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motorsportbarbie13 · 10 hours ago

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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.

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hope-for-the-planet · 2 hours ago

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Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?

Hi Anon

Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.

Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.

They want—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.

They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.

Do not give them what they want.

Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.

When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.

I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.

I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.

Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.

I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.

I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3

#ask #anonymous #hope #trans rights #queer #lgbtq #hope in the dark #in the darkest times hope is something you give yourself

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subformuscularalpha · 22 hours ago

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Recently our department received a new boss. He was a handsome 6'4" tall muscular man in his late twenties (just a few years older than I was). Despite his young age he was natural in his new position. At first our older colleagues weren't happy about being bossed around by someone so young but he quickly established his leadership and gained their respect.

One day my new boss Adam invited me into his office to talk about my work. During the conversation I couldn't stop glancing at his massive arms that stretched the tight fabric of his shirt, whenever he moved them. Light spots of sweat under his armpits made me even more hornier and I realised my small dicklet was already half hard. I moved my legs, praying that he wouldn't notice it.

At some point he made a longer pause, "Are you all right? You seem a bit disconnected". He caught my gaze pointing at his bicep and a little smirk appeared on his face.

"No, I'm ok. Sorry", my answer didn't sound confident.

Adam leant back in his chair and raised his arms, putting his hands behind his head, "I see what you're distracted by", the smirk didn't go from his face. He stood up and walked around the desk. "I've noticed you've been checking me from the first day we met. I immediately knew you were a little faggot, hungry for attention".

His words caught me completely off guard and I was too stoned to respond. He leant back against the table, grabbed my hand and laid it on his thigh. His big hand led my small one over his thigh up to the crotch, without breaking the eye contact. But as my hand was about to reach the desired spot, he stopped, "Not so fast", his voice sounded more commanding than ever. "Stand up".

Without having a second thought I obeyed immediately.

Adam let my hand go and instead put his finger under my chin, "Take off my shirt".

I nodded my head but immediately received a light patting on my cheek. It didn't hard physically but the feeling of humiliation was much stronger.

"You're supposed to answer when I give you commands"

"I'm sorry," my voice was trembling.

Another slap on my cheek, this time harder. "SIR", he corrected me.

"I'm sorry, Sir"

"That's better. Now go on"

"Yes, Sir", I moved my hands to his top button and started undoing them.

As I opened his shirt completely and peeled back the fabric, Adam’s muscular, shredded body was revealed — each muscle defined and bulging with power. I hesitated for a short moment but his gaze said “Go on”. My hands touched his chest, feeling the warmth and the firmness beneath my palms. His skin was hot, the muscles hard yet yielding slightly under my touch.

“You like it?”

“Yes… Sir. You’re… incredibly”, I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Show me how you appreciate it”

I leaned in, pressing my lips against the soft skin of his chest and licking around his aroused nipples. The natural scent of his body was intoxicating.

“Lower”, he said, and I complied. My lips trailed down his abs, feeling each ridge and valley, covered with short hairs. Adam’s hand found the back of my head, guiding me but not forcing, letting me worship at my own pace, until I reached the metal buckle of his belt.

I looked up at him with a submissive gaze asking for permission to continue but he smirked and shook his head slightly, “Not so fast, boy”. With a fluid motion, he shrugged off his shirt completely, letting it fall on the table behind him. His arms, now fully exposed, were a sight to behold. He raised one arm, flexing his bicep and revealing his hairy armpit, and commanded, “Smell it. Show me how much you want this”.

I straightened up and moved closer, my senses overwhelmed by the raw masculinity emanating from him. His armpit was a mix of sweat and cologne. Inhaling deeply, my nostrils got filled with his strong musk. I started kissing gently, feeling his wet hair against my face.

“Good boy. Now worship them,” he raised both of his arms and flexed his bulging biceps.

I moved to his biceps, my lips and hands exploring the hard, warm muscle. I kissed and licked each one, feeling the strength beneath my touch. As I worshipped his arms, his hands began to explore my body. His large hands roamed over my back, down to my waist, feeling the contrast between his muscular build and my more petite frame.

"You're so small compared to me," he murmured, almost to himself, as his fingers dug slightly into my flesh, pulling me closer. His other hand came up to my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied, my voice thick with desire and submission. His hands continued their exploration, occasionally gripping tighter, asserting his dominance, while I continued to lavish attention on his biceps, feeling the power in every muscle.

Adam’s hand slowly found the back of my head and he pulled me away from him, “Enough. It’s time to go further down”, he stood up, still holding my head in place and guided me to the small couch in the corner of the room. He sat down and gestured me to the floor in front of him, while undoing his pants. He pulled them down, revealing tight trunks, the fabric barely able to contain the bulge that was now evident. In another quick motion the trunks were pulled down to his ankles too. His manhood was now fully revealed. It was as imposing as the rest of him, thick and standing proudly, a monument of his dominance.

With a firm but gentle pressure, Adam guided my head closer. I opened my lips and he slowly penetrated my mouth, stretching it out, until I almost gagged. “It’s not all,” he pulled back, waited for a few second and pushed his member deeper into my throat. “Good boy,” he praised me as my nose touched his abs.

I moved my head back and forth, his hand still on the back of my head, controlling the pace, my tongue swirling around his shaft, tasting his saltiness and feeling all the contours of it.

My own arousal was undeniable, the act of submitting to him, of being used for his pleasure, was a mix of humiliation and ecstasy. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes, seeing the lust and power there, and it only fueled my desire to please him more, to be his in this moment.

Adam's breathing became more erratic, his grip tightening in my hair. "Don't stop," he managed to say, his voice strained with impending release. I continued, driven by his commands and my own need to serve, to feel his power over me, until I felt him tense. A low, primal groan escaped his lips as he released into my mouth. The war, salty juice filling my mouth, flowing down my throat, warming me from the inside with a sense of his complete dominance over me.

“Swallow,” he commanded. I did as told.

When he finished, Adam looked down at me, his chest heaving, his eyes still burning with desire. He slowly pulled his softening cock out of my mouth and commanded me to clean it up. I had no other choice than to comply, carefully licking up every last drop of his cum, feeling a mix of disgust and arousal at the same time. Once I was done, Adam pushed me away with his foot. His gaze quickly fall down to my pants where a noticeable wet spot had formed. “Looks like someone enjoyed this as much as I did,” he chuckled.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry,” I managed to say, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

“You shouldn’t be sorry for that, boy. It’s your natural reaction to the alpha man and a little faggot like you can’t control it,” he stood up and patted my cheek. “But I’m gonna teach you to serve me better. But that’s later. Now go and clean yourself up and get back to work”.

#alpha #muscle #muscular #boss #bodybuilder #dominance #tall #master

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deansbeer · 1 day ago

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♡ a hunter's journey to fatherhood ⎯⎯ dean winchester.

📖 LIBRARY !

SYNOPSIS. dean struggles with anxiety about fatherhood, avoiding you until guidance from mildred helps him embrace love, vulnerability, and hope.

kari talks ◞ i saw these gifs of dean n mildred pop up on my feed this morning so i had to write something w a lil fluffy angst <3 don't hate me bc it does have a happy ending !!! + this may sound rushed, has not much dialogue at the end, n repetitive :) my apologies !

dean winchester is an anxiety-riddled mess.

you’ve always known he’s carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but ever since you told him you were pregnant, he’s been distant. not outright cold, but the kind of distant that eats at you—quiet moments stretched too long, averted gazes, and excuses to leave the room.

it hurts.

you knew dean had his doubts about himself; he’s never been shy about the scars his childhood left behind. but you didn’t expect him to pull away like this.

every time you thought about asking him where he stood—whether he was happy, scared, or maybe regretting it altogether—you stopped yourself. you didn’t want to burden him more than he already seemed to be.

so you busied yourself with little things, distracting yourself by cleaning the house, organizing your shared bedroom, or just sitting on the couch with a book, hoping he’d come around.

but tonight, dean isn’t home.

he’d slipped out a few hours ago, mumbling something about needing air. you didn’t push. you’d seen the tension in his jaw, the way his hands flexed and tightened at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

what you didn’t know was that dean had driven into town, parked the impala outside the local dive bar, and gone inside to drown his thoughts in whiskey.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

the bar was dimly lit and half-empty, perfect for someone who didn’t want to be noticed.

dean sat at the counter, nursing his third drink, his mind spinning.

he couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you. about the baby.

him, a dad.

he snorted bitterly into his glass. what the hell did he know about being a father? he’d barely survived his own childhood. john winchester had been a lot of things—strong, determined, relentless—but a good dad? not even close.

and what if dean turned out just like him?

the thought made his chest tighten, panic clawing at his throat.

he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. the whiskey wasn’t helping; it was only making his emotions come faster, harder.

he slammed a couple of bills on the bar top and left, walking out into the cool night air.

he sat in the impala, gripping the steering wheel as his breath hitched.

and then it hit him—hot tears stinging his eyes, rolling down his cheeks before he could stop them.

he wiped at his face angrily, cursing under his breath.

what the hell is wrong with me?

but then, through the fog of his thoughts, he remembered mildred baker.

she’d helped him and sam on a hunt years ago, and she’d been one of the few people who’d ever managed to get through to him. she was kind, wise, and had this way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when it felt like the world was falling apart.

before he could second-guess himself, he started the car and drove to her place.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

mildred greeted him with the warmth he hadn’t realized he needed.

“dean winchester,” she said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

he hesitated for a moment, standing in her doorway like a lost kid.

“uh... sorry for showing up so late,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “i just... i didn’t know where else to go.”

she frowned slightly, concern flickering across her face, but she didn’t ask questions.

“come on in,” she said gently, motioning for him to sit on the couch.

once they were seated, mildred folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently.

“so,” she said after a beat, her voice soft. “what’s got you all tied up in knots?”

and that’s when it all came tumbling out.

words spilled from dean’s mouth faster than he could stop them—about you, about the baby, about how terrified he was of screwing everything up.

“i just... i don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “hell, i don’t even know if i can do this. what if i screw the kid up? what if i screw her up? she deserves better than me. they both do.”

mildred listened quietly, her expression soft but unreadable.

when he finally stopped, his chest heaving slightly from the emotional release, she reached over and placed a hand on his arm.

“dean,” she said gently, her voice steady. “you’re not your father.”

his head snapped up at that, his green eyes wide and vulnerable.

“but what if i am?” he whispered.

she smiled softly, shaking her head.

“you’re not,” she said firmly. “you’ve already proven that by coming here tonight. you care, dean. you care so much it’s eating you alive. and that’s what makes you different. john winchester loved you boys, but he didn’t know how to show it. you do. and that’s all that matters.”

dean swallowed hard, his throat tight.

“but what if i mess up?” he asked, his voice small.

“you will,” she said with a chuckle. “because that’s what parents do. we mess up. we’re human. but as long as you love that baby and love itd mama, you’ll figure it out.”

her words settled over him like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in his chest.

“you’re gonna be a great dad, dean,” she said, her voice soft. “just follow your heart.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

later that night, after mildred helped him sober up, dean drove back home.

the house was quiet when he walked in, the only sound coming from the soft clinking of dishes in the kitchen.

he followed the sound, stopping in the doorway when he saw you standing at the sink.

you were wearing one of his old flannels, the sleeves rolled up as you washed the few remaining dishes from dinner.

he leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment.

god, you were beautiful.

even now, with your hair slightly messy and your focus on the task in front of you, you took his breath away.

he took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and stepped toward you.

you didn’t notice him at first, too lost in your own thoughts.

it wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around you from behind that you startled slightly, your body tensing before relaxing into his embrace.

“baby,” you said softly, your hands stilling in the soapy water.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

“where’ve you been?” you asked, your voice gentle but cautious. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “i’m okay.”

you didn’t push for more, not when he mentioned he’d gone to see mildred.

instead, you leaned into him, letting his warmth settle around you like a shield.

he rubbed small circles on your stomach, his lips brushing against your neck.

and for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope.

but when you opened your mouth to ask him where he stood on the baby, he didn’t let you speak.

instead, he started rambling, the words tumbling out in a rush.

he told you how scared he was, how he’d been afraid he’d ruin everything, that he’d turn out like his dad or disappoint you.

“but i want this, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. “i want you. and i want this baby. i just... i needed to figure out how to not screw it up.”

tears stung your eyes as you turned to face him, cupping his face in your hands.

“dean,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “you could never be like him. you love so much, sometimes too much. you’re going to be an amazing dad. i know it.”

he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as a single tear slid down his cheek.

“thank you, baby,” he whispered.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

after you’d finished the dishes, you drew a bath for the both of you.

you knew he’d been sore and achy from a recent hunt, and you figured the warm water would help.

he sat behind you in the tub, his arms resting on either side of the rim as you leaned back against his chest.

you brought the soapy cloth to your chest, letting the warmth soothe you before handing it to him.

he took it, running it over his own chest before reaching down to gently rub your shoulders.

the quiet intimacy of the moment was enough to ease both your minds, the tension of the past few weeks melting away.

when the water started to cool, dean helped you out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around you before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

you weren’t even showing yet, but the gesture made your heart swell.

he wrapped a towel around himself, and the two of you went through your nightly routines before climbing into bed.

dean was already lying down when you joined him, his hands behind his head as he waited for you.

you turned off the lights and crawled into bed, settling on top of him with your head on his chest.

his hand rested on your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

the two of you talked quietly about what to expect, about names and nurseries and everything in between.

and when you finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you knew everything was going to be okay.

because dean winchester was going to be the best damn dad in the world.

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writersblockiskillingme · 10 hours ago

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I NEED GI HUN X F! READER PLEASEEEEEE

There’s barely anything for him:((

It can be literally anything but rn I’m craving comfort so maybe Gi Hun comforts his girl when she starts crying and she can’t really explain what’s wrong

Comfort | Seong Gi-hun x reader

Pairing: Seong Gi-hun x fem!reader

Summary: You knew that hunting down the salesman was going to be difficult, but after everything that you've been through in the games alongside Gi-hun, sometimes everything feels like it's going to suffocate you. Luckily, he's always there for you.

Warning/s: angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff, short fic, just two traumatized people trying to heal each other, PTSP (talking about the games), death, tears, sadness, depressed atmosphere, cigarette addiction, cursing (?), mourning, guns, hunting down the salesman, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So I finally got out of the writer's block, and I found some spare time, so I finally sat down to write. I gave it my best shot. I hope you like it! More to come.

Being his friend was easy. Being in love with him was even easier.

Once the games came around, everything became more complicated. I simply never thought that something like this was going to happen. Working in a job position that I did never brought me much money. Sure, it was enough to bring some food on my table and to cover the bills, but it wasn't anything big. However, once I found myself drowning in debt, I found myself in a horrific situation with no way out.

The money that I earned was not enough for respectable food, I couldn't pay my landlord for a few months, and I was a few weeks away from being kicked out on the streets. Not to mention the debt for which it seemed like I never paid enough to get out of. I thought moving back to Korea would somehow help me at least to escape the loan sharks and pay for necessary things, but I couldn't imagine how wrong I would be.

That's when I met him. The Salesman. Playing the ddakji with him for some money earned me some food for that night, but it also gave me an opportunity of a lifetime. It was an opportunity that I now know I would have never taken if I had known what was waiting for me out there once I called the number at the back of the card that he gave me.

Before the first game, I saw him. My old childhood friend Seong Gi-hun. Up until I saw him, I came to a realization about just how much I missed him.

Truth to be told, I have always felt something more than friendship for him ever since I was I kid. At first, I brushed it off, but when I entered my teenage years, I realized that I really loved him.

I had to move away when I was twenty years old. I haven't seen him ever since. I only heard a few snippets about his life during the years I spent away from Korea. I heard that he had a, now ex, wife, and a daughter.

It was his mother who called me. She used to watch over me sometimes when we were kids, and since I was her son's best friend back then, we kept in touch over the years. It was nice, to be honest. Up until the day that she called me for a regular check-up. I had just gotten off of work after a really bad day. I had just sat down by the kitchen counter when I heard my phone ringing. The entire time I was on a call with her, she sounded strange. Kind of nervous, maybe even a bit disappointed. After a while I couldn't take it anymore and when I asked her what was wrong she told me the joyful news.

"Gi-hun is getting married."

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating. I somehow forced myself to finish the phone call, trying to sound as happy as I could, considering that the love of my life was marrying another. A few years later, he got a daughter, and I soon heard about the divorce. I tried calling him multiple times to check on him. He never answered.

We reconnected during the games. During the bloodshed. During the pain. During the tears. During the final game, where it was down to Sangwoo, him and I. After Sangwoo died, I knew I couldn't kill him. He couldn't either. After the stunt that we pulled, we survived. We were about to kill ourselves, we truly were, but then at the last second, just as the knife had scraped the surface of my neck, they announced two winners.

After that, I realized that I couldn't live without him. I didn't have a family, didn't have any friends. His mother died, and his daughter moved with her mother and stepfather to America he lost his family, too. We were everything to each other. We still are.

As the months, years, passed, we set ourselves on a mission of finding the salesman.

At first, we didn't touch the money covered with the invisible blood. We couldn't bring ourselves to do so, but when we realized that we may have a shot at taking down the games, we used the money only for that sole purpose.

The first thing we did was to pay off our debts. Then together we bought the love hotel called "Pink Motel" in Seoul. The sign outside was always tured off. We decided to buy it so we could live there and now we also use it as headquarters while tracking down the salesman. Which was always.

That was currently our only purpose in life right now.

After we figured out our plan, we started to work with the loan sharks that were chasing us because of our debts. We paid them to find the salesman, and they were searching relentlessly.

Our mental health hasn't been all that great either.

Both Gi-hun and I have developed a cigarette addiction. Sometimes all we did was breath in the intoxicating smoke instead of air. In a strange way it helped me breath. I wasn't so nervous anymore. My hands shook less.

Gi-hun has nightmares. Every single night. I have them, too, but not that frequently. He had a gun next to his nightstand. I had mine under the pillow. It brought a sense of comfort that was always short-lived.

The nightmares kept us up all night, and because of them, we couldn't find any rest even during the daytime. It was always the people we lost on that cured island. Sangwoo... Sae-byeok... Ali... The images of our friends dead never left my brain. And neither did Gi-hun's. Other times, we dreamt that we're still playing the games. Us dying. Each other dying. The Frotman. The salesman.

It was too much.

I was just monitoring the room where our most trusted men were practicing. I didn't realize when it had happened, but I fell asleep. I guess all those sleeping pills that Boss Kim gave to Gi-hun and me finally caught up to me.

I felt trapped. Gi-hun... he was dying in front of me during the squid game. I couldn't do anything about it. I held him, covered in his blood, crying, screaming, curing at the sky for the misfortune we had to live. Cursing the makers of the game. Cursing the Frontman. Cursing the pink guards that just stood there and did nothing. Cursing the world.

Hands.

They were shaking my shoulders.

My name.

It was uttered from the lips of the man that I would die for.

My eyes snapped open, meeting Gi-hun's worried ones. Once he realized that I was awake, his face visibly relaxed, relief washing over him as I heard him let out a sigh, his head and shoulders hung downwards.

"A nightmare again?" He asked me as he brought his hand up to my cheeks, whipping away the tears that I didn't know fell, but also wasn't surprised that they did.

"I-I can't-" I sobbed, unable to form a sentence as he quickly brought me in his arms, drowning me in his chest.

"Shhh..." He whispered as he ran his hand down my hair as I cried against his neck, drowning his black shirt with my tears, "I'm here. You're okay."

"Yo-You w-were-" I stuttered, tears streaming down my cheeks, "You were dying, and I-I couldn't s-save y-you."

For a moment, there was just quiet in the room. Neither spoke. The only thing breaking the silence of our bedroom were my cries.

"Do you know why I never answered your phone calls after you found out about the divorce?" He asked me, his voice low, but soft with comfort. His sudden question about that topic surprising me a bit, "Do you know why my mother told you about it instead of me? The wedding, the divorce?"

"No."

"It was because I didn't want to face the fact that I was the cause of your misery." He whispered, still softly running his hand through my hair, my cries slowly dying down as I listened to him speak.

"I have always loved you and I knew that I hurt you with my decision even though I never wanted that to happen. I just tried to forget about you, I never knew that I could actually be with you." He sighed, "I thought that it would be the best for you. I didn't deserve you, I'm not even sure I still do." He chuckled softly.

"But even though I may not deserve you, I will never stop fighting for you and your happiness. You are my everything, and I would be damned if I ever let you feel any sort of pain." He lifted my chin with his hand as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, our lips almost meeting each other's, "We will find him and end this, but for now, how about I make you some tea and we get you to bed huh, my love? What do you say?"

@shadow-tumbler

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jennaispunk · 2 days ago

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More than Friends

Summary: Some time away from your best friend forces you to confront your feelings.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, Frankie is a mechanic post TF (that’s my head canon for him), slightly non-canon (no lady, no baby), reader is able bodied and shorter than Frankie, no other physical description of reader is given. The photos in the moodboard are for aesthetic only.

A/N: Here it is. My contribution to the lovely @jolapeno Dear-uary challenge. I was given the task of creating something for my favorite guy, which also happens to be her favorite guy too. (No pressure right? lol). I hope you enjoy this little slice of fluff. Thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this a once over.

P.S. No shade to the city of Minneapolis. I’ve only been to Minneapolis once but it is a very nice city. Reader is only a little unhappy about being there because she doesn’t like the cold.

Moodboard, dividers and banner by me.

Frankie’s texts in bold, readers texts in italics.

Your bag hits the floor with a dull thud. Seven days in Minnesota, in the fall, is not your idea of fun. It was your job to get the Minneapolis office on board with the new changes within the company, so here you are. At least it wasn’t snowing, that was something to be grateful for.

The last conversation you had with Frankie keeps replaying in your head. He said he’d miss you. It wasn’t only the words that had you thinking; it was the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice…it just felt different. Why did it always seem like he was trying to tell you something when everyone else was around, never when the the two of you were alone?

The two of you had been best friends for years. All the guys teased both of you about the way you flirted with each other, but that’s all it was. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. But lately, it had felt like more, and it was getting harder to ignore.

Tuesday 4:41 pm

Made it to the hotel, safe and sound.

The city view is spread out before you. The skyscrapers jut into the clear, cerulean sky and you can see the Mississippi River and a clock tower that reminds of Big Ben from your window.

You miss your condo and your bed already. You miss Frankie, too. Was he missing you the same way you were missing him?

Frankie hears the chirp of his phone and wipes the grease from his hands, smiling when he sees your name on the screen. He’s been waiting for your text to know you made it safely.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you said goodbye last night. The way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight on your deck almost made him confess everything to you. He came so close to telling you that he was falling for you and he wanted to be more than friends, but the words got stuck in his throat. He was always so tongue tied when it came to you. The cold, hard truth was that he was a coward, and he was afraid of losing your friendship. He’d rather have you this way than not at all.

There’s my girl! Glad you made it safe

The way he calls you ‘his girl’ makes you smile. Of course he would call you that now. You’re a thousand miles away and you can’t make him have a serious conversation about it.

It’s too cold here. I miss the Florida heat.

Frankie laughs out loud then looks around to make sure he’s alone. You were always cold, always borrowing a flannel or a hoodie from him.

What’s the temperature there?

55 degrees. Brrrrrrrr. I should have stolen one of your hoodies and packed it in my suitcase.

Frankie shakes his head. He’s honestly surprised that you didn’t steal one of his shirts. You did that all the time. The only reason he let you get away with it was because they smelled like you when he got them back.

That’s not so bad. You’ll survive.

He was right, you knew that. You packed a few different blazers and light sweaters. It wouldn’t be too bad, but you still missed the weather back home.

It could be worse, but I miss the palm trees and the beach already.

This week will go by fast, Clover. You’ll see.

You know he’s right. Work will keep you busy enough and there’s got to be something fun to do in this city. You have a weekend to yourself to explore but exploring isn’t as fun when you’re alone.

I know. I’m just complaining to complain.

You? Complain? Never lol

You stick your tongue out at your phone even though he can’t see you.

Shut up lol

You haul your suitcase onto the bed and start unpacking. Most of the clothes you brought needed to be hung up and the last thing you wanted to do was spend time ironing in the morning.

Your phone chirps again from where you left it on the bed.

What are you doing on your first night in Minneapolis? Besides missing me.

I’m having dinner with the management team here. The manager called and invited me.

Have a good time and try to act normal, okay? Don’t snort if anyone makes you laugh.

The sound of your laughter carries over the television you have on for background noise. He was the only one who could make you laugh like that.

Thanks, jerk. Talk to you later.

The first few days flew by as quickly as you hoped they would. The team here seems to have their shit together and it’s been a fairly seamless transition in getting them onboard so far.

Daily conversations were a normal thing for you and Frankie, but the distance between you only makes you miss him that much more. Every time he says something flirty; you just want to reach through the phone and shake him.

The two of you have been skirting around the truth for months. It’s just as much your fault as his. You don’t want to ruin your friendship if things go wrong. Maybe you’re reading too much into all this. Maybe you’re the only one with feelings here.

8:12 pm

Are you at Will’s?

Just got here, but maybe I should have stayed home. I’m missing my good luck charm so if I lose big tonight, it’s your fault.

If you were home, you’d be at Will’s too. You’d be hanging out with the guys and their girlfriends, having a few drinks.

The last time the girls were allowed over for poker night, Benny had teased Frankie about calling you Clover. He dared you to sit on Frankie’s lap for the last hand to prove that you were good luck. You saw the bob of his Adam’s Apple, heard the slight stutter of his chuckle; but Frankie, the well trained solider that he is, kept his composure and won the hand.

He whispered in your ear that you had always been his good luck charm. That’s when you knew for certain something had changed, at least for you. This was more than just harmless flirting. When you tried to question him about it, he tried brushing you off, but you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Would it help if I wished you good luck?

It’s worth a shot

Good Luck!!

Thanks, Clover.

The hot tub was calling your name, a perfect way to relax after a long day. The bathing suit you packed was the one Frankie liked most…how ironic.

Soaking in the hot water was just what you needed. Your muscles relaxed under the heat and pressure of the jets. Thoughts of Frankie kept your mind from relaxing. The two of you were more than friends, that fact was clearer to you than ever. If only you could say it out loud.

Safely back in your hotel room, and freshly showered you check your phone. Frankie should be heading home from Will’s anytime. You should go to bed, but you can’t…at least not yet.

11:36 pm

Did you clean the boys out tonight?

Not exactly lol

Sorry. Maybe next week.

You’ll be home so my luck will change.

The three bubbles danced on Frankie’s screen. Did he say something wrong? His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he waited. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t know how. It was so easy to flirt and joke with you but when it came to a serious conversation, any words he had didn’t feel like enough. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship. You’d been there for him in ways that no one else had. He couldn’t lose you.

I’ll be there next week. I think I’m going to turn in early. The time change is messing with me.

That was a slight exaggeration, but what else could you say? You couldn’t tell him that you were tired of pretending there wasn’t something between you, at least not over text.

Frankie’s free hand went under his hat to scratch his head. It wasn’t like you to cut a conversation short. Something was off with you; he could feel it. He wanted to call you out on it, but he was afraid of what you’d say.

I should get to bed too. I’ve got a big shot with a ’78 Camaro coming to the shop that needs some work done. Good night.

Good night

You drop onto your bed and close your eyes. Today made up for all the previous days with no issues. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and now you were exhausted. You thank the universe that you only have two more days to get through.

Tonight was going to be about wine, comfort food and cheesy movies. Pepperoni pizza with extra cheese was calling your name.

You shower and change into your sweats while you wait for your pizza. Frankie is all you can think of. He’s the one you want to talk to after a rough day.

Frankie had looked at his phone so many times today that Will had threatened to break it. He tried to assure himself that you were just busy, but it wasn’t like you not to at least send a quick text or two throughout the day.

After grabbing a quick bite to eat, Frankie couldn’t take it anymore. He picked up his phone and typed out a quick text. He had to know you were fine.

6:36 pm

Is my girl okay?

The ping of your phone made you jump. You’d been so busy that you hadn’t texted Frankie all day.

I’m okay. Today was a rough one.

Wanna talk about it?

Its just work bullshit. You know how it goes.

Frankie smirked. He could picture you now, sitting cross-legged on the bed with one hand rubbing the back of your neck. You always did that when you were tense.

Yeah, I get it. Pepperoni pizza and wine tonight?

You rolled your eyes and smiled. He knew you so well. You took a sip of wine.

Pizza is on its way

The two of you chatted more while you waited for the food. The wine was going down good…too good and it was making you feel brave.

What are you up to tonight?

I’m just hanging out at home.

You move the pizza box to the desk and stretch out on the bed. The movie in the background was all but forgotten.

Are you watching Bridesmaids right now? That movie always cracks you up.

Yeah, I’ve got it on.

Good. I wish I was there to cheer you up. I’d do anything to make you feel better.

Three bubbles dance on your screen.

I miss you

You clamp your eyes shut. You can’t do this anymore. You can’t pretend like the two of you are just friends.

Before you can stop yourself, your fingers are furiously typing a response.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

This could blow up in your face, but you couldn’t take it back. You opened this door, and now you had to walk through it.

Drop these little hints. You only tell me the truth when you think I won’t hear it.

The silence stretches as you watch the bubbles dance on your screen then disappear and reappear again. It wasn’t something you should have said over text, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was way past time the two of you had this talk.

Frankie almost dropped his phone in his lap. He knew exactly what you meant. He thought he was doing a good job of keeping his feelings hidden. He didn’t want to risk your friendship. You were his best friend.

What is that supposed to mean?

All these little comments, the way you look at me like I’m the only one in the room. I’m tired of dancing around the truth.

Frankie swallowed hard. This was the last thing he expected you to say. How could he tell you how he felt?

What truth would that be?

The truth that we’re more than just friends. There is something more between us.

Again, those three little bubbles dance on your screen. Your heart hammers in your chest. Either he was going to tell you the truth or you lost a friend forever.

Can we talk about this when you get home? I promise we’ll have an honest conversation then.

Yeah, this isn’t something we should talk about over text anyway. We’ll talk when I get home.

You toss your phone onto the bed. You shouldn’t have said anything over text. Now both of you were going to freak out until then. Slamming your fist into the bed, you clamp your eyes closed. The feeling that you just ruined everything sits on your chest like an elephant.

You didn’t text Frankie again, what else could you say now? Acting like everything was okay wasn’t possible. Staring out at the city lights, all you could do was let the silence sit between you and hope that it would all work out the way it was meant to.

You toss your bag in your bedroom and start going through your mail. Thankfully, it was mostly junk and nothing urgent that you needed to worry about.

Frankie stood outside your door. Everything was about to change, and his heart hammered in his chest. He raised a trembling hand and knocked. He’d promised you a serious conversation when you got home, and he was keeping that promise.

“Frankie, what are you doing here?”

“I, um, promised you we’d talk… so here I am.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. His heart pounded in his ears as he stepped through the door.

This was it. It was now or never. Every stolen glance, every touch that lasted too long to just be friendly had led to this. He grabbed you and pressed his lips to yours without another word. He kissed you like he needed your lips to breathe, pouring everything he couldn’t put into words into that one action.

The need for air was the only thing that broke you apart. You stood foreheads pressed together, panting and inhaling each other.

“What was that?”

“The truth.” he answered.

You blink several times. That kiss had stolen everything you wanted to say.

Frankie looks at you. The sweat collects at his brow. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Maybe he shouldn’t have come on so strong. Maybe it was too much, too soon.

“Say something…please.” He whispers.

His soft, brown eyes plead with you to not leave him hanging. The silence between you is deafening as you try to find your words.

“When the pressure’s on, you really jump in with both feet, huh?”

The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles. You love that smile, live for that smile. There is something almost boyish about his grin and it always leaves you weak in the knees.

“Was it too much?” he stammers. “It was too much.”

The light in his mocha brown eyes begins to fade. He should have taken it slower, maybe asked you out on a date before he crammed his tongue in your mouth. He could never think straight around you.

Your brow furrows as you watch him, seeing the look of defeat mar his features.

“It was perfect.” You whisper.

He cocks a brow at you as the sparkle returns to his eyes.

“Really?”

You nod your head. He was always perfect in your eyes, even when he was being an idiot.

“Yes, really. I think I should put pressure on you more often if it will make you kiss me like that.” you tease.

A rush of air caresses your face as he exhales. His throaty chuckle reaches your ears, and he pulls you closer.

“I don’t think my heart could handle that, querida.”

You lean in and brush your lips against his. This kiss isn’t headed and passionate, it’s slow and honest. It’s a kiss to make up for all the time the two of you spent denying what was in front of you the whole time.

The need for air is the only thing that makes you break apart. You stand together, foreheads touching under the bill of his hat, your breath mixing together.

Frankie swallows hard. He’s never been more scared in his life. Any mission, any tour overseas was a cakewalk compared to this moment. He had to do this right. He had to make this work. He couldn’t lose you.

“I want to take you out on a date.” He panted softly. “A real date with flowers, opening doors for you…the whole thing.”

Your soft laugh flitters through the air. You shouldn’t have expected anything less from him. When Frankie finally made a decision, he was all in.

“You want to take me on a date? Seriously?”

The corner of his mouth raised into a half smile.

“Yeah. I want to take you out. I want to do this right; treat you like you deserve. I want to make up for lost time.”

You can’t stop smiling. Why did you wait so long to confront your feelings? You wasted so much time.

“I’d love to go on a date with you.”

This time you get Frankie’s genuine smile, the one where his eyes practically disappear and the lines around his eyes are so pronounced.

“Good.”

He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he will always kick himself for waiting so long to tell you how he felt.

“I know you just got home and haven’t even had a chance to unpack, but how about tonight? I’ll pick you up and we can have dinner.”

You blink a few times and smile. This is really happening; the two of you are finally going to give each other the chance you were always too scared to take.

“Tonight works for me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked grin. A small part of him was worried you’d say no; that all those things you said to him while you were gone were just a moment of weakness. His heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah?”

His voice is barely audible as he pulls you even closer. His scent invades your nostrils: fresh and woodsy with a faint hint of motor oil. It’s a smell that’s uniquely him and one you will always associate with comfort and protection.

“Will you wear that purple sundress?” he whispers as he brushes his nose against yours. “The one you wore to that barbecue at Will’s this summer.”

You raise your brow. Your chest grows warm as you stand together, locked in each other’s arms.

“You remember that dress?”

Frankie chuckles softly. He remembers a lot of things about you; your favorite color, the way your tongue sticks out a little bit when you're concentrating really hard…he’s memorized so many details.

“Hell yeah. You looked so pretty in that damn dress; I almost dropped my beer when you walked in.”

You opened your mouth to speak but the opening notes to “Enter Sandman” blare from his back pocket.

“Shit.”

He grins sheepishly and relaxes his grip on you before putting the phone to his ear. Now that he’s got you in his arms, he’s not letting go.

“You have impeccable timing, Benjamin. What’s up?”

You rest your head on Frankie’s shoulder. The vibrations of his chest as he talks to Ben tickle your cheek. Being in his arms feels even better than you ever could have imagined. Frankie had always been home to you, but now home took on a brand new meaning.

“That sucks, man.” Frankie sighs. “Have the tow truck take it to the shop. I’ll meet you there and we’ll get it fixed.”

You lift your head as Frankie disconnects the call. Your nose wrinkles as he sighs.

“Sorry, querida. I gotta go. Benny busted a tie rod on his truck, and he needs some help getting it fixed.”

Leave it Benny to get himself in a jam. At least he’s not hurt or in jail.

You smile and raise up on tiptoes to give Frankie a quick peck on the lips. He would do anything to help a friend, and that’s one of the things you love so much about him.

“Go help Benny. He needs you more than I do right now.”

Frankie squeezes you and kisses your forehead. If he kisses your lips again, he’d be too tempted to leave Benny hanging. This will have to be enough for now.

“I’ll text you later.”

“You better.” you tease.

He finally pulls away and you miss his arms around you already.

“Frankie.”

You call out to him as he reaches the front door. He turns back to look at you with his hand still on the knob.

“Make sure you wear your cowboy boots and that ball cap tonight.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#more than friends #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #fluff #best friends to lovers #idiots in love #texting #jolapenosdearuary

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poppyknitt · 1 hour ago

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Also, wanna add that Roots of Pacha is an in-development farming sim, too! No idea how "cozy game" it is but its cozy for me. It's based on a fictional interpretation of neolithic (i think) era groups and extremely fun. I can not recommend the game enough. Looked it up, and the only controversy i can find looks to be a publisher dispute that evidently resolved, as they're back on steam and have been for a while. (Adding a more in-depth explanation of what i like below. Going into depth about roots of pacha as it is one of my favorite games and I don't have many of those).

It's a bit different in that there's currently no combat, and while there is a bit of ease added through using the wiki, you can absolutely figure a lot if not all of it out on your own. There is animal domestication, lots of seasonal and a few year-by-year shifts, and from what i saw, polyamory! You can choose whether to do that when you get to the appropriate amount of hearts with a second/third/fourth/etc romanceable npc. Currently, there does seem to be a thing that no matter your intentions, romanceable npcs do interpret your kindness as romance by default, but I don't know how normal that is as I'm not actually that big on the genre, and I haven't looked to see if there's plans to modify that. Just know some npcs apparently take being only your friend a bit harder than others.

Also theres a sapphic couple w 3 wolves as their pet and a son. I love them forever. Another few notable things (albeit a marginal spoiler) are that several characters, romanceable and otherwise, address some very real topics. A widower who is trying to move on with his daughter who doesn't want the life he's trying to give her, a man who comes home with a family he didn't have before & the family learning to live with these new people, misunderstandings that led to xenophobic beliefs, and mental + physical disability. While no characters have confirmed diagnoses, it is interpretable that at least one is autistic (imo, as an audhd individual myself), directly shown that another is physically disabled and uses a cane/walking stick, and several other conditions can be inferred if you wish to do so. There's probably more I've missed, as I'm not even that far in! Imo this game is so inclusive, and that plus everything else makes me love it so much.

Sun Haven still doesn't have credits

The game Sun Haven is a cozy farm sim in a magical world. It released in Early Access in 2021, and exited into its full 1.0 launch in 2023. It has over 15k Steam reviews and over a hundred dollars' worth of DLC.

The game still doesn't have credits of who worked on it.

I don't understand why this is. For more than a year, folks (myself included) have politely asked on the community Discord server where the list of people who worked on the game is, and it's always ignored. At most, the team makes their comm manager say "they're coming soon."

Implementing credits is not difficult. Even most Early Access titles including a WIP credits in the game. It's a list of text. It's the bare minimum you can do. It's really disrespectful to both your devs and players to not want to share who made the game. Also a red flag.

It's become clear enough from the Discord that the game enlisted a fleet of contract workers, plus fan volunteers, plus machine-assisted work like for language translations.

I don't know if the credits are missing because the director doesn't care about the team, or is embarrassed, or is trying to hide something. I hope they reverse course soon. But I can't in good conscience recommend anyone play or support Sun Haven.

There's lots of great cozy farming games out there: go play Littlewood, Fields of Mistria, Fae Farm, Disney Dreamlight Valley, or heck...go play some more Stardew Valley.

#roots of pacha #sun haven #farming sim #oh my god i just reignited my love for this game. im gonna play it more tonight #<- proceeded to spend the 2 hrs it took to post this trying to figure out if i should include a review of a different franchise #entirely because i didnt know if it was even a good franchise to review #because said franchise is lowkey problematic iirc

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koyagifs · 12 hours ago

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𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pairing: san x reader au: non idol | exes to friends| genre: angst | fluff word count: 2.8k synopsis: everyone was shocked when they heard you and san broke up. You were the it couple, the one everyone cheered for. warning(s): -

Your hands trembled slightly as you stared at the elegant wedding invitation, the swirling gold letters seeming to mock you. Choi San and Kang Mi Young. You blinked a few times, as if that would somehow make the name disappear, but it stayed firmly etched on the thick, expensive paper.

The room felt a little colder, and the comforting weight of Byeolie's soft paws kneading into your arm was the only thing keeping you grounded. The cat tilted her head, her big, curious eyes gazing up at you as if sensing the sudden shift in your mood.

"Byeolie," you whispered softly, setting the invitation down on the counter. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling shakily. "Why does life always find a way to throw curveballs like this?"

It had been a while since you and San had parted ways, the relationship fading like a sunset—beautiful in its time but ultimately giving way to darkness. And now, three years later, a new chapter of his life was beginning. With someone else.

The words on the invitation blurred as you blinked back tears. You hadn’t even realized how tight your grip on the edge of the counter had become until Byeolie let out a soft meow, her nose bumping against your hand.

Your voice cracked on the last word, and before you could stop it, a sob clawed its way up your throat. You tried to swallow it down, but it came out anyway—raw and trembling, echoing through the quiet kitchen. Your hands shook as you fumbled for your phone, your vision blurred with tears.

“Where… where is it?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you swiped at the countertop, pushing aside mail and the wedding invitation you wanted to forget.

Byeolie let out a soft meow, brushing against your leg as if trying to comfort you. Her warmth was a balm against the icy feeling creeping through your chest, but it wasn’t enough. You needed someone—anyone—to steady the storm in your mind.

Finally, your fingers closed around the cool surface of your phone. You unlocked it hastily, scrolling through your contacts with frantic urgency. Who could you call? Who would even understand?

Yunho’s name appeared on the screen, and without thinking, you tapped it.

The phone rang once, twice, and then his familiar, comforting voice answered. “Yn? What’s up?”

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Another sob escaped instead, and you clamped a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Yunho’s tone shifted instantly, concern lacing his words. “Yn, talk to me. Are you okay?”

“I—I’m not okay,” you managed to choke out, the tears now streaming freely. “Can… can you come over?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just hold on, okay? Don’t move. I’m coming.”

The line went dead, leaving you in the heavy silence of the room. You set the phone down with trembling hands and leaned against the counter, your head hanging low. Byeolie’s soft purring reached your ears as she jumped back onto the counter, her tiny paw nudging your arm.

You wrapped an arm around her, burying your face in her fur as you let the sobs come. For now, you didn’t have to hold it together. Yunho would be here soon, and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t feel so alone in this.

Yunho stared at the wedding invitation in his hand, the swirling gold script catching the dim light of your kitchen. His jaw tensed as his eyes scanned over the names once more. He glanced back up at you, sitting across from him with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, like you were trying to hold yourself together.

Your leg was bouncing anxiously, a nervous rhythm that filled the silence between you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes fixed instead on a faint scuff mark on the floor. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Yunho’s silence wasn’t helping.

“Say something,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Yunho opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words. His heart ached as he looked at you, so clearly shattered by this. He hadn’t expected this either, and the invitation in his hand felt heavier with every passing second.

“This is…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is a shock. I didn’t even know San was—” He cut himself off, not wanting to make it worse.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Neither did I.”

Yunho hesitated before gently setting the invitation down on the table. His fingers lingered on it for a moment before he slid it aside, out of both your lines of sight. “You don’t have to go, you know,” he said softly, leaning forward. “No one’s forcing you to do this.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely audible. “But it’s not that simple, Yunho. He’s still… he’s still someone I care about, even if we’re not—” You stopped, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill again.

Yunho reached across the table, his large hand covering yours. His warmth was steady and reassuring, grounding you in the whirlwind of emotions. “I get it,” he said quietly. “But, Ynie… you don’t have to face this alone. If you need me, I’ll be right there with you. Whether it’s to talk, to scream, or even to show up to this wedding as your plus one, I’ve got you. Always.”

His words were a small comfort, and for the first time since seeing the invitation, you felt like you could breathe again. You glanced up at him, your watery eyes meeting his earnest ones.

“Thank you, Yunho,” you murmured, your voice still shaky but full of gratitude.

He smiled softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Yunho smiled softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said, his voice warm and steady.

Before you could respond, he stood and gently pulled you into his arms. His embrace was firm but careful, as though he was trying to hold all your broken pieces together. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low hum against your hair. “Let it out, Ynie. I’m here.”

The dam broke, and you clung to him as the tears came in full force, your sobs muffled against his chest. He didn’t say anything else, just held you tightly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

You cried until your chest ached, until your legs felt weak and the weight of the day began to slip away, carried by Yunho’s unwavering presence. His shirt was damp from your tears, but he didn’t seem to care.

When your sobs eventually quieted to soft sniffles, Yunho pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. His eyes were full of understanding, no judgment, just endless patience and care.

“Feel a little better?” he asked softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded weakly, your voice too hoarse to respond.

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Good. Because no matter what happens, you’ve got me. Always.”

For the first time all evening, a tiny, hesitant smile tugged at your lips. It wasn’t much, but Yunho saw it and returned it with a brighter one of his own.

“Now,” he said, guiding you to sit down, “how about I make you some tea? And maybe, just maybe, we burn that invitation?”

A laugh bubbled out of you unexpectedly, light and fleeting, but real. “Tea sounds nice,” you said, your voice still shaky but steadier than before.

A couple of days had passed, but the weight of the wedding invitation still lingered in the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push it away. You weren’t expecting any visitors today, so when the doorbell rang, you opened it without much thought—only to freeze in place the moment you saw who was standing on the other side.

San.

He stood there with an awkward smile tugging at his lips, his hands shoved into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. His presence was overwhelming, pulling you back into a tide of emotions you hadn’t fully sorted through yet.

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice soft, uncertain.

You stared at him, unable to form a response. Your heart raced, and not in the way it used to when you saw him. Now, it was a messy mix of anger, confusion, and that lingering ache you thought had dulled with time.

“San?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “What… what are you doing here?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—something he always did when he was nervous. “I, uh… I know this is probably the last thing you expected. Or wanted.” He glanced down at the ground, avoiding your eyes. “But I figured… I needed to see you. To talk.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing. “Talk?” you repeated, your tone sharper than you intended, the single word laced with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension.

San nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you palpable. Then, slowly, you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him to enter.

Relief flickered across his face, and he offered a small, tentative smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly, stepping past you into the familiar space.

You closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing louder than it should have. The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions neither of you seemed ready to confront. San lingered near the entrance, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned to face him. “Talk.”

San opened his mouth but faltered, his words catching in his throat as he took you in. He wanted to stall, to find an excuse not to dive into the awkward mess of feelings and explanations he’d come here with, but he couldn’t help it—he was mind-blown.

You looked great—amazing, even. Time hadn’t dulled the effortless way you carried yourself, the way you lit up a room just by existing in it. If anything, you seemed even more radiant, more self-assured, and it made his heart ache in a way he hadn’t expected.

“San,” you said, your tone sharper now, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Right, sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and forcing himself to focus. “I just… you look…” He trailed off, shaking his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “Never mind.”

Your brows furrowed, and you tilted your head slightly. “If you’re just here to compliment me, I don’t have time for this.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “That’s not why I’m here. I just… wow, Ynie. You look incredible, and I—” He stopped himself again, realizing how utterly unprepared he was for this moment.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Get to the point, San.”

“I, uh…” San hesitated, glancing down at his shoes before taking a deep breath. “That wedding invitation,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, I don’t want it.”

You blinked, your arms dropping slightly as confusion crossed your face. “What do you mean, you don’t want it?”

San shifted nervously, running a hand through his hair, his discomfort evident in the way he avoided your gaze. “The wedding. Y/N, those invitations—I didn’t send them out. My parents did. And her parents.” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Y/N, I’ve never even met the woman until yesterday.”

Your eyes widened, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone. “Wait, what?” you asked, your voice filled with disbelief. “You’re telling me you’re engaged to someone you just met?”

San nodded slowly, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “It’s an arrangement. A business deal, or whatever they want to call it. Her family’s company and mine—it’s all about connections, legacy, and appearances.” He sighed deeply, looking up at you with an almost pleading expression. “I didn’t agree to it, Y/N. They just… decided for me. And now I’m stuck trying to figure out how to fix it.”

Your lips parted to respond, but San’s next words stopped you cold.

“Y/N, I’m still in love with you.” His voice was trembling but resolute, his dark eyes searching yours desperately. “When we broke up, I didn’t want it to happen. We drifted apart because of the company, because of the pressure I was under, and I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I let it happen,” he admitted, his tone raw and filled with regret. “I let them dictate everything in my life. I told myself I couldn’t have you and keep my family happy at the same time. But I was wrong, Y/N. So wrong.”

Your heart raced, his words slamming into you like a tidal wave. You didn’t know what to say, your emotions twisting painfully in your chest. “San,” you said quietly, your voice wavering, “you can’t just say things like that now. Not when you’re engaged to someone else.”

“I know,” he said quickly, taking a step closer to you, his hands fidgeting as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “I know how it sounds. But I swear, this isn’t what I want. None of it is. You… you’re what I want. You’ve always been what I want.”

His words made your knees feel weak, but you forced yourself to stay grounded, to hold on to the anger and hurt that had protected you from the pain he’d caused. “And what am I supposed to do with that, San?” you asked, your voice breaking. “You’re telling me this now, after everything? After you let me go and moved on with your life?”

“I didn’t move on!” he said, his voice rising with desperation. “Don’t you see, Y/N? I’ve been stuck ever since we ended. I’ve been trying to make sense of everything, to figure out a way to make everyone happy, but I can’t. Not without you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you turned away from him, trying to catch your breath. “You don’t get to say this now,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to come here and dump all of this on me like it’s supposed to fix anything.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I know I’ve messed everything up, Y/N. And maybe it’s too late. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I couldn’t let you think for one second that I wanted this—any of it.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken plea in his eyes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not when your heart was caught between wanting to believe him and the painful reality of the situation.

Finally, you took a deep breath and turned back to him, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes.

"God, you make it hard to hate you..." you mumbled, your voice laced with frustration and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. Without giving yourself another moment to think, you pulled San into a kiss.

It was urgent and messy, your lips finding his as if the words between you both were never enough to say what needed to be said. His hands cupped your face, holding you gently as though afraid to break something delicate, yet the way he kissed you back, with the same intensity, told you everything you needed to know.

For a brief moment, the world outside faded, leaving just the two of you locked in a kiss that was both a question and an answer.

You broke apart first, your breath shaky, as you pulled away just enough to look at him. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“I’m not doing this again, San,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if it was a plea or a warning.

San opened his eyes slowly, his gaze soft but full of emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you again, Y/N. I swear, I’ll fight for us. But I need you to let me. Please.”

You swallowed, a part of you wanting to believe him, wanting to find a way to fix the broken pieces between you. But there was so much more at stake now, so many things you weren’t sure could be healed.

"I'll always go back to you," San whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with raw emotion. His hands gently cupped your face again, his thumb tracing over your skin like he was trying to memorize every detail, every moment of this.

#san x reader #choi san x reader #san angst #choi san fluff #ateez x reader #ateez imagines

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resident-idiot-simp · 1 day ago

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What if MacTavish time traveled back after he died at the end of MW3

Ft: @azilver

(x)

Az:

mactavish fades away with prices voice in his ear and thinks its about time only to come to at his desk with a concerned riley looming over him calling "captain? captain???"

mactavish rights himself and dismisses the lieutenant but its on auto, looking around at the office he hasn't seen in, what? a year? more? he vaguely recalls the paperwork about chemo requesting leave but .... pushing up from the desk he heads outside, stride purposeful even if he can't think of a destination. he remembers the pain, rubbing at where the wound had burst open as he landed, the dull throb of a phantom knife separating his flesh. familiar voices call out greeting and acknowledgements, he feels like choking seeing his men jog past. dead. they were all dead.

Me:

MacTavish just roams aimlessly. He remembers this is before everything went wrong before the start of the end.

Before Makarov started causing issues at least noticeably. World war 3 hadn't started yet and General Shepherd....General Shepherd.

Could he even stop it from starting? No, he couldn't he knows he can't. But he could stop the war sooner. He knows where Makarov will be knows what has to get done.

He's a step ahead but... Shepherd how the hell does he deal with Shepherd? He can't kill him not right now he become haunted immediately.

He would have to play along... maybe send out separate secret operations. Shit where was his journal. He patted himself down And grabbed the small book.

It was covered in blood....his blood...

Az:

alt

he doesn't believe in any supernatural shit, he can't, getting your hopes up in their line of work is never a good idea. but he can try.

he needs to find his place in time and so he heads for his room, digs until he finds his latest notebook and reads. he's back farther than he thought. price isn't back yet, that a month or 2 out still. sheppards still sniffing around, playing them like fiddles.

not for long. he has until the rescue mission to untangle this shit as much as he can. he can't think about price right now, not with the realisations he'd come to after the bastard had let sheppard take his boys from him. had ushered in the war they'd bled and sacrificed for so long to keep at bay.

he needs a fucking smoke.

heading outside he fishes in his pockets for his pack. oh, he's on his last cigar and ain't that a big pointed ironic finger from the universe?

"yeah, yeah, i get ye." he mutters and crushes it under foot.

"sir?" riley sidles up, a predators grace shifting in that odd edginess he always had when alone with mactavish outside of missions. well, he supposes it would be odd to se him talking to himself and destroying a good cigar.

"was damp." he spits, watching from the side as riley leans against the wall next to him. "spot me a fag, lieutenant."

he hears the smirk in the man's voice even as he passes him the cigarette, slipping out another for himself, "only if'n ye spot me a light, sir"

Me:

You KNOW his personality must take a 180. Like it's whole new person or alternatively just different enough to be off-putting.

He has changed a lot over the course of the war and all the losses seem to pile on.

He will stare at his team sometimes like his seeing ghosts. He will turn around and treat them tougher then every before so this time maybe, hopefully they won't be unprepared

You know it's like pulling teeth for MacTavish to go along with Shepherd. Everyone else is super confused because what the hell changed in such a short period of time

Az:

he takes to digging, burning the late night oil in a way that has even the likes of the worst insomniacs of base weary. he needs proof, something tangible to show his men. he knows they trust him, more than the past-future shows/ed they should and he can't just make them go on faith.

as a captain he can't ignore his duties, thankfully he has a damned good memory and what he forgot he has in his notebook. the few ops they're sent on go off without a hitch - if maybe the men start whispering about the captains near psychic ability to just know he ignores it. instead what little time he can spare is spent with his boys.

where before he would watch from the sidelines for the most part he now steps in. he spars and backchats and touches. its confusing and unnerving somehow ...but also appreciated. maybe it just bonding or just maybe how he'd pulled away in the last few years as sheppard wound his way closer into the 141.

soap was always one of them but along the way the captain had taken over more and more. and for all he's pushing them harder and harder they notice the captain is more prone to risks. they see him staring off too often to dismiss it. they know somethings changed and like good soldiers they read their captain and start preparing.

Me:

Riley gets particular snoopy one day and manages to snag the journal. MacTavish kept that thing safe like it was his own child so seeing it covered in blood was alarming.

He worried over what had happened. Opening it there wasn't anything note worthy but the more pages he flipped the weirder it got.

There were things that hadn't happened yet events, betrayals, death, The more Riley read the more he needed answers.

Then his and Roach's death...

He just stared uncomprehending way because what? Shepherd? Sure he'd never really trusted the man but...to kill them?

Then the hunt... Then the blood... Then The last edition that wasn't the neat and purposeful writing of MacTavish...

Az:

it makes sense for all that it doesn't.

out of them all riley was the one who always watched mactavish, was always looking at the man. so he'd seen those little moments, the quickly shuttered pained swallows watching his men, the pure hate that sliced through his eyes the moment sheppard turned around. the little things like stepping between roach and a fire, putting off a mission an hour just to get that much more gear stowed.

and the thing that pushed riley past the edge of his respect for the man, just enough that he allowed himself to snoop: mactavish flirted back.

Me:

He's not a man that would normally go into people's business that's not his own. But he was genuinely worried about Tav and the man was going along with the flirting and stuff. He knew they were close probably closer than anyone else on the team.

That was his job after all he was the Captain's right hand. But what if instead of snooping (this just hit me) he had seen the journal somewhere it shouldn't be and wanted to bring it back to him

Az:

riley's not stupid. he knew mactavish let them, let him, get away with much more than any other CO would. he'd never given a shit about who was fucking who, hell, worm had admitted to the captain walking in on he and meat and just told them to get their reports on his desk before lights out. the captain seemed to be of the opinion that nothing mattered except their abilities in the field, pushing himself same as them.

and riley had pushed back on occasion. being the man's 2nd gave him leeway sure but even then the first time he'd found a proposition slipping out in response to the man sighing in exhaustion he'd fully believed he was about to be murdered. what he hadn't expected was a snort and "fuck off, riley"

it had become a thing he did, so much so that the rest of the unit openly placed bets on if the cap would ever give the man what he wanted. and good god was mactavish what riley wanted. he'd fucked around enough to know who was game and how to get what he wanted. for a while he'd thought mactavish was ace except roach came in one morning and told them all how he'd seen the man take home some girl from the bar the night before. so straight, which sucked but didn't stop him pushing. then a few of them were at a bar a few miles from base and he'd gone for a leak only to see his captain walk out of a stall adjusting his belt, 3 seconds later followed a pretty boy wiping at his mouth.

Me:

Riley has been extatic to know he had a chance and if Tav really didn't want it. Well the man was more than capable of getting him to stop.

The fact MacTavish allowed it in of itself was damn near the equivalents of permission. He let them do as they pleased for the most part sure.

But he was not beyond jumping down someone's throat if they annoyed him too much. People just understood You could do what you wanted but If it was something you couldn't... Well you would find out.

The captain was brutal there was no denying that. He expected perfection and would settle for nothing less and it seemed if only gotten worse his standards raising in the past few weeks. This seems to be the answer for it but wtf did it mean.

It made sense and fit perfectly sure but It was bat shit insane. Riley prided himself in nothing was too far-fetched but this? This pushed the limit for him.

He didn't mention it as he handed the journal back. He didn't mention it to anyone else either. He just continued doing what he always did. Being a nuisance in flirting with the captain

Az:

"if you insist on using that mouth of yours for something other than shutting up, be at my bunk at lights out and i'll use it for you"

mactavish walks away and silence follows. not one of them can believe what they just heard. they all look at each other over lunch in shock. not once in the years the unit has existed has the captain ever responded to a come on and never to riley. everyone to a man knew the lieutenant was gagging for it, would have been the man's personal fluffer at the barest crook of a finger. and yet...

"ok, what the fuck was that riley?"

"what?" the manc is still reeling and under other circumstances maybe they'd let him get away with it.

peasant comes up and places a restraining hand on his shoulder, archer and worm not a step behind. the rest of the unit move the make sure they're alone, pushing out the few straggling outsiders. whatever the fuck is going on is for the 141's ears only.

"riley, cap's been acting different for the last few weeks, we all know it." toad stares him down as the rest nod in agreement. "feels like a storm's coming and no one but him sees it."

Me:

Riley is still shell shocked "What?" He repeated because SURELY that hadn't just happened.

"Something is up " Meat agreed and Riley wasn't having it. "No no no go back did he just....is he serious?" Riley sounded excited.

"Yes and that's half the issue. What the fuck has changed so much?" Chemo answered easily

Riley wasn't listening he had tuned them out. They were onto something sure and he definitely had a piece to that puzzle.

That however was a later issue, right now? Now he had been offered to fallow though on the flirting.

( az: riley, horny and about to combust: "let me go! i need to get to him!"

the rest of the unit, holding him down: "no, tell us what's going on!"

Me: Riley has answers but is overwhelmed with the horny

Az: the man who thought he'd been made immune to torture is about to learn

Me: The 141: What the fuck is going on?? Surely Riley knows I mean he's around the man more than the rest of us combined

*Cut to Riley who is throthing at the mouth*)

Me:

"RILEY!" Worm shouts at him and Riley turns to snarl at him. "You are around him all the time you're his right had you have to know something. Is it confidential just give us something to work with." Worm begged

Riley groaned in annoyance, "I don't know shit. He hasn't told me anything but...yeah it's not right I *know* that."

Riley wouldn't bring up the journal even though he's sure it is the key to all of this. He shouldn't have seen it in the first place, it wasn't his place to talk about it.

"You don't know anything?" Archer asked dubiously and we'll ge kind of did. He had looked into what McTavish was diving into.

It was files on Shepherd he was looking for dirt. He knew something was wrong there even if he couldn't have concrete proof, even if he didn't bring up the journal.

"I'm not sure what exactly but he's digging for something on Shepherd." Riley answered with a sigh.

"Shepherd? Why Shepherd?" Rook asked and Riley weighed his options.

"I'm not completely sure, but I think he's onto something. I don't talk about before..but Shepherd owns me. Sure I'm here but he could pull me away just as easy. He's always been off he'd use me to do a dirty jobs stuff we can't have on the books." A breath.

"He's not a good man and if MacTavish thinks something's off to the point where he needs to look into it. Well I'd say he's onto something." Riley finishes with a shrug

Az:

and it's not like he'd be sad to get out of sheppards leash. not even if it meant a new one in mactavish's hands.

the world tip and he finds himself on the floor before he knows it. a weight settles on his back even as he manages to flip onto his back. roach is sitting on him and signing rapidly. you should have told us before! we've been freaking out for weeks!

it's probably a sign of how they're all on edge that riley doesn't even try and dislodge the man, instead he tries to reassure him, them. "roach, man, you know how the cap is. he wouldn't want us getting involved especially with how dangerous sheppard is."

peasant squats down beside them and flicks riley's forhead. "oi! none of that, ya hear? we're all 141, that includes you and the cap."

meat picks roach up off of him and tosses him over his shoulder as peasant gives him a hand up, "now, this is what we're gonna do: tonight you give the captain what he deserves and we'll get into his shit. if you do your job well enough he'll be too relaxed to be pissed at us and maybe even enough to let us help"

Me:

Riley has never agreed to something faster in his life. Not like he needs insensitive to put in his best effort.

He ends up in the Captain's quarters and it's without a question the best sex of Riley's life. He's used like a toy and he couldn't be happier.

He knows when he wakes up he'll be useless for the day but it's a sacrifice that has to be made. Besides if The captain gets mad about it well it's his fault.

Riley didn't expect as much passion as he got he was blindsided by the desperation the man showed. It was so unlike him but fuck it was hot.

Sure enough he woke up and he was as sore as he had been after his first hell week. To his surprise Tav was still asleep curled around him.

Riley wouldn't complain and couldn't even if he wanted too. Luckily for him it didn't take long for the other man to wake up.

He stirred as be buried his face further into Riley's hair. "Good morning Johnny." Riley chirped and Tav slapped a hand on his mouth.

"Fuckin told ye no ta call me that." He slurred out voice deep and gravely accent thicker then Riley has ever heard it. It made him melt a little

Az:

he'd happily lie there for the rest of his life, feeling the hollow ache in his ass and light stinging heat from the bites and bruises littered across his skin, even the tacky feeling of drying cum can't ruin the afterglow. he feels ridiculous. he feels fucking giddy.

"missed you" he'd miss it if mactavish's mouth wasn't right by his ear and it's said so quietly, almost a mumble. it's ice water. he twists to look at him but the other man is still more asleep than awake.

I missed you

the caps notebook. it described all their deaths, riley and roach's in particular. that had been months of entries before the last one and next to it had been a short list of dates: one about the time mactavish had started acting off, the next coming up in the next week or so. 3 others following, the last a little after that last entry underlined in red.

Me:

Riley had no reason to believe what he saw in the notebook. Hell it could be delusions cased by the last of sleep the man had be getting.

But Tavs soft 'I missed you' is all it took to convince him it was all real. Was that pathetic and probably his own hopes speaking? Probably but this had become proof for him.

Maybe by the time the others had an idea what was going on it would be answered. At least he could hope because things weren't right.

By the time they both got showed (another round in there) and dressed the team was waiting for them.

In Roach's hand was the journal and Riley locked eyes with him. He saw the same apprehension and horror.

MacTavish just froze up before growling and ripping it out of his hand. Roach didn't even try to hold on to it.

"WHAT THE FACK IS THIS?!" Tav demanded and Riley realizes he may have possibly fucked up.

"You're not acting like yourself we got worried so we did some snooping." Chemo said easily and there was definitely a vain popping out of the Captain's neck.

"I can have you all fired for this!' MacTavish roars but not one of them believe he'll do that for a moment. "Sure but then how will you kill Shepherd and Makarov?" Archer asked.

MacTavish came up short. "What?" He asked confused.

"How will you stop WW3 Without us?" Archer asked smugly. MacTavish looks she'll shocked. Riley's missing something but it seems that they're getting somewhere.

"You believe everything you saw and read?" He asked and the others just nodded in agreement. It wouldn't be something MacTavish would lie about they all knew that.

Az:

"why?"

"Why what?" toad asks

"why do you belive any of that?" Mactavish spits, pointing at the book and it really shouldn;t surprise anyone he's defensive. if even half of what's in there is true then Johnny's been very alone for a long time.

"Sir," chemo starts but how do they explain it?

because we believe you roach says and yes it is that simple.

"it makes sense" meat adds

peasant shrugs, "we know you, sir, you don't do anything for no reason. a few weeks ago you started acting ...off. you're our captain. it was like you'd been turned up to 100!"

there are murmers from the men and comments about the little things but it comes down to the fact that the 141 operates on a very simple and very straightforward mentality: look to the captain

Me:

MacTavish thinks he might cry. He isn't sure how to deal with this overwhelming support. He was so used to being pushed aside and ignored and it hurt. He forgot that this team was based off of.

Trust.

He pulls them into a long abandoned confidence room that promised pricey and showed exactly what he had figured out so far.

The room looks like a mess stuff everywhere. There was paper tacked to walls scribbles on the table. It looked like What people imagined conspiracy theorists did in their free time.

He explained everything and what he had proof of and what he didn't. Strings of evidence and spots where he just couldn't find anything even though he knew how it happened.

It was a week later on the exact specified time when they recovered Price.

No one was sure how to proceed with this and MacTavish was in shambles.

"I should kill him." MacTavish had announced to them all later that night.

"If you do that how do you explain it the way?" Riley asked honestly keen on getting rid of the men but still he had to point out the obvious.

'Doctors already took a look at him It can't be passed off his injuries. If you killed him it would be an assassination someone on base would have had to do it. You can't hide that It would be investigated.' Roach pointed out.

"They have bigger fish to fry than whoever killed Price." MacTavish reasoned.

"Yeah because they wouldn't care about a man who was being held specifically by Makarov." Chemo daid sarcastically.

MacTavish groaned

Zombie hummed, "Let us handle it, sir, best if you aren't involved. From what you've said he'll try and dig in with you so you'd be one of the first questioned."

the men agree even if they don't like it. mactavish didn't hold back when he told them about price and how the man got into his head, pulled him along like a trained dog. and gods did riley not want the man near his captain.

he'd been the one to drag johnny to bed, make sure he ate, keep him on track now that the rest of the men were on board. and maybe there was a part of him that wanted as much of the man as he could have just in case....

the other's were supportive, of course, but they'd agreed to let him handle the more personal aspects to getting their captain through this hell. they helped manage the brass and the other soldiers, handed over their meals and wrote up paperwork that didn;t need more than the cap's signature. rook and zach, the most personable of them, made friends with some of sheppards men and kept a more trained eye on them. robot and red exercised their tech skill and bugged the system. everyone had their ears to the ground but they knew they were running out of time.

so it's no surprise when they're in the hidden office, trying to work out what the hell they can do when mactavish slips in and thunks down on a chair. he looks exhausted.

riley's up and fixing him a coffee without a thought, the others going quiet as the man leans back, eyes closed.

"sir?"

he sighs. "ah cannae do it. if price says another thin' aboot us ah'm gonnae shoot 'im."

it's not secret that soon as the man was let out of medical he'd been on mactavish like tik on a curdog. riley had been hard pressed not to punch the man when he'd given the lieutenant a nasty look seeing him lean in against his captain. "here, Tav"

"Thanks, Si" he groaned, taking a big swallow not caring at the heat. eventually he shrugs, "maybe ah could get price and sheppard to kill each other"

Me:

The room paused at that

The batshit idea was.... Well not as insane as it was intended to be

MacTavish looked up at the silence. "That's a good idea isn't it?" He asked the room at large.

Affirmatives rang around the room and he groaned. "Shit we've been trying to make this more complicated than it had to be haven't we?" He asked and another round of agreements sounded.

"How do we get this to happen? Have him overhear us? Act like it's a secret and drop hints? Leave my office door open with all the information layed out for him to find?" He asked the team.

"Why not all of it sir?" Riley asked his eyes crinkling as a smirk presumably crawled across his face.

They deemed it 'mouse trap' even though which was the mouse in this situation was unclear. They started small with cutting off conversations about it when Price appeared. Then to hiding files when he entered a room.

It progressed to vague explanations that made no sense and finally to the office door being left slightly open one night.

The next morning Price was gone

Az:

roach definately suggests just asking price to deliver something to sheppard just for it to go boom

Me:

They wait impatiently for the news to ring one way or the other. Either way it can't be a loss they know that for sure

Az:

the only reason they veto is because of collateral

the brass are in an uproar but since the 141 have no idea where he went there' not much they can do.

what they do know is where makarov will be in a few days time so they plan for him instead. sheppard need to be in washington that week so it's easy enough to fly under his radar. a little hacking here, some misplace paperwork there, and they're a week earlier than the bastards expect. it's too risky to have men on site when makarov gets there, instead mactavish has them place enough explosvies to level a small town and then they wait.

from a very distant vantage point they confirm makarov has exited his chopper and walked inside. they wait 5 minutes and then blow it sky high. nothing is left, from the parking area to the sewers, it's all slag and detritus.

Me:

The aftermath is mayhem But MacTavish refuses to let them leave until they can confirm he is in fact dead.

It doesn't take much convincing as they get out the dogs and have them search for anyone living as well as pulling out the other stops just in case.

Everything comes up negative. And they all sigh a breath of relief

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roipecheur · 3 hours ago

Text

While the reverse robins trope does not usually Compel™ me (sorry), I was thinking today about keeping the rest the same but reversing Tim and Steph. To be clear, I think this would be 10x worse for Steph and probably at least slightly worse for Tim.

(Warning: this does get a little Bruce critical. I do like Bruce as a character, but part of me liking him is putting him under a magnifying glass and examining his Bastard tendencies.)

So. If Bruce met Steph/Spoiler first. She'd be about 12/13, same age as Tim. Bruce is mourning Jason, out of his mind with grief, and then he meets this bright, fierce kid who reminds him a little of Jason but quips and laughs in the face of death like he hasn't seen since Dick. Since Steph is doing this to fight Cluemaster (her dad) and doesn't want him to figure out who she is, she's pretending to be a boy. This unintentionally goes a long way in getting Bruce to accept her.

Because Bruce was really fucking sexist in the '90s and '00s. I don't know if this was a deliberate character choice or the sexism of the writers/DC at the time or a mixture of both since Bruce of course would've had a bunch of different writers during that time. You only have to look at the difference in how he extended endless compassion and second chances to Jean-Paul Valley and Bane, two men who attacked him and broke his big no-killing taboo, and how he treated Helena and Steph--like loose canon liabilities despite how they were generally doing the vigilante thing and not getting dead. And, to a lesser extent, how Bruce treated Babs especially during War Games, and how he treated Cass.

In Cass, Bruce really wanted a kindred spirit. He wanted someone who lived and breathed the mission like he did, for Batgirl to be who she was in the way Batman is who Bruce is. Bruce Wayne is the mask, and one it seems at times (Fugitive arc) that he'd happily discard. I've only read a few issues of Cass' Batgirl run, mostly while following Tim's appearances, but I've gathered that Bruce gets into a snit whenever she goes off script and does her own thing. It threatens him.

Back to little 12-13 year old Spoiler, who Bruce at this point thinks is a boy. They team up and defeat Cluemaster, and during the fight, Arthur unmasks Steph and realizes he was about to kill his own daughter, which is what allows Bruce to get the drop on him and send him away. Bruce's assumptions have been rocked a bit, but Steph's dad is now in prison (again) and for plot and convenience reasons, let's say Steph's mom is having drug problems and is about to lose custody to the system. Bruce has always solved his emotional problems by taking in wayward children, so he scoops Steph up.

Alfred, Dick, Babs, Clark, and little Tim Drake watching through his camera lens: "What the fuck."

This prompts Tim to track Dick down, which he was about to do anyway, except instead of "hey I think Batman is going to get himself killed" it's "hey I think Batman is gonna get another kid killed because he's got a new Robin already" and Dick, who is hearing about this for the first time, goes home to yell at Bruce. Meanwhile, Steph and Tim have intense rivalry/tension at first sight. Tim's Robin material and a Real Boy, and Steph accuses him of wanting to be Robin in her place. Tim claims he doesn't want to be Robin (but deep down, he kinda does, and he also thinks he could do a better job).

Also. Bruce is extremely hard on Steph because he subconsciously or semi-consciously needs her to make up for the fact that she's 1) not Dick and 2) the Robin after Jason. Part of it is justified because he doesn't want another kid to die on him, and part of it is Bruce forcing her to choose between normal middle school activities and friends and being Robin. He isolates her in a way he didn't with Dick or Jason in the name of protecting her--definitely doesn't let her go off with the Titans or meet the Justice League or anything like that. Steph, desperate for approval and someone willing to spend the time on her, tries to live up to his expectations while chafing under them.

Fun bonus: Bruce makes Steph hide her blonde hair under a short, black wig on patrol in a call-back to making Jason in the pre-Crisis timeline dye his red hair black. He says it's to help protect her identity (and pretending to be a boy was Steph's idea first), but it almost seems like it lets Bruce forget she isn't a boy when they're out as Batman and Robin.

Bruce also keeps letting Tim hang around. He says it's because Tim knows their secrets and has some useful computer skills, so it's better to keep him where he can see him. Privately, he also thinks Tim pushes Steph to become better and work harder. Steph resents Tim heavily because she sees him as a threat--someone to replace her as Robin if she steps out of line--and their relationship improves once Tim starts working more closely with Babs instead. While Babs wasn't willing to take on Steph's training in her Spoiler days in the pre-Flashpoint timeline, Tim's already good with computers. He can provide support on that front and fill in for her in a way that Steph couldn't, so he finds a niche with Oracle.

When Cass shows up, Bruce pits her and Steph against each other and sets Cass up as an 'example' for Steph. It pisses Steph off because she was here first, and maybe she can't fight like Cass and never will, but she can do stuff like talk to people they need information from and pretend to be a Normal Teenager to blend in when the situation calls for it. Despite that, she tries to be friends with Cass...and it works a little too well for Bruce's liking. Steph does something like take Cass on a girls' night to a skating rink and a movie where they wear dresses and do their hair and nails and makeup, and Bruce is furious because they disappeared and weren't answering comms. He benches only Steph for that, which is shitty to Steph and infantilizing to Cass.

Steph could still get pregnant at 15-16--without meaning to, Bruce set her up very well for that. Living with Bruce and being Robin for a few years in those conditions would make Steph want someone to see her as a girl, as the person she was and wanted to be, and not as how well she could fit the mission. Essentially, an easy target for an older guy who told her all the right things. Bruce is angry with her when he finds out....and tells her that she has to choose between Robin and the baby. Steph chooses to carry the pregnancy to term. This happens to correspond with her mom getting better and wanting custody back, so Steph goes back to her mom's house, and Bruce more or less lets her. (Alfred side-eyes him, but we all know that's all the enabler-in-chief will do.)

It's very easy after that for Tim to step into Robin. Bruce was preparing him for this possibility all along. At this point, Tim just started dating Steph--as in the comics, right before Steph found out she was pregnant--and he wants to at least talk to her about it first. But the call comes in an emergency situation, and Tim goes out in the suit, and Steph finds out via rumors or the news. She's upset with Tim, but he shows up later to apologize, and Steph's starting to realize she should be more angry with Bruce.

Steph carries the pregnancy to term, gives her baby up for adoption, and dusts off her old Spoiler suit because she doesn't think she'll get Robin back and isn't sure she wants it. She fills in for Tim when he's at Brentwood and when his dad finds out he's Robin and makes him quit, but it's never the same, and the mantle is never really hers again. As in the comics...Bruce uses Steph when Tim's not around, and he uses her to try and get Tim back.

I don't like the whole War Games arc and I fuckin hate how it treated Steph, so. Since I'm sitting here spinning yarns, rather than Steph stealing Bruce's plans and starting a citywide gang war in a misguided attempt to impress him, she steals information on everyone who trained Bruce in her quest to Find a Mentor Who Gives a Damn. It's the last straw after Bruce fires her--again--for saving his life. Steph skips town, has adventures and misadventures on her training world tour, and eventually comes back to Gotham and becomes Batgirl after Cass gives it up.

As I said. It's Worse.

#stephanie brown #long post

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in1-nutshell · 1 day ago

Note

Hello!! (Your way of writing is amazing)Can i request a Batfam Buddy?? They are around Duke's age, they came two years before him. Bruce saw this kid fighting crime, with the name Nightjar, and decided that they would fit well with the rest. Buddy was from crime alley, and they had met the red hood a couple of times, but accepted them as a new vigilante.

After joining the family, Buddy became close with everyone rather quickly, especially with Jason. The other loved this new sibling, but couldn’t understand why they were always close with Jay. They wanted to know.

One day, they made Bruce ask them, because Buddy would probably tell Bruce, they were close with Bruce first and then became close with Jason. Bruce asked them and This kid just said, that it isn’t favouritism, it's just that Jay and i get along very well.

The others decided to let it go for the moment. But later realized that this kid was, in fact, A MINI JASON. They acted like him from time to time, said thing that Jay would say, and had the ability to tell Bruce off without consequences. Dick saw his little wing in this new kid, and out of nowhere began to hug them when they acted too much like Jay Jay.One time Bruce froze when Buddy said something Jason once said to him back in his robin days, he hugged Buddy and told them to kever lose their spark. Buddy didn’t mind the hugs, they adored them.

Mini Jaybird? Mini Jaybird! (And thanks for the compliment!)

Hope you enjoy!

Bat Buddy who is like Jason Todd

SFW, Platonic, Famialal, Human reader

BATFAMILY

Buddy was the next adopted kid Bruce took in before Duke showed up.

2 years to be exact.

Back then Buddy had gone around Gotham as their own vigilante known as Nightjar.

And no, they will not elaborate on why their name sounds so much like Nightwing’s.

Gotham Goons run into a dead end just as Nightjar shows up behind them. Nightjar: “Times up boys. Didn’t anyone tell you stealing was bad.” Goon 1: “Shoot! Its Nightwing!” SLAM! The goon gets hit in the face with a trash lid. Nightjar: “DO I LOOK LIKE HIM!?” Goon 2: “Wait! Wait! Let’s make a deal! If I get your name right, will you let me go?” Nightjar: “… You get one try.” Goon 2 with full confidence: “Jar Jar.” Nightjar: "…” Batman comes in a minute later to see two goons with beaten faces and Nightjar dusting their hands. Nightjar: “Jar Jar… what a—Oh hey Bats!” THWAP! They activated their grappling hook and zipped away. Nightjar: “Bye Bats!”

For a vigilante, Nightjar sure did pack the speed and hiding capabilities as a seasoned hero.

Almost every moment Batman had tried to interact with the small-time vigilante, they always seemed to give him the slip.

Something the others had teased him about.

… Not that they had much better luck.

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin return from patrol. Nightwing: “Sheesh, B wasn’t kidding about them being fast.” Red Robin cracks his back a bit. Red Robin: “Are we sure that they aren’t a speedster?” Robin: “Not fast enough for that Drake.” Red Hood looked at them confused. Red Hood: “So they gave you the slip again?” Nightwing: “Yeah.” Jason: “Ha!” Red Robin: “Oh please, like you can do better.” Red Hood: “I was just with them a few hours ago.” Robin: “No one finds that funny Todd.” Red Hood shrugs and walks off.

Red Hood had in fact been with them earlier.

The vigilante usually worked on some of his old patrol routes when he was Robin.

Both occasionally hanging out on gargoyles and sharing patrol stories.

Jason liked the kid and always offered a midnight snack on slow days.

Nightjar was sitting on their usual gargoyle when Red Hood arrived. They happily waved at him and patted the empty space next to them. He sat down and passed a brown paper bag to them. Nightjar: “What’s on the menu today chef?” Red Hood: “Just some leftover pasta and chicken. Nothing big.” Nightjar was already digging in. Nightjar: “Please anything you cook is godsent man. Wait is that…” They fish out 3 chocolate chip cookies from the bottom of the bag. Nightjar: “Hood!” They wrap an arm around him in a side hug. He just pats their back as they go back to eating. Red Hood: “Be thankful kid, nearly risked my hands getting these cookies.” Nightjar: “Wherever you gets these, complements to the chef! This will last me another week!” Red Hood: “What?” Nightjar: “What?”

As for Batman, he finally managed to talk to Nightjar a few nights later.

Unfortunately, under less than likely circumstances.

The pair had been ambushed by some of Joker and Two faces henchmen.

It took them both to defeat them all and take the two villains to custody.

Nightjar dusting their hands and was ready to zip out of there, but their stomach growled loudly. They hadn’t eaten a full meal in a few days and their stomach ached for some of Red Hood’s food bags. Hopefully no one had spotted the saved bag of cookies back in their box. Batman: “Hungry?” Nightjar: “Kinda, but I’ll be going now. It was fun working with ya Bat—” Batman: “I can get you some food if you like.” Nightjar was about to protest but their stomach growled even louder. A few minutes later… Both were sitting on the hood of the Batmobile eating take out from Batburger. Nightjar was happily eating their burger sitting criss crossed. Batman: “Is there a place where I can drop you off?” Nightjar: “I mean, if your okay with driving by Crime Alley.” Batman: “You live around Crime Alley.” Nightjar: “I live in the alley Bats.” Batman grows concern. Batman: “And your parents? Where are they?” Nightjar laughs bitterly. Nightjar: “Don’t know, if you find them let me know—hey Bats you okay?” Batman: “…” A few more minutes later… The Batmobile stops in the Batcave. The boys come over. Nightwing: “You okay in there B?” Red Robin: “His vital are still fine.” The door opens as Batman exits out. Robin: “Father where have you—” Batman opens the co pilot seat and holds Nightjar from under their arms. Batman: “Nightjar this is the Batcave.” Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin: “NIGHTJAR!?” Red Hood has near whiplash seeing his friend practically dangling from Bruce’s hold. Red Hood: “How?!” Alfred ‘already been through this’ Pennyworth: “I have the room ready sir.” Nightjar: “I am so confused right now. Did I just get kidnapped—Hi Hood!” Nightwing: “How do they know you?!” Red Hood: “I already told you I knew them!” Red Robin: “We thought you were being sarcastic!” Robin eyes Nightjar up and down. Robin: “If you want the Robin mantle, you will have to fight me for it.” Nightjar: “Don’t want it short stack. And also, WHAT THE F—”

And that’s how Buddy was adopted into the family.

Of course, they got formally introduced to everyone after finally getting context to what was happening.

Surprisingly when they weren’t running around and hiding, Buddy was a good person to be around.

Somehow worming their way into everyone’s hearts.

Duke arrives to the Batcave. Buddy walks over to him with a smile on their face. Buddy: “Hey there! Your Duke right?” Duke: “Um, yes? How do you know my name?” Buddy waves him off. Buddy: “If anything living with the Bats has taught me is that B is always on the look out for potential recruits or adoptees.” Duke: “Oh no, he isn’t adopting me.” Buddy pats his shoulder. Buddy: “Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that. I know it’s a confusing time and all—” Duke: “He is not adopting me!” A few months and a signed adoption paper later… Duke: “…” Buddy: “… I told—” Duke: “Yeah you told me.” Buddy pats him on the back. Buddy: “Welcome to the family Duke.” Duke smiles at them while giving them a pat as well.

But there was one member of the Batfamily that they were nearly conjoined to the hip since day one.

Jason ‘the Red Hood’ Todd, was the chosen one.

It was speculated at first that it was natural for them to be close to the one person they knew in the manor.

But months later, they still seemed to be Jason’s shadow whenever he was around.

This included patrol, being in the manor, being in his apartment, at the grocery store…

They needed to know.

And it was up to Bruce to ask them thanks to drawing the shortest straw.

His search for the answer was relatively short.

Which being that Buddy plainly stated that they were just close to the white streaked vigilante.

Nothing to do with favoritism or bribery.

They just liked being with him.

This seemed to satisfy the others as they put it to rest.

But the Brick of Reality would soon find its next targets one afternoon in the library.

Bruce and Dick had just walked into the library to collect some extra file covers when they spot Buddy fast asleep on one of the desks. A pile of old books keeping them company and of course Alfred. The older man walks by the two. Alfred: “It seems that Mx. Buddy has been going through the same book catalog young Master Jason did when he first came to the manor.” Dick smiles at his younger sibling snoozing. Dick: “Yeah, they kind of are like a mini Jason.” Reality Brick impact in 3… 2… 1… BAM! Bruce and Dick: “… They are a mini Jason…” Alfred ‘already seen this from day 1’ Pennyworth: “I am happy to see your detective skills are as sharp as ever.”

Dick immediately tells the others about this epiphany while Bruce is still processing this.

Jason doesn’t see the resembles and walks away.

The other haven’t exactly met Jason in his Robin days don’t know what to think.

Instead, they observe from afar.

Low and behold Dick was right.

From mannerisms, sayings, some fighting styles, even how they like their food!

All near carbon copy!

Buddy and Jason don’t see it and just move along.

Buddy has gained the new nickname of “Mini Jaybird”.

Which in all things in consideration it was miles above “Jar Jar”, so they didn’t mind being called that.

Jason didn’t either, in fact it just gave him a reason to call ‘dibs’ on them on any team activity or patrol.

Dick is on patrol with Buddy. Dick: “Bud—Nightjar you need to be more careful with your flips. You’re still healing from the stab wound.” Nightjar just smiles at him. Nightjar: “Not even if I do this!” Nightjar executes one of Dick’s own personal flips with ease. They bounce to their feet and go up to him. Nightjar: “See! I did it! I am unstoppable!” Dick just sees a smaller Jason cheering for his accomplishments. Nightjar: “Yeah! I—” They were interrupted by Dick hugging them tightly. Nightjar: “Nightwing? Dick you okay?” Nightwing: “I’m fine… Just… I’m fine mini jaybird…” Buddy decides not to ask about the tremble and just hugs him back. Later that same night in the Batcave… Bruce is helping Buddy with their dodging. Buddy ducks under one punch. Buddy: “Ha! You’re going to have to hit faster than that B.” Bruce continues on without a word. Buddy laughs as they dodge another hit. Buddy: “Try and catch me you big boob!” Bruce suddenly freezes up. Buddy looks at him worried. Buddy: “Bruce? Hey, I know that the phrase is a bit outdated but if it offends you—” Bruce isn’t listening as he is only seeing a small Jason from Crime Alley. Those were some of the first words he had ever said to him on the night he tried to steal the Batmobile’s tires. Buddy: “—And I’ll make sure to never do that again.” Bruce puts a hand on their shoulder making them stop their little ramble. Bruce: “Don’t you ever loose that spark Buddy. No matter what happens.” Buddy: “… Umm, okay? B are you sure you don’t need some sleep? I just called you a—huh?!” Bruce had brought them into a tight hug. Buddy, while confused, returns the gesture. It wasn’t everyday the Batman was giving out hugs so they were going to cherish any opportunity they got.

#dc #dc comics #batfamily #batfamily x platonic reader #batfamily x reader #human buddy #bat buddy

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3-2-whump · 2 days ago

Text

Sequel is here

Hi everyone,

Thank you thank you thank you for sticking around for the follow-up story to Eternal. I want to acknowledge my beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz , who have probably read like five versions of this same damn chapter. Thank you for sticking it out with me you two, I couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

Some quick asides, I don’t know/can’t guarantee this is gonna have the same consistent updating schedule as the previous story. Irl nonsense like job woes and trying to apply to grad school have been demanding more of my energy than I’d like to give, but I will try to update regularly. Thanks for the understanding in advance 🙏🏽

Well, without further ado…

Mountain Bike

TW/CW: allusions to past whump. You could probably start the sequel without reading the first story, though, but if you want to know exactly what our main character is running from, I highly recommend The Morgue

Dr. Vikash Gill was having a great day today. He’d gotten up early, went to the gym a few blocks away from his house, and came back home to make a quick toast and coffee. He went well into his first few hours as a resident doctor in the emergency department without any serious injuries to treat. In the background, on every television and phone screen, news about the murder of a well-known mob boss spread like wildfire, with suspicious undertones of gang activity throughout the tight-lipped reporting from the news outlets. Now, he was on the way back to the hospital from his quick lunch break at the café around the corner, ready for another five or six hours of work.

Like most people in the medical profession, he loved and hated his job, and like most people in the medical profession, he had plenty of stories to tell. From bullet wounds to stabbings and a whole host of suspicious injuries in between, Vik had treated it all at this point, and he had received every fantastical story and explanation with an apathetic indifference.

Like his mentor Dr. Kimura had said, “We’re doctors, not detectives, the best thing we can do is to shut up, treat their wounds, and get them out the door ASAP,” or something like that. Whatever she told him almost a year ago seemed to stick though, as he stitched up every gang member and staunched the blood flow of every mafia soldier without so much as a blink of an eye.

There were more than a few times where Vik wished he had studied medicine in a small-town rural community instead, somewhere where the biggest injury was something normal like a tractor accident. During those times, he’d make himself remember the ‘mountain bike accident’ that he treated just over a year ago.

The man was a few years younger than him, according to his charts, but his small, skinny frame and big, sad eyes made him look even younger. He had a unique set of tattoos, singular black bands on his neck, wrists, and ankles. He came in completely naked with a broken nose, hand-shaped bruising all over his body, a torn rectum, and a back carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. The older man who came in with him –Thomas J. Costa, the dead boss who most probably fucked with the wrong gang and found out– claimed all those wounds were merely a ‘mountain bike accident.’ Vik knew that was bullshit, yet there was nothing he could do at the time, being only a med student. Now, with a little more freedom and experience with being a licensed doctor, he hoped that he would be able to help that poor guy, and other people like him, should the opportunity ever come up again.

A chime went off on his phone just as he rounded the corner on his way back to work. Vik fished around his pockets for his phone, not looking where he was going until an unexpected force collided into him at speed. It knocked him back on his feet a little and pushed his glasses askew up his face. Vik completely forget about his phone for a second as he began to curse out the stranger who’d just run into him. “Hey! Watch it you-…wait…” Vik adjusted his glasses. The curses died on his tongue as he came face to face with a familiar young man with a dark floof of hair, the saddest dark brown eyes, and a visibly distinct tattooed band on his neck. He may have been fully clothed now, in a thick black hoodie and skinny jeans with a suspiciously growing red stain on the right thigh, but Vikash Gill would recognize that tattoo and those sad brown eyes anywhere. He remembered the ‘mountain bike accident’ that forced them to cross paths; he may never forget that night as long as he lived. “Mountain Bike?!” he asked incredulously.

“A doctor, oh thank god!” the stranger exclaimed. Whether it was Vik’s scrub pants, sweater emblazoned with the hospital logo, or his ID tag that tipped him off, the stranger visibly melted with relief before surging toward him with desperation. “Help me!” The young man’s chest was heaving as he panted around every word. His face shone with sweat and exertion.

Vikash took a step back. “With what?” he asked.

“I need to hide!”

He glanced around the corner where Mountain Bike had come from, but nobody was coming. “From whom? Why?” The stranger wobbled on his injured leg, and Vik instinctively reached out to catch him. “Did you do something? What did you do? What happened to your leg?” he demanded. It was clear that he had been running from something–or someone–and the desperation in the stranger’s eyes as he looked up at him put pressure on Vik.

“I didn’t do anything–well, okay, I might’ve headbutted my new owner and ran away–”

“Whoa, whoa, back up–what do you mean?”

Mountain Bike gripped onto the front of Vik’s jacket, locking eyes with him. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m telling the truth!” he insisted. He stepped back to give the doctor more space. “Look, you remember me, right?” His eyes searched his hopefully as he put on a strained smile of friendliness. “You sewed up my back last year, do you remember?”

“Sure I do,” he answered, “but I don’t see how–”

“I’ve been held against my will the last several years and I finally have a chance to escape. I’m not making this up, I promise! Please, take out my tracker and I’ll be able to prove everything, just help me!” Mountain Bike begged.

“But, what about your leg?” Vik asked, watching the stranger wobble when he tried to put weight on it.

“Screw the leg! I’ll be fine, I need the thing that tells them where I am out of my body now!”

“Still though,” Vik rationalized, shaking his head, “how can I trust you?” The guy seemed pathetic enough, but Vik didn’t know him, and wasn’t about to allow himself to be robbed blind or stabbed to death just because he felt sorry for someone.

Mountain Bike quickly detached from Vikash’s side, extending his arms outwards as he stood in a T-pose. “Search me. I’ve got no weapons, and I’m too weak to hurt you in any way that counts,” he said. He flapped his arms a little. “Well, go on, search me!” he urged.

What the fuck did I get myself into? Vik sighed, wondering how he was going to explain to work how late he was from lunch break. Still, the stranger’s jumpy movements and quiet desperation seemed like they were coming from a real place of fear. Vik reluctantly gave the stranger a rudimentary pat-down, like the ones he’d get at the airport. He didn’t miss the way Mountain Bike flinched under his touches, even though searching him was his idea. He stood at least a head taller than the man, so he was able to catch a glimpse of black ink behind his ears. A barcode, and ‘TJC’? He frowned, thinking there might be some credibility to Mountain Bike’s story after all. The enigmatic little puzzle pieces that surrounded Mountain Bike for a year had finally started to assemble into a picture of what had really occurred that night in the emergency department. Once he confirmed that Mountain Bike was unarmed, he stepped back, and the stranger dropped his arms from the T-position. “Okay, you’re unarmed,” he confirmed. “But, how do I know you’re telling the truth? No offense, but I hear a lot of tall tales in my line of work. How do I know you’re in danger and this isn’t some kind of mental breakdown?”

Mountain Bike let out a pained sound somewhere between a groan and a whine. “Come on, man! Do I gotta show you everything?”

Vik fell back on concussion check protocol. “What’s your name and date of birth? What date is it today?” he asked

Mountain Bike sighed. “Khaled Bakhsk, November 22, 1999. Today’s February 22, 2022,” he recited with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t give you the exact time it is, but it’s after noon. Now come on, take me to the hospital and take out my tracker?” Mountain Bike begged.

“Why do you even have a tracker?” Vik asked.

“Because. I’m. A. Slave,” Mountain Bike spelled out. He huffed a frustrated sigh. “You know what, I don’t know what it’ll take for you to believe me, but if you at least find it and take it out, I swear I will never bother you again!” His voice was edged with desperation as he cast Vik the saddest, darkest puppy-dog eyes underneath his long lashes. “Please?”

And honestly, if this stranger was telling him the truth, would Vikash Gill be able to live with himself if he knew he just let this guy be enslaved again? “Fine,” Vik relented, “but I’ll need to find the tracker first, and even when I find it, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to extract it immediately. Besides–” he cast a furtive glance down at Mountain Bike’s bloody thigh, “–you should at least let me treat your leg first.” He followed the seeping blood trail with his eyes, brows furrowed in concern.

Mountain Bike–er, Khaled’s face lit into a grin as he dropped to his knees and hugged Vikash’s legs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank–”

“Okay, stop that. Get up,” Vik replied, uncomfortable with both the sudden infringement on his personal space and the over exaggerated gratitude Mountain Bike displayed. “Let’s patch up that leg!” He directed the stranger to follow him to the hospital, where he could be evaluated and get whatever kind of help he needed.

“Remember these words: pencil, dragon, phone, spoon,” he told him. Vik still couldn’t rule out the possibility of a head injury, and one of the tests for a potential concussion involved memorizing a string of words and repeating them back. Mountain–Khaled didn’t respond.Well, it was a great day for Dr. Vikash Gill, but now it was just kind of a weird one.

Le Tag List for The Recovery Arc (also if you want on or off, nbd, just let me know 👍🏼) (also if I missed anybody I am so sorry, I haven’t had to make one of these in a long time 🥺)

@kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz

@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

#whump writing #oc writing #picking up where we left off #allusions to past whump #whump aftermath #like the immediate aftermath #idk what else to tag #but yeah here it is

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