn’t understand why y/n was so stuck up. Last he checked, women lived them rude and cocky. What happened in this timeline?

“Finally home,” Logan spoke in the corner of the darkroom as y/n stumbled into the apartment. She instantly rolled her eyes and sighed as she kicked off her shoes, barely being able to open her eyes or stand correctly.

“Gonna at least speak to me? Or are you too pissy drunk?” Logan asked, knowing which one it was. “That’s what I thought,” the man shook his head as he got up to walk toward her, but she paid no attention and made her way to her room.

“You didn’t even lock the door!” Logan shouted after her, but she ignored him, barely able to think about anything that was happening around her. Once she left the club with loud music, that was it for her.

Logan locked the front door and straightened up the shoes she kicked off on the front mat before he made his way toward her room. The man went to open her door, but she had locked it to shut him out for the night.

Logan sat in his room for a good hour, thinking about the way he should handle y/n. Should he kick her door down and yell at her? Should he talk to her from outside of her room? Should he wait to bring it up tomorrow? Or should he never speak of tonight?

Through the hour, he also thought about those men she let touch all over her and explore her mouth. He swore he’s never been too pissed off about a woman in his life.

It’s almost like she knew he was there to rub it in his face, and if that was the case, and he were to ever find out, he wouldn’t know how far he’d get upset.

All the men she kissed tonight waited for her, like some dog. It’s like Logan could see them a mile away. Why did she choose them, and not him? Logan was the real man here, not them.

“Fuck that,” Logan growled low as he pushed off of his bed and made his way out of his room. The man walked down the small hall before kicking y/n’s door open, causing her to jolt a bit in her sleep.

“Get up,” Logan demanded, but she barely understood him. She was still drunk, and now half asleep and in her dream. “What?” Y/n asked low as she saw the huge man make his way towards her.

“Up!” Logan demanded again before he ripped her cover off. “Hey-“ y/n went to say before Logan grabbed and pulled her up until she was seated in her bed. “Logan, what’s the deal?” Y/n asked, always irritated as he shifted her bottom to the edge of the bed.

“I want you to tell me if they mattered,” Logan spoke, only confused y/n. “What-“ y/n tried saying before Logan ripped her panties off. She had only worse panties and a bra to sleep in tonight instead of a nightgown like she usually wears. She was far too drunk to go through her drawers and find one.

“Hey,” y/n said as she went to push Logan’s fingers away that she rubbed across her heat. “You’re not even wet — They couldn’t have been that good, then,” Logan’s delusion fully kicked in before he stuck to fingers deep into y/n’s mouth.

Y/n tried pulling away and shaking her head, but Logan continued until his fingers were soaked with her saliva.

“Don’t bitch if it goes in dry then,” Logan said before he pushed two fingers at her entrance. “Hey, no-“ y/n went to stop him, but her voice cracked out as her hands stayed in shock right next to her thighs.

The young lady gripped her sheets as Logan curled his two fingers inside of her. “At least you’re empty — Maybe you’re not such a slut after all,” Logan said as y/n whined at the instant feeling of her stomach tightening.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Am I too big? — Fuck, I haven’t even put my dick in you yet,” Logan chuckled as he began to push his fingers in and out of her heat, focusing on her moans and the way she gripped around him.

“L-Lo-L-Lo,” y/n stuttered as she tried her best to keep herself up. “Lo-Lo-Lo — Fucking pathetic,” Logan mocked the girl as he looked into her eyes. She could barely hold them open as Logan played inside of her.

“No more,” y/n cried low as she felt herself near, upset that she wasn’t pushing the man off. She was strong enough to get rid of Logan, but something in her didn’t want him to stop this.

“You didn’t tell those little boys to stop — What makes you think I’ll fucking stop? Huh? — Ian stoppin’ princess,” Logan assured y/n, only making her roll her eyes, fully turned on by the way he was treating her.

For so long, y/n has been waiting for Logan to show just how cocky and asshole-like he could get. Finally, tonight, he decided to let it out.

With her being drunk, she couldn’t love this even more. There was nothing she could do about the way she was about to gush all over him.

“I’m gonna cum,” y/n said low as she fell back onto her mattress, getting ready to give Logan what he was trying so desperately to get from her. “There you go — Relax that body — Give it to me, Bub,” and with that, she did.

Y/n’s body locked up for a few seconds before shaking. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at her to taunt the way she got because of him. “Look at how I get you,”

Logan licked himself after he pulled out of y/n, making sure to get a treat for himself. That had triggered his mind to pick her up and take her to his room to continue eating her out.

“Get those fucking hands away from me, or I’ll make you count till ten,” Logan threatened after y/n tried pushing his head away from her heat. “No more — Please,” y/n begged the man as she took deep gasps.

All Logan did was chuckle into her heat, knowing he had too many more orgasms to go.

[suzukiblu]

Fifth ( and final! ) 1k of the thank-you 5k I promised y'all behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon hurls his barely-off jacket out of the Super-Cycle and across the garage to hit the wall without even looking, without even making any actual decision to, and then nearly bursts into tears again like a fucking idiot. Idiot. Stupid, stupid, stu–

He doesn’t know if the others would care about him borrowing their scents for his nest, but he already–he already knows–

Superman told him to go be with his pack. 

Told him to go. 

And “El” isn’t Superman’s pack name. So–so Superman definitely, definitely doesn’t wanna be in his nest. Not even as just as a blocker-muddled trace of scent. 

Kon doesn’t–doesn’t need another stupid pillow anyway. Even if it’s his stupid jacket. 

He grabs Red Tornado’s cape again and unrolls it, then drapes it over the side of the Super-Cycle’ nesting pit, and then wants to cry even worse because he hates how it looks like that. Folds it up square instead, and then doesn’t like how that looks either and shakes it back out and then rolls it up again but that’s not good enough either so he shakes it out and– 

He wishes he could put his jacket in his nest. He–he likes his jacket. 

Superman wouldn’t want him to, though. Not as long as it smells even a little bit like him, anyway. 

Kon just–just buries himself against the pillows he’s already folded and curls down in on himself and drags Red Tornado’s cape halfway over his head and wraps his arms over it and makes himself as small as he can in against them and–and–

He thinks he’s gonna sob, but what actually happens is–is–

He keens, is what actually happens. Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose. Definitely not. 

Keens an omega call. An omega call for . . . for their pack. 

So–no, it’s not on purpose. Kon’s fucking stupid, yeah, but not–not stupid enough to have done any shit like that on purpose. 

But once he’s done it, it feels like he can’t stop doing it. 

Kon shoves his own fist in-between his teeth and digs them in hard through his glove and against the bones of his knuckles and tries desperately to just sob, to just cry, to–to–to at least muffle the stupid–the stupid keening, the stupid calling, to–to–he doesn’t want anyone to hear that, that’s so pathetic and stupid and pathetic, a stupid useless stray calling for a pack he’s never even had like he–like he’s stupid enough to think–think that–and he doesn’t want anyone to ever, ever know he’s that pathetic, that stupid, that– 

The Super-Cycle’s engine rumbles in a purr so loud it drowns out Kon’s stifled keening completely, and he buries himself in tighter against the folded pillows that smell like the team and tightens his grip on Red Tornado’s cape that smells like him and hides under–hides under it, and tries not to cry too hard. 

And doesn’t wish he had his fucking jacket. 

“Th-thanks,” he chokes, his voice cracking. He doesn’t even know if the Super-Cycle did that on purpose or not, but . . . “Thanks. Sorry, I–I just–thank you.” 

The Super-Cycle keeps purring away, and without having to freak out about the chances of anybody hearing him doing something so fucking embarrassing, Kon manages to calm down enough to stop–stop the fucking calling, at least, and then stop the sobbing, and then even stop the crying. It takes a little bit, but . . . but he manages it. Red Tornado hasn’t come back yet, so that’s . . . some fucking mercy, anyway. 

A lot of fucking mercy, honestly. 

He feels really stupid, still, but the Super-Cycle’s being . . . being really nice to him. Like–way nicer than it has to be. Especially since it likes Robin and Bart both way better than him and probably all the girls too. But like, especially Robin and Bart. Which, sure, way to be grateful for a guy breaking you out of the dig site with his badass custom-designed TTK, but–

Well. If the Super-Cycle’s doing this for him, maybe it likes him more than he thought it did. 

Kon sniffles a couple more times, then scrubs the last of the tears off with the heel of his glove and sits back up to roll up Red Tornado’s cape again. The rolled-up pillow really was the best option, he thinks. Like–most cushioning and all to it. So like–best option, yeah. 

So he rolls it up again, tucks in the ends again, and puts it back against the side of the nesting pit opposite all his other makeshift pillows. The roll and the tuck are both a little neater-looking now, actually, so . . . that’s good, he thinks. Maybe he’s gettin’ the hang of nesting, a little bit. 

Maybe he won’t suck at it, if he practices a little more. Even if he didn’t, like–get to do it before he presented or anything. Like, maybe he could be . . . okay at it, he thinks. 

Kon watches the video again for a refresher on the tips in it and for ideas for what to do with whatever else Red Tornado’s gonna bring. He figures it’ll just be, like, a couple blankets or maybe a stack of towels or something, so probably he’ll just fold ‘em up the same ways he did with either Cissie’s towel or Red Tornado’s cape, ‘cuz he already knows how to do those folds and it’s, like–it’s good practice, right? Because . . . because he’ll be doing this again. Like . . . a lot. 

He’ll be doing this the whole friggin’ rest of his life, and nobody can tell him he’s not allowed to even if they do think he’s, like, a bad omega or a slut or whatever. He’s still an omega either way. He’s still allowed, either way. 

Even if he’s not in anyone’s pack, at least he doesn’t have to smell anything like Westfield. Doesn’t have to be anything like Westfield. 

Doesn’t even have to be an alpha, which . . . he really hadn’t thought he was gonna get out of having to be an alpha. Really hadn’t thought . . . 

He just–hadn’t thought he was gonna get out of having to be an alpha, he guesses. 

But he did. 

Kon sniffles one more time; scrubs the cuff of his glove across his face one more time. Lets himself just feel–just feel all the weird, giddy relief, one more time. Then he focuses again and starts rearranging all his makeshift pillows, because if Suzie actually does come, he really, really has to have a nice nest ready for, like . . . 

He just–Kon really needs to have a nice nest ready, he knows, though he’s not really sure . . . why, exactly? Like, now that he’s thinking about it. Like . . . he doesn’t know why he feels so much like he just really needs to have it. 

He definitely does, though. Like–definitely feels like he needs it, and definitely also does need it. 

. . . he hopes Suzie’ll like it, if he actually does manage to do an okay job. He hopes if she likes it enough, she’ll stick around for a little while and, like . . . watch some of those videos with him or something, or just stream something on his phone with him, or just hang out or talk or . . . 

He hopes if she likes it enough, she’ll get in it with him. Which–it feels kind of dumb, Kon thinks, how much he hopes that, but . . . yeah. He hopes she will, at least for a little bit. Maybe she’d feel safe in it too. 

He just . . . he thinks he’d really like it if she would, is all. 

[loafysainz]

His Mistress | CS 55

carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: mdni, possessive, harsh carlos, cheating

please do not read it uf youre not into dark fic!

Carlos Sainz had it all. The last name, the wealth, the looks, the charm. His family owned one of the largest automotive empires in the world, and Carlos? He was their golden boy—successful in his own right, running his own business in the same industry. Everyone loved him. The media adored him, his parents were proud, and people saw him as this picture-perfect man—humble, respectful, and effortlessly charismatic.

And now, with the news of his engagement to Rebecca, an insanely gorgeous and world-renowned model, the public’s obsession with him only grew stronger. Power couple, they called them. A match made in heaven. Everyone was convinced Carlos had the perfect life.

Everyone, except one person.

Y/N.

Because unlike the rest of the world, Y/N knew who Carlos Sainz truly was.

And she knew, because she was the secret he kept locked away.

No one else knew about the luxurious house tucked away in the hills, far from the noise of the city. No one else had ever seen the woman who lived inside. A woman so stunning, so unreal in her beauty, that Carlos had never been able to let go. He met her years ago when she worked as his personal assistant, and from the moment their eyes met, he knew. There was something about her—something addictive, something he wanted to keep to himself.

So he did.

Y/N hadn’t stepped out of this house in years. Not because she couldn’t, but because Carlos wouldn’t let her. No one else got to see her. No one else got to have her.

She was his.

—

Carlos stormed into the house that night, his jaw tight, his patience worn thin.

He had just come from a family meeting—one where his parents and Rebecca’s team had gone over details for his wedding. His future. As if he even gave a shit about any of it. He hated the idea of marriage. Hated feeling trapped.

And now? He needed an escape.

Needed her.

The moment he saw Y/N standing there, he crossed the room in three long strides, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into him. She barely had time to breathe before his lips crashed onto hers, his hands gripping her like he needed to remind himself that she was real. That she was still here, still his.

And she let him. Because what else could she do?

The room was silent after. Only the sound of their heavy breaths remained, mingling in the space between them. Carlos was still lying beside her, his arm draped lazily over her bare waist when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Rebecca.

He exhaled sharply, grabbing the phone and unlocking it.

She had sent a series of messages, asking for his opinion on which wedding gown to wear.

Carlos barely glanced at the options before passing the phone to Y/N. “Reply to her,” he muttered.

Y/N hesitated, staring at the screen.

“Now.” His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed out a response, picking a gown at random.

Moments later, Rebecca called.

Carlos didn’t even hesitate before answering, his voice soft, sweet, nothing like the man who had just pinned Y/N down minutes ago.

“Hi, cariño,” Rebecca’s voice chirped through the speaker. “I’m so happy you picked this gown. It’s my favorite too.”

Carlos forced a small chuckle, eyes flicking to Y/N. She was staring at the ceiling, trying not to react.

After a few more seconds of Rebecca’s excited chatter, the call ended.

The second the screen went dark, the temperature in the room shifted. Carlos turned his head, his gaze dark, sharp, cutting straight through Y/N like a blade.

“What gown did you pick?” His voice was eerily calm.

Y/N swallowed, then slowly showed him the picture.

Silence.

Then, “Why did you pick that one?”

She hesitated, then spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… beautiful.”

Carlos let out a dry laugh. A humorless, mocking sound.

His fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Did you pick it because you like it?” His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “Did you think about yourself in it?”

Her breath hitched.

“Did you think,” Carlos continued, his grip tightening, “that one day you could wear a dress like this?”

Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came out.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though there was no warmth behind it. He leaned in, voice dripping in something cold, something final.

“Never.”

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, almost gently. Almost.

“You don’t get to dream about that, cariño. You don’t get to think about a life where you wear a dress like that.” His voice was sharp now, biting. “You belong here. With me. And only me.”

A single tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek.

Carlos watched it fall, his expression unreadable.

And then he kissed her again—slow, deep, claiming.

As if sealing a promise.

As if reminding her—

That no matter what, no matter who the world thought he was, no matter how perfect he seemed—

She would always be his best-kept secret.

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part twelve//t.c.

Warnings: smut, cursing, smut, cum on body, smut, fluff, dirty talk

This one is long, but it is a smutfest

“You don’t really own any skirts, do you?” Timmy asked you randomly that Monday morning. Luckily, it was only the two of you at his place.

“What?” you frowned slightly at him, having to look up from the laptop.

“Skirts. You never wear them.” he said plainly.

“No? Is that a new requirement or something?” you joked.

He pressed his lips together, shrugging, “Maybe just a suggestion. Take my card to whatever stores you like and buy yourself some skirts.”

“And why should I do that?”

He smirked, walking around the kitchen island to where you were sitting, leaning in close, he said, “Because your boyfriend needs easy access.” He placed his hand on your denim-clad thigh, slowly letting it roam inward.

You gasped as he hovered over your pussy.

“See? Wouldn’t it be better if your jeans weren’t in the way right now?” he pressed his fingers against you through the material, circling slowly.

You swallowed, clearing your throat, “Timothée.”

He leaned in closer to your face, “I want you right now.”

“But we’re working.” you fake protested.

“It can wait.” he said, pulling your chair out, grabbing you by the arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

……

“Aw, yesss!” you cried, gripping the sheets hard as Timmy had you bent over the bed. His hips smacked your ass rapidly as his cock plunged in and out of you.

“Oh, baby…my baby girl. Fuck, you feel so good.” his voice quivered with pleasure. He dug his fingers into your hips, holding you up as you were trembling and unable to keep up on your knees.

You threw your hair back with a huff and caught glimpse of the alarm clock on the nightstand, “Fuck! Timmy, Josh Safdie is calling you in five minutes!”

“That’s all the time we need.” he assured you, ramming his cock in you even faster.

You yelped in surprise, your toes curling as he brought you over the edge of an orgasm.

……….

Timmy had his phone to his ear, talking to his director as he wiped his cum off your belly with a damp cloth.

You couldn’t help but giggle at situation.

He gave you a mock angry look and you covered your mouth, still laughing. “No, Josh, it’s not a bad time. That’s just my assistant being a goofball. But yeah, that all sounds great.”

As he wrapped up the phone call, you took the used cloth to the hamper in the bathroom, using the facility before returning to Timmy’s bedroom. You couldn’t help but notice how comfortable you had become in his place. Yes, it was the setting in which you worked often, but it started to feel like home. He felt like home.

You walked back into his room, grabbing his big t-shirt that he had been wearing earlier, but it had been thrown to the floor. You put the shirt on and sat on the bed as he was saying goodbye to Josh.

“Hey, that’s my shirt.” he teased.

“Sorry, do you want me to take it off?” you smiled cheekily.

Timmy shrugged, eyebrows raised, “I mean, you look great in clothes, but I think I like you out of them just a little bit more.”

“Hm, of course you do you.” you said with a playful eye roll.

“So, are ready to go to Tokyo with me?” he asked you nonchalantly and climbed onto you.

“Tokyo? So filming is still on for Marty Supreme?”

“Yeah, everything is being settled now." he rested his arms over your belly, setting his chin there. "And I want you to come with me.”

“As your assistant or…?”

“My girlfriend and my assistant.” he affirmed. “I need you there with me. You help me with so much and I’ll have a shit ton of new lines to go over."

“If I’m getting paid, then okay.” you grinned.

“Oh, that’s the only reason you’ll go, huh?” he gently bumped his nose on yours.

“What other reasons are there?” you asked coyly.

"Hmm, let’s see, there's the Japanese culture to explore, yummy food, then there’s the A Complete Unknown premiere, and um,” his eyes got a darker as his lips turned up into a smirk, “we can fuck over there." he smirked, moving up your body to kiss your lips.

You moaned softly as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, “Mm, fucking,” you spoke between warm kisses, “is that a promise?” You pecked his lips.

“I would fuck you every hour if I could.” his voice was low, he was still hungry for more even though you just got done making love.

You blushed, “Do you love me that much?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Good.” your heart began to race, you knew it was the right time, “Because I love you, Timothée Chalamet.”

His eyes brightened back up, and he smiled wide, “You do?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean-"

He cut you off with a kiss. He took your face in his hands, “Mm, I’m definitely fucking you again, right now.”

You laughed as he assumed the missionary position, holding your thighs. “We’re not going to get any work done today.” you remarked.

……

The next day, Timmy again brought up the topic of you buying some skirts for work, so you decided it’d be best to oblige him. While out running errands for him, you went to some clothing stores, picked out and tried on skirts and purchased a few with his credit card.

It felt strange, carrying items for yourself. You were used to shopping for Timmy, but then again, maybe this was for him. It was his request, after all.

Once you started wearing the skirts, he seemed quite pleased. You had a black pencil skirt that hugged all the right places, and he would take full advantage, running his hand along your hip as you walked by, cupping your ass when he stopped behind you.

One day, you’d worn a mini skirt, plaid patterned and pleated. He took you in the kitchen within minutes of you starting the workday. He pushed you up against the counter, but he didn’t remove your skirt, he just pushed your panties to the side and slid his cock right in from behind.

Timmy railed you, brought your leg up, placing it onto the counter so he could push in deeper. “Fuck.” he cursed under his breath. He then held you closer, sinking his teeth into your neck.

Your pussy started to convulse around his cock, you whimpered, holding onto his arm and bracing yourself with your other hand on the countertop.

He fucked you mercilessly, lifting you off your feet.

You moaned like a pornstar. He rammed his cock into your g spot over and over, and you clenched your eyes shut, seeing stars. You let go, and your body shook with release. You heard Timmy curse again as fluids sprang out from between the two of you.

……..

“So, your flight leaves at-" you were talking to Timmy when his photographer friend, Aidan, came waltzing in.

“Damn, y/n, since when do you wear skirts? You look fine as hell!” he exclaimed, joining you and Timmy in the living room.

“Hey!” Timmy smacked him hard on the shoulder, “Show some fucking respect.”

“Yo, I’m sorry!” Aidan apologized, rubbing the spot where Timmy hit him, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, just not used to seeing her legs. My bad.”

“It’s all good.” you said with an awkward chuckle.

Aidan sat down on the couch and you shot Timmy a look, and he only shrugged at you in response.

“Well, I’ll just leave you guys alone to hang out. I’m gonna go home.” You looked at Timmy with a nod, “See you when you get back?”

He smiled kindly, “Yep. Miss you already.” he said with your signature boss-assistant banter tone.

……..

Sleeping in your own bed for the first time in days was strange. It proved to be difficult for you to fall asleep without Timmy’s warmth. You never expected to be so consumed by a man, but you weren’t upset by it.

You were in a deep sleep when you were awoken by your phone ringing. You groaned in annoyance, thinking to yourself, “Timothée, I could kill you right now.”

Sure enough, it was him. “Yes, Timothée Hal,” you answered as you put the phone to your ear, “what could you possibly want at this hour?” you looked at the screen, “One a.m. Excellent timing.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” he said innocently, “I really didn’t want to wake you up, but I want you.” He didn’t sound needy in a sexual way, but in a way that exuded his need for your presence. “Can I come in, please?”

“What do you mean? Are you here?” you sat up in the bed.

“Yeah I’m literally at your door. Won’t you let me in?”

“Timothée.” you grumbled.

………

“Hey, baby girl.” he said when you opened the door.

“Hello, it’s one in the morning. We are going to sleep.” you said tiredly yet firmly. You held your hand out to him.

He smiled softly as he took your hand and you lead the way to your bedroom. “I wish you were coming to the Paris premiere with me.”

“But you have to see Kylie while you’re there.” you pointed out.

Timmy groaned, “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Once you were in bed together and settled, he spooned you, and his mouth was on your neck.

“Timmy, I have to sleep. I told you that’s what we were doing.” you said, holding firm.

“I know, but…I want you to ride me.”

“Mm, in the morning.”

“No, now.” he insisted.

“Timothée.” you warned.

“Yeah, and you can say my name. Take my cock and scream my name.” he combed your hair back, kissing your shoulder.

You were getting annoyed…and turned on. Sleep was getting further from your mind. You rolled over to your other side to face Timmy. “What cock?” you moved your hand down, palming him through his boxers. “This cock?” you bit your lip.

“That one, yes.” he smirked.

……..

You were both now completely naked, under your sheets. You bounced on his cock as he lay underneath you. You moaned lightly each time his cock sheathed up into you.

Timmy ran his hands up your tummy, squeezing your breasts, “Yes, just like that.” he praised, “Aidan thinks you’re hot, but you’re mine.”

“No,” you panted, “he was just being nice to me.” You put your hands on his chest, moving your hips.

“No, no, he wants you like this. He wants your body, your pussy, your sweet mouth, your tits bouncing in his face. He wants you the way I get to have you. But I’m the only one who gets this tight cunt. Isn’t that right?”

The way he spoke about your body as his cock was rutting into you got you so worked up and hot. You were enjoying the way his cock was destroying you.

“Hey.” he tapped your cheek, “I asked you a question. This cunt belongs to me, right?”

“Yes, yes, pookie. Only you.” you were drunk on his cock, and you were so out of it.

“Pookie? Maybe don’t use that during sex, babes.”

You whined as friction was building inside of you, “Sorry. But yes, you own this pussy. Fuck, your cock is so big.” You moaned, scratching his chest as you came.

You let out a big exhale, then collapsed on his chest.

Timmy kissed your head, and you were asleep within minutes with him still inside of you.

February 9, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala @heatherpi

[dehlizalah]

Phantom Touch

namgyu x f!reader

𖦹 tags: Slow burn, angst, heavy teasing, toxic relationship (ish), fwb,drugs, alcohol, situationship, descriptions of sexual activity but not really smut (yet)

𖦹 Word count: 4113

𖦹 Part three of Phantom Touch | Part one Part two

Namgyu becoming a little more softer in this one :)) We would cheer !!

You told yourself you were just being paranoid, that Namgyu was probably so shitfaced that he wouldn’t have even been able to distinguish your face. You leaned into the stranger, letting him kiss your cold body. You clench your jaw, trying to snap out of it. Your hands ache. A slow pulsing burn that itches far deep into your bones, something inside of you that is crawling to get out.

It’s the kind of pain that isn’t physical—not really. It’s something else, something worse. A muscle memory of a touch you shouldn’t miss. A phantom sensation of hands that aren’t there but might as well be.

You continued to entertain the man, until you felt a vibration in your bag, which was perched next to you. “One second,” you said abruptly as the man crawled off of you. You unsteadily reach from your bag to your phone, the warmth of the strangers touch still lingering. The vibration lasted about two beeps. Sliding your phone out, your eyes flickered through the screen.

2 New Messages

You knew who it was going to be. The thought of it makes your stomach churn. For a slight moment, you hesitated to even unlock your phone, your heart clenching strongly. You opened it, pleading that it wasn’t him.

You read the message and your heart stopped.

Namgyu: ‘Didn’t expect to see you here. lol’

Namgyu: ‘You good?’

That was it? Namgyu was normally a dry texter but this.. This felt like a taunt. A tease almost. No mention of what you were doing, no possessive digs as he used to, no sly remarks about the handprints the stranger left on your thighs.

lol. The single, meaningless addition made your stomach do cartwheels. He was trying to keep it light, acting like it was some coincidence. He acted as if you both had just randomly met in the streets, glancing at each other. No, he saw you do the things that he once did with you, with a man you had never even met before.

There was no changing the fact that you let a stranger touch you all over, that wasn’t even remotely the worst part. The worst part was namgyu, who watched every single second of it. He had seen you, the way your body reacted to a stranger roam your body, the way his lips hovered over your skin.

A lump formed in your throat. A mix of emotions flooded your mind. You should be angry, you wanted to be angry. The only emotion that you could seem to focus on was that familiar ache; the one that came from years of yearing and false love.

Your hands started to sweat, coating your body in a thin layer of unease. A clammy heat pulsated through your body, your fingers clenching the screen, unable to move.

The stranger next to you gently touched your thigh “Is everything good? You seem really sketched out right now.”

“Sorry i have to-“ Without finishing your sentence, you grabbed your bag stood up, looking for the bathrooms.

You pushed through the sea of bodies, the lights flickering on beat. The music floods the club, your head throbbing as you try to swim your way out. Your hands were still trembling, gripping onto your bag, like it was the last thing keeping your grounded, two feet on the floor.

You slipped into the bathroom, locking the single toilet, desperately trying to catch your breath. Leaning against the sink, gripping the edges so hard your knuckles become red.

Get a grip.

Seriously, you needed to get your shit together.

Exhaling sharply you looked into the mirror, barely even recognizing the person reflecting from you. Smudged eyeliner, your lips were slightly parted; lipgloss barely even on.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for a paper towel, tapping the towel on your skin. No matter how many deep breaths you took, the tightness in your chest refused to leave. It wasn't just the alcohol-it was him. Always him.

You told yourself you knew better than this.

You knew that namgyu enjoyed this, seeing you get all flustered at the thought of him. He likes the sense of power he gets from it. The possession. He likes having a hold on you.

Your phone buzzed again.

Dread slowly filling you up.

You squeezed you eyes shut for a second before forcing your self to look at your phone, opening the message.

Namgyu: ‘Didn’t take you for a club girl. Well, not anymore, at least. Guess old habits die hard. lol.’

Your jaw tightened. There it was again - that lol. You were convinced that he did on purpose, throwing it in like a careless shrug. To him this was funny, it had little to no significance to him, just like you had no significance to him either.

"Old habits die hard."

What did he think he was? Some all-knowing god, watching from above, smugly amused at your attempts to move on? As if he had you all figured out, like no matter how far you tried to run, you'd always come crawling back.

Like he wasn't the one who started the habit in the first place. Like he wasn’t the one who would beg to smoke together, like he wasn’t the one who took you to the club for the first time.

It was completely and utterly infuriating.

Your fingers violently curved around the phone, fighting the urge to say something sharp, something to hurt him like he hurt you. Something to cut a deep scar in him. But no, this is exactly what you thought he wanted. He wanted you to bite, he wanted you to be the one to crack first, to prove that even after everything that happened, you would always come back.

You really did fight the urge to say something, but your fingers had a mind of their own, the alcohol slurring from your mind to your fingers.

You: ‘Didn’t know you cared. Don’t worry, you don’t have to.’

The moment you sent the text, the read receipt popped up almost instantly. Of course, he saw it right away.

You watched the three dots appear, then disappear, like he almost didn't bother responding at all. Then-

Namgyu: ‘Didn’t say i did.’

So typical. This is exactly what you imagined him to say. Dismissing you with as little effort as humanly possible.

Your fingers twitched over the keyboard, the words practically clawing their way out. Fine.

If he wanted to be a dick, you could match him. After all, leaving him was all about making him feel how you felt, right? to make him suffer; even if it was a small fraction of what you felt.

You: ‘Right. You just text every random girl you've fucked in the middle of the night for fun? Damn, must be exhausting.’

Sent. Delivered. Read.

You hoped this would give you some leverage. You hoped that he would actually think for once, think about his real feelings.

And then-

Namgyu: ‘You think you're special?’

Namgyu: ‘Lmao.’

Namgyu: ‘Hate to break it to you.’

Namgyu: ‘You're not the first.’

Namgyu: ‘You're not the last.’

Namgyu: ‘Don't make this deeper than it is.’

All of the messages came in one rapid burst, leaving him little room to even breathe yet think about what he was saying. It was subtle, and maybe you were reading into it too much, but you knew what this meant: frustration. Frustration. Namgyu acts all erratic when he doesn’t get what he wants. He probably did a line of coke before texting you, hence the reckless behavior.

You let out a soft chuckle, this was funny. He acted like you were nothing to him, just another saved contact on his phone, yet here he was; blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.

Should you even bother responding? Maybe you should have let him drown in his words. This was too much of an opportunity to miss. If he wanted to play the game, why don’t you?

You: ‘Funny. You act like you don't care, but you're the one blowing up my phone.’

You: ‘What's wrong? Not enough coke in the world to make me go away?’

You: ‘Must suck.’

Read.

The silence on your screen sent wavelengths, that was all you needed to know. You had finally got under his skin. You thew away the paper towel that you used to wipe yourself down, and was met with another vibration off your phone again.

Namgyu: Hope he fucks you better than i did. Shouldn’t be hard right? You looked real desperate out there.

For a slight moment, you stood still, his words impairing your vision. A slow feeling of heat crawled up your spine, clamping onto your sides.

He was pissed.

Not in the usual way, where he would act like he didn’t care, dismissing everything you had to say while he rolled his eyes, pushing his long hair back. No, this was different, it had gotten ugly really quickly.

That’s what he saw out there? He saw you as desperate?

Your fingers curled around your phone so tight your knuckles ached. It would be easy to snap back, to give him what he wanted — anger, frustration, proof that he still had a hold on you.

But no. Not this time.

You: ‘You can see from those VIP rooms, can’t you?’

You: ‘Must be nice having such a perfect view, should i send you a video?’

Read.

You unlock the bathroom, strutting into the club. You came out a different person than before. The girl that looked in the mirror, crying, gasping for air was no longer seen. Without further hesitation, you walk up to the bar, and order two shots. Anything strong.

While waiting for the shots, your phone buzzed in your bag once again. Damn.. how much of your time does he need?

Curiously, you check the notification and just as you expected, it was namgyu.

Namgyu: ‘So this is what you do when i’m not around?’

Namgyu: ‘Didn’t know you were that desperate.’

A slight chuckle came out from your mouth. Not around? How contradicting. You knew he was watching from those vip areas, it was inevitable. You hoped he saw you laugh, you hoped it stung. You swiped away from the text, deliberately ignoring it and put your phone back in your bag. Sliding off the chair, you took the two shots and started to look around.

You gaze your eyes up to the vip rooms before looking back into the corner you were sat at, the stranger still surprisingly still there. His eyes flick over to you; laced with curiosity. Kneeling down to the table, you slide the shot his way and smiled brightly.

“Consider this… an apology.” you say softly, trying to get on the man’s good side. “For leaving you hanging” You continued.

He laughed taking the shot and signaling you to clink glasses. “Cheers!” You both say laughingly.

Whilst you and the man were having a good time, conversely, namgyu was loosing his temper. Insanely quick.

As you laugh with the stranger, you feel the weight of a gaze burning into your skin. You don't need to look up to know exactly who it belongs to.

Your phone buzzes again. You take your time, dragging your fingers along the rim of your empty glass before finally checking the message.

Namgyu: ‘Keep playing with me.’

Namgyu: ‘You really think he wants you?’

He’s starting to unravel, his raw feeling starting to show. You tilt your head, focusing up to the vip rooms, looking through the slightly steamed windows. Even with the dim lighting you can still make up a long slender figure, he looked stiff. Angry.

You smiled one more time looking up at him before focusing back on the stranger, leaning in enough to close the small gap between each other. Your draw your fingers up his arms, letting out a small giggle.

As the next song plays, you pick up your phone and start to type.

You: ‘I don’t know… He seems quite interested.. in me.’

You: ‘Maybe i’ll let him find out what you couldn’t.’

Read.

He had practically been glued to your messages, waiting for anything. He read it almost immediately again. It feel like the energy had shifted. The air feels more tighter, it’s subtle, quiet but definitely there.

You can feel namgyus eyes follow your every move, beaming into your skin like lasers. You couldn’t see his expression from up there, but you didn’t need to.

The stranger starts to catch on, he notices the shift in your moods, how you were extremely anxious before now you look like your on top of the world.

He leans forward, tilting his head trying to read your expression. “So.. i don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but before you didn’t really seem like this place was… you know.. your scene.”

You dragged your fingers around the rim of your glass, trying to resist smiling.

“That’s funny, someone just told me that.”

You felt amused. Even a random stranger could tell the difference, that meant namgyu definitely had. It would make him itch, grip onto the table in pure frustration. Exactly what you wanted.

Once again, you are met with a vibration of the phone. Do you even need to check? You already know— it’s going to be him. You try to hold the pure enjoyment you get out of this, it was euphoric. You were finally getting what you wanted.

Namgyu: ‘Stop.’

Namgyu: ‘You don't even like him. What are you trying to prove?’

Namgyu: ‘We both know you'd rather be here

—with me. So quit wasting time.’

The vulnerability was practically seeping out through these texts, of course, he couldn’t just ask for you. He had to act like you’d eventually come crawling, like you were already his. How pathetic.

You tap the glass of your drink, once again glancing at the vip section. You know he’s there, watching this mess unravel, one by one.

You softly grabbed the strangers collar, letting out a laugh, dragging your fingers on his cheeks, ruffling his hair. Namgyu loved it when you did that to him, how you twirled his hair around your fingers and brushed your soft fingertips against his face.

The stranger is saying something— laughing, but you can’t seem to focus on that. You’re focusing on tracing the exact places you once did with him, twirling his hair nice and softly, making him tingle. You keep your touch slow, calculated.

You were touching him, lovingly. But it wasn’t for the stranger, it was for him.

Namgyu.

Another buzz.

Namgyu: ‘You really think that man cares ?’

Namgyu: ‘Men only want sex, don’t be a fool’

Namgyu: ‘He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get you like i do.’

You brush your hands through your hair, then softly dragging your nails against the man’s jaw, just to be petty.

Another buzz.

Namgyu: ‘Look at him, he’s practically stiff.’

Namgyu: ‘Your weirding the poor guy out.’

Namgyu: ‘Quit the act, just come up here.’

The entitlement radiates through the phone, but behind the phone, you could practically taste his jealousy.

You smirked, letting his words marinate, no response for him. You climbed up the stranger and sat on his lap, facing toward him. The stranger held onto your waist, pulling you in as he layed a sloppy drunk kiss on your lips.

You still felt the weight of namgyus stare, pressing you down. You felt electric, this is the best dopamine rush you’ve experienced in a while; the same feeling you once felt when namgyus hands were on you, it had come back. The idea of him watching was lighting a spark in your head.

You slowly and sensually started to move your hips back and forth on the man’s lap, your mouth slightly parted with a small smirk. The strangers grip tightened, his hands lazily moving up and down your waist. Your mind is elsewhere, on him, who were stood behind the glass of those VIP rooms.

Another buzz.

You climbed off the man’s lap, wiping his spit off your lips. Glancing at your phone, you tell him you’re going to get more drinks and walk over to the bar.

As you step away, the air becomes more tense. The thrill of being watched lingers through your skin, the weight of namgyus stare pressing deeply into you.

Sliding yourself onto the chair, you order another drink, as you wait you unlock your phone.

Then you finally look.

Namgyu: ‘That was for me, wasn’t it?’

Namgyu: ‘Just say it didn’t mean anything.’

Namgyu: ‘Lie to me.’

Lie to me. Lie to me? A three word sentence, so easy to understand. But it wasn’t that, it was the intent you couldn’t quite grasp. It would be so easy for you to lie to him. The weight of his stare felt like volumes, the way he watches, it makes your chest tighten.

You can barely make up your reflection in the phone, Flushed skin, lips once again parted, slightly shaking. His presence felt like a ghost. So far away, yet so meaningful.

Your bartender slides the drink to you, but you hadn’t even noticed. You were too spaced out. You exhale, thinking about how you reply to this.

Your fingers anxiously hover over the screen, hesitating every word that you type.

Tell me to stop.

Before you hit send, a slender like shadow falls over you.

The atmosphere shifts once again, that familiar sent of cheap musky cologne mixed with cigarettes formed behind you. The hairs at the back of your head stood.

And then—

A hand.

Long slender fingers decorated with chunky silver rings tap your hand. Your breath stutters, phone slipping into your pressed together thighs.

“You’re taking too long.”

Namgyu.

His tone is different to what you once heard. The raspy voice he would holler down your ears as you cried, begging for an answer.

‘Why don’t you love me?’

The phrase you once said repeatedly echoed through your mind, the memories once shared with him, the nights you spent shouting his name.

It had only been a week or so since you last talked, so why did it feel like it had been an eternity? Why did it feel like you had glued together the missing piece, after searching for ages?

The room feels smaller, like you were trapped; The music felt distant, it muffled behind the sound of your own heartbeat, pumping out of your chest.

He kept his fingers hovering over you hands, gently; but it felt as if he hesitated, like he doesn’t know whether to pull you in or push away.

That was Namgyus whole deal. He never knew what he wanted.

One moment, he was lighting up a joint sat on your mouth, smirking as he flicked the lighter. The next moment, he sat at his desk beside his bed, acting like the history you two had shared the night before was all a myth, nothing but a piece of fiction.

You swallowed hard as he reached for the phone you had dropped, due to his presence. He grazed his fingers between your thighs, gripping the phone, unlocked.

Tell me to stop

He swiftly takes the seat next to you, tapping is fingers on the desk, holding the phone in the other.

“You wanted me to see that?” His voice became small, a little cocky but he had held back. “Or was it just for you?”

You gripped both of your thighs and held strongly, frustratedly. The aching pain of anxiety pulsated though your palms. You need to push him away, now. It’ll never happen if you don’t do it now.

His eyes are stuck to you, like he’s too afraid to blink. He was filled with such emotion, it was almost indescribable.

Yearning? Desperation? Possession?

You can’t read him, even namgyu can’t read himself, right now.

His fingers linger against your wrist, his thumb barely touching over your pulse. He feels it-how fast it's racing, how much this moment is getting to you. And he likes it.

"You should've picked a better actor."

His lips curl into something smug, but his voice betrays him-low, strained, aching.

"He touched you like he didn't know what to do with you."

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. "And you think you do?"

His grip tightens. "I know I do."

His words were real, true. It was embarrassing. You urged yourself to become a better person, run away from things that hurt you, people that hurt you. But here you are, heart racing to the same man that you swore you’d never run back to.

It’s humiliating, how you fold to him every, single, time. His presence strips away every single part of resistance that you worked so hard to build.

Sure, the act earlier on was real, it was how you truely felt; this emotion now, it’s raw. A soft touch. Your heart is pounding — pulsating loudly. Not from fear, not from anger, but from something much worse. Incredibly worse.

Need.

Namgyu keeps his dark eyes upon you. His eyes were endless, like the space between stars in the dark nights sky. They held something desirable, heavy emotion, and something dangerously close to desperation.

His lips parted, as if he wanted to blurt something out, one last jab before you cave in. He hesitates, Maybe because he knows you already know the truth just as much as he does.

You’re not running away.

Not really.

Your running away from your emotion, that deep feeling of dread that lingers apon your ever morning after spending the night with him.

He lets out a soft exhale, his grip on your wrist slightly tighter — not letting go but conversely not keeping you there. You could leave whenever your heart desired. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Your heart desires what your mind doesn’t. Your body desires the opposite of your mind.

“You always run,” he says, his voice soft, delicate. The bitterness that usually graces his tongue is absent, replaced by something quieter, something real.

He brushes his warm hands against yours, the rough cool metal of his rings sends a shiver down your spine. His hands feel rough in random places, calloused along the pads of his fingertips.

“You could go,” he says underneath his breath, his space like eyes flickering between yours. “You have always been able to go.”

“But you don’t want to, do you?”

The way he says it, it was far from a question. As if he had found the last peice of a puzzle. No cockiness, no small disrespectful remarks, just honesty. Pure, truthful honesty. This was unusual for him to show so much.. emotion.

You force yourself to look down into your lap, only this made it worse, it made you realise that his hand on yours was the touch you had been craving for so long. The warmth, the weight, the silent promise in the way his fingers curl around yours.

You force the lump that was once again forming in your throat, you wanted to tell him how you truely felt, the words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, desperate to climb out. Just this once, you would let yourself let go.

“It doesn’t matter what i want Namgyu. You know that.” Your voice unsteady. “It doesn’t change the way this night will end. It doesn’t change the mornings id wake up dreaming of something that we didn’t have, and what we could of had. It doesn’t change the way you change between day and night.” You inhale, sharply shaking your head as hurtful tears start to form. “So tell me, what is the point in even acknowledging what i want? It does not matter.”

Tears fell like a gushing wave, you felt frustrated. Emotional, it was indescribable.

Namgyu exhaled. For once, he didn’t look cocky or smug, like he was going to shout out some careless remark and call it day.

For once, he looks real. Sober, somehow. He had definitely done drugs, but you were blinded by it, emotions speaking for itself.

You can’t do this.

“You don’t—“

Just as namgyu starts to speak, his hands frustratedly brushing through his long hair, You step back from the chair, unlocking your hands from his. “I can’t do this right now.”

Your voice trembles, betraying all of the honest emotions flooding your brain.

You stormed out, head low, tears falling violently. You don’t even wait for his reaction, you were too scared of confirming those very real emotions. Shoving through the crowd, the pulse of the music vibrating through your shoes.

You don’t know where you’re going— you just knew you had to go, for good.

Until.

A hand grabs your wrist, firmly. You started to tense, already knowing who it was.

“Please.”

[lovecla]

TBH ; LUKE HUGHES

PAIR ex-luke hughes x fem!reader, auston matthews x fem!reader

SUMMARY maybe luke hughes’ passion isn’t enough. he just doesn’t know about it, yet.

WORD COUNT 1.1k

WARNINGS suggestive, jealous luke, size kink, heavily inspired by the song ‘tbh’ by partynextdoor, lowkey toxic luke, mentions of sex.

FROM ME TO YOU listen, i know i have, like, one hundred and twenty things to write but this is one of my favorite songs and i just wanted to leave this here!!! this is something super short, messy and not at all my style, but i still wanted to do something with this song. i’d recommend reading this while listening to the song ;) as always, i love you and have a nice reading!

𐙚

HE COULD’VE swear he felt it when you entered the room.

It wouldn’t be easy to explain if he tried to, but with the way the hairs on his arms stood up when you stepped into the room, he knew he was screwed.

He was sitting on the couch across the room, with a couple of people standing in front of him, as he discussed with Curtis about something he now can’t seem to remember.

“Duude.” He heard Curtis calling him, and he nodded, his perfectly styled curls moving with his head.

“Yeah?” He answered, but he didn’t bother turning around to look at his teammate. No, he couldn’t. Not when you had just entered the room with no one other than the captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Auston Matthews.

Luke didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t right. He was sitting somewhere angry and frustrated as he watched the way your body seemed to float towards Auston’s. The dress you had chosen for that night would probably be in his thanksgiving speech, because he was, indeed, thankful for the opportunity to see you wearing something like that: short, white, almost transparent with a huge slit in the middle, that left little to the imagination.

He didn’t even know why he was noticing you in the first place, since he remembers how he was the one who fucked everything up between the two of you, but fuck. He can’t really help it.

The way you’re laughing at the shit Matthews’s saying, the way you blush slightly under the warm lighting whenever he touches your waist or lower back. The way Luke can tell everyone thinks how much the two of you look good together.

And it infuriates him.

But now— now, you have finally noticed him. You were scanning the room with your eyes when you made eye contact with him, dropping your smile in a millisecond. He can see the way you gulp and hold Auston’s hand a bit tighter.

Luke watches as you force yourself to draw your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you, but he feels accomplished when he notices that, once in a while, you will look at him, for nothing more than a second.

Still.

He finishes the rest of his beer, feeling the bitter taste of it fill up his mouth. He wants to scream at himself to let you go, to stop staring at you like a fucking creep, to not let his mind wander through dangerous, dangerous memories.

Yet, he does none of these things.

He just watches the way your nipples pierced the dress you were wearing, hard and there for everyone to see. He licks his lips, remembering how happy he was when you’d told him you weren’t much of a bra type of girl.

You say something to Matthews before kissing his cheek and excusing yourself, walking towards what Luke assumed to be the bathroom.

“Man,” he hears Curtis, again. “She’s not yours anymore.”

And? He wants to ask. “I know.” Is all he says.

Knowing that you aren’t his anymore doesn't stop him from getting up and going after you, leaving the beer bottle on the table sitting in the corner before walking down the expensive hallway until he’s standing at the door.

“Luke, what—” he hears you asking, but he doesn’t say anything. He just walks inside the bathroom with you and closes the door behind him, hungrily eyeing your body, as he had been doing for the past few minutes.

“Y/n,” is what he says, and you have to pretend that hearing him say your name for the first time in months doesn’t affect you. Because it shouldn’t. “I miss you.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Luke?” You hear yourself asking— you’ve fantasized about this scenario several times before and you’re still not sure of what you’re supposed to do. “You can’t just say things like that. I’m with Auston now and God,” you put your right hand on your forehead. “If anyone sees us here, together, then—”

“I can see that you’re with him,” he scoffs. “It’s all over your face. The way you look at him makes me sick.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest, not missing the way his eyes linger around your boobs for longer than they should. “Luke.”

“Does he know you used to belong to me?”

His question takes you by surprise, and you bite your lips, suppressing a frustrated moan. “If you let me end things with you because you didn’t want to make our relationship public, then why would I tell people about it? It was your choice not to.”

He knew you were right. And that made him even more upset.

“Then he doesn’t know about the things we did,” he whispers, standing tall in front of you, making you realize once again that he’s much larger than you, much bigger, much stronger. “He doesn’t know about how loud I could make you scream, how wet your pussy would get whenever you saw me, how you loved when I threw you around like you were nothing but a toy.”

“Luke—” you sigh, but he shakes his head, while pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. His touch burned.

“How when we first started dating you’d cry because you were so worried that I wouldn’t fit,” he chuckles, like the memory itself is enough to make him laugh. “And how you cried even more when I made it fit, when I forced my cock inside that tight, little cunt of yours.”

“Luke, stop,” you mumble against his finger. “You… you shouldn’t be telling me this. We’re— we’re over.”

“No, Y/n, we aren’t,” he says, kissing your cheek, gently. “I miss it when you’d lay with me, body so tiny next to mine it makes me hard just thinking about it,” he presses his finger harder against you. “I miss it, Y/n.”

You sigh, closing your eyes.

“So, tell me, baby, are you with me?”

You shake your head.

“No,” you say, even if you don’t want to. “Not anymore.”

“Y/n, fuck. I loved you.” He reasons, and you open your eyes, just to frown at him.

“Your passion, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t enough,” you answer, stepping away from his touch. “You don’t have what I need.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But that’s just how life is.”

“You’re not being honest with yourself, Y/n, you want me.” He argues, scrunching his curls in his hands.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” You ask, raising your eyebrow before turning around and leaving the room.

Leaving Luke and your history with him behind.

if you want more… ! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

LUKE HUGHES MASTERLIST.

NHL MASTERLIST.

[bubbleddisasters]

Guess whos back on their Che’nya theory shit again. Me.

Also some of this is just me going on about random and absolute far stretched shit, but hopefully the majority makes sense to y’all.

I’m about to sound batshit insane and this is going to be some MatPat sounding shit but here we go anyway.

WARNING‼️⚠️ MAJOR BOOK 7 SPOILERS AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

———————

I just made the realization that Che’nyas UM and already natural abilities we’ve seen puts him in a position to be deadass playing the Floor is Lava with Malleus as the lava rn.

They wouldn’t have told us his UM in the main story if it didn’t matter somehow. They had the opportunity to show us Neiges in Rooks dream, yet didn’t, so it isn’t a heres RSA UMs for for shits and giggles thing, and we don’t know ANY of the teachers UMs, so it isn’t a “filling npc” thing either.

In EVENTS, we learn the UMs of only the very important and/or dangerous characters. Rollo, Skully, and Fellow. (Geez, Halloween trio now that I think of it).

Do we know Dylia Spades? No. Do we know Eric Schronheits? No. Do we know Ambrose the 3rds? No. Do we know Elizas? No, we get slapped. Do we know Najima Vipers? No. (She might not have one yet tho but still).

These characters are all confirmed as mages, or not directly said to be magicless, so it’s fair to assume they are mages.

So they told us Che’nyas UM for a reason. Why?

Like if his UM makes him invulnerable to magic/attack and invisible, and straight up on ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE, then if he’s not technically “all there”, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Plus, this would explain how Orthos body was floating on the water when STYX found it, as when we know Orthos HEAVY AF, and would more than likely sink, since I doubt they had the time to build in something inflatable enough to balance that weight.

To boot, Ortho was at the docks, which from the map, is super close to RSA.

For reference:

(Both normally and under Mals spell)

The Cheshire Cat is the one who gets Alice out of Wonderland (In the movie, the tunnel Alice runs through matches the Cheshire cats color and stripes + He’s the only one not chasing her+ in the OG book, the Cheshire Cat is more of a Guide and the only one who really sticks with and helps Alice for the whole shabang), and if he’s in RSA, then I think the writers know that.

Aswell as the fact Che’nya appears in both Books with “Tyrant” in the name, and the Cheshire Cat is the only person completely immune to the Queen of Hearts control, as the second most powerful being in wonderland next to LITERALLY TIME ITSELF.

Look in most Disney Villain Line-Ups, and you’ll find the Cheshire Cat. Why? Marketing, the Cheshire Cats a popular character that isn’t directly portrayed as a hero, and more as a mysterious reoccurring character that isn’t necessarily seen as a helper unless you squint.

Additionally, we’ve seen Che’nya use flight, self gravity control, teleportation(unconfirmed but implied on that one) and use his UM for extremely long periods of time, and now that I think of it, we’ve never seen it wear him down, even without the lack of a magestone on his design.

And anyway, in the manga, he’s been doing such things since before we meet him for the first time at age 8-9 from Rids perspective.

Which means long enough that he basically has full control over it at that age, so probably either since birth or very, very young.

Which gives us the know that unlocked his UM way before meeting Riddle and mastered it, which means likely as a literal toddler woke up one day and went “Hey what if I just fucked off to another plane of existence and became both invisible and invulnerable, while capable of movement and communication on this plane the whole time.”

Now back to Book 7.

So heres what caught my attention, Silver mentions the only people he can pop into the dreams of are people he has connections with.

Seeing as we get Sebek first crack out of the box, and then Lilia, this makes sense.

However, it falls off when the next people start to be people Silver either doesn’t know, or very loosely knows.

Yes, I understand the commercial and writing point is meant to be a dorm countdown, but it would make far more sense to be a Russian Roulette, kind of upping the anticipation of whos next.

But to me, with what we know of Silvers connections, it would make far more sense to have the second years be first after Dia, then maybe the third years that he knows because of Lilia, and finally the first years, still leaving room for Ace to get his UM towards the very end.

Now if we drive this back to my Che’nya playing Yuu’s guardian angel theory, it would make more sense to start with Pomfieore after Igi, because not only is it recent connections, so probably easier to bring to the forefront of Silvers UM, it gives him time to get up to NRC right after pushing Ortho or simply getting him out safely.

Before you mention malleus’s barrier, Che’nya gets past NRCs barrier that took STYX heavy power shots to break like its every other tuesday, without Crowleys notice aswell, he stands a viable chance of slipping past Malleus’s.

If he can jump to another plane of existence in which he is invulnerable to magic, theres nothing stopping him from sliding past to get Ortho out and slipping back in under Malleus’s nose.

It also gives him a good “oh shit” moment and an idea of the root of whats happening.

And if I’m wrong and he can’t teleport, he can latch on to Malleus (possibly referencing the Cheshire Cat latching onto the Queens back after she gets a card solider executed I think) to teleport with him back to NRC.

With that, he could be preventing Silver OBing by basically shattering the shade/phantom before it can even do anything, while also hiding Idia being awake. That, or basically lending Silver magic enough to keep going while praying to god Mal doesn’t notice.

Lilia playing the worlds most dangerous game of tag with Mal in dreamland gives him the distraction he needs for this aswell, and it could be that everything went to shit around Trey-Riddles Dreams, and Che’nya popped in to speed up the process and or Dream Che’nyas revealing his UM kinda got his ass caught by Mal, or caused Mal to finally detect a disturbance in the force.

So if I’m right with the previously theorized Guardian Angel thing, Che’nya could be hotwiring Silvers UM to send Silver and co to the people he remembers helped Yuu and the rest recently without risking Malleus putting two and two together on who could be fucking with the dreams other than Silver, depending on how he was portrayed in Trey and Rids Dreams.

Though it would be hilarious if with the Floor is Lavaing it he was also Night at the Musueming it and just repeatedly moved each dreamer closer to Silver physically so they’d have a physical connection (like pinky to pinky or head to head) and basically had Malleus doing a eyebrow raise everytime he turned around trying to figure out if that person had been moved or he was seeing things until he realized there was an exponentially large group around Silver that definitely wasn’t there before.

Another thing: We know the Three Good Fairies weren’t affected by Maleficent’s curse and are the ones to untie Philip when he’s caught and give him the Sword and Shield, which his has, and loses all but the sword in the fight against Maleficent, the Sword and Shield which in the Og twst Trailer that scene is likely referenced by Silver as the Sword (duh) and Sebek as the Shield, with Lilia where Philip would be, although his arm is raised higher.

You kinda have to flip Sebek and Silvers positions but yea.

Sebek being Virtue is self explanatory. He strives to have the virtue of a knight worth of Malleus, and shows this in many ways, but his faults are his rudeness, arrogance, biased or generally rude assumptions, and overexaggertion, stemming from his own internilzed racism (or speciesism? I guess?) , which lead many others to not want to be around him, deflecting the truth of his heritage as to not focus on his own insecurities like a shield to an attack, no matter who its from, in a way.

Now that he has begun to bond and not be as rude to the rest of the non fae cast however, he ends up passing out? Like how a shield seemingly has no use if its not defending, unless you get real creative with it (Its Reyn time I mean who said that)

Silver balances this out as truth, as he is someone we see is honest to almost no fault. His UM also shows truth, in its own way, by showing the truth of the desires of those around him. However, a truth has also been held directly from him, aka the truth of his birth, and the undeniable truth that to break the curse upon him, Lilia did have to truly love him, even as the child of his friends killer.

So he is both benefited and harmed by truth, just like how the same sword can both protect and kill, it just depends on who wields it.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, Now that Malleus seemingly has the time to go and pull a FNAF 4 at Idias door, the odds are Lilia may have somehow gotten caught or restrained (like Phillip is) for enough time to have Malleus notice the Shrouds are pulling shenanigans on his private dream servers and feel the need to go confirm this.

The way in the movie the Three Good Fairies are caught hiding Aurora by Maleficent in the first place is by getting too cocky on the day before Aurora’s B-day and using magic like crazy, fixing up and making their “gifts” much better, as they didn’t know how to create them without magic.

These gifts? A Cake by the GREEN fairy, the calmest and most mature of the three: Fauna, and a Dress, which the RED AND BLUE FAIRIES Merryweather (the most rebellious yet sensical) and Flora (the leader, most work focused and overconfident) keep fighting over which color it should be, Pink or Blue.

(I rewatched their scenes and I forgot how much of a fucking MVP Merryweather was, everyone else turning things into rainbows, bubbles and flowers while my girl was out here burning chains, hunting down snitches, turning her mfking ops to stone and had to be physically held back from throwing hands with Maleficent by herself, god bless this tiny blue diva)

Fauna can obviously be placed as Trey here. Calmest, a Cake, Green. Done.

You can combine Flora and Merryweather into the two sides of Riddles Dream, the first being very punk yet sensical lifestyle, the blue, bringing in the sadness of what he desired yet cannot have, and the second half being Flora, the extremes of overconfident and tyrannical leadership, the red of rage, to say.

Red and Blue obv equal Purple, Che’nyas signature color, probably because purple isn’t actually a fucking color. I’m not going to explain the history of purple, but there is not such thing as purple in science, only shades of violet.

Speaking of Pomfieore, the first non dia dreamer group we see, is VIOLET. I said it. (Octavielle is Lavender, so no, not directly purple) Bright Red is Heartstabyl. (Scarabia is Maroon, which is a shade of red, but again, not directly bright red)

Now what I’m going on about here is this: If In the dreams, each dreamers NPC versions of their friends strictly abides by what the dreamer desires them to, how did dream Che’nya not only transfer to both parts of Riddles dream, but also go directly AGAINST the dream and the dreamer?

The dream versions of the others cannot, under any circumstances, break the character the dreamer creates without breaking the dream itself.

We see this in Lilias dream, in Treys, and Deuces. The Senate, Cater and Ace respectively breach the line of what is and isn’t in character for them in the dreamers memory to hold the dreamer within the dream, causing their respective dreamer to wake up sheerly due to the stark contrast.

These characters will go to lengths to keep the dreamer asleep, so how is it that this dream version of Che’nya can do the exact opposite?

And in Treys dream, Che’nya is the only one not practically turned into Eric Cartman variants, which given the fact Cater, certified sweets hater, has too, means that Che’nya, certified sweets stealer, somehow dodged that bullet in Treys subconscious, which breaks the rules set by the dream.

These rules are delicate, seemingly. It takes one too out of character word, one too out of character action to knock the dreamer awake.

So either Trey sees Che’nya as having the self control of a monk (a small scene in manga implies Che’nya steals from the Clovers fridge so often Treys own damn siblings hear the fridge open and assume its him and not their own damn brother, so I doubt that he’d think that) or Che’nya can bypass these rules.

Many of the dreams would have been so much easier if they could conveniently convince the dreamers friends to go up against them for their sake or just to simply help wake them up.

Of all people, the dream version of Ace fucking Trappola actually listening to and abiding by Riddles tyranny and not jumping at the opportunity to S.O.S to Leona, Yuu and co says enough about this as is.

Anyway, what I’m saying here is that Che’nya either got his ass caught, or finally managed to hotwire himself into Silvers UM conga line, which unfortunately left Idia now in Mals notice and Silver becoming more weary from excess UM use.

Just like how the good fairies thought they’d succeeded and jumped the gun with using magic a day early, Chen could have thought that since they made it this far, their clean until further notice, and is gonna feel the hit of it later.

As my phone is dying and I want a fucking nap, this has been Blues randomass rant about Che’nya again.

More at ???? Folks.

[disaster-writer]

Uncovered Part 3

Alpha!Bakugo x Omega!Reader

A/N: surprise! Have another part today

Summary: Alpha!Bakugo finds out that you’ve secretly been an Omega all this time

Part 1 Part 2

Bakugo stood with his fist poised, ready to knock on the front door to your apartment— that was until he dropped his hand to the side for the umpteenth time that night.

”Fuck— this is so fucking stupid,” he growled, yearning to just punch a goddamn hole in the wall and just leave already.

It was late anyway, you were probably asleep by now. He could just come back tomorrow morning.

He took a step back and turned… that’s what he’ll do, he’ll come back tomorrow morning before you’re meant to report to the agency for work—

He stopped. 

“FUCK—“ Bakugo slammed his fist hard against your front door three times. 

After a few beats he was greeted with the door being swung open and you standing exasperated on the other side.

Almost immediately you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “No. Go home—“ you went to shut the door but Bakugo shoved his foot in the door before you could.

”We need to talk,” He muttered gruffly, peering down at you with hard eyes.

Your nostrils flared as you stared back up at him with an indignant look, “I have nothing to say to you—“

”Have you been crying?” The words flew past his lips as he took in your appearance. You were dressed in pajamas, no doubt already in bed for the night when he came, and your eyes were swollen and watery as if you had just finished sobbing your eyes out.

You huffed, “Go. Home.”

The two of you stared each other down for another moment before Bakugo forced himself forward and shoved himself inside, throwing you off balance and stumbling backwards, unable to stop him.

Bakugo glanced around your apartment. It was nice— expensive. It was expected of a hero of your notoriety, but even more so due to the fact you were a legacy hero. He wouldn’t lie, despite being relatively close friends ever since Raccoon Eyes all but adopted you into the group during first year, he always did chalk you up to just being another rich kid from another long line of heroes that got everything handed to them on a silver platter. 

He realized with faint recognition that this was the first time he had set foot in your place. You never invited anyone over, always assuming you just liked your privacy but now… he was sure it was more than that.

Bakugo heard the click of the door shutting behind him, followed by a defeated sigh.

“Why are you here Bakugo?” You asked, clearly exhausted, walking past him and deeper into the apartment as you made your way to the kitchen.

”Hah?” He sneered incredulously, following in tow, “You’re really going to ask me that after what happened this afternoon?” 

“I’ve been watching the news all day— you haven’t told anyone yet,” you muttered, reaching the top of your fridge for a bottle of sake.

”Of course I didn’t tell dumbass.”

You threw him a resentful glance over your shoulder, “Well why not?” You spat before unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig before finally seating yourself down at the kitchen island.

Bakugo rounded the island, slamming his hands down on the counter across from you, “How low do you think I am—?”

Your head snapped up, locking your gaze with his once more, ”Pretty fucking low considering I found you going through my shit!— I mean, who even does that!? What were you even trying to find—“

”You’re changing the subject!” Bakugo rushed, ears tinging pink knowing the truth of why he even looked in the first place was embarrassing enough. 

There was a pregnant pause before you finally rolled your eyes and took another swig— it didn’t even matter at this point did it? Your life may as well be over anyway… 

“What do you want?” You finally sighed, resigned to whatever the rest of this interaction was going to be.

”I want to understand,” he replied, more even and controlled than his previous outbursts, “How have you hid this for so long? —And who else knows about you.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, fingering the rim of your sake bottle in thought. “Why should I even tell you?” 

”I’m not going to say anything.”

“That is until you change your mind.”

”I won’t.” He hissed, “I’m not going to get your license revoked— now will you just answer me.”

You continued to remain silent, making him huff in frustration.

”The cold.”

Your eyes slid to his, confusion painting your face, “What?”

”The cold,” he reiterated, clearly annoyed, “It’s my main weakness.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I already know that—“

”I’m just saying— if I tell… then you tell. I have a lot of enemies that would pay for that kinda information.”

You were quiet once more, eyeing him and weighing his words. His own gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in your seat. Bakugo was many things but you never really knew him to go back on his word…

”You’re the only one other than my family, doctor, and trainer that knows,” you sighed, taking a swig, “That’s how we’ve kept it secret, parents that hired a doctor and trainer to mix up the perfect cocktail of drugs and regimens to pass me off as an Alpha. That and a whole lot of hush money.” You muttered sarcastically.

”Why?”

”Why?” You scoffed, “Because I’m a (Y/L/N). We don’t have Omegas, everyone in my family has been born an Alpha and then has trained to become a hero for generations.”

”But you guys do have an Omega.”

You shot him a glare, “Yeah, I’m well aware asshole.”

”So what? Making you a hero was going to somehow save your family name?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is. And I was doing a fine job of it too until you decided to stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Bakugo finally took a seat, “You all actually think you can keep this a secret?” He asked incredulously.

You quirked a brow, “I am.”

He pursed his lips… technically that was true, but more so because it would have been unthinkable that an Omega would have managed to get as far as you have in this field. 

Honestly it was a goddamn miracle you even managed to get into class 1-A to begin with. 

If it wasn’t for that he probably would have believed you were at least a Beta if not an Omega, especially as your scent gave no indication…

Bakugo perked up, “Why don’t you smell like an Omega?”

“Drugs,” you shrugged, “My brothers also scent me to mask whatever’s left.”

”And what about—“ heats, Bakugo caught himself before he could say it, the realization hitting him over the head like a ton of bricks. You experience heats. A blush spread across his cheeks, mind suddenly clouded by images of you locked away in your bedroom  and—

“What about what?” You asked him impatiently, “Are we done here yet? You already get the gist and if I still have a job in the morning then I need to go to bed now.”  You stood up, rounding the kitchen island back towards the front door with Bakugo following behind hesitantly. He still had so many questions but was suddenly and actually aware that you were an Omega… he had never been very tactful around Omegas before.

You stood by the now open door, waiting for him to leave.

And so he did, but not before you stopped him with one final thing left to say. You had stopped him with a grip on his bicep, peering up at him with serious eyes, “You need to be aware of how you treat me in public going forward. If you start pulling some Alpha bullshit and favoring me on missions or doting on me in front of our friends I will make sure every one of your enemies finds out Dynamight can’t handle the cold. Understood?”

He bared his teeth and in a low whisper said, “Don’t get such a big head— you’re still an extra to me.” 

With that he had tugged his arm from your grasp and headed out.

He would never admit that what you had said was exactly what had been weighing on his mind since he found the pill bottle.

[dazedhyu]

Focus 𓂃 💧 ldh

:¨ ·.· ¨: paring ー ex!haechan x fem!reader (ft 7dream)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ warnings : angst, smut, slight noncon (he pressures her into consenting at first), light exhibitionism, fingering, oral (fem rec.), mentions of cheating, pet names (angel, princess, etc), lmk if i missed any ^_^

★彡 5.9k wc!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ authors note >< : my first post here :D!!! this is the second fic i actually decided to attempt to write.. so im so so so sorry if the pacing is off or the writing is weird LMFAO,, it took me way longer than id like to admit to finally finish this.. literally has been in my drafts since july of last year 😭 this was supposed to be inspired by focus by nct 127, unfortunately though i definitely went a little off track.. hopefully whoever reads this enjoys it as much as i do!! any and all feedback is welcome :3 psa.. though this was proof read like 89 times pls ignore any spelling errors im dyslexic ok

It’s been almost a year since you and Haechan broke up. You’ve spent every second since despising him. You hate the way he steals glances when he thinks you won’t notice. You hate the way his voice still lingers in the back of your mind when the room is too quiet,  and more than anything, you hate how much you still find yourself craving the warmth of his touch at times. 

You do your best to ignore him. You guys share the same friend group and hang out often. The last thing you’d want to do is make your shared friends feel tied up in your weird relationship drama. But it was hard when Haechan would joke around with them and slip in snide comments about you, glancing over at you with that stupid shit-eating grin plastered on his face, desperately trying to get a rise out of you. 

Though you’ve convinced yourself you’re over him, completely given up, you sometimes wonder if he ever stops hating you. If, for even a second, he lets himself remember what it was like before everything fell apart. If he ever regrets the way he cheated on you and left you confused, and broken.

As the long-awaited spring break weekend arrived, you and your six friends — plus Haechan — found yourselves at Chenle’s summer estate, a secluded getaway nestled between towering pines that you all tended to visit every vacation you got. The midday sun filtered through sheer white curtains, casting warm patterns across the wooden floors of your designated room. 

You wasted no time unpacking, barely bothering to fold your clothes as you stuffed them into the nearest dresser. The trip had only just started, and you already knew you wouldn’t be spending much time in this room, not when the sun was high, the water was cool, and the pool was calling your name.

Slipping into a simple black bikini, you gave yourself a once-over in the mirror. Satisfied, you grabbed your phone and headed for the door, the distant sound of laughter drifting up from downstairs. Voices overlapping, doors opening and closing. It was familiar, easy, the kind of noise that made the place feel lived in.

You exhaled, relaxation finally overriding your system. You were here to enjoy yourself, and nothing, not even the lingering tension of past mistakes, was going to change that.

In the kitchen, Mark and Renjun were hunched over the island, deep in some conversation you didn’t care enough to eavesdrop on as they cut up fruit. Everyone else was out by the pool, laughing, sunbathing, and just having a good time overall. 

Everything felt easy, weightless, like nothing mattered beyond this weekend, beyond the warmth of the sun and the cool relief of the water.

Unfortunately for you, though, you saw him, and your mind immediately started to wander.

Haechan sat at the edge of the pool, legs submerged, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared out at the water. There was something detached about his gaze, like he wasn’t fully there. Like he was completely lost in thought about something else. 

You rolled your eyes and turned away before you could linger too long. You hadn’t spoken to him once since getting here, and you weren’t about to start now. It was bad enough you had to share this weekend — just like every other moment with your friends — with him. He wasn’t going to ruin this for you. Not like he always did. You refused to let him get under your skin whatsoever.

Without a word, you walked past the kitchen, past the open doors, and stepped onto the sun-warmed patio, quietly taking a seat on a secluded sun lounger. The laughter, the sunlight, the cool water, all of it should have been enough to soothe you. And for the time being, it was.

You weren’t going to let him be the thing you noticed most.

A few hours had passed, the sun just barely starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the patio. You and your friends were deep in discussions. Yet, despite the carefree energy surrounding you, your attention kept flickering toward the empty space where Haechan should’ve been.

You hadn’t seen him for a while now — not that you cared, but you could definitely tell something was on his mind, slowly eating away at him. Usually, he would do everything in his power to irritate and annoy you, take every opportunity he had to glare so intensely you swore he was trying to burn holes into your skin, but today he was quiet. Too quiet. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that he’d probably just had a rough day and called it quits, going back to his room. Yet the longer you sat there, the more you found yourself unconsciously searching for him.

Shaking off the thought, you stretched your arms above your head, sighing as the stiffness from sitting too long settled into your shoulders. Deciding you needed a break, you made your way inside, stepping into the dimly lit kitchen. The faint hum of the fridge filled the quiet space as you reached for a glass, the cool sensation of condensation forming against your fingertips while you poured yourself a drink.

Just as the first sip of cold juice touched your lips, a sudden grip on your hips sent a sharp jolt up your spine. Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around the glass as a shiver coursed through your body. The grip was firm, possessive even, harshly pushing your back against their chest. 

For a split second, your mind raced. The silence behind you felt heavy, the presence lingering close. Immediately, you knew it was Haechan, the fear in your body being quickly overridden with irritation as you grabbed his wrists and forced his hands off your body.

“Don’t touch me, Donghyuck.” Your voice was a weird mix of soft yet stern, it only made his smirk grow wider. His hands immediately moved back to your hips, fingers digging in so harshly you were sure it would leave bruises. A small hiss slipped past your lips before he rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

“Why not? I know you miss my touch, baby.” He whispered sweetly, his hands pressing you further against him. Your ass flush against the bulge in his swimsuit made you wince, the pressure of his fingers digging into your hips sent an intense pain through your body. You hesitated for a second, your breath catching in your throat, before you reluctantly set the cup down on the counter.

“No need to get all dumb and quiet, you're shaking so much… just let Hyuckie take care of you the way he always did. Yeah, angel?” He spoke again, his hands abandoning your hips to slide down to your thighs, gripping them tight as his lips pressed hot, hungry kisses down the back of your neck and shoulder. You shook your head, a small, desperate "no" slipping from your lips, barely more than a breath.

Too many emotions surged within you, too disoriented to make sense of them all. A mixture of irritation, confusion, and fear gnawed at the pit of your stomach. You could feel the heat of his body behind you, his every movement making your pulse race even faster.

Something inside you screamed to get away, but another part of you… made you hesitate, made your mind make excuses telling you to stop trying to squirm out of his grasp. Maybe it was the slight yearning you've had for his touch since you've broken up, but you couldn’t admit that to him. Let alone yourself. You hated everything about this interaction, it made you sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to get away and forget all about it. Everything about this made you feel so vulnerable.

“No? Not something my pretty girl would say… You don’t have to lie, baby, I know deep down this is what you want. Isn’t it, yn?” He spoke smoothly, his voice low and almost commanding. 

You hated the way his words rang in your head, you especially hated the way your body reacted to his voice. Your legs subconsciously squeezing together before your breath caught sharply in your throat once more, feeling his hand slide from your thigh straight to the lining of your bikini bottoms. 

Gently yet urgently he tugged the cloth aside, the cool air brushing against your warm core making a small whine leave your mouth. He chuckled deeply ー his fingers wasting no time circling painfully slow motions to your swollen bud. 

"C'mon, angel, say it." He cooed softly into your ear, his chest somehow pressing even more into your back. His breath, warm and unrelenting against your skin, it made goosebumps rise across your arms and legs. You felt a chill despite the heat of his presence, your body instinctively tensing under his touch.

You knew, deep down, that no matter what you said, he wouldn't stop. That was how these situations always played out after all. But you also knew Haechan, you know the one thing he hates most is not getting what he wants, the thought of saying no and the lingering uncertainty of what he might do next made your stomach churn. 

Not knowing what else to do besides pray that one of your friends outside just a few feet away would walk in and end this before it went any further. You hesitated, your body trembling ever so slightly as you nodded, almost unwillingly.

“I… I want this,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. “Hyuck…”

He hummed softly, his warm breath fanned against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine as his lips trailed lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His pace was slow, deliberate as if he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you. His teeth grazed the delicate skin just below your jaw, a teasing bite followed by the soothing heat of his tongue. All simultaneously followed by his fingers moving faster against your poor clit.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound low and pleased as he tilted your head further to the side, exposing more of your neck to him. His hands, warm and pace steady. You did everything in your power to fight back the little whines and moans escaping your lips, you couldn’t stand how much you loved the way he touched you, you wanted to hate this, wanted that escape still but your body completely told him otherwise. Your legs slightly shaking and hands tightly gripping the counter in front of you. 

Your noises had him smirking against your skin, his grip on your thigh tightening as he pulled you closer like he couldn't stand the thought of any space between you. His hips now rolling against you in his own desperate but steady motions. 

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, voice dipping into something lower, rougher. His teeth grazed over the fresh mark he'd left on your skin, a silent claim, before he moved lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

His hand on your leg slid up your back, fingers tracing lazily over your spine before tangling into your hair. He gave it a soft tug, guiding your head back just enough for him to meet your gaze. His eyes were darker now, half-lidded as he studied you the way your lips parted, your chest rising and falling a little faster than before. 

"You're always so sensitive," he spoke, his voice dripping with amusement as he added more pressure. The pads of his fingers rough against your clit made you whimper louder than intended. "You need to be quiet, baby. Want all our friends to hear how good i make you feel?"

You weakly shook your head, your mind far too dazed to comprehend anything he was saying. The heat between your legs was unbearable, every nerve in your body still buzzing from his touch. But before you could even catch your breath, the sound of the patio door sliding open made your stomach drop.

Haechan didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, his hands were off your aching clit and immediately readjusting your swimsuit bottoms back into place, hands pulling away from you like he hadn't just been driving you insane seconds ago. His expression didn't falter, not even a flicker of guilt or hesitation crossing his features as he reached for your glass on the counter, bringing it to his lips as if this was just another casual moment.

Renjun barely had time to take in the scene as he stepped inside, his gaze flickering between the two of you. His eyes briefly landed on you— your messy hair, your flushed cheeks, the way your arms instinctively wrapped around yourself like you were trying to shrink into the background. Embarrassment weighed heavily in your posture, but Haechan? He was completely unbothered, standing there with the same nonchalant douchebag grin you were used to seeing him with. 

Renjun blinked, his confusion evident for a moment before he shrugged, deciding not to question it. Haechan, who was proud of himself for getting away with this, stepped away from you with an easy stretch, barely sparing you another glance as he made his way past Renjun. 

And just like that, he was gone, slipping back outside to join the others without so much as a second thought, leaving you standing there messy, breathless, and weirdly turned on.

For the rest of that night and the entire next day, you did everything in your power to avoid Haechan. The situation alone left you unsettled, a shiver running down your spine whenever you thought about it. You hated everything about it — the way it happened, the way it made you feel. But what you loathed most was yourself. How you let him take advantage of you like that. How fear had rooted you in place, keeping you from standing your ground.

Now, late into the night, the house was quiet. Everyone had retreated to their rooms, either fast asleep or winding down from another relaxing day. But you were restless. Lying in bed, replaying everything over and over, had become unbearable. Eventually, you’d had enough.

Slipping on a clean bikini, you made your way outside to the hot tub by the pool. The cool night air contrasted with the steam rising from the water, the moonlight reflecting off its surface in shimmering waves. The soft hum of crickets mixed with the bubbling water, a gentle, rhythmic sound that finally eased the tension gripping your body. As you sank into the warmth, the heat wrapped around you, melting away the stiffness in your muscles, a contented sigh leaving your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilted back as the soothing warmth of the water surrounded you. You didn’t notice the soft, subtle sound of the patio door sliding open or the quiet patter of footsteps approaching you. Your mind was too consumed by the quiet, the weight of everything else you had been trying to push aside.

But then, you felt the shift in the air as legs brushed against yours. Your head snapped up in surprise, only to meet Haechan’s gaze. A cold rush of panic ran through you, and your body tensed instantly. The chill spread down your spine as the faintest shiver of fear crawled up, uninvited. The instinct to run surged, but something about the way he was looking at you, something almost… apologetic, stopped you cold. You stayed rooted to your spot, too nervous to speak, your heart hammering in your chest as his eyes locked with yours.

Haechan studied you, his gaze narrowing slightly as he noticed the stiff tension in your posture. It hit him, a soft pang of regret, that you might be afraid of him right now. The thought twisted in his chest. He shifted, eyes dropping to the bubbles swirling in the water, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. When he looked back at you, his voice was gentle, almost too soft, a stark contrast to the way he last spoke to you.

“Why are you so scared? You know me better than anyone… I would never do anything to hurt you.”

His words made your stomach churn, the sudden tenderness sending an unsettling ripple through you.

The way he said it, so calm, so careful, it made your skin crawl in the worst way. It was all wrong— this soft tone wasn’t the one you were used to. Either he was always cocky and annoyed when he talked to you, or you truly haven’t heard this tone from him since you guys dated. 

You could barely manage to hold his gaze as his words hung in the air, thick with something you couldn’t place, something that felt all too fragile. Your eyes shifted back to him, your lips twisted into a small, tight frown. “Your actions say otherwise, Haechan.”

Haechan’s eyes flickered with regret. Softly, he shook his head. “I know. I’m sorry, okay? I just… I lost control. I let my thoughts get the best of me. You didn’t deserve that.”

“What’s with the sudden change? How do you go from loving me to hating me to… doing what you did and now being sorry for it? It doesn’t make sense at all.”

The words hit Haechan harder than he expected. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair, frustration building. 

“I never hated you.”

“Felt like you did. And the feeling was strongly mutual.”

“No, come on, you know that’s not true.” Haechan’s voice was pleading, but it was strained with his own guilt. “You ended our relationship, your own free will, because in your words, you ‘couldn’t take this anymore.’

The fear in your demeanor quickly faded, immediately being replaced with irritation. You exhaled sharply, staring at the water for a moment to ground yourself. “You literally cheated on me,” you finally said, your voice trembling but still firm. “How do you expect me not to hate you?”

Haechan froze for a moment, his heart sinking. He knew he had done something unforgivable. He couldn’t deny that. But hearing it out loud, it was still a punch to the gut. “You cheated on me first,” he shot back, but the words felt hollow, even to him. “I just… I wanted you to feel the way I felt.”

Your expression twisted into disbelief. “What are you talking about? I never cheated on you?” You turned fully to face him now. “Even if that was true, how the fuck would two wrongs make a right?”

Haechan bit his lip, staring down at the water, avoiding your gaze. He had nothing to say to that. “I didn’t know better. I just did the first thing that came to mind. But I know the truth now, yn. You don’t need to lie about it.”

“Donghyuck,” you said softly, but it was almost like a warning. “You don’t know anything. Why would I cheat on you?”

The silence stretched for a moment, thick and heavy. Finally, Haechan looked up at you, his face softened with regret. “You tell me. I saw you unblock your ex on Instagram. His name was constantly popping up on your phone, and you were going out more often. Obviously, I assumed the worst.”

Your eyes narrowed at him once again, desperately trying to make sense of his words. “Okay… so you could’ve talked to me like a normal person?” You paused for a moment, sighing softly. 

“I unblocked him because we ran into each other at a café, and honestly, we had a nice conversation. He started texting me more because he wanted to apologize for the way he treated me and ask me how I was doing. I only started going out more because you were always hanging out with Mark, and I wanted to be with my own friends as well.”

Haechan swallowed hard, his hands now gripping the edge of the tub as if to anchor himself. “So you guys never met up again?”

“No,” you replied, your voice laced with annoyance and slight disbelief that he’d even ask. “God, fuck no. I didn’t even accept his apology. My replies to him were so dry, and I kept mentioning you so much that he gave up and stopped talking to me.”

Haechan’s face flushed with shame. His eyes softened as he let out a quiet, “oh… I’m so sorry, yn..”

You looked at him for a long moment, as if assessing him, as if trying to decide if you could still be mad. You shook your head softly, your frustration still there but it was slipping. Your shoulders sagged, as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you'd been holding. “Yeah, you should be. I can’t believe you didn't just talk to me in the first place.” Your words were more tired than angry now, but they still carried weight.

But despite it all, despite the anger and the hurt, there was a crack in your resolve. You missed him, he missed you too, and you knew that. The silence between the two of you grew heavy again as your gaze softened, just a little. 

He inched his way closer, the warmth of his palm grazing your skin as he cupped your cheek with delicate hesitation. His pleading searched yours, as if he was begging for your forgiveness.

“Yn, let me make it all up to you…” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with something between regret and desperation.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to put distance between his touch and your resolve. “Hyuck, I don’t—”

“Please?” he interrupted, his thumb ghosting over your cheekbone. There was no force in his touch, only quiet insistence, as if the weight of his remorse alone could change your mind.

You let out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your resolve crumbling at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered. With a slow nod, your fingers found their way to his shoulders, pulling him slightly closer to you. 

That was all the permission he needed.

Without hesitation, his lips crashed onto yours, desperate yet careful, as if he was scared you’d pull away. His hands trembled slightly as they found their place, one still cradling your cheek, the other gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel the way his fingers dug in, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear that he wasn’t letting go.

The kiss was deep, laced with something far more potent than just lust. There was an unspoken desperation, a need to feel, to forget, to forgive. Quiet hums and breathless moans melted into each other's mouths, the heat between you building with every passing second. Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch, a quiet groan vibrating against your lips.

His grip on you tightened. His hands roamed, one splayed against the small of your back, the other trailing up your side before settling just beneath your ribs, as if he needed to feel every inch of you. He let out a shaky exhale before his tongue slid past your parted lips, deepening the kiss, making it messier, hungrier. His lips moved against yours with urgency, like he was afraid to let go.

The way his body pressed flush against yours sent a heat straight to your core, your legs instinctively tightening around his waist. He couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, his restraint slipping with every desperate press of your lips, every soft gasp that fell from you.

His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the edge of the hot tub. The cool air met your damp skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but his touch, his mouth on yours, burned hotter than the water that lapped at your calves.

His lips never left yours, kissing you like he could pull you deeper into him, like if he kissed you hard enough, it would erase the distance that had once existed between you. His fingers kneaded into your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles against your skin. He swallowed your whimper, his own breath coming out unsteady as he pressed himself closer, needing more, needing you.

"Missed you so much, pretty girl... could never forgive myself for letting you go." His words were whispered against your lips, each syllable dripping with regret and longing. His voice was low, raspy, barely holding together the emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could respond, his lips left yours, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jaw, moving slowly and deliberately, as if savoring the moment. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he nipped at the delicate flesh of your neck.

Instinctively, you tilted your head back, granting him more space to roam, your grip tightening in his hair as breathless pants and whimpers spilled from your lips.

His hands, firm yet reverent, traced down your sides as he continued his descent, mouth exploring every inch of you like he was trying to memorize the feeling all over again. Lips pressed against your shoulders, slow and sensual. His teeth grazed over your collarbone before he kissed his way lower, down the swell of your chest, your stomach, your thighs, taking his time, as if each kiss was an unspoken apology.

He missed this. He missed the way your body reacted under his touch, the way you shivered and tensed, the way your breath hitched with every kiss. His fingers caressed your skin with a delicate kind of desperation, like he was afraid you'd slip away again.

“God, you're so beautiful," he murmured against your thigh, voice drenched in need. His hands squeezed at your hips, holding you in place as he looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. He wanted to worship you, to love you in every way possible, to make you feel just how desperate he was for you, for your forgiveness.

You looked down at him, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, lips parted softly as you tried to steady the emotions rushing through you. Your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“I missed you just as much, Hyuck," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with longing. “I needed your touch more than anything."

A slow, satisfied smile curved at his lips before he leaned in, pressing delicate kisses up your thigh, inching closer, making sure you felt every lingering second of his touch.

"You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that," he murmured against your skin, lips grazing over sensitive flesh. 

Then, without breaking eye contact, he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss straight to your clothed core. The gesture was both reverent and teasing, a silent promise laced in the way he held you, the way his fingers squeezed at your sides like he was grounding himself in your presence.

"Let me take care of you, baby," he whispered, voice deep and filled with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "I'll be gentle, the way you always liked."

His fingers traced slow, featherlight patterns along your thighs, his lips followed soon after, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses, leaving warmth in their wake. Every motion, every touch, was deliberate like he was savoring you, worshiping you, determined to make up for every second you'd been apart.

You shivered at his words, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your skin. The heat pooling in your core only grew as he pressed another kiss over the dampened fabric between your thighs, his nose grazing against you in a way that had you biting back a whimper.

"Hyuck," you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself still under his touch.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, anchoring you in place as his lips moved deliberately, teasing, testing your patience. "Shh, baby," he murmured, his voice sending shivers straight through you. "Just let me take my time with you."

Another slow, lingering kiss against the sensitive spot between your legs had your back arching slightly, a needy whine slipping past your lips. He chuckled lowly at your reaction, pressing his mouth to your inner thigh, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. His tongue soothed over the spot immediately after, his free hand sliding up your stomach, fingers tracing over your ribs like he needed to feel every inch of you under his touch.

"So pretty," he murmured against your skin, "Missed touching you... missed tasting you."

Your breath hitched at his words, your body reacting to every bit of his attention. His touch was gentle yet possessive, his lips slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you trembled beneath him. His hands roamed, memorizing every dip and curve, pressing soft, warm kisses along your hips before his fingers toyed with the waistband of your soaked underwear.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his lips ghosting just above where you needed him most. His voice was soft, pleading, as if he needed to hear you say it, to know you wanted this just as badly as he did.

You looked down at him, eyes hazy with need, your fingers tightening in his hair as you gave the smallest nod. "I do, Hyuck," you whispered breathlessly. "I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "That's all I needed to hear, baby."

And with that, he wasted no time sliding off your bikini bottoms, tossing them aside carelessly before spreading your thighs apart, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. Without a second thought, he dipped his face into your heat, his lips brushing the sensitive skin with an intensity that made you gasp.

You could feel the heat radiating off him as his breath fanned over you, a soft shiver running through your body. His fingers sunk into your thighs, keeping you steady as he kissed you slowly, teasingly, taking his time to savor every inch of you. You couldn't help the soft moans that escaped your lips as his tongue finally made contact with your aching clit, warm and relentless, moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had you bucking against him instinctively.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, "You taste so fucking good," he murmured against you, his voice husky and laced with need. 

He was quick to pick up his pace, lapping at your pussy like his life depended on it. The way his mouth moved against you made you forget everything time, space, the world around you. All that mattered was the heat that coiled inside you, building with every passing second as his hands tightened their grip.

You felt yourself unraveling, the pressure in your chest mounting, the tension in your core winding tighter and tighter until you couldn't hold back any longer. The way he drove you to the edge without hesitation, without mercy, was maddening. You gripped his hair, tugging him closer, your body unable to stop itself from reacting to him.

"Hyuck.." you gasped, your voice breathless, barely a whisper as you dug your fingers into his scalp.

"Please..."

He smirked against you, the feeling of his lips curving into a grin sending another surge of heat through your body. "Please what, baby?" he teased, his voice low.

"I need you," you whimpered, barely able to keep your composure. "so bad.."

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, lifting his head just enough to lick his lips with a sly grin. "Be patient, angel," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Can you do that for me?"

You whined softly, the sound barely escaping your throat, before nodding eagerly, your body desperate for him, hips arched forward instinctively, silently begging him to continue.

He smirked, the dark gleam in his eyes full of satisfaction as he saw the way you squirmed under his gaze. "Good girl," he praised, his voice smooth like honey, almost cruel in how calm it was. "Just sit there, keep making those pretty little noises for me."

And with that, he dove back in, his mouth moving against you with newfound urgency, his tongue working you over with perfect precision. The wet sounds of his lips against your cunt mixed with the breathless moans spilling from your mouth, the pleasure so overwhelming it left your head spinning.

Your hands gripped at his hair, tugging sharply as your hips rocked forward, meeting his movements in a desperate attempt to chase the high only he could give you. He groaned at the sensation, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure shooting through your body.

Then, without warning, you felt his fingers tracing along your folds, teasing you with slow, torturous strokes.

"So wet for me," he mumbled, his breath hot against your slick skin. "You want more princess?"

You nodded frantically, your grip tightening on him.

"Please, Hyuck," you whined, your voice trembling.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest before he finally slipped two fingers inside you, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. Your walls clenched around him immediately, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as he curled his finger just right, pressing against that perfect spot that had you seeing stars.

"There you go," he cooed, watching your body react to him. "Always take me so well, pretty girl."

His lips quickly made their way back to your clit, tongue flicking gently as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking you with a newfound passion. 

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of his mouth and fingers sending a hot, electric pulse through your veins. Your legs trembled, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pressure in your core built higher and higher, coiling so tightly you thought you might snap at any second.

"Hyuck-" you choked out, your thighs tightening around his head.

He hummed against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body as his fingers quickened their pace, fucking into you with more intensity, more purpose. He could feel you getting closer, your body tensing, your moans turning into desperate, broken cries.

"That's it, pretty," he murmured against your heat, his voice rough with desire. "cum for me, baby."

And with one last flick of his tongue and a perfectly timed curl of his fingers, you shattered. The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as your release hit you with blinding force. Your back arched off the edge, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he worked you through it, not stopping until your body was shaking from the overstimulation. 

Only then did he finally pull away, his fingers slipping out of you slowly, as he pressed one last kiss against your sore soaked pussy. He looked up at you, his lips glistening, a cocky smirk playing on his face.

"That's my girl," he murmured, bringing his fingers up to his lips and sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"I’ll never get enough of how good you taste."

love letter from mae 💌 augegsgshsj 😵‍💫,, i wanted to add more to the end but i physically cannot bring myself to.. maybe one day a pt2 will be in the works if people actually enjoy this! lmk lmk lmk!

ty for reading!! ♥︎♪ヽ(*´∀｀)ﾉ

[lilbitofsomthin]

Dead Pixel Anya and Tiny Crispy Curly

⚠️CURLYA RANT INCOMING⚠️

TLDR: I only ship Curlya after the crash in a happy ending AU I made up :D

Okay so imma take this opportunity to rant about Curly and Anya’s relationship and the ✨only✨ time I will ever even entertain the thought of Curlya as a ship (cause like most of it is what I see pre crash and I’m like ✨no thank you✨)

First off forget and I mean FORGET anything pre crash. My mans is not ready for all that is Anya. He’s the definition of unworthy. Has not had his ✨arc✨. Has not truly drank his fair share of respect women juice 😔

When it was Curlys turn to care for Anya he failed spectacularly, like a main plot point of the game is how bad he fucked up by standing aside and letting J*mmy hurt her. So BAM he becomes cosmically and ironically put into a mirror position to Anya’s in their relationship.

Because now, in an instant, his very life is now in HER hands. She is literally the only one who can save him. Idk all of the medical knowledge to understand just how royally fucked up Curly was, it’s safe to say that keeping him alive at any rate would’ve been difficult to do. So that fact that she did it, with only the bare essentials of medical supplies, by herself, is nothing short of incredible.

She worked herself to the bone for months to keep him alive. After knowing that he failed her. After knowing her didn’t protect her. Knowing, for a FACT, that he wouldn’t do the same, and she still saved him anyway.

I mean, I’m sure at some point Curly must have realized that too.

And like THATS the part where I’m like “if I was Curly I would’ve fallen in love with her a little bit”. Not in the “oh you saved me I’m indebted to you” or “severely trauma bonded” way, I’m speaking in the characters being able to kinda analyze even in crazy stressful situations (like all the monologues and stuff being very well written and deeply metaphorical gives me the idea that their all capable of self reflection (except of course for J*mmy but that’s not the point).

So like I imagine that Curly can reflect on the fact that, after he failed her, over and over and over again. To the point where everything literally blew up in his face. And when the tables were turned and it was his life in Anya’s hands? She held no resentment, no malice. She saved him over and over and over again. And he had to have realized how incredible of a person she was at that point.

But only now that he finally realizes it, he can no longer say do or say anything about it. And listen that’s not even getting into J*mmy revealing his more obvious abusive tendencies to Curly. Because now not only does he have perspective on how strong of a person Anya is but how horrific the abuse was from J*mmy while being on the receiving end of it. That’s like a double serving of empathy and understanding. I’d like to imagine that, if we got to play as Curly, he’d go through that realization. 🤷

Okay now that THATS out of the way let’s get to FANON SHIT!!!! Time for the happy ending aus baby! Listen I love the game but I wanna see the characters I love get to resolve their traumas cause they deserve it!! I KNOW WHY CANON IS THE WAY IT IS I JUST WANNA PLAY PRETEND ON THE INTERNET!!

Just a quick psa, okay back to it.

I like to imagine that in those rescue aus they happen riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight after Daisuke gets out of the vent and finds Anya (btw I’m gonna say at this point her body was under too much stress and she lost the pregnancy). Apparently overdoses can be reversed so let’s say our rescue team is able to work hard and save Anya and patch up Daisuke.

The rescue team is also clocking J*mmy immediately cause this is all REALLY fucking sketchy

“why’d you send the intern into a vent shaft that you knew was dangerous”

“oh Captain said if I did I’d make my boss proud 😄”

🧍🧍🧍🧍 “dude your like 40 why’d you send the intern half your age that’s fucked up”

like that alone is enough for them to be suspicious but once Anya’s up all bets are off. I mean the shit show J*mmy “captained” the Tulpar to mostly speaks for itself but once Anya can tell someone what happened to her they can put enough together to put him in whatever space brig they have. That’s because we got a rescue team of space feminists who believe victims baby!!!

“And who funded this whole rescue hmmmmm??” I hear you say? No one. Nope. 🙂‍↔️ Capitalism doesn’t get to take the fun out of my character study so imma say their “Volunteer Rescue for International Cosmic Waters” or something idk 🤷. That’s not the point. The point is that this is a big shit show that got revealed by people that Pony Express couldn’t pay hush money to. And when I mean revealed I mean, this became a huge news story cause it had such a great hook. I mean that was the whole advertisement for the game!

“Crew lost in space forced to eat mouthwash while their former captain has been mutilated in the crash”

I mean I saw that on like 5 different thumbnails. Anyway people love a good story and the one Mouthwashing tells with a RELIABLE narrator at this point is tragic BUT salvageable.

Like Curly is gonna have like serious medical intervention and Daisuke will probably need stitches for the gash in his arm and Anya will need to be hospitalized from the stress of keeping Curly alive alone. Swansea might need like, idk a Tylenol or something idk? But like they CAN recover, the wrongs that Pony Express allowed can’t be made right but can at least be helped out with.

I imagine that this news story is like planet wide news. If I know humans, we love to help when we have a target and this story was popular as hell. So id like to imagine that they could the crew with whatever financial troubles they would be having. Curly could afford operations, Anya could afford medical school (which she doesn’t need because you better believed she got full ride scholarships for SAVING A MAN MUTILATED FROM THE CRASH FOR MONTHS WITH A GLORIFIED FIRST AID KIT), Daisuke could go to college (I know some people headcanon engineering or art so take your pick) Swansea could even retire if he wanted idk.

And we get the rare satisfaction of getting to see someone like J*mmy to be revealed for exactly what he is on a global scale. He’s tried, prosecuted and the world is on the crews side and they become micro celebrities (kinda like those news stories where everyone talks about it and pushed a bunch of support for like 2 weeks then moved to the next thing) cause fuck you capitalism human nature is enriched in empathy 😤

So here’s where I like to imagine where fix it fics start. The stage is set, therapy bills are paid and while everyone gets a nightmare or panic attack every now and again, things have officially been given the “happy ending au” stamp. So call “my version” of the story an angst with a happy ending rather than the original tragedy and cautionary tale 🤷

So like NOW we can START on the POSSIBILITY of curlya.

That’s right the idea of these characters getting together is a tick that has crawled in my brain and I am cursed.

Because now Curly has his chance to drink respect women juice. And you better believe my man’s gonna chug that shit. And honestly I can see Anya respecting Curly for trying to grow. Like everything is 1000% platonic (I mean maybe a little one sided crush on Curlys side and maaaybe something develops later on) and the main 4 crew are all kinda hanging out for a few reasons (interviews and meet and greets or whatever people who survive major news stories do) and also like they DID go through a shit storm together so their a little trauma bonded but in a found family way.

Anyways THIS is where I imagine all Curlya stuff to take place. This fun low stakes “we made it through the storm and now we can rest on the shore” kind of happy ending zone.

And like maybe they can get up to shenanigans and work through their trauma and love and support each other. That’s like where my fan content takes place 🧍

⚠️SO IF I EVER POST ANYTHING AND TAG IT AS “CURLYA” THIS IS THE CONTEXT IM PUTTING IT IN!!!!! I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED IN CANON OR IN THE CONTEXT OF THE GAME!!!! I SHIP CURLYA AS A PURELY FANON CONCEPT⚠️

Like idk if this is media literacy or brain rot at this point but that’s my rant thanks for reading :D

[darnell-la]

Hopefully not to gross. But, I just have been thinking about Logan forcing his cock down his girls throat but he’s so big and rough it makes her vomit. Then instantly going from rough to apologetic when she’s upset

note: PLEASE READ ^^ this is unlike any story we have posted before, and we’d like to make sure whoever reads this will not give any kind of complaints. Thank you!

———

“C’mere,” Logan grabbed a handful of y/n’a hair and pulled her into the bathroom. They had been arguing for what felt like hours in an empty hallway about the mission Logan almost blew because of the way another man touched y/n’s hip.

“Logan, we’re undercover — Shit happens!” Y/n shouted at the man, which instantly put her on her knees. “Don’t fucking care,” Logan growled between his teeth as he reached into his pants to pull himself out.

“Logan, we’re working-“ Before y/n could’ve finished her sentence, the man pushed through her lips. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was still hung. That was one good dangerous thing about him.

“You think you’d enjoy this if it was him? Huh!?” Logan asked as he snapped his hips, making sure all that came out of y/n’s mouth were moans and saliva that made its way down her jaw.

“Oh, and believe I’ll send you right back out there to him, looking just like this,” Logan said as he wiped across y/n’s face a few times, smearing her makeup until she started slapping his hands away.

“Now do you think he’ll still want you after seeing you like this? Huh? Huh!?” The man asked as he kept pounding into y/n’s mouth relentlessly.

“No, he won’t — Only I like you like this, Bub, and only I can fucking see you like this,” Logan said right as his cock twitch. As soon as he got fully hard down y/n’s throat, he couldn’t hold himself back.

Y/n slapped Y/n Logan’s lower stomach, trying to tell him that she couldn’t breathe and that he was too far down her mouth, but he wouldn’t put his thrusts to a halt.

“Right there,” Logan growled as he spilled into her mouth. It felt good for a while until y/n began to cough. Within seconds, everything came up, and out of her mouth.

Logan quickly pulled back, not knowing what happened first until he watched her vomit over the bathroom floor.

“Oh, shit,” Logan said as he got to his knees and put a hand on her back to comfort her in some way. The man shook as y/n got everything out that needed to come out.

“Fuck, y/n- I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking-“ Logan tried saying until he was pushed away. “Fuck off!” Y/n’s voice died halfway through her speaking. She could feel the slight pain, and taste of what she had just let out.

“Baby, I didn’t- Baby, I’m sorry,” Logan said as he got up and got a bunch of wipes from the cabinet that was in the fancy bathroom. “Are you okay? Babe, please speak to me — Tell me, are you okay?” Logan asked as he began cleaning the floor.

Y/n didn’t answer the man. She continued coughing to make sure everything was out of her system.

Tears filled Logan’s eyes, feeling like he had done something he could never come back from. “Baby, please — I’m so sorry,” Logan said as he grabbed y/n’s face softly to wipe her down and clean her up.

“I-I didn’t know you couldn’t take it — I was just- I was thinking of myself and thought you’d be okay, because we always go through, and I couldn’t think about another man on you, and I just-“

“Logan, shut up! Please, just- God, relax — I’ll be fine,” y/n grabbed some towels from Logan before pushing him away. “God, you’re just so fucking annoying,” was all y/n could say.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, wanting to break down right then and there. Y/n looked at Logan, hoping he wasn’t actually crying, but he was. That instantly made her roll her eyes and pull him into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Y/n said as she softly rubbed Logan’s back. Logan couldn't stop apologizing and bringing up how horrible of a person he was for not seeing the signs of her actual struggle, but she shut him down quick.

“Hey, I’m fine with you being rough — Just make sure it’s not after I eat ten deviled eggs,” y/n joked, making Logan let out a slight laugh, but he still didn’t feel too great.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel — He’ll be here tomorrow,”

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Fresh Start

cw: panic attack, obsessive/compulsive behaviors. leo's usual dubious/clueless caretaker vibes. tiny mention of aiden's self-destructive behaviors. shaky trust being tested, my beloved.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

Movement sends pain radiating through Leo’s back and shoulder. His memory connects the discomfort to the hospital recliner and he bolts upright. 

But they’re home. Safe. 

He’s just paying the price for deciding to sleep on the floor outside Aiden’s room after a bought of anxiety convinced him he wouldn’t be able to hear if Aiden needed him. He—

Aiden’s bed is empty. 

His mind races through worst-case scenarios, heart tripping along to keep pace but as soon as he fully turns around, Aiden is right there. Curled up on the hardwood, no pillow or blanket, just shy of reaching the doorway. Fallen out of bed? Collapsed? Had Leo slept through him needing help after all? He reaches for his shoulder. What if— 

“Aiden? Aiden?” 

The kid startles awake, a small gasp escaping his lips as he clumsily but quickly straightens to kneel. Dark eyes wide even as he blinks away sleep. He crosses his arms, hand cradled carefully in the center of his chest. 

“What happened? Why were you on the floor?” 

“I—I—mmm…mmm…” He shakes his head and lowers his gaze. Not a good sign. “Mmm’sorry—I’m’sorry—” 

 “Are the stitches okay? Is there blood on the bandages? Are you in any pain?” Leo reaches for him and Aiden flinches back, hard. Now he’s certain something is wrong. 

“Mmm’good,” Aiden says, voice wavering. He still won’t make eye contact and he’s slowly, almost imperceptibly inching away from Leo. 

“Did something happen? We’ll call Delia if we need to. I just have to see that you’re okay.” He reaches for him and again Aiden cowers back. He hits the futon frame and whimpers. 

The sound strikes another cord of fear in Leo, doubling his panic. “You’re not in trouble but if the stitches tore or you’re in pain, I need to know.” 

Aiden swallows. “I—I—mmm…mmm…” 

Leo strains to hear him at all and considers just grabbing him. He has to see— 

“I—I—” Aiden shakes his head, gaze still lowered. His hands tremble as he lifts his arms, turning them toward Leo. 

It’s the most anguished surrender he’s ever seen.  

“Hey, woah. Look at me, it’s okay.” 

Aiden lifts his chin. For a split second, his expression looks incredulous before its replaced by a more familiar one of distrust and fear. 

But it was enough. 

The kid’s not even breathing, eyes filmed with tears as he obediently holds Leo’s gaze. 

You’re scaring the shit out of him.

Leo pushes himself back quicker than necessary, earning another flinch from Aiden who crosses his arms back over his chest protectively, curling against the bed frame. Leo moves to sit in the doorway, heart still pumping adrenaline through his veins, and tries to focus on his breath. 

Aiden watches him with open wariness. As defensive as day one. 

This is supposed to be a fresh start, their second chance. In the six weeks since finding Aiden in the snow, Leo succeeded in isolating him and not much else. And here he is, only driving that wedge deeper. He’s supposed to be better equipped now that he’s not completely ignorant but it doesn’t seem to make a goddamn lick of difference. Leo should have admitted months ago that he wasn’t right for this but his selfish denial carried them way past the point of return.

Too little too late isn’t going to cut it anymore. The kid deserves more. Someone who’s going to fucking listen to him. Someone he can trust and rely on. He’s going to need so much support. He can’t shower without wrapping his arms and hand, which he can’t do himself. He’ll need help changing the bandages. Not to mention the antibiotics. He probably never slept well to begin with, if last night is any indication. He barely eats. He was hurting himself all along right under Leo’s nose. He fucking tried to—

Aiden sounds like he’s trying to breathe through a straw, inhales shorter and shorter. Leo looks over to find Aiden already watching him, brow furrowed. 

When Aiden tilts his head, Leo realizes it’s him. 

He’s the one gasping like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. 

Great.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out, but it’s barely audible. “I just—I need—” 

He stumbles down the hall, sparing both of them from a backward glance, and shuts himself in the bathroom. 

Leaning against the door is no good, he feels pinned there by the pressure in his chest. 

God, like he just cornered Aiden. 

He fumbles to turn on the sink, hands shaking. His fingers feel like precarious stacks of marbles rather than joints, skin slick from perspiration. Why did he have to replace the valve with stupid spoke handles? It takes a few tries before he can cup his hands together to hold onto any water. Given how little he’s breathing, the first splash feels like he’s waterboarding himself. He straightens, gasping and sputtering, but the innate reaction overrides his anxiety and he manages to pull in some deeper breaths. He keeps his hands under the tap and forces focus on the sensation of the cold water against his skin, the air in his lungs. 

One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…

The panic recedes the more he breathes but guilt is quick to fill the vacancy. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, letting his prescription run out. He’s useless when he’s like this. 

His hands still shake as he twists off the faucet, nerves wrung out and cold. He avoids his reflection and turns to leaning against the counter while he towels his hands dry. His phone’s almost dead from not being charged all night. He stares at the chat with Delia, his string of blue bubbles filling the right side, unanswered. The last one, “What time do you get off today?” is a poor cover for his real question, “How soon can you come over?” Without hesitation, his anxiety is all too happy to supply countless awful explanations for why she hasn’t had three fucking seconds to send a single thumbs up in the last six hours. His pulse steps up again, his fingertips start to tingle. 

Leo drops his phone back into his pocket and scrubs his face with his hands, forces another few rounds of deep breaths. There’s a headache building right behind his eyes. More sleep will help but he has to take care of Aiden first. Starting with an apology. 

He finally turns to meet his tired, bloodshot eyes in the mirror. The lines of his face, deepened by exhaustion, make him look like he’s pushing forty and the fact that he hasn’t shaved since last weekend isn’t exactly helping. He scratches the corner of his jaw where there are a few traitorous white hairs. When he reaches for his toothbrush, he knows he’s stalling but how will he even start explaining his reaction to Aiden? 

At some point, he replaced his toothbrush on the charging stand and started washing his hands. Based on the suds caught in the drain, he already washed them more than once. He can’t get stuck here, not now. His heart starts rushing again and his throat feels tight, panic and frustration balling in his chest. How many times has this happened in the last day alone? 

“It hasn’t been this bad for years,” he whispers in his defense to nobody. 

But he still can’t stop. Not yet. He meets his eyes in the mirror again, ignoring the flare of self-pity and disgust. Just one more time, he tells himself, trying to believe it. 

Four pumps of soap. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…

The door opens and he immediately loses count; isn’t sure if he wasn’t finished yet or if he’d already started over again. Aiden peeks through the crack, crease between his brow telling Leo he’s also biting his lip. When Leo meets his gaze in the mirror, Aiden ducks back into the hallway. 

Shit. 

Aiden wouldn’t have taken such a liberty without knocking first, probably more than once and only then after Leo was in here for way too long. Another total failure for the list. But at least it was enough to knock him out of the loop. 

The poor kid looks like he’s expecting a hell of a lot more than Leo suggesting breakfast when he comes out into the hall. He’s pressed against the span of wall between the top of the stairs and Leo’s bedroom. Not quite adjacent to where Leo stands in the bathroom door but clearly trying to find some middle ground that isn’t retreating to his room at the end of the hall. 

Leo buys them both a little space by turning to the washer and dryer to switch their laundry from last night. He wonders if Aiden notices the two extra towels he used when he needed more than one shower to feel like he could sleep. God, he’s completely unraveling. 

Aiden is no more relaxed when Leo faces him again. 

“Aiden, look—” he says at the same time Aiden says, “M’sorry.”

He holds up a hand and Aiden flinches. 

Well, that’s about right after what he pulled. But man, if it’s not a kick in the gut while he’s down. To make matters worse, Aiden seems to think it’s his responsibility to set things right after being subjected to Leo’s irrational panic. His guilt starts to turn in to a physical ache in his chest.  

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Aiden watches him carefully like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, long fingers worrying the cuffs of the hoodie. “You’re not in trouble,” Leo adds, taking a note from Delia. “Just finding you on the floor—” 

“Mmm….you…w-w-w—” Aiden shakes his head, swallows. “Mmm…here…” Leo waits but Aiden doesn’t say anything else, just huffs out a little sigh of exasperation before letting his gaze slide to rest on Leo’s make-shift bed. Which of course he tidied, blanket neatly folded and pillow set on top. His eyes lift to dance around Leo’s face, searching for some sign that he’s getting it. 

“I was sleeping here…” Leo feels obtuse stating the basest fact he can pull out of this exchange but Aiden nods. 

“I—my—” He scrunches his face up and shakes his head. He’s pinching and pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves now, grip tightening. He swallows hard twice before he tries again. “I’mmm…you…here…” 

“You…” Leo hopes he’s not taking too far of a leap. “...moved onto the floor when you saw me there?”  

Aiden turns his head away like he’s expecting to be slapped, gives a tiny nod. 

“That’s okay, it’s okay,” Leo says quickly. “But you didn’t have to sleep on the floor just because I was. Anyway, that runner is actually pretty thick, I—” Aiden bites his lips together like he wants to say something else. “What is it?” 

He knots his fingers together then separates them after a quick glance up at Leo, smoothing them against his thighs. “I—I—mmm…” He takes a deliberate step closer, halving the space between them. Does it with the air of stepping up to the chopping block. He waits for Leo to connect the dots. When he doesn’t, he lifts one of his hands, stopping just shy of brushing the back of Leo’s, before letting it fall again and tucking both behind his back. 

“Oh.” 

Despite his countless missteps, Aiden wanted to be closer to him. 

“Well, that’s okay.” When he realizes it sounds like giving permission he amends, “I mean, of course it’s okay. You can do whatever you want. Sleep wherever you want.” 

Aiden furrows his brow.  

“Sorry. I just mean— We never— I was worried—” Leo takes a breath. “You…” Cried yourself to sleep in my arms. “...fell asleep and I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay. I didn’t want you to be surprised when you woke up.” He sighs. “But I guess you were anyway…” 

Aiden shakes his head. “S’okay.” 

This kid would let him get away with murder…and then try to apologize like he invented death. Leo has to learn to get out ahead of these things if they’re ever going to have a chance.

“Were you—Did you have bad dreams or…” 

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug but doesn’t meet Leo’s gaze. 

“We’ll figure something out for tonight, yeah?” 

Aiden nods. He keeps his eyes down but he’s dropped his shoulders from his ears, hands in the pocket of the hoodie. Leo wants to wrap him up in a hug, make sure knows he was never in trouble, and tell him he never has to sleep alone again if he doesn’t want to. 

“I shouldn’t have freaked out like that,” he blurts instead. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Dark eyes search his. 

“It’s just— I panicked and I wasn’t thinking straight. After last night— After everything— It’s worse when I haven’t slept enough but it’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you—” This word-vomit explanation is doing him no favors but he can’t seem to stop. “I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to make sure you know you didn’t do anything wrong, it was all me and I’m going to—” 

Aiden opens his mouth and closes it again. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze. 

Leo scrubs a hand over his face. “Short story long, I’m sorry for panicking.” 

Aiden peeks up at him then looks down again. Slow and deliberate, he pulls his good hand out of his pocket. He keeps it low, arm bent just enough to allow him to turn his palm up. A suggestion of an invitation, rather than an overt one, and one that could easily be missed.

Leo can’t help but smile as he squeezes Aiden’s fingers. 

Now Aiden ducks his chin against his chest in a good way. Not quite smiling but almost. 

“How about some breakfast?” 

“Mmm’yeah…mmm’thank…you…” Aiden parses the words carefully.

“Eggs and toast sound okay? I think we’re out of bacon.” 

Aiden nods. “Mhm.” 

He’s agreeing too quickly, making himself easy and accommodating. Is it because he’s afraid or does he think he has something to make up for? Either way, it feels like backward progress and Leo wonders all over again how he will ever rise to this occasion. 

But he can think of worse ways to spend the rest of the day than trying to get a real smile out of Aiden. So at least he has somewhere to start.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

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@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

[catzz089]

“Omg could you imagine how terrifying it would be if your just having fun matting with your friends then suddenly an F1 driver pulled up??”

No, I couldn’t. I’m shit at imagining.

I Like writing though

“Charles, please. We are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Max called through the door to their bedroom.

“I’m almost done!” Charles screamed back, still rifling through something in their bedroom, causing an overflow of mess that Max would somehow be coerced into cleaning up.

Max sighed, how come this happens every single time Max tries to plan something nice for them both, he really just needs to let Charles stick with the planning.

Charles slammed the bedroom door open, waltzing up to him and spinning, throwing his arms out,

“How do I look?”

What idiot stares at Max with the most gorgeous looking face known in history, and a perfectky accentuating outfit and then has the gall to ask how he looks?

Well, aside from Max’s idiot bug that’s a conversation for another time.

“Gorgeous, get in the car.”

He sighed dramatically, “it’s like you don’t even love me anymore, baby.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Max deadpanned, “Now please get going, we are cutting it way too close right now.”

Charles grabbed his hand, and began walking outside, “We’ll be fine mom cœur, you’ve left us ages of time, stop stressing.” He brought their hands up, planting a delicate kiss on Max’s hand.

Max pouted, “you can’t just kiss me and expect me to forgive you for taking literal hours ti get ready.”

“Yes, I can. Now hop in.”

“Wait I thought I was driving?”

Charles opened the passenger door, forcing him down inside.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p, “you thought wrong. You’ve done too much, let me drive.” He began doing the belt on Max’s seat.

Which was entirely unnecessary.

But quite sweet.

Not that Max would ever admit it, Charles would get far too big a head.

Charles jumped into the drivers seat, resting a hand on Max’s thigh and high-tailing the car out of their, knocking over their own bin as he did.

“Seriously? If your going to destroy property, at least make it someone else’s, I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Then pay someone to deal with it, I’m pretty sure you have the money for that.”

Max sighed, leaning back in his seat and gripping onto the car door, it probably wouldn’t save his life but security was security when you’re in a car with Charles Leclerc.

By the time they reached the track, they very much were late, only by 10 minutes or so, but still.

Late.

Max grabbed at Charles’ hand, running off to the changing rooms and dragging him behind.

“Max! Come on,” he whined, “Slow down, I haven’t gone for a run this entire off season, I’m going to get a stitch.”

“Your not that unfit, Schat, I want to get in the track, hurry up!”

“Maxie,” he complained, again, “we are on the track like every weekend, why are you so desperate to go back, it’s our holiday.”

Max just huffed, shoving on his race suit- Redbull, obviously, he’s not wearing some rental- and dashing down to the karts.

Charles groaned, running after him.

There was already an array of kids, all around 6-14 years old already down there and driving.

Charles had the pleasure of watching first hand as their jaws dropped, and nothing but pure terror filled their eyes.

His oblivious little boyfriend however, was far too focused on finding one of the remaining karts with the best tires and bagging that for himself to notice the kids trying to escape the track.

It’s not like they were even going to be racing strangers, just eachother.

Yeah, sure, they may just happen to be driving in the exact same track at the exact same track, but neither of them would ever dare to cause an accident.

Hopefully.

When the started their karts, Max bolted it into the track, making some poor 10 year old serve his car out of the way to maintain a good distance away, Charles screamed an apology behind him and followed in quick pursuit.

Their two hour session lasted a lot like that.

Charles ramming his kart into Max, subsequently banging into another kid

Max screaming in delight at overtaking Charles, scaring the child in front, making her flinch so badly she binned it into the wall.

Charles realising that the kart he thought was Max’s, was in fact a slightly older kid, so yelling “I beat you!” Into his face as he crossed the start line a millimetre in front was NOT the flex he thought it was.

In Charles’ defence, Max was arguably far worse than him, deliberately falling behind Charles to beat into him one too many times that he too, forgot the difference between a monegasque F1 driver, and a teenager, swerving his car into hers, knocking them both out of the track.

It was the most fun either of them had felt in a long while.

Neither of them were allowed back.