#it just feels like he's trying to keep me as far away from him as possible

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ she see money all around me, i look like i'm the man

includes: itoshi sae x fem! reader. 0.8k wc. fluff.

a/n: provider sae, we all cheered !! inspired by that one tiktok trend lol

not much grabs itoshi sae's attention, so you have to get creative.

"sae, i can't help pay rent this month." even though he doesn't glance away from the computer screen, the twitch on his face is obvious. the furrowed brows, his fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard, the imaginary question mark brewing over his head—all of it subtle but still priceless.

to be fair, he doesn't even recall being this confused when his parents agreed to send him abroad at the ripe age of thirteen—that too, all by himself!

for someone as strict as itoshi sae, he should receive an award for how quickly he paused his work to simply process whatever the fuck just came out of your mouth. "you can't, what?" he finally says, still keeping his gaze focused on the screen.

this is harder than you thought. not the pranking part; the holding in your laughter part. you somehow manage to keep it in for the sake of the bit.

"yeah, i just don't have the money to help you pay our rent this month," you continue, further emphasizing your dilemma (knowing damn well it doesn’t exist) awaiting his reaction.

but of course, your prank backfires spectacularly. the dramatic reaction you were hoping for? nowhere to be found. instead, he just crosses his arms and finally turns his chair to stare at you like you're the ridiculous one in this scenario. sae leans back in his chair, letting linger another one of those infuriatingly calm looks that make you want to simultaneously throw something at him and admire how annoyingly composed he is. "i know?" he claimed, neutrally, with a quirk of his brow like...duhh?

he continued, not even trying to be offensive, just merely stating the facts he has gathered living with you over the years. "when have you ever paid rent?"

…why would you?

he’s suddenly wondering if, overnight, you forgot you’re itoshi sae’s girl. hell, he doesn’t even let you pay for something as little as webtoon coins—hence why he made sure his card info was saved on your phone. rent was too far of a stretch to claim, even as a joke, and you know this too.

with how adamant sae is, the world could collapse before he let you contribute a single penny.

but damn, did that make it make it hard for you to continue this act.

you open your mouth to say something, anything, to salvage the prank, but your brain is running on a blank slate. "i mean," you clear your throat, trying to recover. "it’s about the…principle? you know, of financial responsibility and, um—" sae tilts his head, looking wholly unimpressed. "do you even know how much rent is?" your mouth opens. closes. he waits. you scramble. "well, yeah, of course, i—" "how much?" he asks, deadpan. your lips part, but the number? nowhere to be found. you had not, at any point in your life, thought to ask. sae quirks a brow, clearly entertained by your pathetic attempt to keep going. he rests his chin in his palm, watching you struggle with the kind of calm that makes it painfully obvious he’s enjoying this. "you were saying?" he prompts, his voice laced with amusement. you huff, cheeks growing warm. "forget it. you ruined it." but before you can even sulk properly, sae reaches forward and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you in with zero effort. a yelp escapes you as he shifts you into his lap, securing you there with both arms now locked around you. your heart does this stupid little thing where it stumbles over itself because you can feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and—oh god—the way his lips are ridiculously close to your ear. "did i? or did you just get caught?" he murmurs, voice low and entirely too smug. "you—!" your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders, trying to put some space between you two, but he doesn't let you. if anything, he picks you up to place you fully against his chest. "go on, finish your little act," he challenges, lips curling into a smirk. you glare at him, ignoring the rapid pounding of your heart. "i hate you." "yeah?" his voice is a quiet hum, teasing, daring you to keep going. "i guess that’s what i get for absolutely spoiling the shit out of my girlfriend." you pout, trying to look annoyed, but your resistance fades as you sink into his arms.

instead of staying smug, sae softens his grip just a little, his tone becoming more serious. "i take care of what’s mine, so don’t bother pulling tricks on me before you empty my bank account."

"do you understand?" he continues, his voice low and steady as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. the softness of the gesture contrasts with the firmness of his words, leaving you to wonder how he always manages to make you this flustered every time. all you can do is just nod, giving in to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich snob who always gets his way—one you’re completely obsessed with, no less. seriously, what are you gonna do with him? 🤍

[earthtooz]

phainon x gn!scholar reader, phainon is so in love and reader is oblivious

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

The moment Phainon’s eyes first met yours, there was a stutter in his heart, an indescribable feeling of reverence coupled with curiosity creeped into his being when he first met you.

Beautiful. That was the only word he knew at the time.

Your beauty was unparalleled, unmatched as you saunter into his view, mind not exactly present in the moment as your clothes swayed with your every hurried step. Your eyes were foggy, a testament to your dedication and work, evidenced by the tablet you held snug to your side.

He decides in that moment that he wants to know you, so he purposefully sets himself in your line of movement and waits for the moment when you bump into him, far too focused in a world that wasn’t the one you were presently in. Fate decided to be kind to him when you fall right into his schemes, allowing him to catch you with an arm secured around your waist, your tablet falling to the stone pavement with a dull smack.

���Oh my!” you exclaim. “My utmost apologies, I was not aware of where I was going-”

He smiles, for the last thing he was thinking of was your apology. Even your voice is beautiful, the words flowing into his ears like warm ichor.

“It’s alright,” he reassures with that smile of his, almost faltering when his heart skips another beat the moment your eyes flit to look at his. Phainon thinks he’s going to collapse to his knees if you glance away. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.”

Unaware of his flirtatious intentions, you sound out the syllables of your name and he repeats it with much wonder. “What a lovely name. I’m Phainon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s been two years since he first met you, and you are still just as enchanting.

He learns you are a widely renowned scholar and author, which explains the tablet you held that day. Of course, you were shocked the moment he uttered his name, for the titles of the Chrysos Heirs were well known, essentially common knowledge for those that flourished in the world of academia. Phainon still cherishes the memory of your expression, keeping it in the back of his mind and musing over it in private.

If you had known he was holding that over you, you would have thrown a slew of unpretty words at him with that pretty voice of yours, and he would have cherished them the same way he does with all of your works.

Whenever Phainon hears that your most recent novel has been released, he is one of the first to scour for it, reading it from start to finish within days. Even your publications from years before have a place on his shelves, there is no book of yours that he has not purchased and proceeded to read from front to back.

He insists on meeting you whenever he can, and while you answer a question he asked, he’s trying to keep his marvelling to a minimum, trying to keep these feelings from spilling all over you as he lets you know that his undivided attention is on you.

You’re skeptical of him. You wonder why he seeks your companionship specifically, what about you entertained him enough to invite you on market walks, buy your favourite drink from your favourite stall, and then sit on a marble bench in a quiet park underneath falling leaves.

As you’re busy pondering, he jolts whenever your thigh brushes against his.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

His favourite time to admire you is when you’re deep in thought and unaware of the world around you, too focused on the wax tablet that sits on your desk.

Despite the practicality of papers, you tell him you like the sensation of writing on wax, how your pen glides along, all of your bursts of inspiration occur like this, so they hold a dear place in your heart. Soft chatter is exchanged, he tells you about his day, you share some idle musings about yours, then you let him know of the most recent developments of your work before he lets you write in peace.

Phainon tries not to stare too much, knows it’s unbecoming to do so, but he can’t help letting his eyes linger on you as your hand scrawls, occasionally taking a break here and there but never letting the train of thought end without it being recorded.

He could watch forever. He could be here forever, sitting in a comfortable chaise in the corner of your study, rendering himself invisible in your periphery as he just gets to exist with you.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s not widely known, perhaps less than a handful of people know, and it’s not because he has confessed it to them outright, but because they have caught on to the subtleties.

The company he surrounds himself with knows well enough about the scholar that has caught his heart, and how he refuses to run away. They give him teasing looks now and then whenever the prospect of romance and love is raised, and glance specifically at the light-haired when your name is mentioned in passing, not wanting to miss the softening of his bright gaze.

It’s even more entertaining because you are not aware of it.

You are not aware of Phainon’s awestruck eyes whenever he looks at you, how he leans closer whenever you speak, desperate to close the gap however he can. You are not aware of how he speaks your name so gently, as if wanting the wind to take the words away and to you so that no one else may hear. You are not aware of the little world Phainon lives in where it’s just you and him, existing together.

The rest of the Chrysos Heir hound after him relentlessly when they first discovered of your ignorance to his feelings, and now they make it their life mission to make fun of him for it, especially before you.

Phainon does not mind, well- tries not to, because he is in love.

As infuriating it is that you haven’t caught on, despite your immense intelligence, he waits patiently for the day you will.

Even though he yearns to declare it from the highest point of Amphoreus, that his very being has been seized by you, he is content with the quiet moments you share now, and he will happily take all that you give him, even if he wants more.

Phainon is in love.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 5

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Master List

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way.

pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader

word count: 4k or something like that?

(Everyone say ‘thank you’ to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading and helping me through late night plot crisis so this can come out today!!)

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source It's been months since @/Lando and @/MissLeClerc have been spotted togtether and we're starting to wonder...are they even together anymore?! Lando was spotted out alone in Monaco, looking annoyed at fans calling his name while his (ex???) girlfriend was papped out and about with none other than...Max Verstappen. Again. Rumors about the LeClerc sister and Dutch driver started to swirl right around the time her and Lando stopped being seen out in public...What do we think, chat??? Has little miss leclerc finally ditched the cocky British pilot for a new Dutch beau??? user029 maybe she got tired of having to parent her boyfriend??? user220 if it's true, she's really upgraded. 4 time world champion vs...what??? 4 time race winner. please. user0298 he never supported her art or anything, i'm not surprised she's moved on. max always looks smitten with her.

“Lando, you have got to get this under control.” The head of McLaren’s communications team hisses, her glare shooting daggers at the driver who’s just walked into the the hospitality building ahead of the race in Belgium. 

Lando glances up from his phone, face pale and eyes worried. “How the fuck am I supposed to control what the gossip pages post?” 

Marina throws her hands up in the air as she paces, her McLaren team kit wrinkled from lack of sleep thanks to the British driver. In the four weeks since your argument with Lando after Austria, things have only gotten worse. You’re still not talking to him and he still hasn’t figured out where the hell you’re living. You’re not staying with Charles and Alexandra or Jade, he’s been subtly watching both buildings. He knows you’re still in Monaco because you’ve been papped out with your family and friends but most maddeningly Max Verstappen. 

Everyone seems to have noticed you’re not living with Lando anymore, your appearances in his streams have dwindled down to nothing. Fewtrell has had to start banning people form his chat because they won’t stop asking about you and what’s going on. Everyone knows that something went down but you’re straight up refusing to behave like an adult and come back to Lando, where you belong and it’s infuriating. 

“You can’t, obviously.” Marina sighs, sitting down at one of the high top tables in the middle of the suite. 

Around her, the Thursday afternoon crew of engineers and communications people buzz, all prepping for their weekends. Everyone seems to be acting normal but Lando can feel their glares on his back as he walks through the building. They all know he’s causing the entire team grief by causing so much drama with you, taking the attention away from the decent start to the year they’d had before all hell had broken loose a few months ago. 

“But,” She continues, leveling a glare at Lando. “You either need to bite the bullet and release a joint statement with her announcing your breakup or you need to get her to the track this weekend and make a big show of a united front. It’s up to you Lando, but you need to do something. I can’t keep saying ‘no comment’ whenever we’re asked about the distraction this is causing the team.” 

Lando pulls at his curls, like hell he’s going to admit that you’d left him. He supposed he could go rogue and release a statement without you. That way he could control the narrative and try to get the fans back on his side if he made something up like a cheating scandal or something. The moment that the thought flutters through his mind, he forces it out. For some fucking reason, the fans seem to have a soft spot for you and it’s maddening. Lando knew there was no way he could get public opinion on his side, not with how he was getting ripped apart on socials right now. 

“We’re not broken up.” He bites out, taking a sip out of his water bottle as he contemplates what he can do. 

Marina glances up from her phone, brow lifted in question. “That’s not what it looks like here.” She turns her phone towards Lando and shows him a photo of you descending the stairs of a private jet that’s just landed in Belgium. In front of you, already down the stairs and waiting on the tarmac for you is your brother with Leo cradled in his arms. 

And behind you? A fiery rage burns bright and hot in Lando’s chest when he sees who’s behind you. 

Fucking Max Verstappen. 

The look you’re giving him makes his heart twist and for the first time since this entire thing began, Lando actually misses you. He misses the way you used to smile up at him like that, like your entire world revolved Lando and no one else. He missed the way your eyes would follow him around a room, how your body would center towards his. The way you looked at Max was how you used to look at him and it made jealousy twist violently deep in Lando’s gut just looking at the photo. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Lando spits before stalking off to the privacy of his drivers room. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source Alexandra, Charles, and his little sister were seen arriving in Belgium this afternoon on Max Verstappen's private jet. It's yet another instance where the LeClerc sister was spotted without boyfriend Lando Norris, sparking new breakup rumors. Neither party has confirmed if they're still together, with McLaren PR insisting that the personal lives of their drivers are off limits. user019 honestly, I'm here for a LeClerc sister & Max relationship. >>>user028 me too. at least Max seems to actually like her, unlike Lando user0029 I mean, we all can see it. Why can't they just confirm it already??? user2333 fully on board the 'get her away from Lando train' ROOTING FOR YOU MAX!!! Get your girl!!! user029 my friend was out at the restaurant they were all at a few weeks ago and said that Lando crashed the dinner but left after a few minutes looking PISSED. >>>user029 honestly, Lando is kind of unhinged rn. get over her my man, move onnnnnnn!

“I can’t believe you got me to agree to come this weekend.” You grumble as you follow Max towards the paddock gates Friday morning before practice. 

“You’ve barely been to any races this year and it’s almost the end of July!” Max shoots over his shoulder, grinning like an idiot he’s so happy you decided to come this weekend. 

“I was at Monaco!” You protest lamely, shoving your elbow into your brother’s ribs when he laughs. 

“You live in Monaco, that doesn’t count Little Dove.” Charles chuckles, rubbing at the sore spot where you’d just assaulted him. 

“Whatever.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. 

After arriving in Belgium last night, you had gone straight to your hotel room, needing a bit of alone time ahead of what you were sure was going to be a stressful weekend. As usual, you’d been papped arriving on Max’s jet, which you were certain Lando had seen because the moment you had checked your messages in the SUV Max had rented for your little group, there had been a text waiting for you from him. 

I know you probably don’t want to see me and I get that. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Can we please get together this weekend and talk? Somewhere neutral if that’s what you want…

As you settled into the hotel room that was yours for the weekend, a war was being fought in your brain. On one hand, you didn’t trust a single thing coming from Lando’s mouth. Not a single thing. He hadn’t given you any reason to trust anything that he said for months, so why should you start now? But on the other hand…

On the other hand, you and Lando had so much history. His message seemed remorseful. You knew everyone in your life would kill you if you even entertained the idea of getting back with him but somewhere deep in your chest a little voice was saying maybe you should hear him out. He was finally leaving you alone, finally backing off, why did he have to pop up right when you thought you had finally gotten him fully out of your system?

You didn’t tell anyone Lando had texted you. Had been texting you all morning as well. You knew no one would understand. But you also hadn’t returned a single text either. The energy that responding to Lando would take was something that you just didn’t have today. 

Your little group is captured by photographers as you walk in, a few even call out your name asking where you’ll be spending your time this weekend. Since dating Lando, you liked to split your time between the McLaren garage and Ferrari but this weekend was going to be different. Your VIP pass had Charles’ face and name on the back, not Lando’s. You had credentials from Ferrari like normal but this morning, Max had also slipped a Red Bull card around your neck, telling you if you got sick of looking at all that red this weekend, you could spend time with him. 

“Are you going to come to the dark side this weekend and use those Red Bull credentials to whip up some gossip?” Max murmurs in your ear, watching as Charles trots off ahead of you after Leo. 

You bump your shoulder with his, rolling your eyes and laughing lightly. “Stop.”

Mischief plays in Max’s pale blue eyes as he smiles down at you, enjoying the way your cheeks flush under his attention. Ever since the race in Austria a few weeks ago, you and the Dutch driver had been spending a lot of time together, all casual but he’d really begun to look forward to the nights you spent curled up on his couch eating takeout and watching bad reality tv with him. 

Before he has a chance to reply though, he sees the color drain from your face as you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. Whipping his head around, Max searches for what, or more accurately, who has spooked you. He already knows who he’s looking for so when his eyes settle on the McLaren driver standing just outside the sliding glass doors of the McLaren hospitality building across the paddock, his stomach lurches. 

You had known you’d see Lando this weekend. How could you not? This was literally his workplace too. There was no way to avoid him, you knew that but you hadn’t expected to see him so quickly and before you had managed to work out how to respond to his text from the night before. 

Your brother is between where you stand and McLaren’s hospitality so he clocks Lando staring after you at about the same time as you and Max. Turning on his heel, he scoops up Leo and makes a bee line back to where you stand, utterly frozen. 

“Dovie.” Max coos in your ear, twining his fingers with yours in an attempt to pull you out of the state you’re in. “Hey, sweet girl, look at me.” 

You ignore him, gaze locked on Lando’s frozen frame. 

Charles steps in between you and Lando, instantly cutting off your line of sight. This seems to yank you back to reality and your brother snaps into action. “Shit. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. I don’t want her alone.” Your brother sounds panicked, like the way you’re just staring blankly ahead is really freaking him out. 

So, he improvises. “Here, take Leo and go take a walk. There’s tons of open space on the other side of the paddock.” Charles presses the small dog into your hands and you drop your gaze away from Lando for the first time in several moments. 

Your gaze drops to where your hand is still clutched in Max’s larger one. The steady warmth from his presence grounds you, allowing you to pull in a full breath for the first time in several minutes. 

“No, she’s not going off on her own.” Max cuts in, tone sharp. “I’ve got some time before I need to be in the car. Come stay in Red Bull with me until practice, then you can watch from my garage, okay?” 

The force of his words leave little wiggle room for argument and Charles can’t help but smirk a little. He should have known Max would step right up to make sure you were taken care of. 

“Yeah.” You agree weakly, finally tearing your gaze away from Lando, who is still starting at you, light eyes sharp and observant. You can feel the way his gaze drops to where Max’s hand is curled around yours possessively. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Without waiting for Lando to get any more ideas like wanting to try to come talk to you, Max tugs on your hand. He knows you well enough by now to know that you need a distraction and you need it fast. “Come on, you said you wanted to stir up some gossip this weekend, well here’s your chance.” 

You laugh despite yourself, nuzzling your face into Leo’s soft fur. “I’m keeping the dog.” You tell your brother as you allow yourself to be led away by Max. All Charles does is nod, relieved to know that you’re in good hands while he’s busy. 

missleclerc posted

24,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others missleclerc in my defense, I was kidnapped ☝🏻 maxverstappen1 whatever, you wanted to be there. >>>missleclerc lies. It was a hostage situation. >>>maxverstappen1 is that what the kids are calling it these days? >>>user299 chat, are they flirting in the comments??? WE CAN SEE YOU TWO charlesleclerc can't believe you subjected your nephew to this. please make sure you take a shower before dinner tonight. >>>missleclerc rude. user0209 ya know, I'm kinda here for this ship. >>>user987 did you see how utterly distracted Max was during the one interview where she walked past him? couldn't take his eyes off her >>>user0209 lando's gonna be crashing out after seeing that interview tonight >>>user3443 GOOD. bro deserves it

“I think you may need to roll me up to my room after that dinner.” You groan, rubbing at the food baby making your black leather skirt pinch painfully at your hips. 

After qualifying Saturday evening, when the boys were all finished with their media and team duties, Max had insisted that you, your brother, Alexandra and himself all go out to dinner. He’d wanted to insist it just be the two of you but he wasn’t blind to the gossip you two had stirred up in the paddock Friday afternoon so he’d figured bringing your brother and his girlfriend along would be a bit safer. 

“I think I ate my weight in spaghetti.” Alexandra groans beside you as you plod towards the front doors of the hotel. “Carry me up to the room please, Cha?” She coos, throwing her arms around your brother’s neck as if she can’t go on one step more.

 Charles laughs, snaking his arms around her waist and pulls her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, a gesture so tender and intimate you have to turn away. Your gaze immediately connects with Max who is standing a few paces behind your brother and his girlfriend. A small smile tips up at the corner of his full lips when you make eye contact at him and your stomach swoops at the affection for you in his eyes. 

You’re imagining things, you think instantaneously. There’s no way Max sees you as anything other than a friend, after everything that you’ve endured while he’s watched. How could anyone like Max be attracted to someone who had spent an entire year drowning in a failing relationship? It was likely a pity smile, something he gives you because he feels sorry that you haven’t found what your brother has found in Alexandra. 

“There you are…” A smooth British accent interrupts your thoughts, jarring you out of your spiral. “You stopped answering my texts.” Lando says pointedly as he joins your little group in the lobby of the hotel. 

Your eyes shutter closed as you blow out a breath. You had been hoping to avoid this confrontation all together but it was just another nail in the coffin of why Max wouldn’t even want to begin to get involved with you in the first place. Why would he willingly want to be with someone who was still so intertwined with her ex still? You’ve spent so long with Lando, were so intertwined with him it would certainly be easier to just go back to him, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was all you deserved after wasting three years of your life. 

“I was at dinner, Lando. It’s rude to text during a meal.” You carefully control the tone of your voice, not wanting to instigate yet another public altercation with him. 

“Ah, yes. I’m sure the company was riveting.” His eyes flicker over to where Max stands, stiff and unmoving, the smile that he’d just been showering you with totally gone from his face. “So, what do you say, can we finally talk like two adults?” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Norris.” Charles cuts in, voice sharp and short. 

“I think your sister can answer for herself, LeClerc.” There’s a challenge in Lando’s eyes that you don’t miss and you know you have about five seconds to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. Again. 

Placing your hand on Lando’s elbow, you tug him away. “If you promise to chill out and actually listen to me, we can go to the bar and get a drink. One drink, Lando. Can you do that?” 

If you had been looking at Max then, you would have seen the light flicker out of his eyes. He’s grateful that his hands are tucked away in his pockets when he hears your words because the way the ball up into tight fists would be embarrassing had anyone seen it. He wants to say something, anything, that might convince you to not walk away with him. He wants to tell you how he’s feeling, how this afternoon with you in his drivers room and then garage was the best start to a race weekend he’d had in recent memory. He wants to beg you not to go with Lando. 

But he can’t. He can’t because he still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. Max is stuck in this painful sort of limbo where you two spend time together and he craves any bit of attention he can glean from you but it’s not enough for him to risk your fragile state of being right now. He knows you’re still recovering from leaving Lando. Three years is a long time to spend with someone, even if the last year was as painful as Lando had made it for you. He knows you’re not ready for him to tell you how he’s feeling but he’s afraid if he doesn’t, you’ll go running back to Lando. 

While the internal debate about what to do with his feelings rages on inside, Max watches as a cat-like grin spreads slowly across Lando’s face. He’s won. Lando’s won and they both know it. 

“Of course, baby.” 

You bristle at the name but without the energy to fight him, all you do is roll your eyes. Max’s mask of indifference somehow staying in place when he hears the nickname, but it tears him up on the inside. He’s not sure how he manages it. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Max.” Taking a step towards Max, you fold yourself into him, enjoying the way his arms come around your waist without hesitation. The hug is firm and he holds onto you for several moments longer than necessary. 

 “I can stay down here if you want me to.” He murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, sending a cool shiver of pleasure down your spine. 

“I’m a big girl, I can handle him.” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He responds, looking down at you. You’re surprised to see a stark look of concern all over his face, like he’s genuinely worried about you. 

“Max, I’m fine. It’s just one drink.” 

But Max knows Lando. It’s not just going to be one drink. But what other choice does he have? Reluctantly, he releases you and takes a step back, forcing himself out of arms length. You instantly miss the grounding warmth of his body and fight to keep your expression neutral. 

Max watches you walk away, shoulder brushing with Lando’s and has to resist the urge to rub at the painful clenching sensation that wraps itself around his heart. 

“You don’t have to watch her leave.” Charles murmurs, standing off to the side with a worried looking Alexandra. They both share Max’s opinion that this is a bad idea but like Max, what else can they say?

Max scrubs at his face, suddenly so overwhelmingly exhausted that all he wants to do is climb into bed and sleep until the race tomorrow. “What am I supposed to do, Charles?” He throws his hands up in defeat as you disappear around the corner just as Lando’s arm slips around your waist. “I don’t have a single claim on her, she’s not mine to miss.” 

His stomach twists painfully at the thought of having to go back to his hotel room knowing you’re touching him. 

“She won’t go back to him.” Charles says with more confidence than Max can muster up himself. “She’s been doing so well lately and we all see it’s partially because of you, mate.”

“Don’t give up on her, Max. Not yet.” Alexandra offers quietly, stepping closer to Charles before reaching out and placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s stronger than we all think but she’s going to need your patience right now. It’ll be okay.” 

The way it physically hurt watching you walk away had alarm bells ringing in Max’s head. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become in the time since you’d left Lando and it terrified him. If you went back to Lando tonight, he had this gut feeling he’d lose you forever and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to endure that. 

Max barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning for hours trying to convince himself he hadn’t just watched you walk right out of his life again. He knew he was, once again, getting ahead of himself and that he needed to wait before going into full spiral mode but he couldn’t quite get himself there. 

By the time he’s downstairs in the hotel lobby the next morning, waiting for the car that Red Bull had hired for him, he’s exhausted and on the brink of biting someone’s head off. 

“You doing okay over there, Verstappen? You seem a little…irritated.” 

Max turns and has to stifle a groan. “Why can’t you just leave well enough alone, Lando?” 

Lando has the nerve to look confused, brows furrowing as he tilts his head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re on about, mate.” 

It takes every ounce of control Max has honed over the years not to punch the British driver square in the face. “Why are you so fixated on her now that she’s finally trying to get away from you?” 

Lando smirks, quick and ugly, before he shakes his head. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong Max.” He reaches over and pats at Max’s shoulder patronizingly. “I don’t think she really wants to get away form me anymore. Not after last night.” 

It feels like the breath has been sucked out of Max’s lungs at Lando’s words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He hisses, heat creeping up his neck. 

“You’re a smart man, Max. Use that big brain of yours. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lando grins like the Cheshire Cat as he shrugs. “Oh look, my ride’s here. Good luck out there today, Verstappen.” 

Without waiting for a response because he knows full well he’s caught Max completely off guard, Lando saunters off, hands deep in his pockets, without a second look back at the Dutch driver. 

Tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[glambots]

BUBBLE, BUBBLE, MOON'S IN TROUBLE

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 5k

A commission for @semidemi-minigod !! In which you give Moon a bath. But from Moon's POV.

It was difficult to say when it all started.

When he’d allowed himself to become so complacent. So vulnerable.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. But you made it easier. Somehow.

Even now, when all he wanted was to slink away into the dark, far away from your pleading eyes and pursed lips.

“Come on, Moon. Please? You can look at it all if you want to. I won’t stop you. It’s really good stuff. Like, expensive stuff.”

You moved around the cleaning cart, picking up and brandishing several different items in his direction, with all the nervous excitement of a salesman trying to land a deal.

His eyes moved over each object laid out, atop the cart’s surface. Towels, fluffy and white. Bottles of cleaning solutions. Metal polish. Different kinds of scrub brushes. A few toothbrushes…?

He didn’t recognize any of the brands, which meant that they came from outside the Pizzaplex.

“…You bought these?” Cautiously, he picked up one of the little canisters and held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning the balm canister round-and-round like it was an oversized coin.

Polish cream. The fancy aluminum tin flashed under the dim lights, like the spark of a distant star.

“Yeah, I got them all from a hardware place that was nearby.” You smiled, hands roving over the assortment to grasp one of the smaller hand towels. His head tilted a bit when you held it out to him, a lopsided smile gracing your flushed cheeks.

“Feel these! I swear, I have never felt towels as soft as these.”

Curiosity burning, Moon placed the polish back down and reached for the towel. He fingered the soft, fluffy fabric in a bit of awe. It was much nicer than the old, tattered rags they had stashed away in the Daycare. Cleaner, too.

“They’re Egyptian cotton.” Your grin grew wider. “I got you a couple of sets, so you can keep some in storage for when they each get worn out.”

“…Keep?”

“Well…yeah! I mean, they’re yours now.” You gestured at the whole of the collection. “All of this is. I mean, I can keep it if you don’t have any room. But this is all for you. You and Sun, I mean. Obviously.”

He looked back and forth between you and the cleaning cart, utterly bewildered.

And, more than that, suspicious.

“Why?”

He watched your expression twist into bemusement, before you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes.

“Because I can.”

“What if we…don’t want it?” He couldn’t stop the hint of amusement that crept into his voice. Even if there was a little bit of truth to it. It felt…wrong to accept this.

You just pursed your lips, brows raising so high they nearly touched your hairline.

“Well, that’s too bad. Cause I already bought it, and the store won’t let me return it. Which means either you take it, or I’ll just throw it all away.”

He grunted, looking back over the collection.

“Liar-liar, pants on fire.”

“Nope!” You popped the “p,” giving him a little half-shrug. “I’ve got the receipt, and it says no refunds allowed. You wanna see it? I’ll show it to you.”

Moon grunted again, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his chin and cheek.

To take it…or not…

It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

But! But. He had one more question to ask you.

“Why me? Why not Sun?”

He can’t help but spit the name with a bit of venom. Out of the two of them, wouldn’t Sun be the easier target? Easier to work with. Easier to talk to. A better fit.

Better…in every way.

The look you give him is hard to place. It’s not hurt, not pity…a little frustrated.

A little sad.

“Do you not…trust me?”

There it is again: that feeling of wanting to hide away. A little tickle of guilt burning through his wires and sliding between his gears. He didn’t like it when you looked at him like that.

“No.”

“No, you don’t trust me? Or no, you don’t not trust me?”

“…No.”

You sighed, pulling off the bear-eared cap on your head to run a hand through your already messy hair.

“Alright. Alright…I won’t force you to do it. I just…” You looked down at the cart, eyes misty and lip quivering a bit. Like you were trying not to cry. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

And like that, he feels something in him melt.

“Fine.” He folded his arms over his chest, as if they’d serve as any sort of defense. He hates the way his whole-body tickles with heat when the sadness on your face melts away into relief.

Because it’s unfamiliar. Different.

He knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is something that he’s not supposed to be able to feel.

And yet, you make him feel it.

And that frightens him.

“Make it fast.”

Guilt is there again, gnawing at his insides when you reach up to quickly wipe the rim of your eyes clear, a breathy laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside you. Just like that, you’re so happy.

“Alright! Okay. Okay. Um, I’ll start with the—I mean, what do you want me to start with? I’ve got all this stuff, and I didn’t even think about it. God, where do I start?”

Moon watches you flit around the cart, hands moving over each object in a frenzy. You finally look up after a moment, going still.

“Sorry. Just. Give me a second, I swear I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes move to the floor, like you’re searching for something. “Do you want to sit down?”

Silently, Moon reached behind him, grasping one of the small child-sized chairs, and pulled it out to sit on without breaking eye contact.

“Okay.” You chuckled, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaning solution in the other. He could feel the hesitancy in your movements as you approached, like you were afraid he’d bolt at any second. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

For a moment, you hesitated, as if trying to decide where and how to get started. Moon simply sat still, watching your hands and eyes shift from his face to his arms, to his chest, then back up.

“Hang on, I can’t do this kneeling—my back hurts too much for that.”

You grabbed an undersized chair and pulled it up across from him, gently taking one of his arms and spraying a light amount of the solution across it. Moon couldn’t detect any chemicals, but it did smell slightly…fresh?

“This is just water and soap,” you explained, gently running the rag across his forearm, rubbing it between his fingers and over his palm. “To get rid of the surface stains. After that, I’ll use the stronger stuff.”

For a moment, there was a silence that stretched between the two of you. He wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or not but was more than satisfied to simply watch your tiny hands work their way up and down his arm.

You swapped to the other arm, wiping it down gently from hand-to-shoulder, then paused.

“Do you want me to do your chest or back first?”

Your voice was soft, gentle and coaxing.

Moon looked down at his arms, flexing his fingers as he thought for a moment.

“…Back.”

“Alright.”

Carefully, you placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, running the washcloth over his broad back. Moon twitched, an odd tingle rushing through his wires at the sensation of your palm rubbing little circles around the spot where the hook to his line protruded. He tried to ignore it, but you stopped again, having noticed.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?”

“No.” He scrambled for an excuse. “…It tickles.”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny smile cross over your face. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“We’re not,” he replied, maybe a little too fast. “Just…sensitive.”

“Sure.” The tone in your voice betrayed that maybe you didn’t entirely believe him, but you didn’t push the issue. He was thankful for that.

The thought of your little hands coasting along his metal body, trying to find vulnerable spots to attack and manipulate—it made his head spin. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Things were quiet again, as you slid the rag over the thin pieces of metal that made up his hinged neck. Anxiety raced through his system as your hand moved dangerously close to the back of his face-plate—where the switch sat.

One wrong move (or maybe, one purposeful move) and he’d be forced into Rest Mode.

“Careful—” Before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, snatching your thin wrist. “Not there.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” You quickly jerked back, panic flashing in your eyes. “D-Did I hurt you?”

He searched your face for any sign of wrongdoing. Something to latch onto.

He found nothing.

“…No.” Moon finally said after a moment, letting your wrist go. He felt a little bad as he watched you rub it, knowing that he’d probably held on a little too hard. “Just…not there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You scooted around the edge of the chair, rag hovering just below the edge of his neck ruffles. “I’ll start on your chest now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything but leaned his head back to give you more room. That, and to keep from having to watch you run the cloth over the expanse of his chassis. Just the feeling of it was enough to have him balling his hands tight into fists at his sides.

There was so much intimacy in the action, as simple an action it was. Your face was so close, eyes squinted as you scrubbed at the stains splattered across his metal body. Sticky hands, paint, glue, dirt, grime—there was no telling what made up the mass of it all. But the feeling of it being wiped away was a very pleasant one.

He felt lighter, almost. Like the weight of the stains were being peeled off him.

You were extremely gentle when your hands moved down to his waist, one holding him slightly in place, the other moving the cloth down his sides and across his stomach.

Moon squirmed again. If he’d had a stomach, it would have been fluttering. Full of butterflies.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You breathed softly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“It’s fine.” He lied.

A few more moments later, you finally leaned back, and Moon felt like he could breathe again. Not that he’d ever needed to in the first place. But whatever pressure had been hanging over his head was finally lifted away, if only momentarily.

You pulled out another bottle, gently drenching a small scrub brush across its surface with the oddly colored liquid. It smelled very strongly of disinfectant, and he flinched a little.

“This is the strong stuff.” You explained, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’ll get rid of the tougher stains—you don’t have a lot of them, so this part should be quick. I’ll try not to go too hard with it.”

“Do what you need to. We won’t run.”

This part of the cleaning process wasn’t quite as pleasant as the rag and soap. But you had been true to your word—your touch was gentle. Maybe too gentle.

“Harder.” He urged, after a while of watching you scrub at his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

You blew a few stray hairs out of your face. “I don’t know how you got this dirty. When was your last bath?”

He…couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t say anything at all.

You paused to glance up at him, but after it was apparent that you weren’t going to get a response, you turned back to scrubbing.

The bristles of the brush felt…strange, against his metal skin. Not painful. Just uncomfortable. It made him want to push your hand away, but he stopped short of doing so. You were just trying to help, and it wouldn’t do either of you good for him to make this difficult.

So, like a child sitting through a well-needed (but unwanted) haircut, he forced himself to simply sit there, squirming every so often.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you.” You finally said, your voice cutting through the silence. “I wish I could do something about the stains on your pants, but you probably wouldn’t want me to, uh…”

Your hands moved through the air, making vague gestures, before you just gave up and offered him a little half-shrug. “Mess with those.”

Moon had to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, you paused, blinking rapidly. “What? Oh, uh—I was just joking!”

A spark of mischief fluttered in his chest. Your cheeks were flushing, the rosy color reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t look at him suddenly, and his internals picked up a rapid jump in heart rate.

“Nervous?” A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he clicked his invisible tongue, wagging a finger in your face. “Naughty thing.”

The color on your face deepened to a shade that rivaled the ruby glow of his eyes.

“No! I mean—that’s not what I meant. Just—I just—” Your lips set in a thin line, breath coming quick and heavy.

“Want me to take them off?”

“What?”

He giggled again, quite enjoying the way your voice cracked.

“My…” His hands hovered for a moment, just above the hem of his pants. Then, he flipped them upwards, as if offering you his wrists. “Ribbons.”

Your face was so red that he wondered if you could even breathe properly. Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. Seeing you all flustered made that bouncy, electric feeling inside him tingle and spark.

For a moment, you just glared at him, shaking the scrub brush like you were considering smacking him with it. Then, you sucked in a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and slowly let it out again, lowering your would-be weapon.

“I hate you.”

He snickered again, reaching out a single finger to gently tap the tip of your nose. “Liar.”

You love me.

The words were caught in his nonexistent throat. He could say it, to push your buttons even further, but something held him back. Hesitation.

He wasn’t…quite ready to push it that far, yet.

You sighed dramatically, placing the scrub brush aside, only to reach for one of the toothbrushes he’d seen earlier.

“Are we playing dentist?”

“You’re half right.” Amusement sparkled in your eyes. “This is for, like, getting into the tiny places. The seams between your fingers and stuff. I’ll be using it on your face, too, so…”

“You came prepared.”

You grinned. “I told you I did.”

“All this for little old me?” He struck a bashful pose.

“Yes, you absolute goober. Now hold still…”

The feeling of the toothbrush sliding into his seams was much more pleasant than the scrub-brush. It still tickled, enough to make him twitch now and then, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

You were so gentle with the motions, making sure to get every nook and cranny that you could work the bristles into. Moon was a little shocked to see just how much grime the brush was picking up, but then again—it had been a very long time since they’d gotten any sort of attention in the “appearances” department.

Every time you swapped to a new area, you dip the brush into a small container of cleaner, swirling it around and wiping away the dirt from the surface of the bristles. But even with such meticulous attention to detail, it didn’t take long for it to become too dirty to keep using.

You ran through at least three brushes before you stopped to take a break.

“Seriously, how the hell did you guys get so dirty?”

Moon could only shrug. There were several components that contributed to their current state, but the biggest offender was plain out negligence.

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing a thermos from behind the stack of bottles and tipping it back. His eyes followed the movement of your throat every time you swallowed—a strange voyeuristic feeling.

A rivulet of water dripped from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin, then your throat, then over the dip of your clavicle and down beneath the collar of your shirt…he tore his gaze away. Focused on flexing his hands in his lap, then folded them together and squeezed, one foot tap-tap-tapping away, anxiously.

“Phew! God, I’m sweating like crazy. Is it okay if I take this off?” You fingered the neckline of your shirt with one hand, using the other to fan yourself with your hat.

He really wanted to say no. Because that would make him feel weirder.

But he couldn’t, when you looked at him like that. So earnest and innocent.

Moon nodded silently, looking away once more when you reached for the buttons. It felt…wrong, to watch you undo them. The sound of fabric rustling had his foot tapping just a bit faster.

“Okay! I’m good now.” You stretched your arms up above your head with a little moan. “God, that’s so much better.”

Moon found it hard to look at you directly, now that you were sitting there in a tank top. It wasn’t anything salacious, it was just. So intimate. There was so much more visible skin now, and his eyes kept moving over the muscles in your arms, across the curve of your abdomen…

The shape of your body was so much clearer now, and that made him feel…almost shy.

 “Alright, last up is your face. I’m gonna have to get a little bit closer—is that okay?”

That was not okay. His system was on high alert.

But what was he supposed to say? You’d already gone this far, he couldn’t just say no. Despite really, really wanting to.

For a moment he felt the gears in his head grinding, a substitution for the teeth and jaw he lacked. The tension in his body felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, seconds away from snapping. It got worse when he forced himself to nod, only able to muster up a little grunt of affirmation.

“Alright. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did.

This was just. Too close.

You slid off the children’s chair, half-kneeling with one of your legs on the ground, a knee between his legs to balance yourself.

Too close. It was too close.

You reached up, rag in hand. Your fingers gently cupped the side of his face, feather-light touch sending sparks through his body.

Too. Close.

He felt his whole body go stiff as you pressed the soapy rag to his cheek.

Carefully, you moved it up to his forehead, then down to his chin. Warmth trailed down the metal of his face, burning in the wake of your touch. So hot that he almost couldn’t stand it.

Your eyes moved over his face as you swapped sides, smoothing down the crescent curve of his nose so delicately that it tickled. If he’d had the ability to sneeze, he probably would have.

“Sorry.” Your teeth dug lightly into your lower lip. “I know this is a lot. You’re doing a great job, Moonie.”

That did not help his situation at all.

Your praise struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he clenched his fists so tightly in his lap that he felt his metal knuckles pop.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you. I really, really care about you.” You paused to suck in a little breath. “I mean that.”

He could barely hear what you were saying. It was like static was buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the moment. All he could do was focus on the shape of your lips as they formed around each word.

“I…” The words refused to come out, caught in his nonexistent throat.

“It’s alright.” You laughed a little, placing the rag aside and reaching for the final toothbrush. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m almost done.”

That wasn’t it.

You were just so close. The warmth of your body, your smell, the shape of you…it was suffocating him. If he leaned in, just a little bit more, he’d be able to wrap his arms around you, to feel the softness of your skin against his—

The abrupt tickle of the toothbrush rubbing against the seam in his faceplate made him jerk back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You scoot forward, the hand on his cheek holding him in place a bit more firmly. “I’m almost done.”

Your body heat is suddenly all around him, then. You’re leaning up in his lap, both knees on the chair, straddling his leg. He can catch the scent of shampoo on your hair, scented lotion on your skin. He could count every lash framing your eyes. Feel the heat of your breath on his teeth—

His hands hover in the air, fingers twitching sporadically, just inches away from gripping you by the waist.

He wants to tell you to back up. But his invisible tongue is tied in knots.

He can’t stop looking at your face. Staring at you, as you maneuver the brush into the little dots lining his crescent-sloped nose.

“You have the cutest freckles.” You say, your lips turning up at the corners.

His body makes a strange noise. A low, grinding metallic sound that could be as much a growl as it could a whine.

That’s all the warning you get before he leans in, gripping you tight by the shoulders, and all but mashes his face against yours in a pathetic facsimile of a kiss.

It lasts for only a few seconds, but those seconds feel like an eternity. The softness of your lips against his hard, unyielding smile has his processor running at full tilt, fans blasting at full force inside of his chest, trying to chase off a heat that threatens to melt his insides into a gooey mess.

He was brought back to reality, then, as his brain caught up to his body.

Moon leaned back, shame burning through him. He slowly unfurled his hands from your shoulders, bringing them up to cover his face.

Why had he done that?

“M-Moon, I—what—”

Your voice is so small, trembling, and that just makes it so much worse.

“No, no.” He rasped, clawing at his cheeks. You stumbled back as he scrambled out of the chair, knocking it over in his haste to put distance between the two of you. “Against the rules. It’s wrong. Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no—”

“Moon, stop.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—” Everything was spiraling. The gears inside his head grind so hard that it hurts.

He had you. He had something good. And he ruined it.

Sun was right. He ruined everything.

He always ruined everything good.

“Moon, stop!” Your fingers twine through his own, trying to pry his hands from his face. He can hear the panic in your voice. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“This is bad. This is wrong. It’s wrong.” He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into the dark, curl up in the shadows, and stay there forever. Away from you. Away from the good thing that he ruined. His fingers try to find purchase on something, anything, to grab and pull and break. “Wrong, wrong, wrong—”

“Moon…!”

He feels your fingers curl in the thin fabric of his neck ruffles—and then you yank.

The kiss is clumsy, teeth clicking against teeth as your lips smash against his plastic smile.

Everything in him screeches to a violent, almost painful halt. You’re kissing him.

And you keep kissing him.

Every kiss is hard and passionate, lips moving across his face as far as you can get to, standing on your tiptoes. He feels you stumble a little as you lean up into him, and his hands instinctively land on your waist to help you keep your balance.

“Wait, we can’t—”

“Sit.” You command.

He sits, following your will like the loyal, obedient dog that he is. He can see the chair he knocked over in front of him, sitting in what was your seat, but that view is quickly blocked when you climb into his lap. Your hands are trembling as they cup the sides of his face.

For a moment, your mouth opens and closes. Your brow furrows. You look like you want to say something, but no words come out.

So instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

And he lets you. He holds your tiny waist in his hands and leans into your touch, allowing the chaos filling his mind to simply melt away as you pepper kisses across his face.

Cheeks, nose, forehead, smile, eyebrows, chin. Back and forth and up and down and over and over—every kiss has his head spinning.

One of his large, metal hands come up to cradle the back of your head, urging you even closer. His fingers thread tenderly through your hair. Amongst the chaos, your hat is knocked free, falling to the wayside.

The heat of your body burns so hot through the thin fabric of your tank-top, and with the other hand, he gently squeezes the flesh of your side. A part of him wants to slide his fingers lower, to dip his hand beneath the shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot he can’t stand it—

But then he feels your tongue slide across the thin curve of his lower lip, and he jerks back in shock. The thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his snaps.

“I, uh—ha..ha-ha…” You laugh a little as you rush to stand, quickly reaching up to wipe the drool from your mouth. Your lips are bruised red and a little puffy, cheeks flushed a pretty pink color. “Sorry, I-I got a little…uh, carried away.”

“Naughty.” Moon purrs, wagging a finger at you playfully. “Naughty boy.”

He feels so light and…and happy. That’s the only way he can put the bubbly, buzzy, excited feeling running all through his body. He’s happy.

“Was that…was that okay? That I…did…that?”” You can hardly look at him, eyes darting back-and-forth. He can feel you starting to pull back slightly, and his fingers curl possessively over the curve of your hip, keeping you tethered.

“…Maybe.” He muses, head cocking to the side. “Maybe not.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

“Maybe you should…do it again.” His head tilted to the other side. “To make sure.”

He can’t help but giggle when obvious relief washes over your face.

“You…” Again, your lips move, not quite forming around words, like whatever you’re trying to say won’t quite come out. You settle with an awkward, lopsided smile. “So, it is okay? That I kissed you?”

Moon nodded, swaying lightly in his seat. “Yes. It’s…okay.”

He really wishes you would do it again.

“Okay. Okay! Good. I-I’m…yeah.” You laugh nervously, your cheeks still stained pink. Your grin stretches from ear-to-ear. Then you look up at him, and your expression morphs into an apologetic smirk.

“Cause now I’ve gotta clean your face off again.”

He stops swaying.

“Ah….” Moon can’t stop the little unhappy grunt that escapes him. He can still feel the sensation of each kiss buzzing against his metal skin. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Moon, I have to.” You chuckle again, once more reaching for the cleaning supplies. “You can’t walk around with drool all over your face.”

“I’ve done it before.”

You fix him with a look. “You can’t walk around with MY drool all over your face.”

“Boo.” He crossed his arms, slumping back in a dramatic pout. His hat slumped over his face, the bell jingling as it bounced off his nose. “You’re no fun.”

A little whistle of air escapes your nose as you settled the other chair in front of him, scooting forward until your knees were touching. You reach up, gently moving the bell back over the curve of his head and beckoned him forward.

Moon, of course, leans into your hand without hesitation.

And so, you resume where you’d left off, with you gently wiping away the remnants of your improvised make-out session.

“So. Um.” Your voice cracks a little. “Are we, like…I mean. Do you…like…me?”

“Yes.” He says simply.

“No, I mean. Uh.” You suck in a shaky breath, still struggling to look him in the eye. “Like…like-like. Do you like me. In “that” way? Like—like “that”?”

He’s not sure how he didn’t make that clear. He thought that he had.

But you look like you want to sink into the earth right now, so he can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Maybe.” Moon crooned, daintily folding his hands between his knees and swaying side-to-side. “Do you like-like me?”

He can hear the breath catch in your throat, and you look away quickly, face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

So very cute.

“Y-Yeah. I do. A lot.” You inhale slowly, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “I-I care about you, a lot, Moon. You’re…you’re my best friend and I…I like you. A lot.”

He stops swaying (again).

“Hm. Good.”

Before you can react, he leans forward to gently bump his smile against your forehead. You, of course, stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

 “I like you…too.”

For a second, you look like you’re thinking about saying something—and Moon simply giggles when you lean in to kiss him again.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, he can keep this one.

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Phainon x reader

The rumors were true.

You stood in front of the large, polished machine, its sleek metallic surface reflecting the soft neon glow of the surrounding marketplace. The “Lucky Egg Dispenser” as it was called, had become something of a sensation overnight. A single pull of the trigger, and you’d receive an egg—an unhatched mystery promising the perfect partner. Most people spoke of rare creatures, companion animals with unique abilities, and even a few who whispered about something… stranger.

“Lucky egg?” you mused aloud, shifting the weight of the gun-like trigger in your grip. You’d always been one to try new things. It didn’t hurt to take a chance.

With a decisive motion, you squeezed the trigger.

A soft whirring sound filled the air before a pristine white egg gently rolled out, stopping perfectly at your feet. You crouched down, picking it up. Warm. Alive.

A small smile tugged at your lips. Taking care of it would be simple, you were no stranger to nurturing things. Three days. That was all it would take for it to hatch.

You weren’t worried in the slightest.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for your “partner” to be a human.

The egg hatched in the dead of night. A soft crackling sound stirred you from your sleep, but by the time you were fully awake, the shell had already split apart.

And there, sitting on your bed, was a boy.

No, not a boy, a young man, probably around your age.

Pale skin, silver-white hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and brilliant, otherworldly eyes. His clothes were odd, somewhere between regal and alien, but the most alarming thing was the wide, almost manic grin stretching across his face.

Before you could react, he lunged at you, arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing embrace.

“My name is Phainon!” he chirped, his voice filled with unfiltered joy. “I’m your partner now!”

Oh no...Your stomach dropped as realization set in.

Baby duck syndrome.

You knew the term well. When a newborn creature imprints on the first living being they see and attaches to them completely. You were that first living being.

And judging by the way Phainon’s grip tightened, as if he’d never let go, you had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as you thought.

Phainon clung to you like a vice, his grip almost bruising as he buried his face into your neck. His breath was warm, uneven with excitement, and his entire body trembled, not with fear, but something far more intense.

“You’re mine” he whispered, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. “I belong to you… and you belong to me.”

This was bad. You tried to gently pry him off, but the moment you moved, his arms locked around you tighter, his fingers digging into your back as if he were afraid you’d disappear. His blue eyes, impossibly bright and alight with something unsettling, gazed up at you with an overwhelming adoration.

“Don’t push me away” Phainon begged “I just hatched… I need you.”

You swallowed, carefully adjusting your expression. “I-I’m not pushing you away. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

His gaze flickered with doubt before softening, though his grip didn’t loosen.

“I won’t let you leave me” he promised, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I was born for you.”

You had really gotten yourself into trouble this time.

With Phainon practically glued to your side, you dragged him along to the dungeon. You needed supplies, and in this world, the only way to survive was by hunting monsters and trading points for food and goods. At the very least, you thought you could shake off some of his energy by keeping him occupied. What you didn’t expect was just how powerful he was.

The first monster barely had a chance to move before Phainon lunged, his bare hands tearing through it like paper. Blue eyes shimmered with an eerie thrill as he made quick work of the beasts around you. No hesitation. No struggle. Just raw, overwhelming strength. You stared, a mix of awe and unease settling in your gut.

“Phainon…” You hesitated as he turned to you, still grinning. “How do you know how to fight?”

He tilted his head, as if the question itself was strange. “I was born to protect you” he answered simply. “If anything dares to harm you, I’ll rip it apart.”

His words were spoken with such sincerity that it made your skin crawl. Still, you couldn’t deny the convenience. With him by your side, earning points was absurdly easy.

So you took him to the marketplace, trading in your earnings and buying him new clothes, something normal, something that would help him blend in.

But as you held up a shirt for him to try, he only stared at you with an unsettling softness.

“You take such good care of me…” He exhaled, stepping closer. “You really do love me.”

Your grip on the fabric tightened.

This was going to be a problem.

Even as you weaved through the marketplace, his fingers curled around your wrist, grip firm and unwavering. His blue eyes scanned the crowd with silent intensity, watching every passerby with something between wariness and irritation, as if anyone who so much as looked at you was a potential threat.

You sighed, trying to ignore it.

That was until someone called your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned, spotting an old friend making their way toward you, smiling. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Before you could respond, their gaze flickered to Phainon, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“…Oh? Who’s this?” they asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t exactly say he came from an egg. That would sound insane. So, against your better judgment, you went along with it. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

Your friend chuckled. “I figured. He looks like he’d kill someone if they so much as breathed in your direction.”

You let out an awkward laugh, hoping they were joking.

Phainon, however, only smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I would” he murmured, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your friend’s laughter faltered.

Before the situation could get any worse, you quickly made your exit, dragging Phainon away.

When you finally got home, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “You can’t just say things like that, you know.”

Phainon tilted his head. “But it’s true.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a meal. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the space, and for a moment, things felt… normal.

But you could still feel Phainon’s admiring gaze on you.

When you finally placed a plate in front of him, his eyes softened.

“You take such good care of me” he murmured.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat.”

But as you turned away, his voice reached you again, quiet, almost innocent.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

This was getting worse by the second.

The next morning, Phainon was already awake before you, sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you with silent fascination. You ignored the unsettling feeling that came with knowing he had likely been staring at you for a while.

“We’re going out!” you said, stretching. “I need to figure out what you’re actually capable of.”

His expression brightened. “You’re thinking about me first thing in the morning?” His voice was honeyed, pleased. “That makes me happy.”

You sighed. “Just get ready.”

Despite his odd behavior, you needed to assess his skills properly. Yesterday’s display of strength was impressive, but you weren’t sure if he had magic abilities as well. If he was going to fight alongside you, he needed the right weapon.

So, you took him to a well-known weapon shop in the city.

The place was stocked with everything—swords, spears, enchanted items, and magic-infused equipment. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at Phainon as he trailed closely behind you, practically glued to your side.

“A new recruit?” they asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Something like that. I need to test his capabilities and get him a sword.”

Phainon didn’t seem too interested in the conversation. Instead, his attention remained locked onto you, his fingers subtly brushing against your arm as if to remind himself that you were still there.

The shopkeeper guided you both to the testing grounds in the back.

Phainon barely glanced at the weapons lined up for testing. Instead, he turned to you, expectant.

“Choose one for me” he said.

You blinked. “Why? You should pick what feels right.”

He smiled “I want your choice. Something that reminds you of me.”

You hesitated, but eventually, you picked a sword. When you handed it to him, he held it as if it were sacred, his fingers running over the hilt with reverence. Then, he turned toward the practice dummy and swung. The air itself seemed to hum as the blade sliced cleanly through, the force of his strike strong enough to split the dummy in two. You barely had time to react before the lingering energy from his swing crackled, a faint shimmer of magic lacing through the air.

So he did have magic.

The shopkeeper let out a low whistle. “That’s some terrifying raw talent.”

Phainon ignored them, stepping closer to you, lifting the sword slightly.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “It suits you.”

His eyes softened, a quiet sort of delight settling in his expression. “Then I’ll treasure it forever.”

It wasn’t about the sword. It was about the fact that you were the one who gave it to him.

Going into the dungeon with Phainon was like having a high-level DPS at your side. You barely had to lift a finger.

With every swing of his sword, monsters fell instantly, torn apart before they could even react. His raw strength was unmatched, his movements precise and brutal, and his magic crackled through the air with every strike. All you had to do was keep him healed.

Whenever he took a hit, rare as it was, you were there, casting healing spells or applying potions before he could even flinch. It was almost effortless, and the way he looked at you every time you healed him sent a strange chill down your spine.

“You always take care of me” he murmured, after you placed a hand on his arm to patch up a small wound. His blue eyes burned with something unreadable. “It makes me love you even more.”

You pretended not to hear him.

By the end of the run, you had racked up an absurd amount of points. It was more than you’d ever earned in a single trip. But as you left the dungeon, your path was blocked. A group of men stood in front of you, their expressions dark with anger.

“You!” one of them spat, eyes locked on you. “That was our dungeon route. You took our points.”

You stiffened. You had heard of people like this before, territorial dungeon crawlers who claimed certain areas as their own, even though the dungeons were free for all. Phainon, however, only tilted his head, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.

“Move” he said simply.

The men sneered. “Or what?”

Phainon smiled. And then, in the blink of an eye, he moved.

You barely saw it happen. One second, the men were standing tall, and the next, they were on the ground, groaning, writhing, clutching broken limbs. Phainon hadn’t even drawn his sword. He had simply crushed them with his bare hands. You felt the blood drain from your face as he turned back to you, expression calm, as if nothing had happened.

“You don’t need to worry about them” he stepped close to you, his voice almost soothing. “I’ll always protect you.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

“You’ll never need anyone else.”

You weren’t the only one who noticed Phainon’s strength.

Word spread fast in the city. A newcomer, practically fresh out of nowhere, tearing through dungeons with monstrous efficiency? It was bound to catch attention.

When you returned to the marketplace, a group of uniformed individuals was waiting for you. Their armor bore the insignia of the Adventurer’s Guild, the organization that oversaw dungeon crawlers and regulated combat prowess.

One of them, a woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. “We’ve received reports about you” she said, looking Phainon up and down. “Your combat abilities are… unusual.”

Phainon didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.

The woman continued, unfazed. “We’d like to evaluate your rank. If you’re as strong as people claim, you should be registered with the guild.”

You hesitated, then glanced at Phainon. “It’s up to you” you said casually. “You can decide for yourself.”

His reaction was immediate. His blue eyes snapped to yours, wide with something unreadable. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if suppressing an impulse.

For the first time since you met him, Phainon looked… lost.

“You’re letting me decide?” he murmured, almost as if the concept itself was foreign to him. His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous beneath it.

The guild members watched the exchange, waiting for an answer.

Then, without warning, Phainon grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm but not painful—more like an anchor, something grounding him.

“I don’t need them!” he said, his eyes darkening. “I don’t need a rank. I don’t need recognition. I only need you.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Phainon...”

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, as if reassuring himself that you were still there, still his.

“I’ll prove it” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’ll see… I don’t need anything else.”

The woman from the guild frowned. “Refusing to register might cause problems later. If you change your mind, come to the guild hall.” She gave you a lingering look before turning away, leading her team elsewhere.

Once they were gone, you exhaled, glancing down at your guild-issued device. You hadn’t checked Phainon’s stats since he hatched. Opening the interface, your breath caught in your throat. His level had skyrocketed. It wasn’t just growth, it was unnatural. No one leveled up this fast. Slowly, you looked up at him, finding him already staring at you.

His lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “You’re looking at me differently” he murmured. “Are you finally realizing it?”

Realizing what?

Phainon wasn’t just strong. He was something else.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Phainon’s level growth wasn’t just unnatural, it was impossible. Even the most elite adventurers took years to reach his current strength, yet he had done it in mere days. And his reaction when you let him decide for himself… the way he clung to you, as if the very idea of autonomy was foreign to him… Something wasn’t right.

That night, while Phainon sat contentedly by the fireplace, watching you with that ever-present devotion, you busied yourself with research.

You poured through old adventurer logs, ancient texts, and anything that might explain the anomaly that was him. But no record of a “lucky egg” spawning a human existed. Every instance of the machine had resulted in creatures—beasts, familiars, magical companions. Never a person. Then, deep within an old archive, you found something.

A passage detailing an experiment.

“In pursuit of the perfect companion, scholars once sought to craft an entity bound by absolute devotion. A being that would imprint upon the first soul it encountered, instinctively prioritizing their happiness and survival above all else. However, these creations proved unstable—obsessive, possessive, and far too powerful. The project was ultimately abandoned, all records sealed away.”

Your gaze flickered toward Phainon.

His blue eyes gleamed in the firelight, calm and unreadable as he met your stare.

“You’re looking at me like that again”

“Phainon…” You swallowed. “What are you?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, he rose from his seat, walking toward you with measured steps. When he reached you, he knelt—his head resting against your lap, his arms wrapping around you in a loose embrace.

“I don’t know” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But does it matter?”

He tilted his head, pressing closer, his warmth seeping into you.

“All I know is that I belong to you” he murmured, smiling softly. “And that’s the only truth I need.”

Your fingers trembled against the pages of the book.

This was worse than you thought.

Phainon wasn’t just obsessed.

He was made to be.

[melosliving]

im not sure if you did this yet BUT HEAR ME OUTTT, what if reader played in a movie with both aaron and kelvin and they are doing a interview together and they both discreetly see reader fidgeting with her hands and dress and try to secretly stop her and then after the interview is over they talk to her about it because its been going on for a minute…

Let me cook girl 😎 thanks for your request baby ❤️❤️

aaron pierre n kelvin harrison jr x actress!reader

you’re a nervous little thing…

warnings : dissociation

Press days are nothing new. You’ve done this a hundred times before—same routine, different city. Bright lights, velvet chairs, a round of staged laughs and knowing glances. Kelvin cracking jokes, Aaron making effortless comebacks, you sitting between them, playing the perfect balance to their chaos. It’s familiar. Easy.

But today, something feels off.

You’re aware of the cameras, the energy of the room, the way your dress sits against your skin—but it all feels distant, like you’re watching from somewhere outside yourself. Your hands won’t stay still, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tapping against your knee, pressing against your rings. The voices around you sound far away, the world slightly out of sync.

Then you feel something. Aaron shifts beside you, the movement so small it’s barely noticeable, but suddenly his knee is pressed lightly against yours. But it his his hand that makes you aware of what you were doing. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t make a show of it, just lets the warmth of his hand seep into you like an anchor.

A beat later, Kelvin exhales through his nose, almost like a sigh, and leans back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests—but one of them, the one closest to you, brushes against your own. The weight is barely there, just the slightest pressure of skin against skin, but it’s intentional.

You breathe in slowly, focusing on that—on them. On the way their presence feels steady, how they’ve closed in around you just enough to remind you that you’re not drifting alone.

“You good?” Kelvin’s voice is low, casual enough that no one else would catch the concern tucked beneath it.

You nod, just once. He doesn’t push. Neither does Aaron. But they don’t move away either.

The interviewer shifts in her seat, oblivious. “So, let’s talk about the chemistry between you three, because it’s insane in this film,” she says, laughing. “Was that something you had to work on, or was it natural?”

Aaron tilts his head slightly, smirking. “I mean, that’s all her. I think she is what makes us look and feel so real.” He nods in your direction. “She makes it easy.”

Kelvin hums in agreement. “Yeah, don’t let her fool you. She’s got people thinking we were actually in love out here.”

You huff a small laugh, trying to shake the fog in your head. “You two were just as bad.”

Aaron turns toward Kelvin with a knowing look. “I did catch you staring a few times.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Excuse You, you were the one looking at my mouth every other scene.”

Aaron raises a brow. “Because you wouldn’t stop licking your lips.” Kelvin gestures toward you. “Well, she kept whispering in my ear, so how was I supposed to focus?”

You blink at him. “That was literally in the script.”

Aaron exhales dramatically. “Didn’t have to say it like that, though.” Kelvin hums. “Yeah, some of those lines felt… personal.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You two are ridiculous.”

Aaron grins, shifting slightly so his elbow just barely nudges against yours. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Kelvin leans in, voice dropping just enough that only you can hear. “You okay now?” You nod again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Kelvin holds your gaze for a second longer before leaning back. Aaron doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers lightly against your knee once—brief, barely noticeable—before returning his hand to his lap.

The conversation moves on, but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. The moment the cameras stop rolling, Kelvin turns to you.

“You been doing that a lot lately,” he says, voice quieter now, more serious. Aaron is watching you too, brow slightly furrowed. “Spacing out like that.”

You hesitate, fingers grazing over the rings on your hand again. “It’s nothing. Just happens sometimes.”

Kelvin tilts his head. “You telling us that, or yourself?” You sigh, pressing your lips together. “Both ? I’m fine.”

Aaron doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, smoothing the fabric of your sleeve, his touch light, absentminded. “You don’t have to go through it alone, you know.”

Kelvin exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah. Next time, just tap one of us or somethin’. Let us bring you back.”

You glance between them, their expressions soft, steady, patient. You nod. “Yeah.”

Aaron studies you for a second longer before giving a small, satisfied nod. Then, because he can’t not do it, he smirks. “Or, you know, you could just sit next to me all the time. Let me hold your hand before you start floating off somewhere.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Here he go.”

Aaron shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, I’m right here—”

Kelvin rolls his eyes. “And I’m right here. Not you trying to steal my shine,”

Aaron smirks, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, but she likes me better.” Kelvin huffs out a laugh, then turns to you, expression playful. “Is that true?”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “I’m literally leaving.”

Kelvin grins. “Nah, we’re takin’ you to get food first.” Aaron hums. “Yeah, you definitely need to eat.”

You sigh, but there’s no real protest. “Fine.”

By the time you check your phone, Twitter is already spiraling.

“Kelvin and Aaron subtly closing in around her when she started dissociating… I need a moment.”

“No one’s talking about how Aaron just naturally reached for her hand without even looking? Hello???”

“Kelvin whispering ‘you okay now?’ with that serious look??? SIR, PLEASE.”

“They’re so soft with her but still manage to be the most unserious men alive. It’s unfair.”

@ melosliving 2025

[puckinghischier]

Jealous Nico

i struggle with this one bc can he get jealous? yes, extremely so. does he often? i wanna say no.

i feel like he’s just so trusting and obsessed with you that the thought doesn’t even cross his mind half the time, because you never pay people any mind. he knows he holds your attention, so why would he ever get jealous?

but sometimes…just sometimes, when you’ve had one too many drinks and your attention starts flitting around the room, looking for anyone who will entertain you to have a conversation with? he wants to scream “i’m right here!!!” at you. but he doesn’t want to be that guy, so he just lets you wander and mingle. never too far, though.

and as much as we wants to, the feeling that settles in his stomach when he sees you laughing with some finance bro over at the bar when you’re getting a refill is something he can’t really ignore.

maybe it’s the way you’re giving him so much excitement, clearly passionate about whatever topic is pouring from your lips. or maybe it’s the way this douche is looking at you, like you’re the brightest light in the room and he’s a moth that can’t escape your glow. whatever it is, it has him walking away from his conversation mid sentence, warm eyes turned dark in dislike of what he was witnessing.

as he makes his way through the crowd towards you, he realizes he can’t even be mad at you, because you’re just being the social butterfly he knows you are. all you want to do is converse and enjoy all the liveliness in the building, you’re not purposefully ignoring him. you were actually trying to talk to him a few minutes ago, but he was trying to listen to what jesper was saying before he got lost in whatever topic you deemed so important. so really, he thinks to himself, this is his fault, and he shouldn’t even be jealous in the first place.

but when you start jumping up and down slightly, clearly excited with whatever response you were just given, and douchebag’s eyes go straight to your chest instead of your ear to ear grin and bright eyes, he realizes yeah…maybe he can be jealous and a little bit of an asshole right now.

“müsli? did you ever get your drink, sweet girl?” he tries the sweet approach, not wanting to be overly gruff in front of you.

his chest puffs out at the way all of your attention is focused on him the second you hear his voice, forgetting all about the stranger in front of you.

“nico! hi! i feel like i haven’t seen you in….in….like…thirty minutes ago!” your words make no sense, a small hiccup making you giggle out an “excuse me” as you turn towards him.

he smiles down at you, your glossy eyes focused on his own, just how it should be.

“oh! frank, this is nico!” you turn back around to the stranger, his gaze raking down your figure, making nico see red all over again. you lean in closer to the man, cupping your hands around your mouth to try and whisper, but failing miserably. “he’s my boyfriend!” you giggle out, acting like a school girl talking about her crush.

turning back to nico, you miss the hard gaze he was throwing your new friend. “nico, frank and i were just talking about how fun it would be if there was a slip’n’slide in here!”

nico’s demeanor involuntarily softens a bit at your enthusiasm over the random topic, amused at how excited you are over the thought of a slip’n’slide in the middle of winter in new jersey.

but when he looks back up at your new friend frank, he can practically see the thoughts running through his head, and why he’s also be enthusiastic about the idea. if it wasn’t him ogling your tits earlier, it was the way he was checking your ass out while nico is standing right there.

“oh yeah?” nico speaks to you but keeps his attention on the man too lost looking at your ass to realize he’s being summoned into the conversation.

“yeah! tell him, frank! tell him what you said about making sure i’d be able to take as many turns as i wanted! that no one else would be allowed on it, because it would be my own special slip’n’slide!”

it’s endearing, really, the ideas you get in that smart head of yours when you’ve been slamming vodka crans all night. nico always loves to find out what theories and plans you come up with everytime you two have nights out. he’s thought about writing them down a time or two, because you never believe him when he tells you about the the next day, always claiming you “would literally never say that,” because you’re “a college educated woman, thank you very much.”

but this one? the one that has frank all but salivating at the thought of seeing you repeatedly have a wet t-shirt contest of one on a theoretical slip’n’slide? this one is just pissing him off.

“hmm?” frank’s attention is finally snapped away from your body and back to the conversation at hand.

“she was just saying how you told her how wonderful her own, special slip’n’slide would be, considering you wouldn’t let anyone else on it,” nico answers, letting his voice lower.

“oh yeah, dude. wouldn’t that be the hottest thing ever?” frank, so stupidly, decided to respond.

nico’s dry chuckle is the only response frank got. and either frank was smarter than nico gave him credit for, or he looks a lot more menacing than he thought, because the sound wiped the smug, disgusting smile right off of his face.

“frank…buddy….just walk away, yeah?” nico suggests, not used to being the scary boyfriend type but hoping it does the trick.

and much to his surprise, it works, frank nodding and walking the other direction, but not before you call out a sweet “bye, frank! it was nice to meet you!”

grabbing your hand, nico leans down to suggest it’s time for the two of you to leave, because he’s “tired of sharing you with everyone tonight, schatz. need my daily dose of hiding you away so i can get all of your attention,” while nipping playfully at your ear.

and, get all of your attention he does, considering you don’t stop talking to him from the time he gets you in the car to drive you home to the time he gets you settled in bed, behind closed doors, soaking up every second of not having to share your sweet voice. he drank it in like you were his own personal oasis in a dry and vast desert, just how he liked it.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

[emoisthenewemu]

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VIDEO GAMES

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TOGE INUMAKI X F! READER SMAU

A/N THERE IS LOTS OF VERY IMPORTANT TEXT AT THE BOTTOM PLS READ

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt12.5, pt14

Pt.13 “Mustard Leaf"

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Your first week back at school Inumaki avoids you like the plague. You don't think he ever looked at you once. Not when you came back into the classroom to say hi to everyone, not during conditioning (where he just so happened to be on the other side of the room at all times), not when you were being dismissed for the day and walking back to your dorms. You stand there for a while with Maki, it feels strange because you have grown so accustomed to having Inumaki walk you back to your room. But things have changed whether you like it or not. So you ignore the dull ache in your heart, looking back at the boy who definitely noticed the way you seem to be searching for him.

Turning back around you walk off, looping arms with Maki who has been uncharacteristically happy since your arrival back. Before this Maki wouldn't even hug you. He watches the back of your head, your ponytail bouncing with every step you take, your cute pink converse that you drew little stars and hearts on when the two of you were chilling in his dorm room one day. He wrote his name on them, he wonders if it's still there.

You turn around again as the boys round the corner towards their dorms, looking at person you miss most in life. The hardest part of it all-is that he is right in front of you. You had no idea it was possible to miss someone you see every day.

Maki focuses your attention back to the path in front of you, pulling you away from the trash can you almost walked into. The two of you laugh, she calls you a fucking dumbass.

Toge looks back to find the two of you giggling, it's nice to see you laugh. You've looked so sad ever since your return. His heart is warmed at the sight of you. But he catches you turning your head to get one last glimpse of him, so he looks away, acting as if he had not been stealing glances allll week.

Later that night you decide you cannot take it anymore. Siege says he's online, it's almost twelve in the morning so he has to be in his dorm. You put on a hoodie and march out there, making your way all the way across campus to the boys' dorms. They put them far apart for a reason, but you don't care. Maybe you should have out some pants on, some socks as the holes in your crocs seem to invite the cold air to go seeping through. Your body is covered in goosebumps.

You're almost there but you pause-a moment of clarity hits you.

Are you being crazy? Is this too much?

Your question is answered when you spot him standing outside. You are unaware but he is in a much similar place you are in-he would be lying if he said he wasn't walking out of his dorm with every intention to see you. That was until he actually spotted you of course, he suddenly freezes up as your figure begins to move closer.

"Toge!"

Oh fuck no.

He books it back to the entrance, but it seems he forgot-yes you are kind of fucking crazy because you chase him. Making it just in time to catch the door before he tries to open it. When did you get so fast?

"Toge no!" You plead as he tries to move your arm out of the way. And then the two of you begin to almost wrestle for the door handle, pushing your bodies against each other, using both of your strengths to your advantage. "You can't...fuck!" You stop as the boy begins to overpower you, prying your cold hands off the door. "You can't ignore me forever!"

And then you almost fall, so of course he catches you. He would never want to hurt you, but quickly releases his hold on you, slapping your hand lightly with furrowed brows. God, you annoy him sometimes. He hates the way you are fucking pouting at him; he hates the way the both of you are panting after the struggle that was trying to keep him from going back inside-he hates the fact that you are wearing shorts and no socks-shivering right before his very eyes. It's cold out here, you're going to get sick.

And then he laughs at the ridiculous situation the two of you have found yourselves in. You are definitely determined; he'll give you credit where it's due.

You giggle but are afraid to laugh too much. There's nothing funny about this actually, you need your favorite person back. He drags you inside, pulling you by the wrist and scoffing when he feels how cold your skin is. The first thing he does is grab you a blanket, wrapping it around you. And he looks down only to realize that the two of you have the same pair of crocs on. His eye twitches, yes, you annoy him.

"Sorry! I ordered them for the both of us.... thought it would be cute. That was before.... well, you know"

He rolls his eyes and sits down on his gaming chair. You sit on his bed in the same spot you always used to. It feels different now.

"Okay, so I have a lot to say, like a lot and I know for like more than half of it you're gonna be like 'well what the fuck does that have to do with me?' and you're right but I just need you to understand where I'm coming from. Why I am the way I am" You begin, looking up at the ceiling as you nervously rock your leg up and down.

He nods, purple eyes taking in every inch of you. You look so afraid.

You take the biggest sigh of your life, it feels like you can finally breathe. "Okay! So basically, when I was young my parents were in a fucking cult-the star religious group, time vessel association, whatever the fuck. And like it was really weird and scary; they were super obsessed with me and my brother. Wanted to use our power for who knows what so they would do these like experiments on us and make us do really weird shit. Honestly, I can't even remember most of it. Pretty sure I blocked that all out but just know it was fucked up. So then when I'm a bit older this guy takes over and everything gets like a million times weirder, and he starts telling us that all non-curse users need to be wiped out-that they're not pure. So understandably my parents got really scared and they wanted to leave but my brother didn't! He got really close to the dude actually and started becoming a part of whatever they were doing so he refused to go"

You breathe again and he waits, you are sure he's sick and tired of listening to you speak. You wish you could hear him speak. "And long story short, they killed him. I don't know how, my parents won't tell me, but he was like their golden child so obviously they took it really hard and that's when they started hating curse users. They ended up joining another religion-another cult that is arguably just as bad.... they did actual fucking exorcisms on me to try and drain me of my power! But it never worked"

And you begin to choke up, bottom lip wobbling at how crazy this must sound. It's exactly why you never spoke about it to anyone-you're ashamed. "And I think the only reason they let me fucking come to this school is because my brother wanted to go.... but they always fucking told me if I did one thing wrong-anything they didn't like they would bring me back home. You have no idea how many times I would meet random guys, sometimes even grown ass men that they would tell me I might marry one day....c-cause' they don't want me to end up with another curse users" A tear falls from your eye, you wipe it away with your sweater.

"They just hate me and everything I am! It hurts so much all I ever wanted was to impress them! And I'm not trying to make you feel bad for me I just need you to understand that what I did was never because of you. That you weren't enough because Toge I have never met anyone like you before! You are so so amazing and I wish I would have told you that sooner I was just afraid....and I was always in fear of what direction my life would go. Always so uncertain of what my future was gonna be.... dating anyone was the last thing on my mind. If anything, it made me hate all guys and want nothing to do with them!"

You are basically full-on sobbing by this point, ugly crying-God you feel so embarrassed. "I just wanted them to be proud of me! It's the only reason I said yes when he asked. I thought if I did something that makes them happy while also being a sorcerer they would change their minds and let me stay....because Inumaki the only thing worse than living my life wanting you would be living it without you"

"And fuck! I am just so so sorry I hurt you! I can't believe I did that to you! You deserve so much better and I-"

"Stop!" He finally speaks; the blue light of his computer makes his marking more visible than ever. You think they look so beautiful on him.

You are frozen not because you wish to be but because you have no other choice. It is like you have no free will; it almost scares you.

But he stands up and hugs you. You feel so comforted and complete, it is a feeling that nobody, certainly not even your parents have made you feel. You feel safe. You keep crying but he doesn't mind, he pets your hair and just allows you to let it all out. You aren't sure how long the two of you stay like that, but he pulls away when you finally stop. And he wordlessly drags you to the bathroom, giving you tissues and letting you wash your face before grabbing you some water.

"T-thank you Toge" You hiccup as the two of you find your ways back to sitting on his bed.

He feels bad. He had no idea all of that would be at play. He was just so caught up in you that he forgot about everything else, that life happens and not everything will go the way it's supposed to. Or maybe it does because you sit here in his arms, and it feels like the biggest weight has finally been lifted off of your chest.

He is holding you, one arm wrapped across your back and the other rests on your hip. Your head is resting on his chest, listening to his abnormally fast heartbeat but you won't question it-yours is beating fast too.

"Mustard leaf" I forgive you.

You would cry if you did not weep all your tears already. Finally, things are okay. "You're very special to me Toge. I wish I could...indulge on how I feel about you but i just can't. Not right now"

"Shhh" He comforts you, he understands. Maybe you should find a place to live in between school seasons before you worry about him. He kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay that way for a while.

The two of you stay up until morning comes, playing scary Minecraft mods and genuinely laughing together for the first time in weeks.

It feels right.

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[delugyu]

hi!! i was wondering if i could request a one shot based on the GGUM mv where yeonjun is a cocky and bratty k pop idol that belittles everyone and basically the reader is like his mananger who’s had enough of his behavior and decides to teach him a lesson and he’s super submissive.

btw i LOVE your writing. cold, curse city was amazing <3

jumped for joy when i saw submissive yeonjun YAYYYYYYY (also thank you!!! hehe)

(wc: 2k / warnings: mean dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, reader’s kind of a bitch but yeonjun is too so it’s okay, degradation, humiliation, oral kinda idk eating pussy thru the panties, unprotected sex, edging..?)

you’re pretty sure that the biggest source of your headaches on any given day is the man you’re watching right now—on a tuesday at eight in the morning—who’s trying to convince you that the interviewer deserved it earlier when he called her an idiot.

“yeah, no. that’s never happening again,” you say plainly, cutting off his long-winded explanation. if only he could catch on when you’re trying to leave no room for argument, but unfortunately he has the most major case of lacking respect and decorum that you’ve ever seen.

“so you think it was okay for her to say that being bratty is my whole brand?” he asks.

“well, if you keep acting the way you do, then you can’t be surprised if that’s what people focus on.” you won’t lie: his brash personality is definitely good for gaining attention. his PR team never has to work too hard, since they know yeonjun’s going to do something stupid to get him on the news anyway. you’re jealous, cause you’re over here busting your ass to make sure he doesn’t go too far and ruin his career.

“i’d be selling a fake image if i was out there kissing babies and shaking hands,” yeonjun says.

“so the better alternative is running your mouth until half the country wants you beaten up?” you don’t want him to act like someone he’s not, but you also don’t want him to be such a dick to everyone.

“stop acting like you know me or the things i want,” he says. it lights a fire inside of you, rage burning at his insinuation. “i don’t want a nice, clean image. i fucking hate it when you try to force that onto me.”

he walks away into his dressing room, probably done with you and this conversation, but you’ve had it. you’re pissed, and he needs to learn that he doesn’t sit on top of the world. you mutter out quick apologies to the staff you push past in your haste to follow yeonjun.

before you can step into the room, yeonjun slams the door in front of your face. “yeonjun, are you fucking kidding me?!” you bang your fist against the door when turning the knob doesn’t work.

“go away,” he says from behind the door. you let out something like a growl in your frustration, feeling like you might just rip all your hair out. it’s too early to already be doing this.

“why do you throw fits every time i try to tell you to have some respect? you can never just bite your tongue for a second.”

you’re met with silence. you hate when he starts tuning you out. you’ll have to pop a few tylenols after this to keep your headache from killing you.

you start up once more, “you think anyone’s gonna look at your art before they look at you as a person? what’s the point in making good music if the person behind it is such a jackass?”

again, no reply. you sigh, running your hands down your face as you try to collect yourself. this isn’t worth it. he’s never going to change.

“i’m thinking i should just quit and let you deal with whatever asshole comes in after me,” you say, just trying to stir him into giving you a response now. you usually keep yourself from going back and forth with him like this, but he’s been on your nerves way too much recently. you were bound to explode with how much he’s been testing you.

the door finally opens. you don’t waste a second when you push it wider and enter the room, shutting it behind you. he’s crossing his arms, eyebrow raised like he’s waiting for you to scold him some more.

“you actually gonna quit, or was that all talk?” he asks.

you scowl and push on his shoulders until he’s sitting on one of the chairs. his eyes widen for a second like he’s surprised you actually put your hands on him. he should be grateful you don’t do worse.

“listen, i’m not going to take your shit anymore. i’m not giving you a choice. you need to have some respect.” you look down at him with ice cold eyes. he squirms a little in his seat; you almost find it funny.

“i don’t know how you expect me to do that. this is just how i am,” he counters.

“shutting your mouth would be a good start.” you put your hand over his lips when he opens them to start talking again. “see, you’re already trying to bark. just listen.”

you keep your hand there, and you’re kind of surprised that he doesn’t even try to move you away. your other hand grips the back of his chair so that you’re leaning over him, and you finally feel like you’re more powerful than him. you feel like he might listen to you for once.

“if you don’t want to be seen as a brat, then don’t be a brat,” you say. “you can have a tough image without annoying everyone. people see you more as a toddler than as some cool guy.”

his eyes dart down, and you realize that, with you leaning over him, he has a great view of your cleavage. he’s staring at your tits. scandalized, you grab his jaw to tilt his head all the way up, so he can either stare at the ceiling or look at your face. he chooses the ceiling.

“are you trying to make me hate my job? do you want me to quit?” you ask.

his eyes find yours at that, and you’re a little surprised to not find any fight in them. he shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“you can answer now,” you say, letting go of his jaw.

“don’t quit, i like you as my manager,” he answers quickly. you huff out a laugh.

“well you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes—and sounds completely sincere, too.

you stand up straight, assessing him silently. you let your eyes rake down his body, noticing how he doesn’t move an inch. looks like you’ve finally put him in his place. it’s such a shame that it practically takes you bullying him to get to this point.

“so you’re gonna cool the tough guy act?” you ask.

“i dunno, maybe you should test how obedient i can be,” he prompts with a growing smile. wow, and you were doing so well.

“get off that chair.” immediately he does, standing up and waiting for his next instruction. you laugh at how pathetic his switch up is. you’d love for the nation to see yeonjun now, so eager to follow your orders. how far will he go?

you decide to test it out. “kneel.”

he’s just as quick to follow through with that, too. a power rush is already surging inside you, pumping adrenaline through your body. he looks up at you from his position on his knees. there’s still some space between you, though.

“come a little closer. crawl to me.” your pleased smile stays on your face as you watch him obey, keeping eye contact as he inches toward you.

“this is so funny,” you say as you look down at him. for the first time in your life, you see him look embarrassed. his eyes dart off to the side, unable to take the torment. “eyes on me. don’t you dare try looking away again.”

his cheeks glow with a subtle red tint, you notice as you take in his face. “would you be so kind as to apologize to me again?” you ask.

“i’m sorry,” he answers promptly.

“hm. better than that.”

he looks confused, but you know he’s desperate to follow because he’s quick to oblige. “i’m sorry i was such a brat to you and everyone else.”

“you were a brat. what do you think brats like you deserve?”

you feel him shiver. “punishment,” he answers meekly.

“that’s right.” you place your foot on his crotch, not paying any mind to how hard he is already. “what a shame you were so bad. you could’ve came today.” you take your foot off him and spread your legs apart. “get me nice and wet for your cock.”

“w-what?” he stammers, looking up at you all scandalized.

“i’m not in the mood to repeat myself.” with all the eagerness he’s ever had, yeonjun grips onto your thighs and dips his head beneath your skirt. he starts licking your cunt over your panties, tongue working adamantly against you like he’s scared to do it wrong or poorly.

you sigh, relaxing into the feeling. this is better stress relief than any amount of medicine could give you. maybe you’ll be resorting to this more often.

he wraps his lips around your clothed clit and sucks, then swipes his tongue across the swollen bud. he’s deeply focused on pleasuring you, repeating any little action that makes your legs twitch. you hate to admit it, but he’s getting you wet so fast.

“guess this is the only way to shut you up, huh?” you ask, and you feel him nod in response. “should i do this more then?”

“yes,” he pulls away to say, replacing his mouth with his fingers rubbing quickly against you. “do it as much as you want.”

“is the promise of pussy the only way you’ll—fuck, just like that—respect me?” his fingers run wildly over your clit, desperation oozing off of him.

“only yours. i’ll do anything for it.” he presses into your core, grinding his hand against you. “you’re so wet. please sit on my cock.”

you hum, wanting to say no and torture him more, but you can’t deny how bad you want to feel him inside you.

“sit on the chair and undo your pants,” you instruct. you slide off your panties as he does that.

you sit on his lap and give his dick a few quick jerks before aligning it with your entrance. he makes more noise than you do as you sink onto him, which would make you snicker if you weren’t so busy adjusting to his size.

“you moan like a bitch,” you hiss out as you finally take all of him in. you stay bottomed out for a minute, letting yourself get used to the stretch, grinding your hips every now and then to hear him whine.

“please move, i need more,” he says after a minute.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you start moving anyway—not because he begged you to, but because you’re getting needier for your orgasm. “this isn’t about you, brat.”

he keeps whining as you bounce on his dick, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. he sounds so much better when he’s moaning like a whore instead of bitching at everyone on earth.

you gasp when you feel his fingers on your clit, playing with the bud with endless need. even when he bites his lip, little noises keep spilling out of him, and a part of you is almost afraid that someone’s going to hear him.

“i’m close,” you say as you lean back a little, letting his dick hit a new spot inside of you. his eyes shine when he sees your body start twitching.

“i want you to cum so bad, please please give it to me!” his begging throws you ever the edge, biting your lip so you don’t make any sound. breathy little noises escape you instead, which yeonjun seems to like just as much.

you swat his hand away when it becomes too much, catching your breath while you ignore yeonjun’s twitching dick inside of you. yeonjun’s losing his patience, grabbing your hips needily.

“i need to cum too,” he says, brows upturned and almost looking pitiful. you enjoy the feeling of him inside you for a couple more seconds before getting up.

“isn’t that too bad,” you say. his jaw drops, and he goes speechless yet again. “don’t look so surprised. didn’t i tell you that you won’t be cumming today?”

the betrayal on his face suddenly makes this job worth every penny.

[emsdevs]

The Return

Bear and Bug 🐻🐞

a/n: surprise!! kirby talked me into splitting this part up, so you all get one more part of the main conflict after this!! enjoy!!!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Bear and Bug Masterlist

Three weeks had passed since you arrived at Cole’s place, and he’s been trying everything under the sun to get you to return to the lake house with him. Today, after getting out of bed, you find out he’s pulled out the big guns. When you walk into the living room, you’re met with not only Cole but also Trevor and Alex. Apparently, Cole had filled them in on the situation, and they changed their flights to Montreal to come help. 

“C’mon. It can’t be that bad. I know for a fact Jack misses you,” Trevor is currently trying to encourage you to come with them, your packed suitcase sitting beside him. At some point during the night, they had snuck into your room and packed your bags, leaving you with no “good” excuse not to go with them.

“You talked to him?” your head shoots toward Trevor, hope filling your eyes. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“...No,” he looks toward the ground as he speaks, “but! I know Jack, and I know he’s probably falling apart at the seams if you two haven’t talked in three weeks. You’re his person. He’s probably dying right now.”

“Oh, great. I’m killing my best friend! This is exactly what I was worried about when Quinn and I got together. He’s been having such a tough time, and I’ve made it a hundred times worse. I’ll be lucky if he ever talks to me again.”

“You’re right. She is being dramatic,” Alex whispers to Cole before stepping forward to try to comfort you. “Look, sweetheart, the only way to make this any better is to bite the bullet. I know you’re scared, but you can’t keep running away from it.”

You were silent for a moment, shocked by the wisdom from Alex. After gathering your thoughts, you spoke, “You’re right. Let me go be sure you all got everything, and then we can head out.”

“No way that worked,” Cole couldn’t believe their plan worked in their favor.

“Bro, when did you become a shrink?”

~~

The tension at the lake house was higher than ever. Ellen and Jim had given up on trying to help their sons work out their issues, so they drove back home for a while, letting the boys stew in their anger. The boys had done nothing except that. Quinn and Luke silently shared an alliance while Jack either ignored them completely or began picking fights. 

“Hope you two are ready to go running back to your precious Bug,” Jack told the other two boys as he walked to the kitchen to grab a snack.

“What do you mean?” Luke answered, sass written all over his question.

“Trev just texted me. He, Alex, and Cole just boarded their flight. With Bug.”

“She’s coming back?” Quinn couldn’t hide the hope in his voice. He didn’t care how Jack felt anymore. He was miserable, and he needed his Bug. 

“Don’t get all excited. That doesn’t mean she’s getting back together with you,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you think she’s coming back for you,” Luke doesn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice.

“She’s my best friend, Lukey. Of course, she’s coming back to get in my good graces.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at how you’ve been treating her, Jack! We’re all lucky she’s even coming back at all!” Quinn is angry now. You’ve probably been hurting more than he has for the past three weeks, and Jack is acting all high and mighty like you’ll come crawling back to him. As far as Quinn is concerned, you don’t need to come crawling back to anybody. If anything, the three of them owe you an apology.

“Of course, you’re sticking up for her! God, she has you wrapped around her finger! You’re so whipped you can’t see that she’s the problem here!”

“No, you don’t get to do that. You know Quinn is right. You’ve been horrible to her, and she deserves an apology. From all of us, honestly. Jesus, I mean, she even put you’re feelings above her happiness. She and Quinn could have been so happy, but you were complaining about how horrible the NHL is every night, so her main concern was protecting you. Mind you, you are not one of the two people in that relationship, so the fact she took your feelings about it into account at all is a kind of grace that you obviously don’t deserve. Why don’t you get down from your high horse and think about everything Bug has done for you? Then, you can tell us if she’s the one that needs to apologize or not,” Luke doesn’t give Jack time to answer, walking off as soon as he finishes his speech. Quinn doesn’t hesitate in following, only giving Jack a sharp look before making his way to your room once again. He found Luke already there, so they sat on your bed together, putting on a movie and soon falling asleep.

Jack, now alone in the living room, takes the time to do as Luke said. He thought back to when he knew you’d be his best friend forever. You two had silently agreed to have separate friend groups at school, but when you saw Jack’s friends had left him alone one day at lunch, you left your friends to go sit with him. They stopped talking to you after that, but you were fine with it because you had Jack. He thought about everything you had sacrificed for him, even skipping out on joining an afterschool club because it would conflict with some of his game times. How many times had you put Jack first, even when you could’ve had something really good for you if you had put yourself first? He could think of at least one: Quinn. He’s a horrible best friend. 

Jack lost track of how long he sat there, losing himself in his thoughts that were slowly becoming more and more self-deprecating, but before he knew it, he heard the front door opening. Moments later, he jumps to his feet when he sees you walk into the living area.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“Hey.”

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @hockey43 @madebyhappymeals @ccomandercody @kirajessie @beenucks @iamspeed6

join the taglist

[strzxrin]

Okay so since you were making me WHORE on main let me just - let me come in here with a - AHEEEM !!

Karanveer with a fem!reader who's a bit inexperienced but not overly! She's really willing to try new things out with him and like, she's got a bit of cockiness on her in the sense of —

"ooohh, you're always so gentle" and "I can handle it baby, come on, let loose won't you?" bc karanveer has been like, relatively gentle and easier on her because this man KNOWS his stamina

And then one day he gets fed up of her constant teases and attempts at riling him up that he just lets her have it. Showing her just how much stamina he has and like. . . Fucking her out completely. Overstimmed and DROOLING I tell you. Nddd likkeee *twirls hair* he's all mocking and stuff with it : "l thought you could take it" and "this good enough for you?" AND AND AND ANDXJXJXKKXD

I'm so sorry you induced this now he prepared 😔

. . . she just went to heaven and back !

in which . . . you pushed him far too much that he snaps and gave you exactly what you wanted.

cw. fem!reader, dumbification, size difference, impact play, overstimulation, degradation, edging, cockwarming, rough play

pairing . karanveer singh x fem!reader

half orc x reader , jock x reader , dominant!character x reader

notes . slut (affectionate)(derogatory) — kiddings. but i’m glad i made you turn this way with karanveer. he’s just a silly guy (who’s wrecking your pussy) trust!

masterlist . character wiki

he always tries to be gentle with you. he’s a massive guy, and he can’t help it — he doesn’t want to accidentally break you when you’re already so small to him. he has the patience of a saint, but you somehow manage to make him lose his cool whenever you keep pushing it.

so here you are, being manhandled by him. he’s fucking you in full nelson, your back against his chest, his arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is on your abdomen, pushing against the bulge that was peeking.

your cheeks were stained with mascara tears as you babble incoherently. “i thought you could take it, meri jaan. where was the confidence, hm?” he was bullying your poor cunny with every thrust and you can’t help but moan even more from the position. your boyfriend who would whisper praises into your ears whenever you guys fucked, is now making your mind melt with overstimulation.

you feel the hand that was on your abdomen reached lower before he slapped your clit, making you squirm in his arms, almost trying to run away but you couldn’t due to both his strength and the position. “where are your words, pretty girl? or did it run away just like how you’re doing right now?” he was being so mean, his cock pounding straight to your womb with every thrust and it hurts so good. but you swore you couldn’t cum anymore.

“ka-karannn! can’t.. m’can’t cum anymoree” your words were slurred together as you hear a hum through his grunts “yeah?” he places you down on the bed, and you thought you would get a break but he just positioned you with you on your knees and your ass up. he pushes your head into the sheets as he continued to thrust into you.

he has enough stamina to break your mind over and over again, and he would always hold back, but because of the little stunt you pulled, he’s not holding back anymore. you were about to cum again before he pulled his cock out at the last minute, making you whine aloud. “hm? what was that? i thought you can’t cum anymore” you shuddered at his words, your orgasm being taken away before he pushed his cock into your gaping pussy.

you moaned into the sheets, trembling before he leaned down and his lips near your ears as he whispered “since you wanted to be such a brat today, then it’s only right if i treat you like one, slut.” and he continued to put you through the cycle of pleasure and just when you were about to cum, he’d pull out at the last second. 

he wasn’t going to hold himself back anymore — and it seemed like you even like that thought too.

[cornykrameri]

Silco x Female POV Snippet Tags: Switch Silco, Power Play, Smoking, Light Bondage, Brat Taming, some-kinky-shit

— What’s taking so long? Never tied someone up before?

His voice was melodic, laced with mockery, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. But I recovered quickly, shooting him a sharp look as I pulled the knot tight.

— Not someone as stubborn as you, — I shot back, tugging on the loose end of the tie.

He leaned forward, his face so close to mine that I almost gave in and kissed him again. Instead, my hand reached for the cigar box on the table.

Silco watched as I took one, placed it between my lips, and lit it on the second try.

— Bold, aren’t you? — his voice played like a melody, both mocking and intrigued.

I met his gaze, inhaling the heavy smoke.

— You have no idea, — I murmured lowly.

Clenching the cigar between my teeth, I pulled the tie’s loose end upward, forcing his hands higher. His wrists tensed, but he didn’t resist. With my free hand, I grabbed the end of the tie behind his back and pulled it downward, locking his hands behind his head. His eyes were sharp, studying me with playful, defiant attention. It wasn’t a submissive gaze—it was a challenge. And it thrilled me. I wanted to see how far he would let me go.

Taking the cigar in my left hand, I pressed against his chest, pinning him against the back of the couch.

— We’ve got some problems, — I began in an even tone, feeling the nicotine-induced lightheadedness creeping in. — But I’m just a person with pain, — I continued, swinging a leg over to straddle him, keeping his bound hands above his head. — And I want to take yours away, — I whispered.

He smirked, watching as I slowly drew on the cigar and released the smoke, tilting my head back. Pressing down harder on his lap, I extended the cigar toward his lips, offering him the chance to take a drag.

Silco stared at me for a long moment before tilting his head slightly to the side, rejecting my offer.

— Do you really think you can control me so easily? — he asked, his tone brimming with defiance.

What a stubborn man.

— I think I can, — I replied, pulling the cigar back and leaning in close. — Don’t pretend you don’t want this. Don’t act like you don’t crave giving me your soul and losing control just once in your life. — My voice was steady as I stared into his eyes, feeling every beat of my pulse echoing in the air between us.

I looked straight at him, wanting him to understand that I could see deeper than he allowed. Something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly, and I took it as an invitation. Slowly, I brought the cigar close again, leaving only a fraction of space between its tip and his mouth.

— Then admit you want it, — I said calmly.

His gaze darkened, and with a quick motion, he snatched the cigar from my hand with his teeth, taking a long drag.

— No, — I cut him off sharply, immediately taking the cigar back.

I pressed my lips to his, drawing the smoke from his mouth and throat. It pleased me that he let me do it—it meant he was playing along, teasing me, but it only made me more determined.

Pulling back, I exhaled the smoke, my head spinning and an unfamiliar, exhilarating sensation blooming in my chest. I looked at him—his hands tied above his head, his steady, confident gaze meeting mine. That feeling was turning me inside out, twisting in the most intoxicating way. It was the thrill of power. How long would he last before he gave in? What would it take to make him surrender?

— Shall we try again? — I asked calmly, looking him over from head to toe as I brought the cigar close to his lips, so close that he could snatch it back if he wanted to.

He studied something in my eyes, his gaze tinged with doubt. For a moment, he glanced at the cigar before locking eyes with me again. His mouth parted ever so slightly, but instead of speaking, he clenched his jaw, refusing to give in so easily.

— Ask me for it, — I added, tilting my head slightly as I tugged his hands bound by the tie a little farther. — You won’t get it unless you just ask.

I saw something shift within him. Silco swallowed, his chest freezing for a brief moment as though he were wrestling with the decision. That tension was mesmerizing: he was trying to hold firm, but I caught the subtle cracks in his armor. Finally, he looked up at me and, in a quiet, raspy voice, said:

— Would you be so kind as to let me smoke?

Those words were clearly a struggle for him. My lips curved into a smile. I had succeeded: I had pushed him somewhere he hadn’t been before, and it intoxicated me more than the alcohol coursing through my veins.

— Anything for you, — I said, allowing him to close his lips around the cigar as I pressed closer to him.

He inhaled slowly, deliberately avoiding my gaze. It was endearing, his attempt to hold on to some scrap of control when I knew I was already winning. I felt his breath grow heavier, his body warm beneath mine. Moving the cigar away so he could exhale, I added softly:

— That must’ve been hard for you—saying it out loud, wasn’t it? — My words cut through the tension like a blade. — But see, the result was worth it, and nothing terrible happened.

He stayed silent, but I felt his bound hands twitch against the tie as if testing the knot. I didn’t waver; I observed him, soaking in the emotions he tried to hide. This was a moment of truth: he wasn’t surrendering all at once but step by step, allowing me to push further and torment us both. His vulnerability felt unnatural, but he permitted himself to show it in my presence, and that made my heart ache with contradictions.

— I know you’re scared. You are pins, — I whispered, taking a slow drag from the cigar before exhaling heavily. — Let me be your needles.

I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing his, feeling his breath mix with mine, his body tensing beneath me. His intoxicating scent, that teasing look in his eye—I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out, but I wasn’t ready to give everything away just yet. My tongue traced the scar at the corner of his lips, sliding to the middle of his cheek, and I felt him freeze under my touch.

[callme-holly]

𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 [𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: thank you so much to @puckbunnystuff for the request. so sorry it took me so long to get back to you !!

Darry Curtis:

Darry won’t ever admit it, but he treats you like damn royalty. You’ve got him at your beck and call, and he will do almost everything for you. 

If you need to carry something, he’ll take it off your hands no matter how heavy it is and won't accept any arguments. He will always walk on the outside of the path, making sure you’re away from the road with his hand protectively on the small of your back. If you so much as mention being tired, he’ll force you to relax whilst he finishes whatever it was you were doing. 

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda spoils you and isn’t even ashamed to admit it. He showers you in compliments, telling you how pretty you are, how nice your outfit looks, and how perfect your hair is. He’s always   you little gifts, such as flowers or jewellery, refusing to let you pay him back and shrugging   your thanks like it’s no big deal.

If you need anything, he’s doing it for you before you can even finish asking him. If you’re cold, he’s giving you his jacket; if you’re tired, he’s letting you rest on his chest. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony isn’t as flashy as the others, but he still cares about you deeply and treats you like a princess nonetheless. He’ll write you sweet little notes and slip them to you randomly and will feed you compliments like a second language.

He’ll randomly come and sit with you, playing with your hair to relax you or pulling you against him to make sure you’re resting and comfortable. Most of the time, he’ll offer to do things for you before you even realise they need doing.

Johnny Cade:

Johnny is so incredibly gentle with you and treats you with so much care that you might as well be royalty at this point. He notices the smallest things, such as when you’re uncomfortable, and will be at your side in seconds to fix it. 

He’ll always stop whatever he’s doing to help you. If you trip, he’s catching you before you can even register that you’ve stumbled. If you’re cold, he’ll wrap his jacket around you, ignoring the way the chill seeps into his own bones. If you’re happy, he’s happy.

Dallas Winston:

Dallas might not seem like the type, but when he likes someone enough, he will spoil them. It’s not rare that someone sticks around like you do, so he will spoil you rotten to show how much he cares for you, even if he never says it.

He’ll do everything he can to keep you happy, even if that means getting into trouble. He steals all sorts of things for you, going as far as stealing you nice clothes and jewelry. If anyone disrespects you, he’s handling it immediately, and while he acts tough, if you so much as pout at him, he will absolutely melt and give in to you. 

Steve Randle:

Steve loves treating you like a princess, like it actually brings him joy knowing he makes you happy. He’s always showing you off, bragging about how perfect you are to everyone, and it probably drives them insane, but he doesn’t care.

He’ll insist on driving you everywhere, and the passenger's seat is yours. No one else is allowed to sit there, even if you’re not in the car. If you mention that you want something, he’s rushing out the door to get it for you no matter what it is. 

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two is another one of the guys who spoils you rotten, and he doesn’t even care. He’ll playfully call you princess and bow to you whenever he feels like it, loving the way it makes you smile. 

He always lends you his jackets or shirts, even if his wardrobe isn’t particularly large; he just loves seeing you in them and knowing you’re warm. If you’re upset, he isn’t hesitating to find out what the issue is and will always try to cheer you up as best he can. 

[sylus-little-meow-meow]

Hide and Seek: A yandere Sylus Fic

A Yan!Sylus x reader fic.

Cw: Kiddnaping, forced entrapment

************************

???: Kitten~

???: Where did you go? Have you found yourself in trouble, yet again?

His voice is a soft purr and you can hear the crunch of footsteps approaching. 

You cover your mouth, trying to catch your breath while remaining hidden, actively avoiding jostling the bell attached to the collar fastened to your neck.

You would've removed it, but you need a special key in order to do so.

Of course that's what Sylus intended.

He never wanted his precious little “kitten” getting out and escaping.

You close your eyes, tears pricking at the corners.

Don't let him find me. Don't let him find me.

Sylus: It's dangerous outside, especially in the N109 Zone. 

Sylus: Just come back home with me and I'll keep you safe and protected. 

You shift, tensing up as you hear him approaching, your heart slamming against your rib cage. 

This backwards alleyway can only keep you concealed for so long. 

Sylus no doubt knows you didn't get very far considering as soon as you managed to break out of his property, he gave chase, alerted by that damned crow of his.

You don't see mephisto, but you hear the flap of mechanical wings.

He's no doubt scouting the area, searching for your location in order to give Sylus your whereabouts.

This entire area is full of surveillance. 

You're like a trapped animal.

His pet “kitten.”

???: We shouldn't play hide and seek in such a terrible place, sweetie. 

The purr on his lips turns visceral and you can tell he's starting to get agitated by your lack of compliance. 

You hear his footsteps pause just outside the open mouth of the alleyway you're heading in and your body starts to tremble, praying that he won't investigate further.

I'm not here. I'm not here. 

???: You're no longer a street cat, but have you returned to your old habits?

He's coming closer.

Your worst fears have come true, Sylus never one to leave any stone unturned. 

Go away.

But he doesn't listen.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

His footsteps are so close you feel like you can almost hear his breathing and you clench your jaw shut so your teeth don't rattle or capture his attention.

Sylus: Oh, kitten. Did you really think you could escape from me?

There's a sudden bang and your breath hitches.

Light peers in through the dumpster and you remain as still as possible, hoping that your camouflage works, your body submerged under a few trash bags.

It smells disgusting here, like rotten banana peels and spoiled milk. 

You see Sylus wrinkle his nose in disgust. 

He slams the lid back shut and you hear the retreat of footsteps echoing as he continues his search elsewhere. 

Did he really leave? Did he not notice me?

Maybe the stench also did you a favor in causing him not to linger, but you wait a few more minutes, allowing them to pass by while you try to drum up your next plan of action.

When you think the coast is clear, you sit up and peek out from underneath the lid.

He's gone.

Breathing a sigh of relief you climb out and pluck some pieces of garbage off your shoulder as you slip towards the opening of the alleyway. 

You peer around the corner.

Good. He's nowhere in sight. Now if I can just—

A wrist grabs yours and you're hauled backwards, your heart lodging in your throat as you're pulled against a hard chest, a cuff link appearing around that same wrist as your evol tangles with that of another. 

You: No!

You're voice is a scream and you try fighting but the arm around your waist is like a band of steel.

You tilt your head back, your entire body shaking as crimson eyes stare down at you, a smug grin tugging at the white haired man's lips. 

Sylus: Found you, kitten~. 

[swanimagines]

Hi! Can I get Anakin Skywalker + Til Death Do Us Part by Kait Weston? Thank you!

TIL DEATH DO US PART

The bedroom you shared with Anakin had been left untouched for days since you came back from Mustafar. You had avoided going there all this time, until Obi-Wan talked to you and told you to go check it, as he believed it could make you start your grieving process.

As if he’d know anything about love, you thought bitterly as you stood at the door. He hasn’t loved anyone like I loved Anakin.

But you knew deep inside that he was right. Avoiding the room, the messy sheets, his night robe he always left on his side of the bed, would just make things worse. You knew your mind was desperately trying to pretend that everything was fine, he wasn’t dead. Mustafar never happened. The younglings are fine, probably training. Or playing. Maybe Palpatine got exposed, but Anakin helped the Jedi to defeat him.

But then your sense and memories reminded you of that day. It reminded you about you rushing to save Anakin, but you were too late. You got there to witness Obi-Wan defeat him, and it was like Anakin didn’t even see you, his eyes were on Obi-Wan the whole time as you screamed for him, frantically trying to see a way to get down, help drag him up, fix him.

But even then, you knew he was beyond fixing now. He would have been arrested and probably sentenced to death. You would only delay what would be coming for him anyway.

So you stepped into the room, breathing out with a small sob the moment you smelled Anakin’s scent lingering at the doorway. And you couldn’t bear to turn your head, so you made your way straight to the balcony, where you gripped the railing so hard you were unsure if it was healthy.

You took in a shaky breath, looking at the sky, the stars twinkling over Coruscant. Imagining he’d somehow hear you. “I’m sorry, Anakin. You had a hard time with what happened to your mother, and I didn’t fully see it before it was too late. The sight of what happened was haunting me, but I didn’t realise how much it was haunting you, how you needed help to overcome it. Seeing you turn into what killed you was a dagger to my heart, but I forgive you. I decided to keep my vow to you even after all this, til death do us part.”

You took in another breath, closing your eyes, letting yourself imagine for just a moment that Anakin wrapped his arms around you, telling you everything was alright. That it was just a bad dream, maybe make you laugh a little at the absurdity of it.

“Do you honestly think I would do such a thing?” he’d say, cupping your cheek. “I wouldn’t do anything that threatens what we have.”

But that wouldn’t happen, he would never come back.

—

Far away from Coruscant years later, Darth Vader stood at the deck of the large windows of this Imperial ship he was now commanding. Despite feeling slight regret for what he did to you in particular, leaving you alone, breaking all his promises, he quickly embraced the darkness. Master Palpatine told him that once he’d let the Dark Side take over, it’d give him power to get over all the useless heartbroken feelings.

But when he stared out from the windows, a whisper of something old and familiar suddenly engulfed him.

Your scent.

And your voice. A few echoing sobs first, followed by “What you did was a dagger to my heart, but I forgive you.”

It was like the Force itself carried your words to him through the galaxy, seeking for lost love, trying to find a heart those words belonged to. Vader squeezed his hands to fists, staring at the nothingness of space.

And for just a moment, he let himself feel the weight of words you spoke, the longing, the ache. You thought he was dead, and it was better that way.

“Til death do us part.”

It had parted you in a sense. Anakin Skywalker was dead and only he remained. At least that's what he was telling himself, Anakin was dead, Vader killed him, along with Anakin’s love for you.

If only he’d believe in it.

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