#it was something i was seriously considering turning into like...A Job that i Did With My Life

[m4rv3l-girl]

I’ve Got Your Back - {Part 1}

Bucky x Y/N

Bucky meets you, a student making ends meet at an over-priced convenience store. Despite being afraid of entering the world of romance again, you just seem to …understand each other. Maybe there’s more to them both than they originally thought.

Warnings: age-gap. Angst. Workplace bullying. Language.

Bucky Barnes stepped inside the convenience store. The fluorescent lights buzzed above him, illuminating aisles stacked with overpriced snacks, crappy. The smell of mop-water sat in the air.

He hadn’t really planned on stopping by. But a craving for something sweet had led him here, the tiny corner store tucked between a laundromat and a liquor shop. A couple of kids loitered by the slushie machine, arguing over which flavor was superior, while a man in a wrinkled suit debated over cigarettes behind the counter.

And then, there was you.

You stood at the register, expression caught somewhere between tired and vaguely annoyed—not outright rude, just carrying the weight of someone who’d had a long day. Bucky knew the look well; he saw it in the mirror more often than not.

He didn’t expect much interaction beyond the necessary exchange of goods and payment. But as he approached, a voice from the back interrupted the quiet monotony.

“Y/N! Are you fucking serious? I told you to restock aisle four, not stand there like a damn statue!”

Your spine stiffened at the harsh words. From the back room, a squat man in an ill-fitted polo stomped out, glaring at you with the disdain of someone who’d long since lost any patience for basic human decency.

Bucky noticed the way your eyes momentarily glossed over, how your fingers curled slightly against the counter before you took a steadying breath.

“I did restock it, Mr. Carl,” you replied, voice even but quiet. Bucky swore he saw a glassy sheen in your eyes. “I was just about to—”

“Don’t give me the excuses, girl. If I have to tell you one more time—”

“That’s enough.”

The words left Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them.

Both you and your boss turned to look at him. Your eyes widened slightly, surprised, while Carl just narrowed his, sizing up the stranger who had the audacity to interrupt his evening tirade.

“And you are?” Carl scoffed, crossing his arms.

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “A paying customer who doesn’t appreciate seeing people get treated like dirt for doing their job.”

Carl let out an incredulous huff but, perhaps noticing the sheer muscle and steel beneath Bucky’s jacket, decided not to push it. With a dismissive wave, he muttered something about ‘lazy employees’ and retreated to the back.

You let out a slow breath and glanced at Bucky, something between gratitude and embarrassment flickering across your face.

“Sorry about that,” you murmured, ringing up his purchase. There was a twang in your voice, an accent that seemed a mix-match.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, shaking his head. “You okay?”

You hesitated. Bucky recognized that too—the reluctance to admit that things weren’t fine, even when they clearly weren’t.

“I’m fine,” you said, forcing a small smile. “Been through worse.”

Bucky nodded, respecting the boundary but not quite believing you. He tapped his fingers against the counter, considering his next words carefully.

“You need me to rough him up a little?” he asked, only half-joking.

A surprised laugh burst from your lips before you could stop it. It wasn’t much, but it was genuine, and for some reason, that made Bucky feel lighter.

“Nah,” you said, shaking your head. “As tempting as it is to see Carl get launched into a snack display, I don’t think that would help my employment status.”

Bucky smirked. “Fair point.”

He took his bag, but instead of leaving, he lingered for a second. Then, in a softer voice, he added, “Seriously though… if you ever need help, I’m around.”

There was something in his tone—something solid, reassuring. A promise.

You met his eyes, seeing not just the war hero or the former assassin, but someone who understood. Someone who didn’t just say things to sound good, but meant them.

“Thank you,” you said, and the sincerity in your voice made him realize that maybe, you were telling the truth when you said you’d been through worse.

He gave you a single nod, the kind that said more than a hundred words ever could. Then, with a quiet goodbye, Bucky turned to leave, his heavy boots echoing against the linoleum floor. As the door chimed shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth spread through your chest. It had been a long time since someone had stood up for you like that—if ever.

The rest of the shift dragged on, the weight of your boss’s words lessened slightly by the brief encounter with the mysterious customer. You found your thoughts drifting back to Bucky’s face—his concerned eyes and the gentle curve of his mouth when he’d offered to help. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt like a lifeline thrown to a drowning person.

When your shift finally ended, you stepped outside into the cool night air, letting it wash over you like a wave of relief. The neon lights of the store sign cast a garish glow on the empty sidewalk, but it didn’t feel as lonely as it usually did.

As you began the short walk home, you noticed a figure leaning against the wall of the adjacent laundromat. It was Bucky, arms folded over his chest, watching the world pass by. He pushed off the wall when he saw you, his eyes lighting up in a way that made your heart stutter.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You okay to walk home?”

You nodded, surprised by his concern. “I’m fine. I live just a few blocks away.”

“Okay,” he said, falling into step beside you. “I’m in no rush, and I don’t like the thought of you walking out here by yourself after what I heard in there.”

The gesture was unexpected, but somehow comforting.

“Thanks,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of emotions. “Did you wait here this whole time just to check I got home okay…?”

Bucky shrugged, his shoulders shifting beneath the leather jacket. “Call it a gut feeling. Besides, it’s the least I could do after that show back there. No one should have to deal with that kind of crap at work.”

You couldn’t argue with that. As you walked side by side, the silence stretched comfortably between you, filled only by the distant sound of passing cars and the occasional chuckle of a couple leaving the liquor store.

“So, what’s your story?” Bucky asked, his gaze scanning the street as if expecting trouble. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course. I get the feeling you’ve got a bit of a history with that guy.”

You sighed, looking down at your worn-out sneakers. “It’s nothing special. Just a dead-end job, trying to make ends meet while I figure out what I want to do with my life. Carl’s always been a bit of a… character, but he pays the bills. Or at least, he did before tonight.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped to you. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, a hint of sadness in the movement. “I think that might’ve been the last straw. I’ve been looking for something better for a while now, but it’s hard to find something that fits with my school schedule. Plus, I can’t exactly quit without another job lined up, you know? But I feel like shit there.”

Bucky nodded, his expression empathetic. He’d been in tough situations himself, had to make choices that weren’t ideal.

“Well, if you ever need a reference or anything, you’ve got my number now.” He fished out a piece of paper and scribbled down a string of digits. “And if he ever gives you grief again, just remember, you’ve got backup.”

You took the paper, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The thought of having someone like Bucky on your side was oddly comforting. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

As you approached the turn that led to your apartment complex, you felt a twinge of sadness. You didn’t know much about him, but there was something about his presence that made you feel less alone in the world. But you knew that this was the part where you said goodbye and went your separate ways.

“This is me,” you said, pointing to the dimly lit building. “Thanks for walking me home, Bucky.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on the worn-out stairs leading up to the entrance. “No problem. Stay safe, okay? Wait…how did you-”

You smirked, holding up the receipt from the store. “It’s my job to remember faces and numbers, even if it’s just for the night. Plus, yours is pretty hard to forget. War hero, and all”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, a ghost of a smile. “Well, I guess that makes me pretty memorable.”

You nodded, tucking the paper into your pocket. “It does. Thanks again, really.”

“Take care, Y/N,” Bucky said, giving you a small salute before he turned and melted back into the shadows of the alley.

The night felt eerily quiet once he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading away into the distance. You climbed the stairs, the chill of the evening seeping into your bones and unlocked the door to your apartment. Inside, the warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the outside world. You threw your bag onto the couch and kicked off your shoes, feeling the weight of the day finally start to lift. As you padded over to the fridge, the cold floor tiles biting at your socks, you pulled out the leftover pizza from the night before, the cheese congealed into a sad, greasy mess. But it was food, and that was all that mattered right now. All that you could budget for.

As you heated up your dinner in the microwave, the glow of the screen casting a soft light across the kitchen, you couldn’t shake the image of Bucky’s face from your mind. The way he looked at you - like he truly saw you - was something you hadn’t experienced in a very long time. The microwave beeped, snapping you out of your thoughts. You took a bite of the lukewarm pizza, the cheese pulling away from the bread. But somehow, it tasted a little less disappointing given that your night was accompanied by a nice guy… and a small spark you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You sat at the small table by the window, looking out into the quiet street. Sometimes a car passed by, their headlights painting streaks of light on the pavement. You found yourself wondering about Bucky’s life. What led him to be so kind? What made him want to protect someone like you from a simple act of workplace bullying? The curiosity grew, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that you should be grateful for the brief respite from your reality and not overthink it.

Your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. You glanced down at the screen, expecting a notification from a class group chat or a text from a friend complaining about their day. But instead, you found a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey Y/N, it’s Bucky. Just checking in. How are you holding up?

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like Bucky Barnes. You know, handsome. Sweet. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Just the thought of answering gave you a flutter in your chest.

You: Hey, I’m okay. Thanks for checking in. It’s been a long night.

Bucky: No problem at all. Just wanted to make sure you’re not letting that asshole get to you. You deserve better.

The bluntness of his message made you chuckle around a mouthful of pizza. It was refreshing, the way he didn’t mince words. You chewed thoughtfully, considering how much of your situation to share with him. After all, he was basically a stranger.

You: I’ve had worse days, but thanks for caring. I’ll be okay. Just trying to keep my chin up and move on.

The phone vibrated again, the screen lighting up with another text from him.

Bucky: That’s the spirit. Ever need someone to vent to, I’m here. Or, you know, to help you move some furniture. I’ve got strong arms and not a lot of plans.

The offer made you smile wider. It was almost a vague way of saying he wanted to see you again, despite being a blunt man he could bring himself to ask you out. It was laughable, in a way.

You: Haha, I’ll keep that in mind. I actually do have an old bookshelf that’s been giving me a hard time.

Bucky: Perfect. I’m your man. Whenever you need it moved, just let me know. No strings attached. Unless you want to grab some coffee first.

The suggestion was casual, but it hung in the air, charged with something more. You chewed on your lip, contemplating his offer. It wasn’t just about the bookshelf; you knew that. But the idea of seeing Bucky again, of sharing a moment that didn’t involve work or the stale air of the convenience store, was tempting. You hadn’t had a decent conversation with anyone in what felt like forever.

Coffee sounds good - you replied, trying to keep your excitement in check.

Bucky: Great! How’s tomorrow afternoon around 3? I can swing by with some muscle and a decent taste in caffeine.

You nodded to yourself, feeling a rush of blood to your face. It wasn’t a date, but it was something. Something outside the routine of your life. Something that had the potential to be more than just another forgettable encounter.

You: Tomorrow at 3 it is.

Bucky: Looking forward to it. Get some rest, and don’t let Carl ruin your night.

The conversation ended with a promise to meet, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe had just handed you a gift-wrapped opportunity for a new beginning. You spent the rest of the night scrolling through job listings, a renewed sense of determination burning in your chest. Maybe you didn’t need to settle for the same old crap anymore. Maybe there was more out there.

The next day dragged by with the excitement of a snail race. You found yourself checking the time on your phone every few minutes, counting down the hours until you could see Bucky again. It was ridiculous, really. You barely knew the guy, but he’d left an indelible mark on you with his kindness and protective nature.

Finally, the clock struck 3, and you felt your nerves begin to fray. You’d chosen your outfit with more care than usual, opting for a simple black dress that fell just above your knees and a light cardigan to ward off the chill of your ill-heated apartment. It was cleaner than it had been in weeks, the bookshelf sitting awkwardly in the middle of your living room, a clear indicator of the ruse you’d concocted.

When the buzzer rang, you took a deep breath and opened the door. Bucky stood in the hallway, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, looking every inch the hero from your childhood comics. He held up two steaming cups of coffee, the aroma wafting into the room.

“Peace offering,” he said with a wink, handing one to you.

You took it gratefully, feeling your nerves dissipate a little. The warmth of the cup felt good in your hands. “Thanks,” you murmured, taking a tentative sip.

He stepped inside, surveying the bookshelf with a nod of approval. “Looks like it’s seen better days.”

“It was my grandmother’s. I just can’t seem to part with it,” you said, feeling a twinge of nostalgia.

Bucky set his own coffee down and rolled up his sleeves. “Well, let’s get to work then.”

The process of moving the heavy, cumbersome piece of furniture was surprisingly easy with his help. You directed him where to push and pull, and together, you managed to maneuver it into the perfect spot. It was a small victory, but it felt significant, a symbol of progress in a life that often felt stagnant.

Once the bookshelf was in place, you sat down on the couch, breathless and laughing. Bucky followed, his smile reaching his eyes as he took in the now organized space. He handed you back your coffee, and you took a grateful sip, watching him as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“So, what’s the story behind the books?” he asked, gesturing to the eclectic mix of novels and textbooks that now lined the shelves.

You shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious. “They’re just my escape. Sometimes school gets overwhelming, and I just need to lose myself in a good story.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on the spines before meeting yours. “I get that. Sometimes, when I’ve had enough of my own head, I’ll read for hours. It’s like…going on an adventure without leaving your couch.”

You shared a knowing look. “Exactly. And my couch is pretty comfy for traveling the world.”

Bucky’s smile grew a little sad. “Or escaping it, huh?”

The air in the room changed, thick with unspoken understanding. You both knew what it was like to carry a past that weighed heavier than any book. You took a deep breath, deciding to let down your guard a little.

“Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes it’s easier to deal with other people’s problems than my own. And the ones in books have a better chance of a happy ending than the ones in real life.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “But you can’t live in someone else’s story forever, Y/N. You gotta write your own sometimes too.”

You looked away, feeling the weight of his gaze. It was a gentle push, but it was a push nonetheless.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m just…scared to mess it up, you know?”

Bucky’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You won’t. And if you do, that’s what the backspace button’s for. Just keep going.”

The warmth of his hand was like a balm to your soul, a silent promise of support. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the beginnings of something unfurling in your chest - hope, perhaps?

You both sat there in silence for a moment, sipping on your coffee, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound breaking the stillness.

“So, what’s your story?” Bucky asked, curiosity etched in his voice as he took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee.

You took a deep breath, unsure how much of your life you wanted to unpack for a man you’d only just met. But there was something about him that made you feel safe, like he could handle whatever you threw at him. “It’s not much to tell, really. Just trying to get through school, work to pay the bills, the usual stuff. My parents aren’t around, so it’s all on me.”

The sadness in your voice was palpable, and Bucky’s expression softened. He knew what it was like to be adrift in the world, carrying the weight of responsibilities that were never meant for one person.

“What about your friends? They help you out?”

You shrugged. “They try, but everyone’s got their own lives. It’s hard to juggle it all. And Carl…” You trailed off, not wanting to dwell on the sour note he’d left you with the night before.

“He’s not worth another thought,” Bucky said firmly. “You’ve got more important things to focus on. Like what you’re gonna do after you graduate.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to be a counsellor. I’m studying psychology.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing. You’ll be great at it. You’ve already got the patience and strength to deal with people at their worst.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “Thanks. It’s just what I’ve had to learn to do, I guess. Can I ask you something a bit stupid?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his grip on your hand not loosening. “You can ask me anything.”

“How did you become so…” You paused, searching for the right word. “So…good?”

He chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm and full of life. “It’s not something you just become, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff. Done a lot of bad stuff. It’s about making choices, every day. Choosing to do the right thing even when it’s hard, even when it’s scary. And I’ve had a lot of people help me along the way. Like Steve… Captain America, I mean.”

The mention of his friend brought a wistful look to his eyes, and you felt a tingle of curiosity about the stories he must have, the adventures he’d been on.

“I just…I mean, I’m not gonna trauma dump on you or anything but sometimes I just feel like I…can’t make up for anything…” Your voice drew out.

Bucky’s thumb made small circles on the back of your hand, a gentle reassurance. “You fascinate me.”

You looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the floor before meeting yours again. “You look so sweet. I..obviously you are. But, I can tell there’s something else going on. That something happened….”

You felt your eyes well up, unsure if you wanted to let go of the dam of emotions you’d held back for so long. But the sincerity in Bucky’s voice, the way his thumb kept caressing your hand, made you feel like maybe, just this once, it was okay to be vulnerable in front of him.

“It’s just… I’ve made some mistakes,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big ones. Ones I’m not sure I can ever fix. It’s hard to…move on from that.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, the warmth in them unwavering. “We all have regrets, Y/N. Hey, we all know I do. But that doesn’t define us. It’s what we do next that counts. And you, helping people, that’s a pretty noble next step, if you ask me.”

You took a shaky breath, his words resonating deep within you. “Sorry.” You giggle softly, “This is a bit dark for a first…whatever this is.”

“It’s okay to be real. Sometimes that’s all anyone can ask for.”

Bucky’s words surrounded you like a warm embrace, his grip on your hand a silent reminder that you weren’t alone. The room felt a size smaller, but not in a suffocating way - more like the comfort of a blanket on a cold night, wrapping you in a cocoon. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your secrets threatening to spill out.

He could see a look of guilt spilling over your features suddenly.

“Bucky, I’m a bad person.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, but there it was, hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Bucky’s thumb stopped moving. He studied you, his gaze intense but not judgmental. “You can’t believe that, Y/N. You’re not. Everyone makes mis-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head. “No, Bucky. You don’t understand.”

The silence grew heavier, the air thick with the unspoken words. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for his judgment, his pity. But all you found was his hand tightening around yours, a silent declaration that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I was trained in the Red Room.”

It was a whisper, the weight of the confession making your voice tremble.

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, the warmth in them never fading. “The Red Room?” he repeated, his voice low and measured. You nodded, the words feeling like lead in your mouth. The Red Room was something you’d buried deep, a chapter of your life you’d hoped never to have to re-open. But here you were, in the dim light of your small apartment, sharing it with this stranger. He deserved to know. He deserved the option to walk away and never look back at the twisted world he’d barely escaped the first time.

He was quiet for a long moment, his hand still wrapped around yours. The tension grew, a symphony of unspoken questions and fears playing in the air. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, the thumping rhythm echoing in your ears. Was he disgusted? Would he leave now?

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, looking for the truth in the shadows of your irises. “The Red Room,” he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like a dark secret. You could see the recognition in his eyes, the understanding of what that meant. “You were a widow.”

It was less of a question than a statement.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your past pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The air grew colder, and you found yourself shrinking into your cardigan, as if it could offer some kind of protection from his judgment. But instead of recoiling, Bucky leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

“How’d you get out?” His voice was gentle, the question not one of accusation, but of genuine curiosity.

You took a deep breath, feeling the walls of your chest constrict around the words you hadn’t spoken in years. “Natasha and Yelena…they found me. When they took the Red Room down. They…freed me.”

Bucky’s grip on your hand grew stronger, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the understanding dawn in his expression, the knowledge of what it meant to be plucked from the hell you’d been living in and thrust into a world that didn’t make sense anymore.

“Bucky, you….I think you should go.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, the tremble in it clear as day. You couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, the guilt and fear of what he’d think of you now that he knew the truth too much to bear. You didn’t expect him to stay, not after what you’d told him. But the way he looked at you, with a mix of empathy and something you couldn’t quite name, made you hope.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” Bucky said firmly, his thumb still caressing the back of your hand. “You’re safe here. With me.”

But the dam had already broken. Tears spilled from your eyes, a silent cascade that painted tracks down your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear that, how much you’d needed someone to remind you that you weren’t the monster you felt like. You hadn’t expected to find that in the arms of a man who’d been through his own brand of hell.

But here you were, crying in front of him, letting the pain of your past spill out in a messy, human way.

——————————————————————————————————

I’m hoping this series will be intriguing for some of you fabulous readers! 🫶

[euelios]

there are very specific people in my irl life who can say the most innocuous things on earth and still make me steaming mad

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a terrible day at work, you find an unexpected dose of comfort in an absurd late-night conversation with your coworker.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, you make a huge mistake at work (unspecified) for which you get seriously chewed out by hotch, too many beds trope, ridiculously long considering the entire plot revolves around a single conversation, gets kinda wild at the end, spencer hits his head, but it’s nothing serious

𝐚/𝐧: the ending inspired by a situation from my life, but don’t worry, my head is fine now (in the general sense of the word) (no one kissed my forehead...) i recommend reading it in bed before sleep <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7 k

"Hotch, but I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," your boss replied in his typical, emotionless tone, which in this particular situation sent a distinct chill down your spine. Every word he uttered felt like a frozen dagger, driven straight between your ribs and left there, while the coldness spread across your skin in the form of goosebumps. "What you did was not only reckless but also undermined all of today’s hard work by the entire team. They put tremendous effort into locating the unsub and cornering him at that specific location, and because of your decision, he managed to escape. Every additional day this man remains free could cost someone their life—an innocent person."

You stood before him in an empty parking lot across from the hotel where your entire team was staying. It wasn’t exactly the typical setting for delivering a reprimand, but since you were far from the office, there wasn’t a better option at hand. And while you were teetering on the edge of tears—tears you were desperately holding back to avoid appearing like a weak little girl in his eyes—you were grateful for one thing. Grateful that he had chosen to chastise you in private. One-on-one. Away from everyone else.

A moment of silence fell between you, and you tried not to lower your head like a chastised child—but that’s exactly how you felt. Not just ashamed, but overwhelmingly guilty. As someone who had only recently joined the BAU, you’d never made such an egregious mistake before. A mistake that could cost someone their life. Deep down, you had clung to the naive hope that this moment would never come. That if you followed the instructions of those more experienced than you with feigned confidence, something like this could be avoided.

But reality had placed you in a completely different position—one where, for a brief moment, the weight of everything rested squarely on your shoulders. You failed, and the unsub escaped.

The wind around you blew with a certain bitterness, tugging at your hair. It drowned out the sound of your heavy breathing, your racing heartbeat, and the loud gulp as you swallowed. Hotch, saying nothing, studied you with a measured gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted allowing you into this job.

“I wanted you to be aware of that,” he said, his tone less harsh now but tinged with a certain disappointment that only deepened the guilt gnawing at you. He nodded, signaling you were free to go. “That’s all I had to say.”

He walked away, and watching his figure dissolve into the darkness in such a dramatic manner, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The laugh immediately turned into the beginning of a sob, which you quickly stifled, waving your hand in front of your face. You stood there for a moment, your feet seemingly rooted to the parking lot, as though the concrete were still fresh, hardening around your shoes.

In your experience, failure almost always came hand in hand with a sense of vulnerability, transporting you into a completely different, weaker body, one without any shields. All the achievements of the past few years, including making it into the BAU at such a young age, seemed to melt away, and once again, you were nothing.

You knew you couldn’t stand there all night, but in a way, it felt safer. In the motel, you might run into someone from the team. You might accidentally meet their gaze, and you’d see the disappointment in their eyes. After all those weeks of trying to prove your worth to them, of showing that you even belonged in this job, the last thing you wanted was to face that look.

To muster some courage, you took a deep, slow breath. You needed to slip into your room unnoticed, lie down in bed, hoping that the night would at least slightly cleanse you of your guilt. Hotch was absolutely right. Not only had you wasted an entire day of hard work, but you’d also put civilians from that area in danger. What if tomorrow another person became a victim?

The thought tormented you so much that by the time you reached your door, you were massaging your temples. You inserted the key you had picked up from the front desk into the lock, turned it, and was about to pull the handle… but it was locked. Frustrated, you figured the universe had simply decided to unite all of its forces against you as some kind of punishment. Before you could resort to a tired kick at the door and curl up in a ball in the hallway, you tried again. This time, the door opened without issue.

So absorbed in yourself, your situation, and your grievances, you didn’t even notice that inside, not only was the light on, but there were someone’s belongings—and, most importantly, someone else. It wasn’t until you took off your coat and stepped further into the room (if you could even call it that, it was an exceptionally small space) and came face to face with Spencer Reid that you realized you weren’t alone.

You stopped mid-step, stunned as if the least expected thing at that moment had just appeared before you—a turtle on stilts wearing a cowboy hat, or some other kind of religious prophet.

Quick note—this wasn't the first time you and Reid had shared a room during cases. Specifically, the bed. It all started when you found out he struggled with a fear of the dark, and someone’s presence really helped him feel better. In fact, at first, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, but you couldn't just watch him suffer on that uncomfortable surface every night. And, you had to admit, sometimes after an especially harrowing day in your, let’s be honest, stressful job, it felt nice to fall asleep next to someone.

As usual, it was him who came to you. Late at night, to your room, when he felt like sleeping would be particularly difficult. He was never there from the start…

"It turns out all the rooms here are double," he blurted out hastily upon seeing you, his tone overly explanatory.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of pulling something out of his suitcase. He straightened up, and you noticed he was wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, and in his hand, he held that familiar white sweater you often teased him about, the one with an embroidered bear wearing glasses.

"I mean, the rest of the team got roomed together too, so we’re not some weird exception. I hope this doesn’t bother you. If it does, well, maybe we can switch somehow… I know Elle and JJ are together, and I think they only have two beds in their room, but maybe... or I could go with Derek…”

"Oh, come on," you waved dismissively, your tone sounding a bit irritated, like you were shooing away an annoying fly. The truth was, you were exhausted from the day and didn’t want to worry about the accommodation on top of everything else.

Reid stopped mid-sentence, his lips slightly parted. You felt guilty again as you had no reason to speak to him like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your frustration.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, your tense posture easing a little as you realized you were no longer outside, under the sharp, yet truthful words of your boss. "Really... I'm sorry, Reid. It doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit," you reassured him, sincerely.

He studied you in silence for a moment, his face showing a concerned, analytical expression.

"Actually, we’ve shared a room before," you added almost immediately, forcing a little chuckle. "And not just once. Well, at least now we have two beds…"

"Did you... did you talk to Hotch?"

The question was asked with hesitation, on a breath. Well, it finally meant confronting everything that had happened that day. You looked him straight in the eyes, searching for judgment or any hint of dislike toward you. But there was none. Instead, you found concern and discomfort at the fact that he had even brought up the subject.

"It’s... it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly corrected himself, giving a slight nod. "You... you have every right, I don’t expect you to explain anything to me, your conversation with the boss is your private matter... oh God, I feel like with every word I say, my statement is losing more and more sense, and I’m getting more and more tangled in it, isn’t that right?"

He stared at you with furrowed brows, waiting for your reaction. It turned out to be... a burst of laughter. You honestly couldn’t help yourself.

“I hate to admit it, but yeah, you’re right. You completely lost your train of thought. Maybe we should just pretend I’ve only just walked through that door, huh?”

“That’s... that’s actually a very good suggestion. So... so, uh, hi?”

Your lips curved into a smile, this time genuine.

“Hi, Reid.”

He managed to improve your mood in less than five minutes after you’d received a serious reprimand. You were immensely glad to have ended up with him in the room lottery. Shaking your head in disbelief, you began getting ready for bed without a word. He didn’t say anything either, sensing you needed a bit of space after everything that had happened. Speaking of space...

“This room is alarmingly small, don’t you think?” you said, returning from the shower and slowly sliding under your blanket. Fifteen minutes under scalding hot water had helped your body relax, and you no longer felt like you might throw up on your own feet at any moment. “It’s like some sort of exclusive cupboard under the stairs. Still a cupboard, though. Look, I can practically touch you.”

You stretched out your arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, even though you were sitting on neighboring beds, your fingertips almost brushed the fabric of his shirt. Between you was a massive nightstand made of dark wood, the same as the windowsill and the floor. On it sat a slightly old-fashioned bedside lamp with a glass base and a slightly yellowed lampshade. Other than that, there wasn’t much furniture. Not that there would’ve been room for any.

“Do you hear that?” Reid asked enigmatically, sitting up straighter on his bed.

You looked at him, intrigued.

“Listen closely…is that…paper rustling? Morgan drafting his resignation?”

You chuckled. Your coworker had a particular sensitivity to the motels you stayed in and their condition. He firmly believed that since you risked your lives almost daily during dangerous cases and investigations, you deserved accommodations that were at least decent. And that wasn’t always what you got.

“Don’t worry, as long as the shower has hot water, we don’t have to fear him leaving,” you said. “Though now that I think about it, I can’t blame Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Potter. If I lived in such a claustrophobic little room, I’d convince myself I was a wizard too. Can I turn off the lamp?"

You politely asked, as usual, leaving plenty of room for potential conversation. Aware of his fear, you always ensured he felt comfortable with the encroaching darkness. Reid looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"Maybe... maybe it could stay on for a bit longer? If that's..."

"That’s okay," you finished for him, knowing what he intended to say.

A fleeting, grateful expression crossed his face. Seeing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You were glad he no longer felt as ashamed of his unease with the dark. Besides, you preferred the light to stay on too. You were afraid of what the darkness might conceal—the worries and anxieties it could bring… already was bringing.

Mainly, it was the looping words of your boss, the thought of how you'd messed up, and the rest of the team. Well, there was one thing that eased your mind in that regard: knowing that Reid was lying in the bed next to yours and recalling the look on his face when he saw you. He wasn’t angry that you’d let the unsub get away. Maybe the others weren’t as furious with you as you’d imagined.

Or maybe it was the opposite?

Maybe he, as the second-youngest member of the team after you, was the only one showing you any understanding. And the others, perhaps, harbored nothing but disdain, their resentment growing stronger at the mere thought of you…

"You're shivering."

Reid's observation reached your ears as you lay on your side, facing away from him. His voice was gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet that had previously enveloped the room, not cutting through the sound of your sleepy breaths but accompanying it. Not knowing how to respond, you gave a small shrug. He probably saw it—you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn't intrusive, just a worried glance from the corner of his eye.

"I could turn up the temperature if you're cold. Do you want me to?"

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold, but admitting that felt like too much. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to steady your restless body.

"Yeah, if you don’t mind," you murmured in response.

It was easier to blame it on the chill. Still, hearing him get up and move toward the thermostat, you felt a pang of guilt for pulling him out of bed. He should already be asleep. There was so much work waiting for you both tomorrow. Another day of the investigation—a case that could have been solved already if not for you…

"I'm afraid…it doesn’t seem to work," Reid said thoughtfully. He fiddled with it for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and returning to his bed, though he didn’t lie down right away. He paused in the narrow space between your beds, and you felt his gaze again, wondering what it meant this time.

"Maybe… I don’t know, would you want my sweater? You know which one. It's…too warm for me, but since you're freezing…”

Reid’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost shy kindness that made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to turn around to picture the small, uncertain smile that likely accompanied his offer. Of course, you knew exactly which one he meant. He had received it as a Christmas gift from Penelope, and it was quite light and breathable. But what truly made it a staple in his pajamas was the adorable bear wearing glasses that appeared on the front. Sometimes, when you slept in the same bed, you could feel the softness of its fabric.

You had just turned toward him, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t actually cold—you had been lying about that all along—but still... the offer lingered in your mind. His kindness, followed by the concern. You felt that taking his specific sweater, which was not only comfortable but also... well, his, could effectively calm your trembling limbs and ease your anxiety.

"Would you like to give it to me?" you asked, making sure. "You don't have to."

He shrugged slightly and immediately bent down to grab the suitcase tucked under the bed. The sweater in question was right on top, so he could reach for it at any moment when he felt the need for an extra layer.

"I know I don't have to," he replied, pausing for a moment with the sweater in hand. "But, you know, I want to. It's just a sweater."

"Won't Penelope be mad if you're giving it away like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She’d be furious…" he started, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the edge of your bed, his forehead lightly furrowed. After a serious moment of hesitation, he sat on the bed, as gently as if he feared it would burn him. He stretched the sweater out towards you. "…if I gave it to anyone else. But in this case, she'd probably scold me if I didn’t give it to you."

You took it from him. Though it wasn’t one of those thick, bulky sweaters, it felt surprisingly heavy in your hands.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you replied after a moment of hesitation, letting out a sigh. "After today."

Reid looked at your face in silence. Suddenly, you started regretting not turning off the lamp after all. His gaze seemed piercing, too piercing. It surely noted every shadow of doubt and shame cast by the subtle changes in your expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

For a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You sighed, shifting slightly to the side, making room beside you.

“Come on. It’s easier for me to talk when I don’t have someone directly in front of me.”

Surprised, he stared at the small space next to you, shaking his head slightly.

“But… this bed is kind of ridiculously small, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that wide, Reid. If that’s what you’re suggesting…”

“That’s absolutely not what I meant, and I definitely wasn’t suggesting anything,” he quickly explained. “Well, maybe apart from the fact that every tiny movement will risk us both falling off…” He looked at you with an unchanged expression, patiently pointing to the spot next to you and sighed in defeat. “Okay, I feel like I’m not winning this one…”

Well, he had a point. After a while of shifting around, trying to find a position where you wouldn’t keep elbowing each other in the ribs, and after countless accidental jabs and whispered apologies, it ended with him half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the headboard of the narrow bed, while you lay flat on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His figure cast a gentle shadow over you, making the room feel darker than it really was. It had a calming effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of someone so close by. Or perhaps it was the touch of the soft sweater, the fabric resting between your fingers, in the way one holds a rosary. Maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

"I screwed up today," you said. Though your voice was soft, there was no trace of gentleness in your tone. From the way you were lying, you could see his face, and you noticed his lips part slightly, as if to deny it. "And don't try to convince me otherwise, Reid. I knew that even before Hotch said it to my face."

You heard him sigh softly.

"I guess it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"Oh, Reid, it was like a horror movie. But I don't blame him for anything he said. I deserved to hear it all from someone else's mouth, not just from my own head." Restlessly, you began to fiddle with the sweater like a stress toy. He watched the movement of your hands, alternating between that and the slight trembling of your chin. "At least the talk with him is over. Now I'm scared... scared of what’s with the rest of the team."

You voiced your biggest worry out loud, and there was a silence as he pondered it.

“I think… I think we’ve talked about this before,” he replied finally, clearing his throat. “About how you’re afraid of what others will think of you. And I don’t want to repeat myself, but... you need to look at it a bit differently. We all started somewhere, we were all rookies. If we got mad at each other every time someone messed up, well, there wouldn’t be a team. Of course, we keep in mind all the mistakes we've made in the past..."

“You're good at comforting...” you muttered bitterly.

"...But we don’t dwell on them unnecessarily," he finished. "We're only human, you know. It’s estimated that each person makes about five to seven mistakes a day. If we assume you live to be about eighty... though of course, I wish you much more than that, that would be between 150,000 and 200,000."

You snorted, listening to those statistics.

“I feel like I’ve already used up half of my lifetime quota today,” you confessed, while also reflecting on the first part of his statement. About the team, who, according to him, wasn’t going to hold a grudge against you…

Reid paused for a moment, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said after a while. “Just make sure you’re really careful when you’re old. You won’t forget when your grandkids have birthdays.”

“Damn, I think that’s the problem. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll probably mix up their names. Or call them all by the same one. The prettiest one, of course. The least common one.”

“Just make sure you get a good calendar,” he suggested. “One that’ll remember everything for you. Dates, names.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist,” he agreed.

You spent a long moment without bringing up any new topics, but laughing quietly about the course of the conversation. If you looked at it that way, this was probably the only time in your life you talked to someone about being an old lady with a questionable memory and joint problems with amusement rather than sheer terror. Although the bed was seriously small, you felt more comfortable than ever before. You were sinking deeper into the mattress, into his side, into relaxation. You wondered if and when, or even if, he planned to go back to his own bed. There was really no reason for him to stay...but was there any reason for him to leave?

“And you?” you spoke again after a long moment. You felt like the only way to keep him around was by saying something. Not that you were desperate to have him stay… “Have you ever messed up on a case? Like, seriously messed up?”

"I could lie and say I haven't," he noticed.

He shifted slightly, likely due to exhaustion, as his back had been slowly sliding down the headboard for a while, until it finally sank into the mattress. His head rested on the pillow right next to yours, closer than ever before. Well, you could only blame the narrow bed for that. Because of the tight space, you had to lie on your side, which meant your breath brushed against his cheek.

"You could. But then I'd ask Elle for the truth, and you'd only end up compromising yourself."

"That's true. That's why I'm telling you. Just promise you won't laugh."

"This sounds serious. Come on, what did you do?" you asked, genuinely curious, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, or let me guess."

He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. However, when you suggested it, he slowly and hesitantly turned onto his side as well, so that you were face to face. He probably wanted to see your reaction, the laughter you'd burst into once he told you, whatever it was.

"You have three guesses," he announced. He tried to gesture to you encouragingly with his head, but then, for a split second, his chin brushed against yours. Slightly flustered, he quickly froze again.

For a moment, something changed in your breath. You bit your lip, thinking. His gaze briefly dropped to it.

"Okay, so that’s the first one," you said, taking in more air than you probably needed. You didn’t really understand what was happening, but it seemed like you were running out of oxygen faster than you should have been. "Did you confuse your weapon with a taser?"

"Really, that was the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about a mistake I might have made?" he scoffed. His breath warmed your face in a pleasant way.

"Oh, sorry, but it’s really hard for me to come up with anything when it comes to a genius with eidetic memory," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don’t know, did you lose some evidence? Something really important?" you suggested, trying to read confirmation from his brown, unusually gentle eyes at that moment. He gently shook his head.

"Now, I honestly don’t know. Okay, this might sound like some soap opera plot, but here goes. Were you supposed to keep an eye on a potential victim and ended up having a passionate affair with them?"

You lowered your voice to a flirtatious whisper as you said the last words.

For a moment, he held your gaze. He met it like an opponent, sending an exciting shiver down your spine. And it wasn’t because of the cold. But then, he submissively lowered his eyes. You let out such a strong burst of laughter that you started to worry if you had accidentally spat on him.

"Spencer Reid, you’re joking with me, right?"

He turned back onto his back again, avoiding looking at your wide-open mouth and amused eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbow, gently nudging his shoulder.

"What kind of... seductress beast are you? Because I don't know how else to call it," you muttered, still shaking your head from side to side. "Wow, I didn’t know this side of you."

"There’s no side like that," he replied defensively, closing his eyes with some embarrassment. "It was... she was an actress who had a stalker..."

"An actress?"

"...and it just happened that way! But it was definitely a mistake. And it wasn’t any... passionate affair, as you called it. I put her in unnecessary danger when we kissed in the pool..."

"In the pool?"

"Oh, why do I even keep talking?" he groaned, pressing one hand to his tightly closed eyes. He suddenly snorted. "Sure, laugh even louder. Gideon and Derek in the next room won't mind if you wake them up."

"Oh, don't change the subject now. You seduced an actress. Was she famous?"

"I didn’t seduce her..."

"So, she seduced you?"

Reid sighed, resigned.

"Well, I’d put it that way," he admitted finally, quietly, with a certain childish indignation, as if he had simply decided to surrender to the onslaught of your questions. He didn’t reveal much, but after a moment, you learned a few important details about the case, and with some... relief, you realized you didn’t recognize the actress’s name. But why relief?

Suddenly, however, the hysterical amusement faded, leaving you with a genuine dilemma. Reid was still lying on his back, avoiding your mocking gaze and comments. Before you could stop yourself, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention. He nodded questioningly.

"I know this might be a very strange and, above all, an extremely personal question, but what does it take to seduce you?" you asked.

Reid froze, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just realized that I’ve probably never seen you actively filter anyone. Consciously, that is. Because sometimes it happens, and you don’t even notice it," he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly covered it with your hand. Confused, he looked down at it. "Don’t even try to deny it, everyone would confirm it. But I’m trying to imagine the kind of person you would lose your head for, and I’ve got a few conflicting ideas. So, I’ll repeat the question. What does it take to seduce you? Asking for a friend, of course."

Reid flinched as if alarmed.

"What friend?"

"My God, it’s just a figure of speech."

He sighed, and the way he shook his head showed a certain disbelief.

"You’re surprisingly hyperactive, considering the time. Maybe we should go to bed?"

"No, I asked you a question," you protested. "Does she have to be pretty? Smart? Probably both, right?"

He looked at you with the same expression—simultaneously embarrassed, disbelieving, shocked, amused, offended, and above all, thoroughly confused.

"I feel like this question is going to keep you up tonight. So, for the sake of your own sleep, I’ll answer briefly. And I don’t care if my answer satisfies you or not." Reid paused, and you waved your hand, urging him to continue. He sighed. "She just... has to seem... interesting."

"Was there any more evasive answer?" you snorted, disappointed.

"Did you expect an entire essay?"

 "Well, honestly, yes. Last time you talked to me for over thirty minutes about bioluminescence and what causes it. You were able to go on and on about that, but not this time?"

You knew by now you were just teasing him, playing with his nerves as if it were an instrument you'd been mastering since early childhood, attending lessons three times a week and slowly climbing the ranks of your musical career. 

Your conversations often felt like a game of ping-pong, with each of you exchanging comments, remarks, observations, and verbal jabs at a pace that was downright wild. Time completely vanished for you then, feeling as though you could carry on such a dialogue forever.

 "Goodnight," he finally said, without much firmness in his voice. Well, that was probably more out of practicality than a strong desire to end the chat. It was indeed late. "I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. Or you into me."

 "So, you're already tired of talking to me?" you asked, feigning hurt. You even tilted your head dramatically.

For a moment, he hesitated to reply, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face, a barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips.

 "Quite the opposite," he finally responded. You raised your eyebrows, not allowing yourself to feel satisfied with his words in case they turned out to be pure sarcasm. "So…goodnight."

As a result of some sort of scuffle, you found yourselves in a rather chaotic position. Well, you were definitely taking up most of the bed, comfortably sprawled in the center. He lay more on the edge, somewhere between lying on his back and on his side. Looking at him and his slightly flushed cheeks, which were quite an endearing sight, you suddenly realized the meaning of his earlier words. I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. So he did intend to sleep with you on this narrow bed, when there was a perfectly empty one, entirely at his disposal, just beside you? An unexpected choice, but… you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were kind of okay with it. With a slightly enigmatic expression, you leaned closer to him, intending to say something softly.

 Reid perked up, as although he had officially ended the conversation, he was still curious about what you were about to say.

 "Goodnight," you said slowly, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. You should have moved away, giving him space to settle more comfortably, but you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't add, “Seductive beast."

“God, nothing in life will ever make me regret more than telling you about this,” he sighed, genuinely concerned about that prospect.

You let out a snort and were about to mumble something else when he, with resignation, turned fully onto his back. Well... at least he tried. He was so close to the edge of the mattress that it simply ended beneath him.

You shot up into a sitting position, startled by the sudden noise and the chaos that filled the room.

“Spencer,” you managed to gasp, jumping off the bed to check on him.

It wasn't an easy task; everything was submerged in darkness. If falling off the bed itself didn't sound like one of the most humiliating accidents a person could have, adding to it the fact that he had hit his head on the wide dresser next to the bed made it worse. And, as a result, the nightlight had been knocked over and shattered...

Fumbling, you reached for the light switch, and when the room was lit again, you moved to him. Kneeling beside Reid, who was slowly propping himself up, you gently held his shoulders.

"Careful, Jesus, you hit your head so hard..."

He squinted and furrowed most of his face, letting out a sharp breath.

 "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, carefully inspecting his head and looking for any serious injuries, maybe some blood... but you saw nothing

Spencer looked at you with a sort of seriousness, as if the pain had suddenly faded.

"What else is it supposed to do, tickle?"

For a moment, the room fell quieter, but it was impossible to ignore the mutual sense of relief that things hadn’t turned out worse. His words threw you off a bit; at first, you didn’t fully grasp their meaning. Instead, you focused entirely on analyzing his face, his body language, his behavior. You were afraid he might have a concussion.

"I have absolutely no medical training, but..." you paused, casting another worried glance his way. Reid was slowly starting to shake off the shock and disorientation. "But judging by how quickly your sarcasm came back, I’d say you’re going to be fine."

He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a groan.

"Doctor of the year, right here…"

Just then, a loud knock echoed on the door. The door to your room

 “Is someone murdering you guys in there or what?” Morgan’s concerned voice called out.

You exchanged glances—both equally confused and, in a way, slightly terrified. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.

“Well, since I’m the reason this whole situation happened, I guess it’s on me to explain to him how it even got to this point,” you sighed. When he didn’t react, you raised your eyebrows. “No objections? No heroic offers to take this off my hands?”

“Not a chance,” he replied curtly, shaking his head before wincing briefly as another wave of pain clearly shot through it.

You told him, worried, to stay down for a little while longer for his own good.

 “And as my mom used to say,” you added, slowly starting to stand, glancing briefly toward the door. Morgan knocked again—or rather, pounded on it hard enough to nearly take it off its hinges.

Taking your time, you rested both hands on Reid’s shoulders in an almost protective gesture. Completely ignoring the surprised look on his face, you brushed your lips against his forehead.

 “A kiss will make it better.”

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[hyhkai]

camboy! | c.yj.

[ 🎥 ] — after yeonjun's rise in the porn industry, an interview was something he agreed to for fun. however, after he saw you, the interviewer, he wished it was a fake interview where he gets to fuck you.

cw : pornstar!yeonjun. unedited word vomit fictional magazine company that apparently also exists in real life.

a/n ; i apologize for my sins i swear I'll change 🙏🏼 and this is a drabble, not a fic! i might turn it into one over time ♡

after you reached out to him a few weeks ago with greetings and compliments, and asking can I interview you some time? I'd like to know what it's like to be a person who earns through the adult industry, and with your fame, I know that you're just the right person., his first, honest reaction was to laugh. i mean, seriously?

he was laughing at the irony of the fact that he was being interviewed. i mean, who was willing enough to take out time of their busy, hectic schedule to interview a man who earns bread by having a dildo inside of him? he had to know. he wanted to know what this person was like.

he did think that this could be completely false and you could be a potential threat, trying to lure him into your little cage with cheese like he's a fucking rat, capture him and do bad things to him like he'd heard with various nefarious acts of people against people with 'easy' fame.

"can I get proof that you're actually an interviewer?"

to which he immediately got a response with a photo of a xerox copy of your identification document, namely at a popular company called mode de vie. he could see the black and white ink that framed the photo stuck on the top right corner, and he knew that he had to see that fucking face in real life. if that's how you look in a awfully captured picture, so captivating, bold, and confidence outlining your eyes in the form of sharp eyeliner, he had to see that face in front of him, asking him questions about his body count or something else he doesn't give two shits about.

he'd said sure to your offer almost immediately now that he saw that it was a real interviewer after him. and now that it was time, he drove to the place where you both agreed to be at — a café which was relatively close to his house and your office.

"I'm glad you came!" you said as you shook his hand that would eventually get sweaty from just sitting opposite to you. what the fuck? he seriously considered telling you to quit this stupid, serious job and just join him in his public sex life. you were stunning.

now that he saw your hair open, framing your face, and that fucking sharp-ass eyeliner, he was mad that he didn't dress up nicely and instead came in a hoodie. who wants to miss a chance of getting a baddie?

he thanked the lords he'd long forgotten when you told him this is just an audio based interview which will later be turned into a text format.

while you continued asking him questions about everything, from "fuck-a-fan" to "how did your mother find out?", he'd needed to ask you to repeat your questions several times. his eyes kept drifting down, down to your chest.

'why the fuck are you wearing a top so low-cut? is it to provoke me or something?' he'd think. he legitimately wants to put his hand on the table, pushing himself towards you and grabbing one of your tits. it's pissing him off he can't.

okay, so maybe he was a pervert like one of his friends liked to say. but it wasn't his fault when you were asking him questions about his sex life while looking at him with those eyes that were possibly tearing his clothes off.

in his world, that is.

'do you want to fuck me too, or am I trippin'?'

he knew he had to keep his filthy hands, his filthy thoughts, to himself. c'mon, it's a fucking interview, yeonjun. grow up. you've had plenty of girls and guys to fuck in your life. from small and petite, to taller than you. from fucking someone to getting fucked. you've done it all. why are you so captivated by this woman?

maybe it was the way you had your makeup done that had him wishing he could see it smeared all over with a new makeup product; his cum, or maybe it was your tits that were practically begging to be the thing he shoves his face in tonight. but no, it was the way you carried yourself.

there was this... this aura, this radiation of confidence that was magnetic enough for him to be pulled to you.

under the table, he was practically going to rub one out. he kept adjusting his pants, kept palming his dick that was straining against his pants and standing up against his thoughts of not fucking you ever.

ugh, just how fucking good you'd look on his bed, and he swears he could go above his rounds per fucking streak of 4 with you; from classic missionary to the amazon position, from sixty-nine to his foot on your face while he fucked your ass from the back. fuck, he'd even let you peg him, something he's always refused to do.

just how good you'd look while sliding your strap-on inside of him, his eyes going wide, as well as your smile at the sight of his pretty face. he thinks you'd like some crazy songs playing in the background, similar to the vibe of playboi carti.

fuck, he'd hold onto your tits for support, comfort, for just the fucks of it no matter who is topping.

"um, excuse me?" you asked when he spaced out in the middle.

"yeah?" he said, looking up from the table where both of your milkshakes resided.

"thank you for the interview. i appreciate it a lot!" you said, smiling at him, completely unaware of the junk he had in his brain about you. you put out your hand for a friendly yet professional handshake.

"oh, yeah, of course." he muttered out, responding to your hand with his that was definitely sweaty.

as you closed your notepad and stopped the recording, he looked up at your face finally.

"can I ask you a question too?"

"oh, yes, of course." you said, looking up at him with a face of genuine curiosity. maybe it would be something like —

"when will this be posted?"

"where can I read it?"

"will there be a hardcopy?"

"would you ever fuck me if you could?"

and suddenly, this was the first time you regretted not recording the aftermath of an interview.

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … princess going digital! ♡

bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts. well, he thought he did. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your instagram was adorable and demure. photo dumps and stories of your daily iced coffee in your little manicured hand. you had pinterest boards too — jj had seen you scrolling through endless pictures of clothes on his bed and asked questions. you helped him make his own account so he could find new ideas on how to customise his board. he hasn’t opened the app since, but it seemed like it made you happy so he couldn’t find it in himself to delete it off his lockscreen.

he followed you on twitter too. he knew he did because he saw your tweets all up and down his timeline when he would be scrolling late at night trying to find porn. tweets about the cashier that was rude to you, or about that one song you just can’t get out your head.

he thought he’d covered all bases with you. he liked to be in tune with everything you were doing — and maybe that was wrong for a best friend to want, but the two of you were close! it only felt right. it may also have something to do with the fact he’s head over heels for you.

you were laying on your front on his bed. contrasting so sweetly against the boyishness of his room with your cute little hello kitty shirt and denim skirt — epitome of girly girl in such an unfitting space. it made him smile, and he nearly forgot to tune into what you were saying.

you were ranting about your mother again, the woman making it her mission to constantly bring you down.

“seriously jayj, if you saw the way she spoke to me...” you mutter with a frowny little pout as your fingers tap away at the screen, assumably responding to a text.

“i have seen the way she speaks to you. the lady is a nut job, no offence.” jj leans back slightly, tossing a balled up pair of socks from his laundry in the air and catching it.

“her texts are even worse.” you huff.

“s’alright. i’ll be your mommy.” he quips as you’re distracted by pulling up the correct screen.

“jj.” you tsk before turning your phone around. “look!” you whine, and he knows he’s meant to be looking at the texts displayed infront of him. but with undiagnosed adhd, jj couldn’t help but find his focus on the notification sliding down at the top of the screen. the twitter icon, notifying someone reposted your tweet — however, it was accompanied with another username he’d never seen before. an account ran by you assumably, that he no idea about.

“huh… yeah, no yeah. she’s batshit.” jj shakes himself off as he takes mental note of the username, leaning back and hoping you don’t ask any questions knowing he didn’t read the texts at all. you seem none the wiser, continuing to complain and go about your business. that evening, it’s time for you to head home. jj squeezes you at the doorway, cups your cheek and tells you that if your mom is giving you grief, you can come right on back. it seemed to comfort the pout off your face, and you skip off.

now it’s time to sate his curiosity.

when jj gets into bed that night, he types the username into twitter. it takes a few tries to get the specific spelling right, as it had been a few hours and slipped his mind — but finally, the account filled his screen.

your age is attached to the account, yet no name. there was definitely a sense of anonymity— to the point where you hadn’t even told him about it. he considered doing the right thing and clicking off — but jj didn’t always do the right thing, and this was one of those times. the first thing he notices is how clearly you the account is. the header, the profile picture — even the font in your bio was so… you. all curlicues and girly and pink — it was undeniably his best friend.

and then he scrolls.

‘want my best friend 2 hold me down n use me so bad :(’ a tweet from 3 days ago. the blonde sits up in bed, blinking at the screen. that was him, right? eagerly, he continues his scrolling — finding endless tweets about your sexual desires, fantasies, anecdotes about jj himself. it didn’t take much longer of scrolling until he comes across a video — his face heating and crotch stiffening at the familiarity of it all. it was your bedroom, and your face was cropped out. that one pair of pink panties he occasionally caught peeks of beneath your skirt hang off the ankle of your knee high clad legs, pretty pussy on display, glistening as you roll your hips, desperately fucking a pillow.

“god… damn.” he breathes, hand coming up to rub his chest as if to attempt to still his quick-beating heart. he stuffs a tongue in his cheek, part of him wanted to be mad that you were letting strangers on the internet see you like this before he got to. it was a childish type of jealousy that made his hands sweat and the back of his neck all prickly.

a bird squawks outside his window, causing the maybank boy to jump out of his skin like he was about to be caught watching his best friend get herself off. he juggles the phone, quickly checking the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally liked any posts. he hadn’t, and he exhales— but with the commotion, he’d accidentally refreshed the page. the loading wheel disappears with a pop, and a new tweet displays itself from three minutes prior.

‘my bsf looks after me so good :( he shld make me feel btter by letting me cum on his fingers <3’

it would be stupid to make a move. he would be potentially destroying a friendship, and on top of that — you could be mad at him for snooping. it was kind of a betrayal of trust after all, similar to if he’d read your diary. but his dick was hard and had taken over the steering wheel that operates his brain — and like he always said, stupid things had great outcomes all the time.

so with a clammy hand, he calls you.

“whats up jayj? did i leave something at your place again?” you croak, sounding all sleepy and cute. god, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long.

“uh… so, like — imma cut to the chase, with everything goin’ on at your place, i don’t love the idea of you stayin’ there tonight. i’m comin’ to get you. you’re stayin’ here.” he makes up a quick excuse and feels kind of bad about it. his own desire toward you being masked as genuine concern for a friend. he expects some questioning, maybe even some resistance— but you perk up instantly.

“okay!”

and that’s exactly how you end up cradled in his lap with the rings at his knuckles tickling your opening from how deep in your greedy, drooling pussy they were.

“hmm— mm—huh—” you’re whining, all incoherent and fucked out with your cheek smushed against him, only two orgasms in. jj is grinning ear to ear, like some kind of sicko — never in his life thinking you’d want him like this. he almost wished he’d kept up the act for longer, preyed on your twitter account for longer to see what else you’d say, but he couldn’t help himself. he’d wanted you since you met in high school, and he was hungry.

“what’d i tell ya about not asking for things? could’ve just told me dude, i literally wanted this more than you.” he thinks out loud and you groan, pulling yourself up face to face with the handsome blonde.

“don’t call me dude when your fingers are n’side me!” you slur, lip all puffy and pouted. he smirks, unable to stop himself from finding amusement in your neediness and tilts his head a little so he was breathing right into your mouth.

“i’m sorry that’s my bad. baby.” he corrects himself, before pressing his lips to yours. that was much better.

[enwoso]

Maybe younger Williamson reader causing trouble

The setting could be at training

Hope you’re doing well

Have a nice day🫶

DOUBLE TROUBLE — lionesses x williamson!reader

masterlist

you and your big sister leah were polar opposites.

leah had always had a sense of seriousness to her, a strong defender whom always had a frown donning her face in team photos but always seemed to have a strong dress sense to her.

whereas you, you couldn’t be more opposite if you tried. you were a midfielder, an attacking midfielder to be specific and your family were sure you didn’t have a serious bone in your body always finding something funny out of any situation even sometimes when it wasn’t very appropriate as well as not really caring about you wore, if you could you would be in a tracksuit twenty four-seven.

but there was something you and your older sister shared a strong love for and that was football and more specifically a strong love for arsenal.

you both falling in love with the club with each match you went to see when you were growing up before you started playing — and maybe it was a was a little because you wanted to be just like your big sister when you were little, not that you would ever give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

so being with your sister and playing football with your sister both at club level and international level meant you spent a considerable amount of time with each other. and with that you knew exactly what made you sister tick and how to do it quickly sometime at your teammates expense when they would have to deal with the after affect of her.

“y/n! get back here now!” leah huffed as you ran off with her left boot in your hand, rushing down the hallway of st george’s park and placing the bright white boot on the first random shelf you passed, placing it carefully hoping to not knock any memorabilia off the shelf before racing further down the hallway and into the canteen.

a smug smile plastered on your lips which the team had learned to know this meant you were up to no good. “what you up to now, trouble?” beth raised her eyes brows with a knowing smile as you slipped into a seat opposite the blonde as she was sat on a table with alessia and ella.

“pfft me? i wouldn’t ever be causing trouble” you played off as cool as cucumber as you regained a normal breathing pattern. beth giving a knowing look towards alessia and ella as they both nodded, they knew trouble wasn’t far behind you.

“mhm and pigs can fly-“ beth mumbled taking a sip of her drink as a stifled laugh left the lips of both alessia and ella.

“i’m a literal walking angel, ask my mum!” you grinned sweetly, a hum coming from beth knowing that your mum did in fact think you were an angel and could do no harm and so when in practice was something that always riled your older sister up.

you sat there with a smug smile on your face as you joined into the girls’ conversation about the uncoming match in the netherlands, discussing some places you may go if you get the chance on your downtime.

but maybe instead of being so tuned into the conversation you probably should of been watching your surroundings as then may you have seen-

“what the fu- leah!” you screamed as you sister yanked your chair from the table, you almost falling off as the eyes in the room turned to look at what was all the commotion about.

“i’m gonna give you three seconds to tell me exactly where my boot is-“ leah said through gritted teeth, as she pinned your shoulders to the chair. a sense of urgency in her tone as the team was to be out on the fields for training in the next thirty minutes.

“-otherwise you can find yourself doing hill sprints while everyone’s warming up.” leah gave your sarcastic smile as she let out a sigh, a light giggle leaving your lips knowing you had done your job today and officially pissed your older sister off in probably record time, considering it wasn’t even eleven am yet.

“oh c’mon le, you wouldn’t do that to you own sister-” you gave her a loving smile as the blonde just raised an eyebrow, showing no signs of cracking.

“watch me.” leah paused before continuing, a noise of stifled laughs and some pats on the shoulder as some of the team passed, knowing how it was going to end. having seen the situation play out one too many times on camp and at club.

“three-“

a small gasp came from your as you reached up to hold a hand to your chest, as you pouted “your own blood, your baby sister leah. remember that!”

“your twenty two?”

“exactly. your basically a fossil-“ you casually say holding your lips together to hold the laugh that was so desperately trying to escape as a few ooo’s could be heard in the room but quickly where shot down by the death glare that was given to them by their captain.

“two.” leah’s patience was running thin, extremely thin.

“you really need to loosen up le- it’s just a bit of fun.” you shrugged as leah’s face was donned with a deep frown clearly bored of your silly games, you on the other hand were enjoying every second.

“or you just need to grow up?” leah quipped back quickly as the comment left a smirk on your face, your mouth hanging open slightly.

“well at least i won’t have permanent frown marks on my face-“ you mumbled under your breath as that was leah’s final straw, a laugh huff coming from her.

“just tell me where my fucking boot is!” leah voice getting a little louder with each passing word she said as your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“you said i had three seconds and you’ve only-“

“ONE! now for the love of god will you please-“

“mhm since you asked nicely it’s literally been over there the entire time-” you lifted your arm up slightly with the little movement of your arms that you had from them being pinned to the chair by your older sisters firm grip.

leah’s head quickly spinning around to see where you were pointing to, her grip loosening on your shoulders so your took your chance using your strength and bolted out the chair while your sister was focused on scanning the room for her boot which had in fact not been over there the entire time.

but before leah even processed what you’d said, you were out the chair and out the room as chorus of laughter filling the room as a defeated sigh come from your sister.

“she’s such a pest!” leah groaned loudly ironically sitting down on the chair you had just bolted from, leah giving up on chasing you knowing that’s what you wanted her to do.

beth getting up from the table after watching the whole scene take place and getting some enjoyment from it.

“she’s such an angel, our little williamson eh!” beth laughed patting the english captain on the shoulder as a role of the eyes at the comment,

“more like pain in the backside!”

but even with the amount of winding each other up the two of you did to each other, at the end of the day you were sisters and you would always have each others backs.

[byuntrash101]

the drill

reader x switch!yunho ft. wooyoung and mingi smut | mdni 6.8k yunho cant seem to pick up anyone at the club. for two main reasons, two problems if you will. the first one: his rizz level is negative and the second one... well it's bigger. much, much bigger. a huge problem wooyoung has named "the drill"

nsfw tags under the cut

alcohol consumption, ons to lovers (?), yunho's kind of a loser but so are you, mingi is a fuck boy, woo is the annoyingly clairvoyant friend <3, switch dom leaning!yunho, pushing the monster cock!yunho agenda (consider this fic a peer reviewed academic study), no but seriously he's H.U.G.E., size training, oral (m & f), very difficult blowjob (because duhh), choking on cock (duh x2), a dash of spit kink, fingering, pet names (baby, good girl), praising, protected sex (good job kids), bulge kink, slight edging, slight begging (not my fic without it lol), slight cumplay

a/n: i had a blasttt writing this im pretty happy with this i hope you will enjoy reading it too. thank you @cybrsan for beta reading this. you are so kind and i learned a lot <3

ateez masterlist | navigation

Yunho didn't even know why he stood here. He didn't know how he let Wooyoung and Mingi drag him to yet an other party. To this packed night club while he originally invited them over to play league of legends, maybe drink a couple of beers and chill. Cause that's what he wanted to do. He wanted to spend a quiet night in, hearing Mingi complain about how he didn't want to play healer anymore and having Wooyoung shatter his eardrums with that infuriating hyena laugh of his.

And that? That was the exact complete opposite of it.

There was nothing quiet and chill about this night. Only one thing was still on the order of business. His ear drums were being damaged beyond repair, not by the high pitched laugh but by the loud and bass boosted blaring noise music. He could already feel the headache coming in.

Yunho brought the lukewarm and flat beer to his lips. He finished the drink with a grimace before setting it on the edge of the bar, his eyes scanning the amalgamation of sweaty bodies grinding and pressing against each other.

"Why the long face?" Wooyoung asked as he slipped to his tall friend's side.

Yunho sighed and chose to answer the question with another one.

"Why did you bring me here again?" He asked, round eyes turning sharp as he peered at the younger man.

"Oh I don't know," Wooyoung started sarcastically. "Maybe to drag you out of your cave for once?" He replied in disbelief, he should be grateful he’s being such a good friend to him!

Yunho only rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance at his response. Why did he care this much that he enjoyed staying in and being on his own? 

"Look at Mingi," Wooyoung said over the music. Yunho followed his gaze to glance at his other friend on the other side of the club. "He knows how to have a good time!" Wooyoung said with a smirk.

Yunho quirked his eyebrow as he observed Mingi chatting up not one but two girls. Whispering something in one girl's ear while he curled his arm around the waist of the other one. Making them both giggle and look up at him while he peered at them over his sunglasses. 

Mingi was Yunho’s friend. Maybe even his best friend but… he looked like a douche.

"What kind of guy wears sunglasses inside… at night?" Yunho spat.

"The kind that gets bitches," Wooyoung remarked, jabbing at Yunho. 

"Fuck off Woo," Yunho barked at him. 

Yeah so what? Yes it had been a hot minute since he found himself being… intimate with a girl but it wasn't his fault! It was only because of his… issue…

"Come on dude. You don't have to stay bitchless, you know?" Wooyoung nudged his tall friend. "Why don't you try your luck with one of the dozens of women here that came for the same thing as you?"

"I," Yunho emphasized. "Did not come for that." He cleared his throat. "And you know I never get very far Woo!" He barked again. Truthfully Wooyoung was getting on his nerves.

"Bro! There's no way you can't find just ONE girl here that would be willing to take on the drill?"

Yunho shushed him and looked around him frantically as if anyone could have heard him over the blaring music.

"I already told you not to call it that!!" Of course Wooyoung only laughed at his friend's concern.

"I'm sorry but it's only the truth. Like that massive thing can only be handled by a licensed professional." He laughed again.

"Fuck off!" Yunho repeated, unconsciously crossing his hands over his lower half. 

“No, but seriously. You just gotta find one that matches the vibe,” Wooyoung said, his eyes narrowing into a sly frown. His gaze wiped over the crowd while Yunho only sighed, turning his back to his friends to go get another beer. 

“Wait,” Wooyoung gripped on his shirt before Yunho had the time to flee his friend’s ridiculous plan. “What about this one?”

The tall man followed Wooyoung’s finger pointing at a girl sitting at the bar, seemingly alone and absentmindedly stirring the mint leaves in her mojito.

“Woo, can you please shut up for a second while I get myself another overpriced beer and try to forget about this conversation forever? Thank you!” Yunho said, exasperated and turning on his heels again.

“No, no, no! Dude,” Wooyoung called him out again, holding his friend by his side. The shorter man rolled his eyes at his tall friend’s stubbornness. “I really have a good feeling about her.” Wooyoung insisted.

“And why is that?” Yunho asked, obvious mockery underlining his tone.

“Look at her, man!” Wooyoung pointed, choosing to completely ignore his friend's sarcasm. “She’s slumping over the bar counter, she’s been stirring her mojito for the past ten minutes but hasn’t had a single sip of it. She keeps looking over at Mingi with a scornful pout and look! In a second she’s gonna check her watch again.” he paused for a second. “See!!” Wooyoung exclaimed and turned to his friend who looked rather unimpressed. “She’s like you, man! She does not want to be here and she’s at least as lonely as you.”

Yunho frowned at the younger man, that last bit was totally unnecessary. 

“Plus, she’s pretty! I know she’s your style.” Yunho frowned in an attempt to deny Wooyoung but it was true. Wooyoung felt like he was gaining the upper hand in the negotiations so he continued.

“You should go talk to her. Just talk!” Wooyoung added when he saw Yunho open his mouth to protest again. “I mean just talk, see if it goes anywhere and if it doesn't, then it doesn’t and I promise I’ll kick Mingi’s ass back into the car and drive us all home right that second!” He pledged.

Yunho looked over again at his tall friend and his two targets of the night. Even though Mingi was considerably taller and bulkier than Wooyoung he knew about the latter’s determination and sheer force of will that would turn any wolf into a sheepish puppy. So he didn’t doubt one second that he would be doing just that.

But first at had to “shoot his shot” with… you.

The girl moping at the bar, as if a rain cloud was perpetually following her around. And there was a good reason for it. You recently got dumped. Your friends took you out to this club to celebrate and hopefully get you over him. Truthfully, you had felt relieved because Jongho was just a jerk to you and you have been slipping out of love for a while but still! It hurt that you had to come to the realization that it was over for real this time around.

Granted you were in fact single but you were not so ready to mingle…yet. At some point in the evening they got tired of trying to cheer you up and just left you at the bar to enjoy the company of your little rain cloud by yourself.

“You don’t look like you’re having a great time either,” Yunho said, ordering another beer for himself. The deep voice pulled you out of your day dreaming as you looked up at him with round eyes. “Can I sit here?” he asked and you nodded silently. He didn’t let it show but he’s actually kind of relieved you didn’t turn him down on the spot.

“Yeah I'm not having the time of my life that’s for sure,” you sighed, clinking the melting ice cubes against the glass with your soggy paper straw.

“Why?” Yunho asked while casually wiping his sweaty palms over his distressed jeans.

You bit your lip. Trauma dumping about your not-so-prince-charming jerkface of an ex to a total stranger wasn’t probably the best idea in the world even if the alcohol in your system said otherwise, luckily you still had far too few drinks to start this conversation. So you opted for the easy going explanation.

“My friends ditched me for Mr. Tall-Douchebag over there.” 

Yunho followed your gesture to Mingi bending over to whisper something in a girl's ear as he slid his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose while his other hand held onto the other girl’s bare waist, rubbing his thumb on her skin as she giggled, the cropped top she was wearing not concealing the patch of skin there.

Mingi was Yunho’s friend but he was also a dog. And that was just the plain truth despite the fact that their friendship went back to middle school.

“Yeah that guy looks like an asshole,” Yunho said in all sincerity.

“No shit,” you scoffed “What kind of giga chad wears sunglasses in a club… at night?” you rolled your eyes in disbelief and finally brought your straw to your lips to take a sip of the diluted mojito.

Yunho started to laugh. Maybe Wooyoung wasn't wrong after all. There was something about you that was right for Yunho, somehow your vibes matched. He even started to relax ever so slightly next to you.

“But did you say ‘either’?” you questioned. “Does that imply you too are not having a grand ol’ time?”

Yunho chuckled humorlessly.

“Well, no. Not really,” he confessed as he grabbed the beer the barman was handing out and shoved a couple of wrinkled bills in his hand in exchange.

You returned the mojito to the bar counter and turned to him, now that he was seeing you a little better you were indeed pretty, prettier than what the bar’s red and purple neons were leading on from a distance. But up close Yunho realized Wooyoung was right about that too, you were his type. 

He swallowed thickly, your undivided attention brought back a sense of nervousness into him and he sipped on his beer for a small dose of liquid courage. “I invited a couple of my friends over and we were supposed to stay in and play League but instead they ganged up on me and dragged me here,” he sighed. 

That was the truth! Yunho only carefully omitted all the parts where his friends made him sound like a lonely loser. So that wasn’t a lie! It was curated truth. He sipped on his beer once again to ease his nerves.

You gasped loudly and Yunho’s eyebrows arched in surprise at your reaction.

“Oh I wished I would have done that too,” you pouted, before taking another sip. “And how did they convince you to end up here then?” you asked once again, setting the glass down and looking up at the tall brunette seated next to you.

Uh oh.

That was bad. Yunho wasn’t actually the best at performing under pressure. And especially when said pressure was looking at him with beautiful shiny lips and such a wholesome and genuine smile.

“Well I-...uh,” Yunho started to stammer which seemed to entertain you as the genuine smile turned into an amused little grin. The tall man brushed his long bangs back in an attempt to regain his composure which worked to some extent. “I’ve been on my own for a while, too long if you listen to my friends and they said that maybe they could find me a nice girl to… keep me company,” he said before clearing his throat and attempting to push the lump in his throat back with two large gulps of cool beer.

Wow, that was lame. So much for not sounding like a total loser…

“And I'm the nice girl you settled for?” you asked, breaking eye contact. Yunho felt uneasy again, he couldn't make of your expression right there. Did he blow his chance by being too sincere with you? And why did he feel so bad that he just might have? Did he want to impress you that bad? When initially he only wanted to exchange a couple of sentences just to call it quits and get Wooyoung to drive him home but now was he actually trying?

“Too honest maybe?” Yunho said before pinching his lip between his teeth as you shrugged nonchalantly and took another sip. 

Yes, maybe a little too honest indeed you thought as you sipped on the drink that was basically only water at this point. You were just another girl that was to be used to feel a little less lonely…

“Ughh. I suck at this,” Yunho groaned in frustration.

“At what?” you asked, his tone peaking your curiosity right when you thought you had figured him out.

“At this!” Yunho said, gesturing at the air between the both of you. “At chatting up pretty girls! At flirting!” He sighed again, feeling defeated.

Key word: pretty. 

You grinned, you too felt lonely and you figured there was no harm in helping each other out. For tonight at least.

“It’s okay,” you said, suddenly wrapping your hand around his, tightly holding the beer pint. Which made him stiffen in the uncomfortable bar stool. “I don't really like the smooth talkers anyways.” You sent him a cheeky wink and Yunho felt like his stomach had somehow acquired a trampoline. 

“Really?” he said, lips going round in surprise, eyes snapping to where you were rubbing small circles on the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, satisfied with the effet this simple touch had on him. “I’m not really into fuck boys,” you said, gesturing to the tall man in sun glasses once more.

Yunho knew you were referencing Mingi again but he didn’t have it in him to peel his eyes off you to look at him. His eyes traveled from your hand, up the curve of your arm, to the low neckline of your beautiful black dress (where he stayed longer than he intended) and finally (with much effort) to your own eyes fixated in his. Yunho was mesmerized, like a shipwrecked sailor being bewitched by the chant of a siren, like a parched pariah catching sight of an oasis on the horizon after days of wandering in the desert. 

“So…” he started hesitantly, his heart beating against his ribs and resonating in his ears. “If I offered you a ride home to get out of this hell hole and get to know each other, would you maybe say yes?” 

It wasn’t a coincidence that Yunho spoke in the conditional tense. He didn’t want to jinx himself, he never was the superstitious kind but as he was experiencing this streak of luck with you he found himself to be. 

You chuckled again at his cuteness. 

“Yes,” you said, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously. “Yes, I would.”

***

It wasn't long before you found yourselves tangled up into each other on your couch, your last drinks getting warm on the coffee table, barely even touched.

To your surprise, Yunho’s hold was gentle and patient. You felt comfortable in his arms as his warm and large palm gently pressed against your nape. His soft lips finding yours and pulling you in this delicate kiss, almost like a good morning kiss. It isn't rushed at all, like he has the whole day (or in this case night) to get to know you and to give you a thousand more. If he really was as touch deprived as he claimed to be he wasn't letting it on at all.

That raised suspicion on your side and you broke the kiss. Immediately Yunho’s eyes fluttered open and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, worry taking over his features again.

“So,” you start, slightly shifting in his hold. “Tell me why you said you weren’t good at flirting again?” you say as you plant a soft kiss in the crook of his neck, making his Adam's apple bobble in his throat. He could feel himself getting hard and you felt his fingers lightly twitch around your nape. “Because to me it seems like you are pretty good at it.” You licked a large swipe on his blazing skin and drew back to look at him. “I mean, less than an hour ago I was moping on my own in the club…” you slipped your hand up his shirt to undo the first button. “And now I'm all over you, kissing you and about to do much more,” you whispered softly. The promise of what’s to come had Yunho’s length jumping between his thighs. 

“I thought you’d be all over me, tearing my clothes off the second I got to lock the doors. But there you are taking your sweet time. It doesn't add up.” You popped off another button and slipped your hands over his collar bone.

Yunho was torn between the heat that pooled in his stomach with every single one of your touches and the actual dread he felt to move things forward. Because he knew all too well what usually happened at this point of the story. 

And although it was actually fear that kept him from tearing every single article of clothing clean off your body, you mistook it for some kind of elaborate plan to get you alone.

“I’m actually pretty nervous, that's why I haven’t done… a lot more,” he said, hesitantly.

“About what, baby?” you cooed, latching your lips on his skin again, earning a cute little whimper, your fingers working their way down to the last couple of buttons still holding his shirt together.

The pet name made Yunho’s heart sing, thousands of butterflies launching in his stomach, sending waves of tingles towards his groin. 

“Because this is usually where it stops.” He let out a shaky breath as you pushed the cotton off one of his shoulders and let your fingertips drag across his soft skin, going down to his collarbone to his pecs to his abs. “Because the girls usually leave at this point.”

“Why?” you said, lips still pressed to his skin, hands reaching the button of his jeans.

“Because I’m…” Yunho hissed as your other hand came in to play with his nipple while you still went down, your hand brushing over the jeans. “Because I’m too big.”

There. He said it.

This coincided with the moment your hand laid over the colossal bulge in Yunho’s pants. You couldn't help but to stop everything, you stayed there frozen upon your discovery.

Yunho could only close his eyes shut as he felt you immobile all of a sudden. 

Well, it was fun while it lasted at least.

“I can go if you want me to,” he said as neutral as possible, but he couldn't help but let disappointment tint his voice. He can’t explain why but it felt different this time, he really wanted it to work with you. He wanted you.

“No!” you said as you held onto him when he shifted to get out of your hold and onto his feet. “Wait,” your fingers gliding over the bulge, moving once more. Instantly he sat down again against you. You cupped him, gauging the size and evaluating the challenge at hand, said challenge generously spilling out of your grasp as it could not be contained within your palm.

“We could at least try, right?”

“Really?” he exclaimed, before letting out a choked gasp as your grip grew a little tighter.

“Yeah,” you sighed, still gently rubbing over his hard on. “I’m determined and stubborn and my parents didn't raise no quitter,” you said, trying to throw some humor onto this to deescalate the situation and it did the trick.

“The only thing is… I don't think I have a condom that would fit you,” you say, suddenly bashful.

“Oh… hm. I brought mine” Yunho started to pat his pockets hastily. “It’s in my wallet, in my vest, in the… car,” he said, voice growing quieter as he realized he will have to go get it.

You then hopped on your feet. Yunho's hips instinctively bucking up, chasing the friction.

“How about you go get it and come back to meet me in the bedroom?”

Yunho only nodded vigorously before you turned on your feet and walked to one of the closed doors of the hall, he couldn't stop his eyes from falling down to look at your ass roll in the black dress as you walked away. You turned back before disappearing behind the door.

“Don't take too long, ok?” you teased him with a smile.

Yunho didn’t need more to snap him out of his trance and run, no, fly to his car. He barged in the hallway of the apartment complex, not even trying for the elevator, he knew with his long legs he'd be faster if he took the stairs. So he flew over the two flights of stairs and ran to his car to practically rip the wallet from the inner pocket of his coat and stuffed the condom in his back pocket before swallowing the two flights of stairs again and coming back into the apartment, short of breath. 

As afraid as he was a couple of minutes ago to go faster with you, now every second where he didn't have you to himself felt like an eternity.

The apartment was completely dark except for a ray of light that was coming from under the door you disappeared behind. Yunho velvet traded across the living room to the hall and to the door, guided by the line of light, the golden thread he ought to follow to reach heaven.

He delicately pushed in. And he felt like he had opened Pandora's box. He found you completely nude, waiting cross legged on the edge of your bed for him. The dim light from the nightstand sweeping across your form and casting the otherworldly shadow of your divine outline onto the wall. You were absolutely sublime. A sight that went straight to his groin, pumping brand new and boiling blood to his half hard member. 

You sat up straight putting both your feet flat on the ground as Yunho approached you. You held your palm flat to him without a word and he handed over the magnum condom in a black and gold packaging. You settled it on the nightstand before bringing your attention back to the elephant (quite fitting term) in the room. 

Now that he was standing close to you and you were really at eye level with the thing you were really getting a feel for it. Yunho was indeed really big, the thick outline of his length progressed way down his pant's leg making it impossible to miss. 

You gently undid the button of his jeans and pulled on his zipper, the vibrations on his length making him frown, completely entranced by your hand moving on him.

You hooked your fingers onto the waistband of the pants and his underwear and very gently pulled the fabric down, Yunho’s open shirt still floating as his sides. Gradually you had a peep at the trimmed hair of his pubic bone and then you uncovered the base of his cock. He was incredibly girthy and it only got bigger as you continued to pull on his pants. It was only when you were mid thigh that the member sprung free infront of your face and you audibly gasped at the size. 

The girthy member sat heavily between Yunho’s thighs, the tip an angry shade of red and profusely leaking at the slit. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have masked how eager he was for you. His cock has been leaking ever since you got in his car and he got to smell your flowery perfume without the parasitizing smell of smoke and alcohol from the club. But that he couldn’t possibly say out loud.

He held his breath when you wrapped both your hands around his base, his cock twitching at the minimal contact of your fingers interlaced around him. You were still measuring him, getting an idea. He was as long as your forearm and as thick as your fist. 

In other words, he was ridiculously big. If he had said one hour ago when you were back at the club that he was walking around with a literal third leg you would have laughed in his face and left him there. But now that you were seeing it with your very eyes, it was different.

Yunho grew nervous as you stayed there eyeing him down with this puzzled expression.

“So what do you say?” He asked, his toes wiggling on the carpeted floor nervously. 

You didn’t even say anything back, only aimed the tip at your lips and started to lick around the sensitive cock head. Yunho emitted the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, a deep sigh of relief and pleasure as he let his head roll back, his large palm instantly finding your hair to intertwine his fingers with it.

You licked around the tip thoroughly, earning more airy sighs from the brunette before you pursed your lips and sent a big wad of spit on his length. Making him moan a little clearer as you dragged your warm spit down to his base with both hands. You spat again to make sure to lubricate him thoroughly, before taking him in your mouth.

As soon as your lips wrapped around the tip, you heard Yunho softly curse from above you. Your lips stretched around the girthy tip with difficulty and slid down as far as you could manage until he hit the back of your throat, and you weren’t even halfway through. 

But Yunho didn't mind, it was the first time somebody even got that far and he swore he could have cum just by the look you gave him when your eyes snapped back to him and he saw your pretty face stuffed full of his fat cock, hair slightly disheveled by his doing, eyes glazed over with unspilled tears and your beautiful lips stretched to an unbelievable extent. 

You felt him twitch on your tongue before you popped him out, taking a deep breath and going down again. His free hand dipped down to play with your breasts, he cupped them and flicked your hardened nipples a couple of times making you moan on his cock. 

“Fuck baby,” he breathed. “Your mouth feels so good,” he panted. The praise made you confident enough to push your head a little further down, his cock reaching down to a brand new depth inside your throat.

“Fuckkkk,” Yunho sighed his hand on your hair holding you there for a second, just long enough for him to feel your gag reflex triggering and your throat clamping down on his cock trying to reject the massive foreign object that was obstructing your air pipe. When he pulled out again long strings of thick saliva linked your red and swollen lips to the raging tip of his cock and you coughed a couple of times, choking, the air burning your sore throat.

“Need you on my tongue right now. Wanna taste you,” he whispered as he practically tore the shirt off his shoulders and slipped out of his pants. He carefully pushed you towards the bed so you would be laid on your back and very gently his big hands wrapped around your thighs to pull them apart to finally lay eyes on your center. 

Yunho licked his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening folds covered with your slick, the transparent liquid cascading from your entrance and running down your thighs, some even staining your bedding. He swiped a single finger on your slit, gathering some of your arousal.

“Fuck, baby you got this wet just by having my cock in your mouth,” Yunho smirked when he noticed you twitched at his words. So you liked a little dirty talk, that was good to know. He brought the digit covered with your essence to his mouth, moaning against his own fingers as your sweet and velvety nectar enveloped his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

Yunho pulled on your hips so your ass would sit at the edge and he kneeled on the ground. He planted a couple soft kisses on your inner thighs and pubic bone, making you squirm, itching to be touched in the right places. Maybe next time he’ll make you beg for it but today he needed you as much as you needed him.

He gently wrapped his mouth around your clit, taking the swollen bud into his mouth and sucking on it gently. Your reaction was immediate, it has been quite a long time since you have felt the touch of somebody else and Yunho was good at what he was doing. 

He went down to dip his tongue inside of you, parting your folds with his tongue and tasting the deepest parts of you, you arched your back and let his name fall off your lips.

“Aaah, hmph… Yun-ho,” you struggled to say as you unconsciously started to roll your hips against his face, smearing your juices over his cheeks and chin.

The way you called out his name and fucked yourself back on his face, shamelessly using his mouth to chase after your high had him leaking on the floor, as his aching cock sat heavily between his thighs.

That’s when he chose to stick two long fingers inside your tight heat, making you moan louder and stop dead in your tracks. You don't know how he managed that but he somehow found the perfect angle right away, curling the two digits right into your sweet spot, so you stayed put, exactly where you were while he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

He alternated between fast strokes then slower ones when he rolled his fingertips inside you teasing your g spot, to then go back to the quicker pace. Taking you on this rollercoaster of pleasure where he made you go up and down but never to your peak. 

Yunho had no intent on making you cum, at least not right now, now he only wanted to prep you to take him inside you. He was stretching you out as much as possible to make sure he could fit his huge cock inside your tiny little pussy. 

You had figured out that much but that didn’t keep you from slowly growing frustrated and therefore hungry for more. Much more.

So he slipped a fourth finger in.

At this point your body was covered with a light sheen of sweat making you beautifully glisten as the dim night stand lamp shone on you. 

You gasped at how full you felt, arching your back, your hands fisting the sheets as you called his name again.

“You’re doing so good.” He pressed a soft kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “My good girl,” he cooed before he started to swirl his tongue around your clit, making your cunt clamp harder around his fingers.

You felt yourself throb at the possessive pronouns. You both knew you weren’t his. But for the both of you it was what felt good. You’ll have plenty of time to feel lonely again in the morning. Just for tonight you belonged to each other. 

Your hands flew between your thighs where your fingers untangled with the long strands of brown hair, tugging at it, your frustration getting the best of you. 

Yunho enjoyed the dull burn on his scalp as he kept on abusing your swollen bud, sucking, licking and flicking it. Until he felt you throb on his tongue. But before he could finish you he felt you pull on his hair hard enough for him to look up at you.

You were panting, your chest heaving up and down, disheveled from thrashing your head around and pushing it back into the mattress.

“Wanna cum on your cock,” you urged, panting, as plainly as that. After all of this teasing, you wanted to save your appetite for the main course. 

Yunho could have bursted and cum all over the carpet with just those words. But instead he got back up and grabbed the rubber from your night stand, tearing the wrapper away and rolling the condom down his huge cock.

When he came back between your thighs he laid his cock on your stomach, and that's when you fully understood what you got yourself into. The sheer weight of the thing was in itself impressive but that was nothing compared to the size of it. It reached all the way to your midriff, the massive thing laying menacingly on your bare, sweaty skin.

Yunho then took the thick base in his hand and rubbed his tip at your entrance, coating it with your slick.

“You ready?” he asked, cheeks taking a pink hue, flashing you the most adorable of coy smile as if he wasn’t tongue fucking you a second ago. You only nodded, bracing yourself. Scared but foremost eager to be filled up again.

“Try to breathe, okay?” he advised right before he started to push himself inside you. Instinctively you let out a whine at the way your walls stretched around him as he gradually, very gently pushed his huge cock inside. You caught your lip between your teeth as your brows met on your forehead. Yunho was very attentive and didn't blink once to make sure he could read your micro expressions, so he could adapt the pace. He knew when to let you take a breather and when to keep pushing in. So when you let out a small cry and your hips jerked upwards slightly, he stopped.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, soft voice laced with concern. 

“Well the obvious answer is yes.” You chuckled softly at his adorable worried expression. “But at the same time… It feels so good,” you said, half whispering, half moaning. And you felt his cock twitch inside you.

That was the very first time somebody has ever said that to him. He would lie if he said he didn't like that.

“Please keep going,” you said, whiny tone bordering on begging. 

“Fuck baby,” Yunho breathed out. “Say that again.” His voice was somewhat urgent.

“Please Yunho, fill me up, I wanna feel you all inside of me.”

Yunho cursed under his breath again. He didn't need more to push the last couple of centimeters inside you. And just like that you’re full of him. He flipped both of your legs on his sturdy shoulders and leaned forward to kiss you. The softness is masked by the state of extreme urgency in which you both find yourselves in, the kiss is messy, sloppy, heated. Your teeth grazing against each other before you stuck your tongue out to let Yunho suck on it, you taste yourself on his tongue making you light headed before you bit on Yunho’s bottom lip to let it snap back against his teeth.

“Please fuck me,” you whispered against his teeth.

“Anything for you, baby.” 

He started to pull out gently and pushed in again, with each thrust he went faster, his large frame still laid over you as he fucked you in the mating press. The position was just perfect, with both his feet firmly on the ground, Yunho had great control over his movements and could easily adjust the pace as a plus the angle was absolutely divine.

You whined and whimpered and cried with each stroke, his big cock perfectly brushing and poking at your soft spot, deep, deep inside you. A spot nobody had ever been able to reach, not even yourself. The new found source of pleasure made you cry out in bliss, your cunt taking a vice grip around Yunho’s huge cock.

“Fuck,” you yelped. “You’re so…aaah… big,” you moaned. “Feel so good inside me. Please keep going. Fuck me please,” your words were slurred, you barely made any sense but it didn’t matter. Yunho knew exactly what you meant.

“You’re so good, baby. So good to me.”

He moaned against your mouth, prying your jaw open with his thumb and letting his tongue slip into your mouth, his warm spit running down your tongue. You swallowed his saliva, along with each of his pants and grunts. The way you felt around him was surreal, your wet sopping cunt coating him with your slick making it so easy to slip in and out of you, so much so that at some point he found himself absolutely drilling into your cunt completely losing himself inside you. The lewd wet noises bouncing off the small dark room as he rearranged your guts.

“I won't last for long,” he whined, eyes closing shut as he tried his best not to burst.

“I’m almost there,” you said, your legs tensing up and wrapping around Yunho’s hips.

He stood back up straight and put one hand on your waist firmly gripping your side to pull you back on his cock every time he thrusted in. Admiring the outline of his cock poking inside of your stomach creating a visible bulge with every snap of his hips. He laid his large hand over your stomach, lightly pressing, making you yelp and feeling every come and go as his thumb found your swollen and throbbing clit.

The sudden pleasure made you cry out a sob. Yunho started to play with your clit as he was deep inside your guts. Drawing tight circles on it, teasing it so perfectly that you grew even tighter around him.

“Please be my good girl and cum for me,” he said in a strangled moan, knowing he could only last for a few more seconds. Snapping his hips into yours, making your tits jump with each powerful thrust. “God please, please cum,” he begged in a desperate little whimper, as he wanted nothing than to make you cum but he also knew he could only keep up for a few more agonizingly long (at least to him) seconds.

That's when you crossed the edge, your walls fluttered around his big cock as you reached your peak, white heat radiating from your core to each of your limbs, making your body shake uncontrollably and your cunt grip into Yunho’s length like its life depended on it. You were completely delirious with pleasure, the earth shattering orgasm washing over you and convincing you the monstrous cock plowing into you had definitively ruined you for anyone else. You didn’t see how you could ever be satisfied again with any other cock.

The twitch of your cunt is Yunho’s queue to finally let go as well. He pulled out of you and ripped the condom away. He only had to give it a couple of strokes before cumming all over you. Thick white ropes of burning hot cum spurting out of his slit and crashing on your heated skin. Yunho had never cum so hard, his cock is like an open tap. Squirting cum all over your stomach, your tits and some powerful spurts even reaching your pretty face, which you hurriedly lick off your lips and chin. Making Yunho’s huge cock twitch in his balled fist.

He nearly collapsed when he’s done, his legs suddenly turning into jelly. But he still managed to haphazardly wander into the bathroom to give you a clean washcloth he found and even goes back to the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

After that he blacked out next to you, completely drained (in more ways than one). You chuckled next to him when you heard him snort softly as you set your still half full drink on the nightstand and switch off the light. Naturally finding your place snuggled up against him.

***

The incessant vibrations of his phone abandoned in the pocket of his jeans was what woke up Yunho the next morning. He got off the bed half asleep and picked the device to answer the call. Because he was still in a daze he didn’t check the caller but he definitely should have when he heard Wooyoung yell at the end of the line.

“SO DID YOU GO BACK TO HER PLACE??? DID SHE SURVIVE THE DRILL?????” he shot out question after question, not taking the time to breathe between each one. Yunho shushed him right away, looking back over his shoulder at your sleeping figure.

“Shut up! she’s sleeping!” Yunho said as he struggled to turn down the volume on his phone.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the speaker resonated even louder. “Come by to my place we’re going to brunch, you’ll tell me all about it and then I promise I’ll play all the League you want for the rest of eternity!” Wooyoung pledged as Yunho chuckled. That's exactly why he loved him.

“Brunch and then League?” Yunho heard your groggy voice from behind. “That sounds fun…” 

“I’ll call you back,” Yunho briefly said before hanging on a screaming Wooyoung. He beamed at you. 

“Wanna come with?”

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

a/n: oooffff omg that was something. i had so much fun writing this and omg i loved yunho in this he was so cute but hot ughhhhh. tell me if you liked it. that would make me so happy and i will def kiss u if do <3333

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[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Chosen Appa | Wooyoung

- Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Single-mom!Reader.

- Requested by: no one

- Requests: Open for now. Please read my requesting guidelines before requesting.

- Warnings: single mum, hints at readers ex-husband being a cheater and an overall douchebag, best friends to lovers.

- Word Count: 1,205

- Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist

Walking back into her small living room, Y/N is met with silence. The babbling sounds of her 15-month-old baby girl, who usually keeps herself entertained with her toys in her play pen while Y/N does the housework, has gone quiet. Assuming her little one might have fallen asleep, she peeks into the playpen only to discover that her daughter is missing.  

Panic sets in as Y/N searches every corner of the apartment, trying to convince that her baby isn’t capable of climbing out on her own yet. Her eyes dart to the entrance, where she notices the stroller and the diaper bag are missing. Relief washes over her and is quickly replaced with annoyance as she picks up the phone and calls the only person brave and sneaky enough to kidnap her baby in broad daylight. 

He quickly answers but before he can start his yapping, Y/N yells at him. “Yah! Jung Wooyoung! You better bring my baby back right now.”  

“No,” he says defiantly. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately with finding a new job, the divorce and your soon to be ex-husband being a total asshole. She’s coming with me to the studio while you have a few hours to yourself," he insists.  "Don’t worry; she’ll be safe and sound. You know everyone here loves her.” 

Y/N can almost hear the smirk in his voice, and it only fuels her irritation further. “You can’t just take her without asking me first! What if something happens? What if she gets scared?” 

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice firm yet gentle, “You know I won't let anything happen to her. I protect her as if she's my own." 

"Fine, but if you pull a stunt like this again, you'll never see her again," she warns her best friend. "You got that? I'll make Yeonjun her godfather. You’ll be no one to her." 

"You really trust Yeonjun with Hannie?" he asks, skeptically. 

"He wouldn't kidnap her without me knowing," she defends their mutual friend.  

Wooyoung chuckles on the other end of the call, the sound brings some comfort to her. “You know, I think you’re just jealous because I didn’t kidnap you for the day too. Stop with the housework and enjoy this time to yourself. Take a walk, go get some lunch, do a little shopping.”  

Y/N sighs, her shoulders slumping as she leans against the kitchen counter. The weight of her responsibilities presses down on her. Never did she think she would be jobless, almost divorced and a single mother. But four months ago, everything came crashing down. Her husband’s mistress turned up at their door, crying and pregnant. She left, losing her job in the process, and moved in with her mother who’s been helping support her and Hannie while she finds a new job so she can get an apartment. But finding a job was proving harder than she expected. She’s seriously considering the job her mum offered her at the small restaurant she owns. 

Y/N feels a twinge of guilt for wanting a moment to herself. “I know, but she’s my baby. I can’t help but worry.”  

“Worrying is part of being a mother, but you also need to take care of yourself,” Wooyoung replies, his voice softening.  

Y/N bites her lip, contemplating his words. He’s right, of course. The past few months have been a whirlwind of stress, and she hasn’t had a moment to breathe. “Okay, but I want updates and photos. Text me every hour, or I swear I’ll come down to that studio and take her back myself.” 

"I promise to send you plenty of pictures," he assures her. "Hannie, say see you later, eomma," he adds, moving the phone closer to Hannie.  

Hannie babbles into the phone until a clear word breaks through. "Appa!" 

Y/N’s eyes widen with shock. Hannie just said her first word. Her heart swells with a mix of pride and disbelief. “Did she just say ‘Appa’?” Y/N asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she’s afraid to break the special moment. 

"I've been trying to get her to say eomma," Wooyoung admits after putting his phone on speaker, disbelief and pride in his voice also. He quickly ends the call and calls her back on video call. 

She quickly answers and the first thing to pop up on her phone screen is her little girl, her bright eyes sparkling with innocence and joy as she looks past the phone at wooyoung. She’s always imagined the day her daughter would speak her first word, and now it was directed at someone else. Someone that wants nothing to do with her. The reality of her situation hits her like a wave, and she feels a lump form in her throat. 

“Appa,” Hannie keeps saying, her tiny voice filled with joy as she looks up at Wooyoung, her little hands reaching out wanting him to pick her up. "Look, Hannie, it's eomma," Wooyoung says, turning the phone to show Hannie her mother on the screen. For a brief moment, she captures the baby's attention, and Y/N can see the flicker of recognition in her daughter’s eyes. "Can you say eomma?" he playfully encourages, trying to elicit another word from his goddaughter.  

Hannie giggles, her focus shifting back to him, her laughter like music that fills the room. "Appa!" she exclaims again. 

"I think she's calling you Appa," Y/N says, the realization dawning on her. When she thinks about it, Wooyoung has present in Hannie's life more than her own father. Especially since Y/N and her ex-husband ended their relationship. Hannie's father hasn't had anything to do with her since. 

 "Me?" he asks surprised, turning the phone camera back to him. "Why would she call me Appa?" he questions not really thinking about it. 

"Maybe she sees me as a father figure," Y/N tries to convince herself, but deep down, she knows that Hannie is forming connections, and Wooyoung is a significant part of her life. 

"I mean, I’ve been around a lot since you and—" He stops himself, the mention of her ex-husband hanging in the air. 

Y/N swallows hard, the lump in her throat growing. "You have been," she admits, her voice growing softer as she thinks about it. "You’ve been a great, Wooyoung. I don’t know what I would do without you." 

He smiles, but it’s tinged with something more serious. "I just want to be there for both of you. You know that, right? You and Hannie mean the world to me." 

"And you mean the world to us," she replies with a warm smile, her heart swelling with affection. In that moment, she realizes that there could be something more between her, her daughter and her best friend. Wooyoung has stepped into a role that neither of them expected, but it feels right. 

"I don't think this is a conversation that should be spoken about over the phone," he says after a moment of silence. "I'll bring Hannie home now and we can talk more." 

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips and ends the call. She rushes around the room, picking up toys and putting away the play pen. anticipating Wooyoung and Hannie's return home. 

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[thewitchblue]

"I'm curious about something."

Jason asked you one snowy November. You turned away from your computer to face him with a fond smile on your face. You were working on a case for him by researching the deceased and locating their soul to speak to the victim. He approached you and leaned against the desk. You asked,

"What's up, buttercup? What's on your pretty mind?"

You noticed his hand trying to hold yours, but you turn ghostly to prevent him from touching you. You're a grim reaper, one of several scattered throughout different continents, and very dead. Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he asks as casually as possible,

"Is it true about the embrace of death?"

Well, that's a new thought you didn't expect to hear him ask. You blinked in confusion before answering vaguely,

"I'm a Reaper, pretty boy. Consider me one of the Valkyries from Norse mythology; I'm here to guide souls to their specific place. I don't embrace or kiss the souls. Their soul is often already floating around when I get there. That's why some people experience after-death moments with loved ones. Grandma's last kiss, a child holding their mother's hand, parents embracing their newly orphaned children, little things like that."

You weren't sure how to explain your job in a way that makes sense for the living, but you tried. Jason seemed unsatisfied by your answer, so you asked kindly,

"What did you really want to know, my love?"

He frowned at your ghostly hand. Is it really too much to want to touch his partner? He paused and said after a beat of silence,

"I... want to hold your hand and kiss you, but you always pull away. I want to know why."

You gave him a sad look and softly admit,

"I've never touched a living soul since my death. I'm worried what will happen to you if I did touch you."

He grumbled and offered his father as a sacrificial lamb to find out what happens, but you laughed and softly said,

"If you can stomach Bruce being the first man to ever touch me post-mortem, I'll touch him."

You knew that wouldn't be the case. He huffed and pouted, but softly admitted,

"I want to be the first man you ever touch since your death."

You look at him seriously for a moment. You know Jason would drop the topic if you told him no, but part of you wanted to say yes. You weren't sure if you wanted to let this go. You want to hold his hand on a cold winter day and kiss him thousands of times to make up for lost time.

With great hesitation, you touched Jason's arm. He was warm against your timid hand and so muscular. You slowly run your hands along his arms while watching him carefully. You waited to see if he was feeling anything negative. You weren't sure if you felt his life force leaving him or his pulse racing under your hand as you held his wrist in your fingers.

Jason shivered under your light touch. You were freezing cold, but he didn't feel any different than he felt before. You looked in awe that you could touch a living soul without consequences, and he was so smug.

He had a feeling it would be okay to touch you. He thought it was adorable that you wanted to protect him from your ghostly touch, nonetheless. He was only 87% sure he would have been fine. He didn't know if you could turn your power on-and-off like he hoped and now knew was possible.

You hadn't known people could be this warm. You've been dead for so long, you had forgotten. Souls are cold, so you're never warm.

You grin at him and immediate pull him into a kiss. You could kiss him! His soul isn't being pulled out of him! You were ecstatic. Once you started, you found you couldn't stop.

You gave him thousands of kisses as he chuckled. He's never seen you so happy. You held both his hands in your scarred ones.

Your soul shines in happiness, which makes him grin. He loves you and loves the confirmation you loved him, too. Your soul tells him everything you're feeling, and he's never seen you this happy. It's reassuring to see your love for him pulsing throughout your ghostly spirit. It's like you couldn't keep it in.

Your eyes lit up at the new revolution. You were bursting with love and adoration. You tell him as you held his face in your hands,

"These hands are forever yours. You're going to be stuck with me now onwards."

He laughed at the serious tone and kissed your hands with a grin on his face. The lights in your apartment flicker in response to your happiness, but you can't help it. Your powers charge and pulse when you get emotional.

You murmur as you caress his face in your hands,

"I love you."

You run your fingers through his hair while he buries his face in your neck and wraps his arms around you.

"I know, pipsqueak."

He nips your neck playfully, partially surprised you let him. You kiss his forehead and draw him closer with your arms,

"Good. You deserve to know."

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 2: Own My Mind

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You might have finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Franco, but that doesn’t make the deep longing you feel for him any easier. And he's starting to make you question if he might feel the same longing for you, too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader is a lil freak, use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has self esteem issues

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on part one! I never expected my first chapter to get any notes let alone over 200 notes in just a few days. Seriously every single note has me kicking my feet and turning my eyes into little heart emojis lol. I’m already about 2k words into ch 3 so I am hoping I’ll finish it before I have to travel for the holidays (I will not be able to write at all while I’m gone). Also, I had a request for someone to be tagged in this chapter, so let me know if you all would like me to start a permanent tag list. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Oh it’s automatic, you know I just gotta have it

I’ll make your body a habit

You know there’s some kind of magic, uh huh

Do you wanna, do you wanna, own my mind, own my mind?

The Singapore Grand Prix was later that night. Franco did really well considering the circumstances. It was disgustingly humid, and when he was done you could tell he felt awful. You were so angry at everyone at Williams for letting him race like that. Yes, it was his job, but that was your friend out there suffering—your friend who you had just admitted to yourself yesterday that you were in love with.

You watched him from afar when he spoke to the media afterwards. His curls were plastered down to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was pale and clammy. You just wanted to hold him and tell him that you were proud of him. Instead you had to settle for keeping an eye on him in the chaos of the paddock post-race, and helping him back to the hotel with his mother.

She had to get on an early flight, so she left and you promised her you’d stay until he was okay. She was worried about him, and you were too. God, seeing him so sick broke your heart. You helped pack up his things while he took a cold shower and he emerged in just a towel wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be feeling much better thankfully, and his more playful mood reflected it.

Of course, you snuck a glance or two at his sculpted form. Just a peek at his wet curls, the water droplets running down his chest—even the scar on his collarbone that he always tries to hide. He thinks it’s ugly. You think there isn’t a single part of him that’s ugly.

You tried to ignore him and continued tidying up. “I hope you don’t expect me to tip you,” he joked.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “What else are you going to do with all your stripper money?”

“Well, if we’re stripping…” he said, slowly lowering his hand down to his hips, palming the towel. You stomped to the bathroom, out of view of whatever joke he was making. “Get dressed, you man whore,” you instructed.

You lived for the banter you all had—at times, it felt like your own language separate from the rest of the world. The audience could hear Franco’s humor, but they’d never understand it like you did.

When you left the bathroom he was thankfully (or, unfortunately) fully clothed, lying on the bed and lazily scrolling through his phone.

“I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” you said.

“Well, better than I was, but still kind of like shit,” he responded with a sigh.

“Well, you can get some rest, I’ve got you pretty much all packed up so you’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

He put his phone down and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment, as if he was readying himself to say something, and looked at the floor away from you. “YN, would you… stay? Just in case I get worse, you know.”

You could tell by the color in his face that he was feeling better, but how could you deny him this small comfort, when his eyes met yours through his long eyelashes, a sliver of light from the street lamps outside cutting through the drawn curtains and resting on his face? He was so beautiful. And he wanted you to stay.

“Of course,” you said. You were going to get up from the corner of the bed where you now sat and move to the chair until he fell asleep, but instead he motioned for you to lay down on the bed next to him. Tentatively, you did, heart racing as he laid his head on your shoulder and curled his body into you.

His playful flirting was normal, but this was… different, a closeness beyond what was usual between you two. You could feel the warmth of his skin, his breath steady against you. Yes, your heart was beating, but you felt strangely calm. Peaceful. In this moment all that mattered was you and your best friend, quietly sharing a moment in each other’s presence.

Your hand, trembling, reached down to smooth a piece of his hair. He hummed in response, to which you quickly moved your hand, mumbling, “Oh, sorry.”

He just grabbed your hand and wordlessly placed it back on his head. Slowly, you began to run your fingers through his beautiful curls. You got lost in the moment, and soon enough, you felt his breath even out as he fell into a peaceful sleep. Soon enough, the stillness of the moment and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled you to sleep too.

You woke just as the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky outside. You had an unfortunate habit of waking up in the middle of the night—a common symptom of anxiety, your therapist had told you—but for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night soundly.

You and Franco had shifted, and he know had his arm lazily wrapped around you. You remembered the previous night and felt your heartbeat increase. It wasn’t just the feeling of his arm draped across your waist, but the feeling of…. something else. A little… morning problem.

Of course, you knew Franco couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even awake, and from your years of friendship you knew how much of a heavy sleeper he was. It was just an uncontrollable biological phenomenon. Nothing more.

But you couldn’t stay, feeling him pressed against you like that. It felt wrong and you were so nervous you could hardly breathe. So you carefully wiggled your way out of his grasp and quietly left his room, returning to your own.

Returning to your hotel room, all you knew to do to calm yourself down was to write. So you opened your journal and wrote all about the scene; the dinner, the banter, waking up next to him in the morning sunlight.

You wrote until your hand started to cramp. Then you went back to read what you had written, skimming over it, your mind only picking up on little snippets.

Lily thought I was Franco’s girlfriend, and I guess I can’t blame her. He’s such a flirt, I love and hate it. I just wonder if it ever means anything to him. I mean, he treats random reporters the same way he treats his girlfriends. What does he do when he actually wants someone?

He asked me to stay. I thought he must still be sick, but he just wanted me to… cuddle? I ran my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. He looked like an angel, so soft and innocent, resting next to me. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

But when I woke up, I could feel his morning wood pressing against me. God, it was so awkward. But I can’t stop thinking about it, what he would do if he really wanted me.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You shouldn’t write that kind of stuff. Having a crush was one thing, but thinking about him like that? It was…wrong. Franco was your best friend. Your best friend who was absolutely perfect—yes, physically as well.

You threw your journal on the bed with a grunt of frustration.

You were fucked.

Your heart beat nervously as you walked into the waiting room before your next therapy session. It had been a week or so since Singapore when you had finally admitted the truth to yourself.

Yes, you had feelings for Franco. Emotional and… physical. No, you had no idea what to do with them.

Waiting for the clock to strike the hour, you reached down into your bag to run your fingertips along the spine of your leather journal. You had been writing incessantly in it since that night.

And if you thought that your fantasies were bad then, oh, it had gotten so much worse.

You told yourself you couldn’t help it. You were ovulating. You’d been single for a while. You were a girl with needs. But you felt disgusted, basically writing porn about your best friend.

I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. In my mind, he sits on the edge of the bed like always, hand carefully placed at the top of his towel. His hair is dripping and his skin is still dotted with water droplets.

He doesn’t even have to say anything. The way he looks at me—eyes looking up through his gorgeous lashes, his pouty lips looking so lonely—I know exactly what he wants. So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

Even remembering what you wrote felt filthy. You wanted him—all of him.

I had a dream last night that Franco dominated me. We are in his apartment, arguing about something stupid, and he pushed me against the wall, kissing me roughly, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He holds me waist with his strong hands as his kisses get deeper.

“I need to taste you,” he growls into my mouth, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. Before I can react he’s on top of me, one hand holding my chin and the other fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asks, and I frantically nod.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking, as he pulls off my jeans and my panties with it—

“YN? You can come in now.” You’re pulled from your daydreaming by the voice of your therapist. You close the journal, embarrassed, but not without her seeing it in your hands.

“I hope you’re doing well. I see you’ve got a journal, you’ve been writing in it, I take it?” she asked as you sat down in the familiar office.

“Yeah, I have,” you answered, clutching it tightly in your folded hands.

“Well, that’s great! Has it been helping you?”

“Um… I guess?”

“Explain more.”

You paused, unable to think. All you could do was blurt out the truth.

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

“…Okay.” Your therapist also paused. “Did your writing bring about this revelation?”

You tumbled through the rest of the session, trying to explain what happened without revealing too many intimate details.

“I just feel… horrible I guess. It’s so dumb. It’s not like he’ll ever feel the same way about me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s so… perfect. And I’m an anxious mess,” you laughed.

“Is anxiety that much of a barrier to being loved?”

You laughed, considering the gravity of her question. You couldn’t truly answer it. “It shouldn’t be. But I just know he’d never choose me and that’s okay. He doesn’t even know how I feel, and even if I had the courage to tell him, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Does it bother you, not being able to tell him about all of this?”

“….yeah, it does, actually,” you admitted. "I'll never do it but... I just wish I could, you know?"

"I understand. Why not start with expressing your feelings platonically? Telling him what he means to you as a friend?"

"I guess I could do that." You didn't quite know how you'd accomplish that, but you weren't in therapy just to refuse to try anything. You wanted to do hard things. You needed to do them.

So you made it your mission, next time you saw Franco, to tell him something meaningful. You weren't sure what it would be or how it would come out, but you'd at least try.

Unfortunately, it was a while before you'd see Franco again. There were a few weeks between Singapore and Austin, and between race prep with Williams and sponsorship deals, Franco was up to his ears in work. You still talked, of course—you texted back and forth every day—but it just wasn't the same, and you missed him horribly.

You'd felt this before, the ache in your stomach that longed for his presence when you'd gone too long without seeing him. You figured it would be different now that you had finally admitted to yourself what this feeling was. You didn't expect it to be worse.

Because now that feeling in your stomach was sharper. You didn't just yearn for the mere concept of him—you wanted everything. You missed his smile. You missed hearing his voice rise and fall in intonation as you bantered back and forth. You missed his perfect curls smoothed across his forehead. You missed the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, whether in a friendly embrace or something more intimate, like you'd had in Singapore. And in the back of your mind, you missed the feeling of Franco's hardness pressing against your back, a sign of what you fantasized was a deep wanting for you, both physical and emotional.

You tried, and failed, to rein in these fantasies. But with the more days that passed, the more Franco began to feel less and less like your best friend, and more and more like the version of him you'd created in your head, desperate for you more than anything else in the world.

You wrote all of this down, of course. If you hadn't you would have lost your mind with lust. Romantic pining was nothing new to you—you'd had a boyfriend before, although what you felt for him paled in comparison to Franco—but this intense physical desire you felt was new.

You had never been satisfied by anyone, anything, before. You smiled to yourself as you thought, well, I guess it's true what they say about the quiet, shy ones.

And Franco, unbeknownst to him, wasn't making it any easier. He called you one day, the first phone call you'd had in a while, a few days before you'd be flying out to Austin for the grand prix.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," he explained, "but the stuff we're doing is so cool."

"Am I allowed to know, or is it top secret?" You smiled through the phone.

"Well... I can't tell you everything just yet, but I can give you a sneak peek. Check your messages."

You felt your phone vibrate, receiving a notification from Franco. You tapped on the text and nearly dropped your phone. He had sent you unedited pictures from a photoshoot, and he looked fucking amazing.

His voice on the other end of the line explained, "I'm gonna be on the cover of Forbes Mexico for the race. What do you think?"

At first, you were quite literally speechless. "Franco, you look..."

"Gorgeous? Sexy? Like the most fuckable Formula 1 driver?" he teased. For a split second, you wondered if it was possible to hear a blush through the phone.

His banter inspired your own. "... not bad. I mean, you certainly give them a lot of work to do to make you look good, but they did pretty decent."

If human beings could hear a blush through a phone, you were sure the noise that Franco made would be indicative of one. "Oh, shut up and tell me I'm pretty."

A million potential responses went through your head. Make me. Beg for it. My pretty boy.

Instead you just laughed and said, "No, really, you look great. This is amazing. You know the entire internet is going to lose their minds after this drops?"

He smiled. "That's the plan."

It still hadn't been released by the time you made it to Austin, but you weren't complaining. A part of you liked having this piece of Franco all to yourself. You kept going back to the photos again and again—his glare at the camera, his arm draped over a steering wheel—you couldn't get enough.

And when he met you at the airport in Austin (even though you told him it wasn't necessary), all that want came rushing back the instant he wrapped you in a hug that lasted a little too long to be considered platonic.

You couldn’t let your thoughts go that far. You’d already crossed a line by allowing yourself to feel such… intimate emotions for him. But to even imagine that he really wanted you to? No. That was where you actually drew the line.

But unfortunately, Franco’s confusing behavior made it far too easy for you to believe that he didn’t feel the same.

You all didn’t talk about that night in Singapore, or the fact that he must have woken up alone. You’d rather throw yourself into a pit of knives than talk about it and have to bear the embarrassment, and Franco didn’t seem bothered at all, so you let it go to the back of your head, acting as if it never happened at all. Your first day in Austin was fine, mainly spent recovering from jet lag and exploring the city on your own while Franco did his media duties. You had dinner with him that night and it was like no time had passed. The banter was the same, the atmosphere was great, and you were so happy to be back in his presence again.

As he walked you to your hotel room, you remembered your promise you had made to yourself, that you’d try to practice being vulnerable. For some reason, you didn’t have it in you today. You were tired, in a good way, but all you wanted was to curl up next to Franco and wake up in his arms the next morning.

And of course, you assumed Franco would want to stay. Why else would he walk you back to your room? Maybe it was the nervousness of the implication—you and Franco, alone in your hotel room—that prevented you from saying anything, or maybe you just knew that now wasn’t the right time.

Either way, there was no moment. Franco just bid you goodnight with a wave and left to his own room.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. He just didn’t like you like that, and it was okay. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

But you also couldn't help but feel a bit...disappointed. You cursed yourself for letting your fantasies become too real. It would be weirder if he had tried something.

Still, you dealt with these complicated emotions the only way you knew how: writing. You opened the journal and began to write away, not even stopping to think, just vomiting words on the page.

We're in Austin right now. It's been...normal. Good. Which is weird, considering that last time we were at a grand prix we spent the night together. It's not like that, but I can't help but think that something is just...different. I keep thinking about what my therapist asked, about anxiety being a barrier to love. Franco has always supported me, or tried to at least. I haven't exactly made it easy for him, or anyone else, since I bottle things up so much.

But he doesn't love me, not like that, anyways. He dates models—I mean, God, he is a model now—and I'm just me. I'm not exceptionally pretty or smart or funny. I'm nobody.

I can't help but fantasize about how things could be different. I imagine us going on a fancy date. He's wearing that suit he did the Mexico photoshoot in, with the top shirt buttons undone to tease me. He picks me up from my apartment at 8 with a bouquet of pink roses (not red, red is too cliche; but I guess I can't complain, no man has ever bought me flowers). I'm wearing that dress I got the last time we visited Argentina together—the one that hugs all my curves just right, and it's his favorite color. The dinner is sweet. We savor the time together, since it's more scarce now that he's a permanent driver in F1. We've had a few glasses of wine, just enough to get us slightly giggly and blushed, our inhibitions long abandoned. In the back of the Uber he traces his hand up and down my thigh, each time teasing scandalously closer and closer to the place I need him the most. 

The ride is torturously long, but when we arrive back at his apartment, he wastes no time in getting me alone so he can have his way with me. He picks me up bridal style and kisses me through my drunken laughter, a smile on his face, too. He lovingly tosses me on the bed before taking off his jacket. I just look at him in awe. He’s so fucking perfect. And he’s all mine. He gets on top of me, kissing me gently, and no words need to be exchanged between us. I can feel the tenderness of his lips against mine, and he pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. The moment is quiet and I feel so safe and loved with him, until our lips crash together and his hand finds its place on my thigh again. It trails up and

There was a knock at your door. 

You jumped, startled. Getting up and looking through the peephole in the door, you saw it was just, of course, Franco, so you hurried to open the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You left your lipstick in my pocket,” he smirked, holding out the tube to you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, having forgotten about asking him to hold it earlier at dinner since your outfit didn’t have pockets. 

“You didn’t even notice that I stole it.” It was true. You had completely forgotten about it with all your journaling. 

“Well, the shade would look good on you,” you teased. 

He playfully rolled his eyes. “It’s no fun pranking you when you don’t even notice. Keep up, hm?” Franco loved to play little tricks on you like this, and usually you played right into them, knowing that the fun of his taunting outweighed whatever consequence the prank itself would bring. 

“You’re impossible,” you said, smiling regardless. “Now, if you’re done stealing my stuff, I’m exhausted.” You went to close the door, assuming this to be the natural end of the exchange, until Franco took a step into your room and rested his weight on the doorframe.

“Not exhausted enough to skip your… journaling?” he said, looking over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You hadn’t closed your journal. 

“Since when do you journal?” he asked, leaning forward as if he was trying to make out the words from across the room.

If you had been smarter, smoother with it, you probably could have lied and said it was for work, then proceeded to rant about your remote corporate job which would have bored Franco to tears. But smart and smooth with it are two things that you are not.

You swiftly turned around to grab the journal and slam it closed, holding it in a death grip. Your absence from the door, however, had been interpreted by Franco as an invitation to come in. And it was clear by the urgency of your actions that whatever was in that journal was something you did NOT want him knowing.

You answered him, “I haven't been doing it very long.” There was a brief moment where you considered ending the conversation there. It was too late to formulate a good lie, anyway. But on the other hand, you wanted to do hard things and be honest with yourself and others. So you did. At least your therapist would be proud.

So you continued, “It was a suggestion from my therapist. Just helps you get your thoughts out so they aren’t all stuck in your head.” Simple enough. It was the truth, after all. He didn’t need to know what those thoughts were.

“Can I read it?”

You paused in bewilderment. “Um, no? Franco, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“You don’t just… ask to read someone’s personal journal.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal, you muppet!”

“Really? Stole that one from Lando?”

“It fits." You snorted. "But seriously, why would you ask to read my journal?” 

“Because I never know what you’re thinking. You’re impossible to figure out.”

“... I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask me what I’m thinking?”

“... I know you did not just say that.”  He made a face at you. Yeah, he was right. If you were skilled enough at communicating your emotions you wouldn’t have needed to start the journal in the first place. He continued, “You were literally dying in Singapore and when I asked you what was wrong you said you were fine.”

“Hey, I made it to quali alive,” you replied. 

“Look, I just… It would be nice to understand where you’re coming from a bit more, like… actually nevermind, forget I ever said anything.” Your confusion only lingered as Franco clearly struggled to find the words. You guess that this was how he felt communicating with you sometimes—it sucked.

“Whatever, you weirdo,” you said, your joking tone an indicator to him that you were willing to act as if this horribly embarrassing exchange had never happened. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he said as he left the room, ending the conversation like that. Now it was your turn to be confused by his actions. There was something he clearly wanted to say but couldn’t, and you let yourself wonder, just for a second, if what was happening to you wasn’t so different from whatever was going on in his head.

You let your fantasies lull you into sleep.

Again, you let… whatever was happening between you and Franco go unsaid and focused on supporting him for the grand prix. 

From the Williams garage, you cheered him on as he got another point, overtaking Alonso so skillfully. When he came back to the garage, you met him as you always did, with a smile that stretched across your entire face. Your hug this time was different, as he picked you up and twirled you around. You laughed into his shoulder, holding on to him as he spun you.

He put you down and was immediately assailed by hugs all around from the Williams team. Lily, who had been in the garage by your side the whole race, elbowed you in the side. 

“So, you and Franco are just friends, huh?” she teased. You all had become friendly enough that a little bit of banter was acceptable. 

You inhaled with a soft smile, watching him celebrate in the distance. Once again, you chose vulnerable honesty. 

“Yes, we’re just friends. But it’s…complicated.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, shielding you off from the celebratory scene. In a lowered voice, she muttered, “You have feelings for him?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. But c’mon, he just spun you around like a Disney princess. He obviously has feelings too. And have you seen what the fans are saying about you all?”

“No?” You were surprised the fans even knew you existed. You had cut down on social media a long time ago, knowing how much it contributed to your anxiety and self-esteem issues. You still had accounts, but all were private and hardly used, and you didn’t interact much with fans at the races, preferring to stay in the garage or in Williams hospitality to enjoy the races without worrying about what people were thinking of you.

“They love you two. Seriously, I think there’s gotta be a million teenage girls living vicariously through you.”

You laughed at her comment, not in a mocking way, but because of the absurdity of it all. None of these people really knew you, or Franco, for that matter. It just proved your point that social media wasn’t real.

So if people on social media were shipping you and Franco, then it couldn’t be true. At least, that’s the confusing logic you held yourself to. A line had to be drawn somewhere.

Your conversion with Lily was cut short by Franco approaching. “Celebratory dinner later?” he asked, still beaming. You agreed.

If you could have bottled the energy that Franco exuded all day after the race, you would have had yourself a very lucrative energy drink company. As he was packing up his things to leave the circuit, you all passed by barriers where fans were practically crawling their way to get to him, screaming his name and waving Argentine flags in the air. He tilted his head to them as you passed, and asked, “Can I?”

You were in no rush, and of course you could never deny him this moment to enjoy what he had built with all his hard work. He stopped to sign shirts and caps while you stood behind. Everyone had their phones out, filming Franco, but you knew you’d inevitably end up in the background. You just hoped you didn’t look too awkward. 

Franco turned his head back to you as the crowd behind the barrier just grew more and more excited. “You see this, YN? This is insane!” his smile stretched from ear to ear, and you just smiled in response. He climbed up the fence, eliciting a small giggle from you, and filmed the crowd below him chanting his name.

You had never been more proud of him. And you had to say it. 

So you did, after dinner when you all somehow ended up in his hotel room together again. The atmosphere was…calm. Familiar. Warm.

The conversation had reached a natural pause, and the night had gotten to that point where that space between you and him felt simultaneously infinite and nonexistent. 

He sat crossed legged on the bed, fiddling with something in his suitcase next to him. You sat on the chair only a few feet away.

“I’m so proud of you, Franco. I don’t tell you enough.”

He looked up and your eyes met. And he blushed. You had made Franco Colapinto blush.

“When did you get all sappy on me?” he asked. There was still a bit of a wall up. It was unusual for you all to be this vulnerable with each other.

“Since my best friend in the entire world is achieving all his dreams! I mean, we’re celebrating points now, but one day we’ll be celebrating podiums. And then race wins. And then championships. I believe it.”

The room was draped in a thick silence. Franco knew you didn’t throw these words around carelessly. And the unspoken implication, that you’d be there for all of it.

“I believe it too,” he said quietly. There was no ego in his statement. Only true hope.

[evilmenarehot]

Rafe the Protector

Frat!Rafe x reader (established relationship)

Summary: At one of Rafes frat party a guy gets a little too handsy and Rafe comes to the rescue.

Themes : Mainly fluff! Slight angst cause of gross boy who can’t take no for an answer 🙄

*this is my second time ever writing so once again cut me some slack😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could already hear the music blaring from inside the party when you stepped out of your uber. Tired from your long day at school you start to regret showing up, but your promised Rafe. Plus it’s nothing a little bit of liquor won’t fix. You look around and notice that the line to get in is at least 30 people deep, but luckily you’re the Tri Delt’s frat sweetheart. Meaning you get the lovely power of skipping the line. A perk you get when you’ve been dating the frat president for almost a year. You approach the door where two of the pledges have been given bouncer privileges where you wait for them to finish talking to the girls at the front of the line. Once done you step up and clear your throat to get their attention. “Hi my name should be on the list” you smile at them.

They look at each other as the smaller one hands the taller one their clipboard and give you a look that is probably supposed to be intimidating. However considering they’re barely legal adults is just kind of funny. “What’s the name?” “Oh it’s y/n, y/n l/n” you patiently wait for them to find your name as you hum along to the song playing inside, once your name is found they cross it off, and wish you a good time while opening the velvet rope. There wasn’t a velvet rope last year so I guess these guys take their jobs very seriously.

As soon as you step inside you’re hit with the smell of sweaty men and weed. What a glorious combination to be met with. You make your way around trying to spot your freshly buzz cutted boyfriend, but this place was packed. Luckily you see a familiar face in the crowd and make you’re way up, “hey topper have you seen Rafe? I just got here.” He looks down at you and his eyes are bright red, meaning that someone’s having fun. “Omg y/n hey, uhh I think I saw him out in the back boutta play some pong” he basically yells in your ear trying to overpower the music. “Okay thank you” you give him a smile and make your way to the back deck.

As you approach the sliding glass doors you can already see him playing pong against two pledges, and winning while doing so. You take a moment to appreciate his looks, wearing a gold chain and a tight fitting white t-shirt, he’s the epitome of sexy. You slide open the doors and make your way up to him sneaking your arms around his waist from behind. He jerks around in surprise until he’s met with your eyes. He puts his arm around your waist and sneaks down for a kiss. “Hey baby” he says with a smile. He lets go for a minute to give his attention to the beer pong in front of him but as soon as he lands it, he turns back to you. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah I did, came straight to you.” You smile up at him,

“Okay I have one more cup to sink and then I’m all yours.” You let go and step back to let him focus on doing his thing. The crowd around goes silent while he takes aim, he shoots and lands his ball in the cup with a little splash. As the crowd erupts around him he turns around to pick you up and spin you around in victory. You giggle in return and wrap your arms around his neck. When he sets you on the ground he gives you a quick peck on the lips and ushers you both off to a quieter place of the house.

You end up in the kitchen where he puts you up on the counter and starts to prepare you a drink. He turns back around and hands you a red solo cup with some sort of red liquid in it. You give him a look of distrust, “ what is this?” “Just try it baby you’ll like it I promise,” you look down at it hesitantly and take a small sip. To your surprise it tastes rather good, like strawberry or something. You look up at him and give him a soft smile.

“Okay that is actually kind of good.” He smirks in response, “now why would I make you a drink that’s anything but.” You giggle and take another sip of your drink while Rafe gets a refill of his beer. “So how was my beautiful girl's day?” He asks while leaning on the island that is opposite of you. “It was good, just long, glad to have a night to relax, what about you?” He lets out a chuckle and takes a sip of his beer contemplating his day's events. “Uh I skipped class, bought some kegs, threatened some pledges, you know, just a typical Rafe day.” You chuckle to yourself and look at him to see he's smiling like a fool and staring at you.

“What, why are you looking at me like that?”

He steps closer to you and wraps his arms around your torso.

“Because I just love you, that's all.”

You sigh in his embrace, and after a moment you slightly push him back so you’re looking in his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be big bad frat president Rafe Cameron, if people hear you talking like a love sick dope your reputation might be ruined” you joke at him. He hums in response and looks around the room.

“Well luckily no one is here to find out my secret. Now come on, it's a party, let’s go party!”

He picks you up from the counter and sets you on the floor, giving your ass a little slap as you walk in front of him. You look back shaking your head with joking disappointment and make your way out to the crowd.

You spot some of your friends and lean back to tell Rafe you’re gonna go say hi. You walk towards them and after catching up you guys make your way onto the dance floor. You guys dance for a while throwing back more drinks and eventually you notice a few guys come and start dancing with them. Your friends seem to be fine with it so you look around hoping you’d find rafe to come join you so you’re not dancing by yourself. Instead of finding rafe some random guy walks up in front of you blocking your view.

“Hey sweetie looking for a dance partner?”

You back up from him allowing for some more space and continue to look around the room. “Um no thank you I already have one.” He cuts the distance again and leans down to talk into your ear “is he a ghost or something because I don’t see him here” he says with a laugh. You take another step back bumping into the person behind you and push him further away. “I think I’m just gonna go get some water and fresh air.” You turn to leave this weird situation when he instead grips your wrist and pulls you back in.

You frantically look around for rafe hoping to be saved from this moment, but the creepy guy continues to talk low in your ear. “I’m just trying to be nice. I don't get why you’re being such a bitch, it’ll be fun. Come on darling.” You try to find your friends in the crowd only to realize they’ve all disappeared. You realize you’re completely alone in the situation.

“Please just leave me alone” you say as you try to pry your wrist out of his grasp but instead he takes your hips and tries to force you to start dancing. Right when your fight or flight response is about to kick in you feel his hands being violently ripped away from your body.

You look over to see Rafe towering over them holding the guy by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey I don’t know if you have hearing problems or you just have a low fucking IQ, but I’m pretty sure the girl said to leave her alone.”

Everyone around goes quiet to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. The guy starts sputtering in response unsure of what to say, but Rafe doesn’t let him get a word in. Instead he turns the man around to face you and puts him in a headlock so he can’t go anywhere. “I’m going to need you to apologize to her before I take away your ability to breathe, got it?”

The guy shakes his head violently understanding the repercussions if he doesn’t listen. “I’m sssssorry” the man stutters. Rafe clearly not pleased with that pushes further, “you’re sorry for what?” He tightens his arm around the guy's throat waiting for the man to respond. “I’m sssorry for fffforcing myself on you,” Rafe looks down at the man in his grasp, still not fully satisfied with the apology. He then looks at you realizing how uncomfortable you are. Rafe decides it’s best to end this now so he can comfort you, even though he’d prefer to beat this guy unconscious, you’re the priority right now. He lets the guy go and looks at Topper giving him a nod towards the door. Topper then takes the guy by the shoulders to lead him out to the front door, and makes sure he gets his name to add him to the ban list.

Rafe then walked up to you wrapping his arms around your shoulders pulling you into him. “Are you okay?” You silently nod into his chest not wanting to break apart. Seeing that everyone is still staring he covers your ears before he yells as not to hurt your head.

“THIS IS A PARTY SO STOP STARING AND GET BACK TO IT”,

he lets go of you and grabs your hand leading you to the stairs at the front of the house. He then leans down to whisper in your ear, “why don’t you go up to my room, change into something comfy and I’ll meet you up there in like 5 mins.” You nod your head in compliance, no longer in the mood to party, and make your way to the third floor where his room is.

You approach his keypad locked door that he put in place due to the always too many roaming strangers in a frat house. You enter the code, your birthday, and make your way into his room. You make sure to close the door behind you and immediately head to his dresser. You rummage through his shirts until you find one you like and you start to strip off your party outfit. You slide the large shirt over your head leaving you in just his shirt fitting you like a dress. You go into his adjoined bathroom and start to wash off your makeup needing to wash off the night's events. Once your face is nice and clean, you take your place in the middle of Rafes bed and scroll on your phone waiting for him to come back.

After a few minutes you hear the door click open and see Rafe walk in. In his arms is an abundance of snacks and some water bottles. He places it all down on the bed in front of you and then looks at you in your curled up position. “I thought we would just have our own little movie night here instead. The party was boring anyways.” You smile up at him opening your arms, waiting for him to come into your embrace. He lays on top of you for a few minutes, the two of you just enjoying each other's company. Then he eventually stands up to grabs his tv remote off of his nightstand and passes it to you.

“Since your night was traumatized it’s only fair that it’s your movie pick.” You gladly accept the remote with a giggle. You hear him sigh from beside you and say, “I am really sorry I let that happen, I’m not letting you leave my side for now on, I should have been there.” You look over at him to see how beaten up he looks. You put your hand on his check and lightly caress his face to comfort him. “This was not your fault, and I’m not going to make you my bodyguard, we each should be allowed to do our own things and see our own friends. I’ll just be more careful on the dance floor.” You grin at him hoping to lighten the mood.

He removes your hand that’s resting on his face and gives a kiss to your palm. “You’re right, but I meant what I said about someone needing to watch you.” You roll your eyes knowing he is not going to let this go.

“New pledge duty, y/n bodyguard. I’m not letting you out of the pledge's sight for now on, and if they let something happen to you, no frat for them.” He crosses his arms looking proud of his new idea. You scoff in amusement . “ You can’t just assign a random freshman to follow me around everywhere, I can protect myself.” You stare him down hoping he’ll loosen his resolve and give up this crazy idea. He pretends to think about it for a minute before speaking up,

“yeah as much as I believe you, tonight didn’t prove that. Plus it’s too late I’ve already decided, you need a bodyguard. Can’t have anything happen to the Tri Delt First Lady now can we.” He slyly moves his arm around you pulling you in as you two snuggle up and prepare yourself for your impromptu movie night. “ I will stop complaining as long as we can watch pitch perfect” you bat your eyelashes up at him hoping it’ll help sway his mind. He looks at you with annoyance, but ultimately gives in.

“Fine, but y/n pledge duty starts tomorrow.” You chuckle at him and grab onto his bicep to get comfortable as you press play. “I love you Rafe” you mumble into his arm. You feel him give a kiss to the top of your head and hear him whisper

“I love you too baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*should I do a part two where she has to deal with a pledge being her bodyguard?! Let me know 💖

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[hijinxinprogress]

I need Billy thinking he’s so great at hiding things (and he is) no one knows he’s like fucking eight but they are pretty sure he hates like half the league

Like I need Billy getting along with everyone but he’s kinda stiff around flash and Batman but it’s get worse after most of them have revealed their secret ids and the jls so confused

Billy 100% thought Batman had all these fucking gadgets bc he was like some high up government official and then he found out no Batman’s just some rich guy and he’s like god no why is that worse

Batman just doesn’t care (he does 💀 he’s so fucking offended esp bc Marvel used to call him Mr. Batman sir but also bc he thought it’d be easier to get marvels secret id and weaknesses) as long as it doesn’t affect missions but Flash is kinda concerned bc ‘I’m pretty nice to him…does he think I don’t like him?? Did I offend him?? Do speedsters like set off the magic balance or whatever??’ 

They decide to pair up flash, Batman, and Captain Marvel to make sure their issues won’t affect team cohesion so after they’re done rescuing these kids that got involved in some supervillains masterplan Batman and flash are doing the usual spiel of ‘the laws exist for a reason,’ ‘you can trust the police’ and ‘there’s no good reason to turn to crime’

These kids want nothing to do with that shit and they’re trying to edge away while making excuses ‘thank you sm!! But no this is so safe, I know this area so well! We can get home ourselves!’ as soon as Batman starts asking about their parents so captain marvel just grabs Batman and flash and starts flying in the opposite direction ‘do you see that?? No guys seriously look at this cool thing!!’ and Batman’s growling about ‘childish to a degree that’s entirely unprofessional’ and ‘needlessly endangering civilians, civilian children at that-!’ and flash is trying to mediate but batman is shoving documents in his face ‘They were runaways, they don’t have anywhere to go and now they’re on a hitlist’ the ‘you fucking imbecile’ goes unsaid but they all hear it so marvel takes them back to villains lair and grabs a henchman at random and goes ‘This guys a cop…you can check that with your fancy equipment, right??’ and batman checks solely to prove him wrong but that guy is a cop and so are about 60% of the henchmen they took out then marvel goes ‘So they wouldn’t have been safe even if you took them to a hospital or child services’

Before the id reveals there’s a mission where the police are involved and flash mentions something about police protocol and marvel is so concerned bc ‘you’re still undercover? How long have you been under cover dude??’ and flash is confused bc ‘you know I’m not undercover right?? That is my actual real life day job’ and no one believes him when he says marvel shot him the most disgusted look you can imagine and edged away from him 

Batman tries to hold a meeting to address how marvel deals with the police and it goes no where bc marvel is fucking menace and goes ‘don’t you do that too?? And technically I’m also a vigilante sooo’ and batman is scrambling to get the jls attention back like ‘marvel hits cops 62% percent harder than other criminals and is 43% less friendly when interacting with the police in any capacity’ but they don’t care bc they want to know why marvel considers himself a vigilante 

They start letting Marvel be the one to approach children and notice that he’s advising them on how to make food last longer and maintain good hygiene while taking care of themselves and a jl members like hey wtf?? and Marvel says some bullshit about how ‘he’s lived many lives and not all of them were charmed’ and it gets back to cyborg who starts a rumor that he was dracula bc he can’t believe marvel had the balls to look WW in the eyes and lie to her fucking face

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Boundaries

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: Y/n stands up for her wife, and gets in trouble for it

A/N: We'd all do this, right?

Warnings: angst, slurs, violence, fluff

You hadn’t meant for everything to get so out of hand. Honestly, you usually did a much better job of controlling your anger, but it had been a rough week for you, and this asshole had really hit a nerve. 

You’d been stuck at the compound all week because the clinic was closed for repairs. The power had gone out suddenly during a surgery last week, and this exposed all kinds of electrical issues that needed to be fixed. Given that this process involved having an entire team of people present and the power to be turned off while they worked, you were getting a paid vacation. This usually wasn’t something to sniff at, but the fact that your wife was so busy this week and barely had anytime to see you made it seem like more of a curse than a gift. 

You’d spent a lot of time in your rooms because you didn’t really feel like navigating the crowds of people downstairs. They all worked for your wife, some in a roundabout way, but that meant that they were involved in some sort of crime that you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t believe that they cared enough about your presence, or hell even knew who you were, so you’d allowed yourself a daily trip downstairs to frequent your favorite restaurant at lunch. 

It's not until you make a rather impulsive decision that you realize maybe it would be better if people knew who you were. 

Downstairs it's hectic as always during lunchtime, even when you go near the tail end, so you’re waiting patiently for your friend Larry to have time to help you. You’re probably fourth in line, if the group that’s loud and obnoxious is all together, and you try to block them out by scrolling mindlessly on your phone. 

“So what assignment did we get stuck with this time?”

“Damn, Hawk, didn’t you pay any attention during the briefing?”

A long silence is the only answer his friend, and you unfortunately, need to know that he most certainly did not. You don’t really care to hear what they’re about to say given how extensive your wife’s reach is in this city. They could be talking about something as mundane as patrol or as horrifying as murder.

You wish you’d brought your headphones, but they’re still charging and nothing quite kills the mood like having ‘battery low’ chirp during your favorite songs. 

You watch with an impatient scowl as the brunette in front of you finally just shrugs before offering his friend a smile that makes your skin crawl. 

“Barely, I was still thinking about my run-in with the boss.” 

This makes you frown but you only get a moment to consider who he’s talking about before another member of their group, a blonde with a bad haircut speaks up with a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t run into her. You just stared at her like a creep when she walked by.” 

“Yeah dude, come on, when are you going to let that go?”

You’ve abandoned even the pretense of scrolling through your feed when your suspicions are confirmed a few seconds later. You really wish this creep would just order his food and get out of your sight, but that was obviously unreasonable of you. 

“It’s hard, man. Come on, don’t tell me you don’t find Maximoff smokin’ hot.”

You’d gag if it wouldn’t draw their attention, but seriously. Ick. You tell yourself that he’s just some hormonal dude who doesn’t have a chance in hell with Wanda. Believing this is made easier by you going to your texts and opening the last conversation you had with your wife which was annoyingly two days ago.

You’re smiling as you read her response to your latest request for a dog, and you follow dutifully, almost absentmindedly as the line begins to move. 

“Well, no shit, but she’s married, and a lesbian right?” 

You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing or flat out saying ‘no shit’ in response. You really should have brought your headphones.

Wanda was dangerously close to running as she left her last meeting to head back to her rooms. She was hoping that the fifteen-minute break she had would be enough to check on you because honestly, she was so sick of not seeing you until she finally managed to call it a night well past your usual bedtime. Usually it wouldn’t be so bad, just annoying, but you weren’t working this week because of a problem at the clinic, and she wanted to spend time with you. Of course, her busiest week of the year just so happened to fall during your impromptu vacation, so it had honestly been days since she’d talked to you before the late hours of the night.

She was trying to fix this now, but as she wandered into their private rooms, she realizes you aren’t here. The television is off and the bed’s made, but there’s no note saying where you went. She’s not sure why she expected one since she doubted you would think she’d have time to stop by. Wanda sighs and checks her watch before she decides to try and push it and check downstairs for you. She’s well aware of your near obsession with one of the restaurants on the first floor, so she figures if you’re anywhere, it’s there. 

You were hoping that this brunette, Hawk you think it was, would have a reasonable response to being told that his crush or whatever is married. For once, your normal underestimation of most men, wasn’t unfair. 

You’re forcing yourself to look at dog pictures when you hear an exaggerated sigh that can’t mean anything good. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure I could bring her around…”

You’re mid-eyeroll when he says something that makes your blood boil.

“One way or another.” 

“You’re fucking disgusting.” 

You are made aware of the fact that you hadn’t said this in your head when the four men turn to stare you down. You resist the urge to flinch and instead you glare at the brunette who’s crossed too many lines for you to forgive at this point.

You all miss when it’s their turn to order because you’re all too busy glaring at each other. Hawk turns to face you fully and sneers before he takes a step toward you.

“What did you just say to me?” 

You can feel your frustration growing and it’s certainly surpassed any sense of self-preservation you have at this point. You close the distance so you’re practically standing toe to toe before you repeat what you said, but a little bit louder in case he truly hadn’t heard you. Which you sincerely doubt.

“I said, you’re fucking disgusting.” 

You ignore all of his friends muttering under their breath and keep your focus on the now glaring brunette. You wonder how stupid you’re being going against someone like him who you’re unlikely to talk sense into. Not to mention its potentially four to one. Maybe two if Larry steps in which you hope he doesn’t. 

“How about you mind your own fucking business?” 

You smile and it surprisingly doesn’t fade when he shoves you hard enough to make you take a step back. You don’t notice Larry’s caught on to what’s happening, and you laugh in Hawk’s face before stepping forward like he hadn’t even pushed you. 

“Believe it or not, dumbass. This is my business.” 

You see confusion briefly before it turns into an annoying smugness that makes you want to punch him. You honestly should have left this alone, but you’re in it now, so you either have to back off and run away with your metaphorical tail tucked between your legs or…

“What? Are you telling me you’re a dyke too?”

Your smile fades at the slur which unfortunately makes him smile, but you recover quickly before shooting him a saccharine smile.

“For sure, and as a dyke I can tell you that she would never go for a disgusting piece of shit like you.” 

You’re ready for him this time, so when he reaches out to grab you, you sidestep him before punching him in the face. You wince slightly because damn that hurt, but you immediately curse yourself for turning your back on his friends. 

Two sets of hands grab you and you faintly hear someone shouting in protest as you face Hawk and his already reddening face. You don’t have time to feel smug about it as you try and fail to shake off the duo behind you. 

“You’re going to regret that you little bitch.” 

He grabs you from his friends and raises his fist to punch you, and you’re about to kick him in the balls when you hear a familiar voice. 

Wanda had made good time and when she arrives downstairs to see the crowds of people she realizes that she won’t have much time to catch up with you at all. She walks towards the food court and the restaurant that you’d eat at for every meal if you could. She stops in her tracks when she notices what looks like an argument playing out between some people waiting in line. 

She sees the man behind the counter, someone you’d befriended quickly, scowling and shouting at a group of men who are surrounding…

“Hey! Let her go!”

Wanda hurries to close the distance between them and she watches as all of the men except the one with his back to her flinch and immediately step away from you. The brunette who’s still holding onto you and only seconds away from hitting you, turns to practically snarl at her.

“She fucking started it, the--!”

He trails off as he finally notices who’d interrupted them, and he drops you immediately as his eyes widen in horror. Wanda just glares at him as she looks between you and the group of men you’d somehow gotten into an argument with. She considers just letting it go and getting you out of there, but her curiosity gets the best of her.

“Oh, and what exactly did she start?” 

You wait with bated breath to see what Hawk says about what happened. You truly don’t believe he’s dumb enough to admit that he’d been saying such disgusting things about his boss, to her face. That said, fear makes you do dumb things apparently. 

“She was butting into our conversation about you—”

He trails off as his eyes widen even further and his friends hiss under their breaths as they continue to take small steps back. One of them even turns around and tries to order something, but Larry just shoots him an incredulous look.

Wanda frowns in confusion and she tilts her head as she regards the sweaty brunette in front of her.

“Me? Why on Earth were you talking about me?” 

You can’t help yourself and you grumble something that’s only meant for your wife, but of course they all hear it. 

“Drooling over you, more like it.”

You watch in awe as Wanda seems to realize what she’d walked into and makes a decision on how to deal with it in a split second. She glowers at Hawk who’s the only one of his group that’s within reach, not that she even needs to grab him to keep him still. He’s petrified and as still as a statue as Wanda takes a step toward him. 

“What’s your name?” 

Wanda could look for his ID badge, but that’s not nearly as satisfying as having him say it. She only has to wait for a split second before the brunette is mumbling his name just loud enough for you and Wanda to hear. You see your wife consider dragging this out, but like you, she just wants to get out of here. 

“Alright, Hawkins, here’s the deal. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If you step out of line again, you’re gone, understood?” 

The brunette’s fear is dimmed a bit by his anger and confusion at being chastised for participating in an argument that he didn’t even start. He doesn’t get why you’re not getting into trouble, but Wanda’s happy to fill him in and render him speechless in the process. 

“Also, I’ll be reporting this incident to your superior. She’ll decide your punishment for manhandling my wife.” 

Wanda doesn’t wait for a response, she doesn’t need one, before she reaches out for your hand. 

“Come on, detka.” 

You grab her hand and don’t look back as you leave the stunned group in the dust. The only one who’s not surprised is Larry, but he’s already sending the men away without food. That at least makes you feel better about not getting any either. 

“Not exactly how I wanted to see you in the daylight for the first time in days.” 

Wanda is still practically dragging you toward the elevators, so you can’t tell if she’s upset with you. You don’t have to wonder too long though as she offers you a rueful smile before she presses the button and leans against the wall with a sigh. 

“Definitely not, but I’m glad I showed up when I did.” 

It’s your turn to smile and your face heats up in embarrassment as you follow Wanda into the elevator. 

“Yeah, thanks. That got a little out of hand.” 

Wanda just hums in acknowledgment as she scans her badge and presses the button for your private floor. She figures she can be a little late to her next meeting given the circumstances. She waits until the doors are shut before turning to you with a frown.

“What did he say, Y/n?” 

You frown too and just shake your head before deciding that its not even worth repeating. You tell your wife that he’d just said something gross about convincing her to sleep with him. Wanda’s still frowning when you arrive to your floor without food, but she’s quick to follow you out and into your rooms.

“I’m surprised you said anything.” 

You can’t blame her for saying this because honestly you’re still surprised too. It wasn’t even something new and different that Hawkins had been saying. You’d heard it before, but for some reason today you just couldn’t put up with it. Maybe you were just fed up with male arrogance and his claims about turning your wife’s head made you want to punch him. 

You eventually just sigh before you collapse onto the couch and shake your head in defeat. 

“Me too, Wands, but come on. He called you smokin’, how cringe is that?” 

Wanda surprises you by laughing and it actually makes you smile before you remember you’re supposed to be pouting. You wait until Wanda sits down beside you and reaches out for you wordlessly. You don’t hesitate to move closer to her and let her wrap her arms around you. You sigh in relief, happy to be in your wife’s presence, even if the circumstances that led you here weren’t pleasant. 

“What? You don’t think I’m smoking hot?” 

You laugh out loud at this and turn so you can face your wife before leaning in to kiss her. You pull away too soon for either of your liking, but you know she likely has things to do, and you don’t want to get too distracted.

“You’re gorgeous, but that’s only one of the many things I love about you. He was just focused on your looks which despite being what they are is…ugh.” 

Wanda smiles at you and she kisses your forehead before quickly glancing at the clock in the kitchen. She needs to go, and she hates herself for it. 

“I love you too, detka. I love you for coming to my defense, but maybe next time make sure your odds are a bit better?”

You roll your eyes but still smile as you lay your head against your wife’s shoulder. You don’t care if you only get a few minutes. You’re going to enjoy the time you have with her for as long as possible. 

“Will do, Wands.”

Masterlist

[nakylvr]

— FRIEND OR FOE

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

summary: after a long mission, sophia returns to her apartment to see you inside. the only odd thing? you weren't friends.

warnings/tags: fluff, kate bishop!sophia, yelena belova!reader, mild language, one sided enemies to lovers, some tension

will probably do more parts of this cause i love me a good one sided enemies to lovers! for now, here is a beginner short piece while i work on reqs 🫡

with a tired sigh, sophia unlocked the door to her apartment, her bow and arrows slung over her shoulder half hanging off. walking inside, she turns on the light and almost jumps out of her skin at the sight.

"what the hell?!" she lets out before she can think.

"what?" you sit at the woman's dining room table, eating a plate of mac and cheese from the pot.

"how did you get in my house?" sophia questions immediately, setting her things down slowly.

"your window was open," you answer, taking a bite of the food. "you should really check before you leave. i could've stolen something!"

"god..." sophia sighs. "why are you here?" she crosses her arms over her chest.

"well, since you asked," you set the fork down and lean back in the chair. "i wanted to see you." you smile.

sophia's eyebrows furrowed together, but a flush of pink raises on her cheeks at your words, but she shakes it off, letting out another sigh. "you mean you're not going to attack me like last time?"

"hey! how was i supposed to know?" you reply, sitting normal in the chair now. "i wasn't trying to hurt you, anyways."

"really?" sophia raises an eyebrow. "considering you almost dislocated my arm, threw me through a glass table and then jumped off a roof to leave, how should i know?"

"okay..." your voice trails off. "it's not that big of a deal."

sophia's jaw clenches, and you can see it, causing a cheeky smile to form on your face. but before you can say anything, she beats you to it.

"so you beating me up, almost killing my mentor, and getting my mother arrested isn't that big of a deal?"

"well, when you put it that way," you say, shrugging. "i was doing my job. i'm not exactly allowed to say no."

"right," sophia scoffs, shaking her head.

"oh come on pretty, you're seriously upset?" you get up from the chair, taking a couple of steps towards her.

"don't call me that," sophia says sternly, but the pink tint is back on her face. "obviously i would be upset, i was in the hospital for a week. not to mention my mentor lost his hearing in one ear and i now can never see my mother again. so yeah, i think i have a right to be."

"mm," you hum, taking another step closer to her. "then why aren't you trying to kill me right now? it'd be labeled as self defense, i did technically break in."

a silence fills the space between you two, and your smile only grows the longer it takes for sophia to answer your question. you can see her thinking, genuinely thinking why she hasn't started swinging yet considering the last interaction between you both. she doesn't know why she isn't, or hasn't yet. as she stares up at you, and that fucking smile on your face, she doesn't know if she wants to punch you or kiss you. but, when you take another step, she immediately reacts and her fist collides with your face.

your head jerks to the side from the force and you stumble backwards, your hand grabbing your jaw as you let out a quiet groan. "you can really pack a punch, pretty," you say, looking at her with a now busted lip.

"get out," sophia says, pointing to the door.

"you don't want me around? i'm offended," you put your hand over your heart in fake pain.

sophia walks up to you, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and yanking you down to her level. "if you don't leave i will kill you, and if i see you again i will kill you."

"is that a promise?" you smile.

how infuriating could one person be? sophia thought she wouldn't have to see you again after all of what went down during christmas, and yet you somehow managed to sneak into her apartment. who the hell does that? especially for someone they tried to kill the last time?

"fuck you," she hisses.

"i know you want to," you respond, practically grinning now.

with a roll of her eyes sophia lets go of your shirt and puts her hand on your chest, pushing you towards the front door. "get out of my house, and don't come back."

"i'm not sure i can make that promise," you say, letting her push you towards the door. "i'm kinda supposed to watch over you. that's what the boss told me."

your words fall deaf on sophia's ears who isn't even listening as she continues to shove you to the door, opening it and pushing you outside into the hallway. standing with her hand on the door, she shakes her head before slamming the door closed. leaving you standing there in the hallway.

"hm, this might be more difficult than i thought," you say to yourself, but a smile is still on your face. "more fun for me, then."

grumbling curses under her breath, sophia walks away from the door, her phone buzzing in her pocket making her take it out and look at it. when she saw the messages, her eyes went wide.

clint/mentor

just got some news from HQ. since i won't be accompanying you on missions anymore, steve agreed to let someone join you.

yn ln

yes, the one that tried to kill us

don't kill her.

"are you joking?" sophia spat out, looking at the messages in disbelief. "this has to be a joke."

clint/mentor

it's not a joke.

"jesus christ," sophia grumbles under her breath. "i'm going to kill someone."