#it's the 'you don't know what you're asking of me' - maybe i know exactly what i'm asking

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather that’s flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)

Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol

Warnings: angst galore!

Word count: 2,801

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The heavy oak doors of the estate’s study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.

The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. He’s a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.

A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These aren’t just numbers and figures on a page—they represent your children’s future, your security, and the small corner of independence you’re desperately trying to carve out for yourself. “Now, given the scale of your family’s assets,” your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, “it’s prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstances—marital or otherwise.”

You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafe’s unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you can’t afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.

“We’re talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain age—18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.”

“And what about Rafe’s side of the family?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. “Would they have any legal claim?” The lawyer shakes his head firmly. “No. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no one—not even your husband—could alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.”

You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wanted—an impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your children’s future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafe’s influence or the demands of your family. “Thank you,” you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. “I want everything arranged quietly,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.

“No one else needs to know about this… especially my husband.” The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. “Discretion is key, as always.” You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.

The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you can’t shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell him.

~

The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.

"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in it—the suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"

You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"

Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafe’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He’s already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "It’s nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."

Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Don’t play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasn’t just about your parents or your siblings."

His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "You’re setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. Of course, you knew he’d react like this, but hearing it out loud—his anger, his distrust—it’s worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.

"It’s for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure they’re taken care of, no matter what happens. That’s all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.

Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.

"You don’t trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldn’t look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he can’t comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.

"That’s not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstanding—of him always assuming the worst—pushes you to the brink. "I’m doing this to protect them. To protect us. You can’t control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.

"You’re doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And I’m supposed to believe it’s just for the kids? You don’t set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like you’re preparing for something else. Like maybe you’re planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"

His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. It’s not just anger simmering in his voice—there’s fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life you’re carrying.

“And have our children without their father?” you ask, your voice sharp. There’s a flicker of something more beneath the surface—hurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. “Rafe…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what you’ve just implied. “I’m not leaving you.”

The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isn’t about that,” you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. “But I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. “I’m not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that I’m not just a piece in this game.”

You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think I’m the threat here? You think I wouldn’t protect you? Protect our family?"

You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something else—something more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.

"This isn’t how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm you’ve been clinging to. It’s a painful reminder of what your marriage has become—what it’s always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life… it’s not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for that argument.

"I know," you whisper, though you’re not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.

For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gap—but the weight of your decision, of everything you’ve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. It’s a boundary you can’t afford to cross right now. "You should’ve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. There’s hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.

Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didn’t want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasn’t trying to hide it from you."

Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerable—something he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.

"Our lives… they’re not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.

He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. It’s a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if he’s silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.

You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldn’t. It’s as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, there’s something deeper binding you together—a love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. “I’m not the enemy, Y/n,” he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.

His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesn’t let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different now—quieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.

Rafe’s hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, it’s no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.

You know this isn’t over. Rafe’s suspicions won’t vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, he’ll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.

[firewasabeast]

“Tommy!” Eddie cheered, lifting his drink toward the sky as he spotted his friend walking toward him. “Whatcha doin' here, Man?”

“Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing, Bud,” Tommy replied. He gave Eddie a pat on the back as he sat down in the empty seat next to him. “You come here alone?”

“Mhm. Needed ta get out. House's too quiet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” the bartender interrupted as he walked by. “Was about to cut him off. I already took his keys.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed, looking around the bar counter. “Hey! You took my keys.”

“I got him,” Tommy said, giving the bartender a nod. “I gotta say, at least you're talking better than you're texting. I was worried.”

Eddie's face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh? I never did texted you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Tommy fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and went to his messages. “'Buuuuuuuck, lezz drink, Buddy.' Then five minutes later, 'Bruck, why rn't you at bar? I waiting.' A good two minutes after that you sent me your location with an angry emoji. Then, and this is my personal favorite, 'Loser too busy kissy kissy with Tummy to be a friendship.'”

"Huh. Thought I was textin' Buck.”

“Yeah, I pieced that together.”

“So where's Buck if you're not kissy kissy?” Eddie asked, his final drink sloshing over his fingers as he attempted to bring it to his lips.

Tommy took the drink from Eddie and set it back on the counter. “Evan is watching Jee overnight so Howie and Maddie can have a night away. So, you wanna talk about whatever's bothering you? I mean, I could take a guess, but...”

“Nah. No, no, nope. I wanna,” Eddie pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Lessgo karaoke, Tomboy-”

“We're not calling me that.”

“I wanna sing to the rooftops,” Eddie continued, his words slurring more and more with each sentence. “I wanna. I wanna be, you know, be free, Tommy. I don't have a rea-,” he hiccuped, “reason to get back home.”

“Really? Seems like that's exactly where you need to be right now.”

Eddie's eyes widened, like he'd thought of the best idea in the entire world. “Let's go to Peeping Tom! That's your name!”

“Peeping Tom is a gay bar, Eddie.”

“I don judge.”

“A very kinky, fully nude gay bar,” Tommy clarified.

Eddie squinted, deep in thought. “No karaoke?”

“No karaoke.”

“Well, then were we go? Don't say home!”

“Home.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, allowing Tommy to wrap an arm around his back and help him up. “You're like a no- no fun dad. Wish I'd texted fun dad.”

Tommy gripped onto Eddie tighter as he stumbled while taking a step. He sighed. “Maybe next time.”

*****

When Eddie woke up the next morning it was to a pounding headache and blinding sunlight coming through his window. He was nauseous and his mouth tasted like a mixture of gasoline and mouthwash.

He laid there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what happened that made him feel so unbelievably ill.

After a few failed attempts, he finally rolled out of bed and made his way into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee.

He froze when he walked through the door to see Tommy sitting there, reading the newspaper.

“Good... morning?” Eddie started, confused.

Tommy set the paper down. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“I- I think so, I guess. It's a little blurry.”

Tommy hummed. “Not surprising. Coffee just finished, if you want some. Your couch is not comfortable, by the way.”

“Buck's never complained.”

“Yeah, well, he's easier to please than I am.”

Eddie was too hungover for this. He had so many questions, but for some reason the first one out of his mouth was: “Where'd you put my shoes?”

“In your closet.”

He grabbed himself a cup for some coffee. “My keys?”

“We have to go pick them up at the bar today, along with your car, obviously.”

“You didn't close my curtains last night. Woke up thinking I was being interrogated by Ice T.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back in his seat. “'Thank you so much for getting me home safely, Tommy. Did it hurt your back having to drag me into the house while I belted out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of my lungs?'” He stood, walking over to Eddie and taking the coffee out of his hand, drinking a big sip. “Thank you for asking, Eddie. I think my back will be okay, but my ears will never recover.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning to fix himself another cup. “Thank you for getting me home safely, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Mhm. No problem.” Tommy returned to his seat and Eddie joined him at the table. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking small sips of their drinks.

Eventually, Tommy set his cup down a little harder than normal, getting Eddie's attention with the clinking sound. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what? How your coffee tastes like cigarette sludge?”

“I'll take that as a no then.” Tommy checked his watch. “The bar doesn't open until three. Want me to stop by and pick you up then?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can just get an Uber, Man, thanks though.”

“Of course. I'll, uh, let you recover.” Tommy stood and went to leave, checking his pocket for his keys and phone.

As he neared the door, Eddie spoke. “Wait,” he said. Tommy turned back to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you sleep on my couch?”

“You're my friend,” he answered simply. “You drank a lot. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He took a step back toward the table. “Are you okay?”

Eddie cradled the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the cup. “You don't... How long has it been? Since you talked to your dad?”

Okay, so Tommy wasn't leaving then.

He came to the table and sat down, taking a moment to think about Eddie's question. “About six years, I think.”

“What did he do?” He looked over at Tommy. “To make you stop talking to him, I mean. Unless you don't wanna get into it. In fact, forget it, I shouldn't-”

“Eddie, it's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I don't mind.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded, sitting up straighter. “So? What happened?”

“It wasn't just one thing,” Tommy explained. “It was a lifetime of things. He's... He's not a good man. I think the catalyst was about a year after I came out. I hadn't been home in awhile, so I decided to drive to his place one weekend. When he answered the door he said, 'What the hell are you doing here?' I told him I was coming to see him and he said, 'What's the damn point in that?' I thought about it for a second and realized that was a good question, so I turned around, got in my car, and left. Never looked back.” Eddie seemed to be contemplating his words, and Tommy could tell where this was going. “It's not the same thing, Eddie,” he said, beating Eddie to it.

“What if he doesn't come back? What I did, Tommy, it wasn't... It was bad.”

“You made a mistake.”

“I cheated on my girlfriend with a doppelganger of his mom, Tommy, and he caught me.”

“Granted, it was a big mistake,” Tommy deadpanned. “But, still a mistake. He'll come around. You gotta give him time.”

“People keep telling me that,” Eddie replied with an eye roll. “That he'll come around. But it's been months of nothing. And it seems like no matter what I do, it's not enough.”

“You're trying.”

Eddie huffed. “I'm not sure getting drunk alone at a bar is trying.”

“I think it shows you care, Eddie. And, yeah, that shouldn't become a habit, but you're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to hurt. You made a mistake, but you're a good dad and Christopher knows that. He will come around.”

“And if he doesn't?” Eddie asked, staring over at Tommy.

“Then you keep trying,” Tommy replied. “You never stop trying. Keep being there, keep sending him letters and getting him on Facetime. Go for a visit. Send him texts. I'm not saying you gotta smother him, but never let him forget that you're there. That's the biggest mistake you could ever make.”

“Yeah,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're right. I just... I gotta keep it up. Let him know I'm here, whenever he's ready.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie looked over at the clock on his stove, 11:32 staring back at him. He had no idea he'd slept so long. “Why don't you call Buck, see if he wants to come over and watch a game? Then you can drive me to my car.”

“Oh, you want me to call Evan? Don't you mean fun dad?” Tommy asked, eying Eddie.

It took him a minute, but the memory came back to him. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“You did,” Tommy confirmed. “Which I'm very offended by, by the way. I'm fun!”

Eddie sighed, his head drooping down. “I know you are.”

“I introduced you to karaoke trivia. I've flown you to Vegas.”

“I remember.”

“I never tried to seriously injure you in the name of love.”

“Which I'm very grateful for.”

“I don't have control issues when I have a clipboard in my hand.”

“Are you just gonna keep listing reasons why you're fun?”

“I once shoved three cupcakes in my mouth at once! Nearly choked to death, but Evan whacked me on the back and everything went down just fine.”

Eddie stood with his mug in hand, pointing toward the living room, “I'm gonna go to the couch. Get more comfortable.”

Tommy followed behind, pulling out his phone to call Buck. “I'll let Evan tell you who bowled a 230 last week. Hint: it was me!”

[lycheeloving]

Why is there almost no Lex Luthor content... I saw him in Young Justice and immediately got inspired lol

Anyways, here's a yandere!Lex Luthor fic, with Superman and Batman rescuing you, but do they have good intentions? 👀 (gender neutral reader ofc)

Warnings for mind controlling/altering devices & substances ✌️ and general yandere stuff ofc

You're not the biggest fan of big events with many people, but with Lex at your side, you find you don't really mind anything, even the gala you're currently at.

Holding his hand, you happily watch him as he talks to rich people you couldn't care less about, when he turns to look at you.

You perk up as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You try to lean into it, but he pulls away too fast for your liking. At least you catch a whiff of his scent, he always smells so good...

"Be a doll and get yourself a drink at the bar, would you?"

Ah.

That's code for "we're going to talk about confidential business stuff". Sure. You can spend some time away from him, even if it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. You'll do it for him!

You silently nod, reluctantly let go of his hand and start making your way across the room towards the bar.

As you're leaving, you make out the word "Justice League". They have been giving him trouble recently, is that what their conversation is about? You can never remember what exactly their issue is with him... He's just a CEO!

Unfortunately the bar is out of earshot, so you can't keep listening, which is exactly why he sent you away in the first place, but you sit on a stool from which you can still easily see him.

He always says that you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about his boring business stuff, so you don't, but he always looks so good when talking about it! So serious and in charge...

After ordering a fun looking cocktail you sigh, already missing him.

You didn't use to like alcohol, but everything tastes better now that you know him, so you indulge in the occasional drink.

You catch yourself staring at Lex. Maybe you shouldn't look at him this much? What if people think he's weird for dating someone who's this obsessed with him? You don't want that for him, he has so much to deal with already... Swishing your drink around, you try to tear your eyes away from him.

You sigh again.

Somebody slides onto the stool next to you and orders a fancy sounding drink. He turns to you.

"Are you ok? I could hear you sighing from across the room."

"I'm fine... I just miss my boyfriend." You hold back another sigh and absentmindedly trace the rim of your glass.

"Oh, so you came here alone?"

"No, he's over there." You subtly point at him. "He's just talking about some important business stuff without me right now."

"Lex Luthor?" He pulls a face as you nod.

"So you're..." He says your name. Apparently people know you! Huh. You hadn't realized.

"I'm Bruce Wayne, by the way."

Now that he mentions it, you don't know how you didn't notice it before. He is quite famous. You probably should have recognized him, but you were too distracted by how dreamy Lex looks...

"What are you doing with him? I mean, he's not known for being fun. Or kind."

He sounds like he's joking, but you don't think it's funny. Your face turns serious.

"You must not know him very well, then."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Or him, I guess..." He trails off.

Changing the topic with a grin, he says: "I'm guessing that means I don't have a chance with you?"

You shake your head. He can't be serious.

"...What if I shave my head? Would you consider leaving Luthor for me if I was bald?"

You crack a little smile at that. But your answer remains the same.

"No, I wouldn't leave my Lexie for anyone."

His eyes widen. "Oh, wow, so your relationship is pretty serious, then?"

Why would he even ask that?

"Of course it's serious, I love him!"

He pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating something.

"...and does he love you?"

You gently touch the spot where Lex last pressed a kiss to your face and look in his direction, only to find he's already looking right back at you. You smile.

"He does." You're sure of it.

Bruce gets up from his chair as Lex starts making his way towards you. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm going to go find someone I actually have a chance with." And avoid a confrontation with Lex.

He winks at you. "Bye!"

You don't say anything back as he leaves, because you're too busy looking at Lex, who's now standing right in front of you. He puts his hands on the bar behind you, caging you in with his arms.

"What did Wayne want from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, nothing important." Already distracted, you reach up to play with his tie.

He raises an eyebrow. "Were you not paying attention to him? Good. Can't have you leaving me for him."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, even though you know he's just teasing you.

You would never! He smirks as if he can read your mind.

"Well, I have some more business to attend to. I have informed our driver that he is to take you home whenever you wish, while I will be returning to the office."

You pout at him. "I know your work is important, but please don't take too long. I'll miss you..."

He smirks. "I know, darling. I will hurry back to you."

The kiss he presses to your lips is eagerly reciprocated by you, before he gently pulls your hand away from his tie and goes back to the people he was talking to earlier, vanishing through the door.

No reason to stay here now that he's gone, right? You finish your drink and leave the building, but as you turn to look for your driver, you bump into someone.

You go to apologize, but the other guy is faster.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

His eyes widen and he straightens his glasses.

"Wait! You're Lex Luthors significant other, right?"

You nod with a smile. How lovely that this is what people know you as!

"I'm Clark Kent, with the Daily Planet. I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

Your smile vanishes. "No comment."

Lex told you that no matter what you say, reporters twist it in a way that makes you look bad, and that it's best not to engage.

He seems a bit disappointed at your quick response. "That's fair. But off the record, can I just ask how you met him? As far as I know, you weren't a part of these circles before you showed up on his arm one day."

"Off record?"

He nods.

You think you can trust him, at least with some of it.

"We met at my workplace. I used to be a barista."

Not knowing how to make it sound nice, you leave out the part where you thought he was rude to your coworker and reprimanded him, and how you only grudgingly agreed to go on a date with him because he cornered you after work and threatened to get your coworker fired if you refused.

But it was all a big misunderstanding! During that first date you realized that you really like him and that he's a really good guy!

He just didn't know how else you'd agree to go out with him after you were so angry at the beginning!

"So it was love at first sight?" Kent questions.

"Not first sight, maybe, but I knew he was the one during our first date. It just... felt so right."

Lex, of course, did know at first sight, but he's always been smarter than you, so it's not a surprise that he caught on more quickly.

"Well, thanks for the conversation. I'm going to find someone I can actually interview now, so my boss doesn't get too mad at me. Bye!"

He stumbles towards the building, bumping into someone else. What a clumsy guy! You catch him looking at you again before he enters through the door.

You finally make your way to the driver and get into the limo, driving home in silence.

Time for a lonely night without Lex...

After you get home and get ready for bed, you put on one of his shirts and go to sleep on his side of the bed.

That way you'll definitely wake up when he returns, because he refuses to sleep on your side. He'll have to get you out of the way somehow, probably pick you up...

Burying your face in his pillow where his scent is the strongest, you fall asleep.

A noise from the direction of Lex's home office wakes you up.

You're still on his side of the bed. Did he come home and keep working? Seriously? Maybe he'll let you sit in his lap while he finishes whatever he's doing...

Quietly walking towards his room, you hear low voices. Is Lex on a call? In the middle of the night?

As you make it to the entrance, you can finally make out words. It's not Lex.

"-only let you come because you said you could be stealthy. If I knew you'd be this loud, I would have come here alone."

You sneak a look around the door. Is that Batman? And-

"This is my city, and I know Luthor better than anyone, that's why I came along. Besides, I didn't make that much noise!"

-Superman!

You take a step back. Where is the button that alarms security again...? Next to the bed, right? You start making your way back to the bedroom, but...

"We have company."

You're almost at the button, try to start running towards it, but Superman is in front of you before you can blink. Shit.

"Sorry, can't let you inform anyone that we're here, we still haven't gotten everything we came for!"

He actually looks apologetic. What is wrong with him? Breaking into your home, but pretending to feel bad about it?

He holds onto both of your arms and leads you back into the office, where Batman is tinkering with Lex's computer. What could they be looking for?

"Well, if you're here already, we might as well ask you directly. What do you know about Luthor's mind-controlling technology?" Batman asks you.

Mind-controlling? What would Lex need that for?

"I- I think you've got the wrong person. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"People who usually would never cooperate with Luthor have started working for him, so I got suspicious. After some research I was able to figure out that he uses microchips to control them. But we haven't been able to figure out how to extract them without causing damage to the person they've been installed in."

Batman takes a step towards you.

"So I'll ask one more time. What do you know?"

You really have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wh- What would Lex even use that for? I don't understand!"

"Batman, are you sure they know anything? We're already 99% sure there's a chip inside of them as well, maybe one of its effects is not remembering anything about the chips?"

"It was worth a try." Batman turns to look at Superman. "I assume this means you haven't checked for a chip yet? Make yourself useful and use your x-ray vision."

"Oh, right! Right..." Superman mumbles. "No need to be rude about it."

He focuses his gaze on you. It's pretty unnerving, knowing he's looking inside of you. There's nothing you could hide from him, nothing you could do to make him stop looking at you. You hope he's really only looking inside of you...

After looking at you for too long for comfort, he chimes up: "Yep, there's a chip! Right in the shoulder."

Of course there's a chip in your shoulder, but that doesn't mean you're being controlled!

"That's just a tracker! Lex put it there in case I'm ever kidnapped or something, so he'll immediately know where I am!"

"...You let him put a tracker in you? Voluntarily?" Superman seems confused.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?" You're confused as well. Why wouldn't you let him? He did it because he loves you! To take care of you!

Batman doesn't seem to care, only humming in acknowledgement and going back to fiddling with the computer.

That reminds you that Lex put another gadget on you...

Your necklace (beautiful, expensive, and of the letters "LL") sends him a discreet emergency signal as soon as you take it off! You just need to be able to reach it...

"Um... Superman?" You crane your neck to look up at him.

"Do you have to hold onto me like that? I mean, just, what could I do to get away, right?"

You look up at him and try to look as confused and innocent as possible.

You glance at Batman. He seems to not be interested in your conversation at all, instead focusing on the computer. Good.

"You're fast enough to immediately catch me, before I could even take a tiny step! Just- This position is kind of awkward to be in, right?"

Please fall for it, please fall for it...

"Sure, you've been pretty cooperative so far, I don't think we have anything to worry about with you..."

He chuckles, almost embarrassed, then reluctantly lets go of his hold on your arms, flexing his hands.

Holy shit. It worked.

"Nice, thanks!" You smile. What an idiot.

Now you just have to play it cool...

Act natural and normal and not like you're up to anything...

You reach up to rub your neck, as if having turned it to look up at Superman strained it.

Well, it did, but you're mostly doing it to get your hands near the necklace. And now you just have to-

The necklace opens with a quiet click, followed by an alarm sounding from the computer.

Right. You forgot it sends a signal to all of Lex's technology, including the computer in this room. Oops.

Oh well, doesn't really make a difference if they're aware that you alarmed Lex or not. What could they do about it now?

Both Superman's and Batman's heads snap towards you. You smile. Lex should be on his way now.

"Superman, why would you let go of-" Batman cuts himself off. "Doesn't matter. I have the information we came here for. Let's go."

"Are we just going to leave them here?" Superman sounds concerned.

Batman walks towards you, holding something up to your face. "No."

It smells weird, what is that? You feel dizzy, try to pull your head away from it, but Batman is holding onto you, you can't move.

Then, everything goes black.

You wake up on a bed in a bright, unfamiliar room with an ache in your shoulder.

There's a bandage in the spot where your tracker is. Or, used to be, you assume.

Rude of them, to dig around in your body without your permission.

Lex will freak out when he hears about this. He must be looking for you already.

What is this, some kind of infirmary? Where exactly are you?

Just when you decide to get up and try to leave or find out more about where you are, Superman enters the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" He gently pushes you to lie back down. You don't object, you know how strong he is, even if he is being careful right now.

"You shouldn't get up yet, your body should still be adjusting to the chip being gone."

He looks at you with curiosity. Or with hope? You can't quite tell what his expression means.

"Which, by the way, do you feel any different? About Luthor? Any memories popping up that you couldn't remember before?"

Now that he mentions it, some of your time with Lex seems... clearer. You suddenly remember the whole chip thing. And that he's constantly trying to fight (and kill) Superman and the rest of the Justice League. And a bunch of immoral business choices. And villain stuff.

But you still love him.

"I don't feel any different."

Lex must have had a good reason to block those memories from your mind.

Maybe it was for exactly this scenario, so that if the Justice League kidnapped you, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything! Unfortunately they were able to restore those memories, but that doesn't mean that you have to tell them that and make it easier for them!

Superman looks disappointed. "Oh... That's unfortunate."

Why does he seem to be so invested in this? Just because he hates Lex? What does he care if Lex is in a relationship, that shouldn't concern him at all!

"So can I go now?" You throw your legs over the side of the bed and sit up again.

"I mean, now that you know that I wasn't influenced by that chip? You can't keep me here, that would be kidnapping!"

It already is kidnapping, technically.

"Sorry, I can't let you leave." He doesn't look super apologetic about this.

"Batman is still working on something."

"I'm done working on it, actually," Batman responds.

Wait, when did Batman get here? You didn't hear him enter the room...

Superman perks up. "And did you find anything?"

"I did." Batman turns to you, his expression even more serious than usual.

"Blood tests revealed that you are affected by a toxin that messes with your pheromones. After digging through more information on Luthors computer, I was able to find correspondence between him and Poison Ivy. Apparently they made a concoction that is specific to your dna, meaning only you are affected by it, and it causes you to be attracted to him alone. He must have used it as an aftershave or perfume, but it seems pretty long lasting. The effects should last up to a month after exposure."

No. That can't be true.

"You're lying. Lex wouldn't do that. He had no reason to do that, I love him!"

Batman ignores you. "Luckily I was able to synthesize an antidote. Hold still."

You don't hold still, of course, trying to scramble off of the bed, but Superman holds onto you.

"Shhhh, calm down. You'll feel better soon," he whispers, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear.

Batman gets closer to you with a syringe, preparing to inject you with a green liquid.

"This is going to hurt."

"Wait!" you try to protest, but-

-you feel the syringe enter your skin, and then you feel pain. In your entire body.

It hurts! Why does it hurt so much!

You squirm in Superman's grip. Your head feels like it's going to explode.

There's nothing but pain for a few seconds that feel like eternity.

But then- nothing.

You feel nothing. No pain. And-

"Holy shit." You blink.

"Holy SHIT."

What did that fucker do to you?

"I was in a relationship with Lex Luthor? Why did nobody stop me! What is wrong with everyone!"

You blink again.

"I mean, I guess you stopped me. So... thank you?"

Superman lets go of you, seemingly content that you've come to your senses.

Batman seems to be holding back a smirk.

You're not done processing everything yet.

"Why would he-"

You forget what you were going to say and gasp, distracted by a new thought.

"Wait, what the fuck am I going to do now! Where can I go? I moved in with him and he made me break off contact with all of my friends! I don't have an apartment anymore or friends to stay with!"

You look at the two heroes. "D- Do you think he'll look for me? Probably, right? I mean, we were going to get married."

You feel sick.

"Wait, is an engagement legally binding? Fuck. Can I just leave? We didn't make it public yet, but that doesn't make a difference, right? Fuck!"

Superman puts his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll take care of all of that. We won't allow him anywhere near you ever again."

Batman adds on: "And you can stay in the Watchtower for now. That's the safest place for you. He won't manage to get in here."

You frown. "Are you sure that's ok? I don't want to be a burden..."

Superman's smile gets wider, it's almost creepy.

Batman moves closer to you, putting his hand on your other shoulder. You're starting to feel a bit smothered.

"We'll gladly take care of you. For however long it takes."

You wonder if that means forever.

[syluslnd]

NSFW IMAGINE REQUEST PLSSSS!!!

sylus going with u to the supermarket, but since you've been teasing him all day, he decides to tease back

he controls a vibrator, and everytime youre close he stops until he brings u to the bathroom

(sorry ive been too freaky these days)

sylus remote vibrator

Tags-squirting,overstimulation,verbal teasing

He had been watching you all day, his eyes darkening with each passing hour, each teasing remark you threw his way. You'd been playful, a little more mischievous than usual-flirting, brushing against him, tempting him with lingering touches. Every time he tried to pull you close, you'd giggle and slip away, keeping him on edge, knowing exactly what you were doing.

But now, the tables had turned.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral as you follow him through the store. Sylus walks ahead of you, seemingly composed but you can feel the tension between you. The small remote in his hand is your undoing, the vibrator nestled between your legs sending torturous pulses through you. He knows exactly when to increase the intensity and exactly when to stop.

Your thighs clench as another wave of pleasure builds, your breathing becoming shallow. You reach out, steadying yourself on a nearby shelf, trying to appear nonchalant as a couple walks by, completely unaware of the predicament you're in. But Sylus, with his infuriating calmness, glances over his shoulder at you, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

"Something wrong, sweetie?" he asks, his voice a low purr that sends a fresh rush of heat to your core.

You shake your head, cheeks burning. "N-No, I'm fine."

"Is that so?" He steps closer, towering over you, his hand sliding around your waist, fingers brushing the remote in his pocket.

"Because you look a little... flustered."

His words make you shiver and you struggle to hold back a whimper as he flicks the remote, increasing the vibrations. Your legs tremble and you grip his arm for support, your body betraying you. You're so close-so close to the edge that it's maddening.

But just as you're about to tip over, he stops it. Again.

You let out a quiet, frustrated gasp, your legs shaking from the constant denial. "S-Sylus..."

He chuckles darkly, his hand tightening on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"What's the matter, kitten? You were so confident earlier, teasing me and now look at you" he murmurs in your ear, voice dripping with amusement. "Legs shaking, completely pink... You're adorable."

You feel your face heat up even more at his words and you glance around the store, terrified someone might notice the state you're in. But Sylus doesn't care. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers "You've been behaving naughty all day. Did you really think I wouldn't get my payback?"

Your breath hitches and you shake your head, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. But it's impossible with him this close, his voice, his touch, and that damn vibrator all conspiring against you.

"Sylus, please" you whisper, barely able to form the words.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk widening as he sees the desperation written all over your face.

"Please what? You want me to let you finish?"

you nod, your voice too shaky to respond properly. The frustration, the need-he's driving you insane and he knows it.

But instead of showing mercy, Sylus tilts his head, pretending to think. "Hm... I don't know. Maybe you haven't had enough yet." His thumb brushes over the remote again and the vibrator hums to life, this time softer, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge without pushing you over.

A small, strangled moan escapes your lips and you bury your face in his chest, mortified at how far he's pushed you. "S-Sylus, I can't..."

"Yes, you can” he replies smoothly, his hand stroking your back as if to comfort you but the cruel glint in his eyes says otherwise.

"Just a little longer, sweetie. You can take it."

You're trembling, your knees weak as you grip his shirt, desperately trying to stay standing but it's too much. The pleasure is overwhelming, yet never enough to bring you release and it's driving you mad.

"You're... so mean" you manage to whisper, voice barely audible.

He chuckles again, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face. "Maybe" he admits, his voice softening slightly. "But you like it, don't you?"

You don't respond, unable to form a coherent thought. The only thing running through your mind is the unbearable tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Just as the wave of pleasure threatens to crash over you, Sylus suddenly flicks the remote again, turning the vibrator off just before you can finish. A strangled gasp escapes your throat, and your legs nearly give out from the frustration but he's quick, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to keep you from collapsing.

"Not yet, kitten" he whispers in your ear, his voice low and dark, sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

Your body trembles, desperate for release but he doesn't give you a moment to recover. Instead, Sylus scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you through the store with a purpose that makes your heart race.

Every step has you blushing furiously, your mind a haze of want and embarrassment.

He pushes open the door to a private bathroom, kicking it shut behind him before pressing you against the wall. His body cages yours in, one hand lifting your arms above your head, pinning them in place. You whimper softly, the air thick with anticipation, the weight of his gaze on you making it impossible to think.

"S-Sylus..." you manage to gasp but he only smirks, holding up the remote with his free hand.

"You've been teasing me all day, sweetie" he murmurs, eyes gleaming with dark intent.

"Did you really think I was going to let you off that easy?"

Before you can respond, the vibrator comes to life again, buzzing to its highest setting and your body jerks in his hold. Your back arches against the cold wall, your head falling back as the intense sensations wash over you. This time, he doesn't stop.

Your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the relentless pleasure. The tension inside you builds faster than before, your body completely at his mercy as you squirm beneath him, your wrists straining against his grip.

"You can come now" Sylus whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice thick with amusement. "Go ahead, kitten."

And you do. The orgasm rips through you, more intense than anything before, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you let out a breathless moan. But even as the pleasure crashes over you, Sylus doesn't stop.

The vibrator keeps going, sending aftershocks of pleasure rippling through you, too much and not enough at the same time.

"S-Sylus, please..." you whimper, but he only tightens his grip on your wrists, his body pressing even closer to yours, holding you in place.

"Look at you" he purrs, watching you with a wicked smile. "You're so pretty when you're all pink and trembling like this. Didn't I tell you you'd pay for teasing me?"

Your head spins, your body wracked with overstimulation but he's unrelenting. Every time you think you've had enough, the vibrations keep you teetering on the edge, pushing you further than you ever thought possible.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you writhe against him, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. But Sylus only leans in closer, his lips brushing softly over yours as he whispers, "You wanted to be naughty, sweetie. Now you'll take everything | give you."

"Sylus... please... turn it off" you plead breathlessly, your voice barely a whisper as the relentless vibrations wrack your body.

Your legs are trembling uncontrollably, your thighs slick with the evidence of your pleasure. But he's not listening—no, he's savoring every moment of your torment, his eyes dark with amusement as he watches you writhe against the wall.

A low, mocking chuckle escapes his lips and he tilts his head, leaning in close enough for his lips to ghost over your neck. "Turn it off?" he echoes, his tone dripping with cruel amusement. "Why should I? You're the one who teased me all day, sweetie. This is your fault."

You whimper, shaking your head as your body jerks with each pulse of the vibrator. "I-I can't... it's too much..."

"Oh, it's too much now?" Sylus smirks, his hand still firmly holding the remote. "You were so bold earlier, kitten but now look at you." He brushes a thumb over your flushed cheek, his touch almost tender but his words are anything but. "Shaking, helpless, begging me to stop. You're adorable."

Your body trembles violently, your legs barely able to hold you up. Every nerve feels like it's on fire, the overstimulation pushing you to a breaking point. You let out another desperate moan, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the intense sensations build and build, becoming unbearable.

"S-Sylus, please!" you beg again, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation becomes too much to handle. But he just grins, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"You can beg all you want" he purrs, pressing the vibrator even harder against you "but I think you've got one more in you, sweetie. Let's see how far you can go."

That's when it happens. The overwhelming pressure finally pushes you past the point of no return. Your body spasms and with a loud, helpless cry, you feel yourself gush uncontrollably, your release splattering down your legs and soaking your panties. The sheer intensity of it makes your entire body tremble and you slump against the wall, barely able to stay standing as the waves of pleasure ripple through you.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of your labored breathing, the wetness dripping down your thighs a stark reminder of just how far he's pushed you. But Sylus?

He's far from finished.

"Well, well, well" he drawls, his voice thick with mockery, "look at the mess you made, kitten." His eyes roam over your trembling form and you feel the weight of his gaze, both embarrassed and completely at his mercy. "Did you just squirt all over yourself?"

You bite your lip, too ashamed to respond but Sylus isn't about to let it slide. His fingers trail down your quivering thigh, collecting the evidence of your release, and he holds it up, glancing at the wetness coating his fingers with a wicked grin.

"You really couldn't help yourself, could you?" he teases, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're trembling like a little leaf, squirting all over the place... How cute."

You bury your face in your arm, too mortified to meet his gaze, but Sylus doesn't let you hide for long. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't be shy, sweetie. I think you enjoyed that more than you're willing to admit." He presses his lips to the side of your neck, kissing you softly, but the cruel amusement never leaves his voice.

"You're so sensitive... so easy to break."

His teasing only makes the humiliation burn hotter, and you feel another wave of pleasure building again, despite your body's exhaustion. "Sylus, please..." you whisper, your voice trembling.

But he just chuckles, pulling back to look at you with that familiar smugness. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before teasing me all day. Or maybe you like being punished this way, hm?"

His words hang in the air, his relentless teasing pulling you deeper into the haze of overstimulation. And Sylus? He shows no sign of stopping anytime soon.

[woozyvee]

hidden touch, secret message

seungmin x female reader

wc: ~2000

content: established relationship au, smut

synopsis: there's a telltale sign for when your boyfriend is horny.

an: just a result of my mushy hard thoughts about this guy because i've got a crush on him. a late happy birthday to seungminie!

It's when he touches your wrist that you know.

Seungmin isn't exactly opposed to a little bit of PDA, letting you squeeze his hand or even discreetly kiss his cheek in the presence of others without much fuss. But he's never the one who initiates it.

Well. Except for under some very specific circumstances.

The light touch almost tickles at first and you have to look down to realize that it's your boyfriend who's causing the sensation. You look up at his face with a questioning arch in your brows as his fingertips softly trace the inside of your wrist. But he's not looking at you, focusing on Chan where he's talking across the table, like the rest of his members. Or, pretending to focus, maybe.

Nobody notices the physical contact, as it's hidden beneath the dining table and perhaps that is why Seungmin's caresses become a bit firmer. Seeing as he still isn't looking at you, you also turn away from him to pretend as if nothing is happening, nodding along to whatever Chan is saying even though you've lost track by now.

Laughter breaks out around the table at a comment Jisung makes, mixing with the surrounding bustle of the restaurant and you instinctively join in, doing your best to ignore the shivers that run up your spine as Seungmin's nails drag along your skin. You half-expect his touch to disappear as he's suddenly addressed but it doesn't and by the time he's finished talking, his hand as fully wrapped around your wrist to hold it.

When his thumb starts rubbing against you in gentle circles, you chance another glance his way but are left hanging yet again. You're not sure why he chooses to ignore you. Because you know that he knows that you know what this means.

So your other hand comes over to grab his hand, stopping its movements. It works, as he finally meets your searching gaze. When you raise a quizzical brow at him he simply slides his hand off your wrist, letting it settle on your thigh instead, where he squeezes the clothed flesh softly. He then throws you a quick wink before turning away again.

But he can't hold back the small smile that grows across his lips and therefore, neither can you. Something excited swirls around in your belly, mixing nicely with the feeling of a full stomach after a delicious meal.

With every sip of beer, the anticipation in your abdomen grows in size. With every shift of Seungmin's hand, that same anticipation travels lower.

The only one who you think notices how Seungmin's hand stays hidden under the table for the rest of the evening, is Felix. Because he sends you this suspiciously happy grin which makes you wonder if he also knows what these secret touches mean. You're blushing from that point onward, Seungmin's hand steadfast in stroking your thigh. Either he doesn't notice that you've been caught or he doesn't care; with Seungmin, the latter is more plausible.

Whether Felix knows what this evening has in store for you or not, he's no longer in your thoughts by the time you and Seungmin enter your dim, compact apartment.

"Hey, you shouldn't touch me like that when we're with your members," you scold as you step out of your shoes.

"Why?" he asks plainly, shrugging off his jacket.

"It's mean," you sulk, half-heartedly.

"How so? You like it, don't you?" The look he gives you is knowing.

Your pout turns into a glare. "Exactly! It makes me horny."

"Well, then you're meaner. Because you do nothing and still make me horny."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way his blunt admission makes you feel. "That doesn't make me meaner, if I'm not consciously doing anything. I can't control that."

"You could make an effort to look uglier."

He meets your squinted eyes with a mischievous grin. "You want me too look uglier, do you?"

"Not really. I don't mind that you're mean," he takes a step toward you and you squeeze the material of your long sleeves. "I don't mind that just looking at you makes me horny."

You raise an eyebrow as he comes closer, his touch hovering over your hips.

"And you," he emphasizes, tilting his head down to look at you from under his lashes, "don't mind when I let you know that I'm horny."

A shiver washes over you as Seungmin's fingers move under your shirt, slightly cold against the skin of your waist where they splay themselves out.

"Do you?" The question sounds more like a statement.

You inhale and exhale slowly, letting him guide you to lean against the wall behind you. He presses his front snugly into yours, the grip over your skin squeezing a little bit harder. By the way his thumbs all but dig into you, you can tell that he's still needy, despite the composed expression on his face. The tip of his nose barely brushes yours.

He raises his pretty eyebrows in question, apparently waiting for an answer.

A sigh. "No, I don't mind."

Your boyfriend smiles before he leans down to kiss you, pouty lips soft over yours.

It doesn't take long for your tongues to slip into each other's mouths, Seungmin's hands sliding up and down your skin with an occasional touch over your covered nipples. You exchange air with your heavy breaths, his hips sometimes jerking forward against his will to let you know how hard he's getting within his jeans. Your hands grab at his shirt, the back of his neck, anything to ground you as you nearly drown in the taste of him.

Seungmin pulls away to look down, lips swollen and breathing labored. His hands leave your skin to unbutton and unzip your pants and you press kisses along his jaw to occupy yourself.

You try not to flinch too hard when one of his hands slips into your panties and slides over your wet folds, whimper caught somewhere in the back of your throat. Seungmin sighs and presses himself harder against you, sandwiching you between himself and the wall.

"Were you already this wet back at the restaurant?"

You swallow. "Coulda put your hand down my pants and found out."

He chuckles but it's breathy, hot against your neck. "So you're just playing hard to get, huh? You scold me but really, you're a bigger perv than I am."

"Is that news to you?" Your voice is strained as he coats his fingers in your slick.

"Hm," he hums, burying his face in your neck to place kisses there. "Guess not."

The plush pads of Seungmin's fore- and middle finger draw delicate circles against your clit and your legs shake for a moment, choked sounds slipping past your lips as you muffle your voice with your tongue. He nips at the crook of your neck with his teeth before softly kissing it better. Both your hands are harshly grasping at strands of his hair, only faltering slightly as his middle finger moves down to dip inside you. You try not to moan but fail, whining into Seungmin's shoulder a bit high-pitched and shaky.

"Fuck," Seungmin sighs, his bite a little harder over your pulse and causing your brows to deeply furrow. He slowly pulls his finger in and out of you, drawing more and more warmth to pool between your legs.

He lifts his hand that's resting on your hip to grasp one of your elbows, dragging his palm along your forearm until it reaches your hand where he grasps it in his, pressing it against the wall next to your head. You no longer try to swallow your moans, letting them fall freely from your parted, glistening lips, into Seungmin's neck. He pulls out of you to focus on your clit again, knowing exactly how to caress it to make you buck your hips.

Your boyfriend turns his head, pecks your cheek. "Does it feel good, pretty?"

"Yes," you sigh, louder than you mean to.

Seungmin kisses your jaw, fingers reaching down to collect more of your arousal before coming back up. You're really sensitive now, squirming with his movements against you.

Before you know it, you feel your release building itself up, something warm and tight twisting in your abdomen. Your mewls become deeper, heavier as you curl into Seungmin's body, rocking your hips in time with his fingers.

He lifts his head to watch you, breath ticklish against your nose.

"Getting close?"

You can only nod, voice too busy whimpering to answer. Your fingers curl and flex under Seungmin's hold where he's pressing your hand into the wall, the feeling of being restrained shooting electricity straight down to your crotch.

"Hm. Should I stop?"

Your eyes shoot open, your view of Seungmin's face blurry from the close proximity. "What- no!" You furiously shake your head.

"Oh? But I thought you like it when I'm mean to you," he reminds you and grips your trapped hand a little harder.

Despite what he's saying, his fingers don't let up and you moan louder, head falling back against the wall with a thud. "Fuck, yeah, I do-"

Seungmin snickers but you cannot find it in yourself to care, cheeks burning as you draw closer to the edge and your free hand grasps his hair roughly. He rolls his hips into yours, a tight groan barely sounding from his throat.

"Since you like it so much" —Seungmin stutters over a grunt— "I can be meaner. I can leave you hanging right now and go jerk myself off in the bathroom."

"No no-"

"No?"

"No please-" Your voice breaks as your hips grind into his touch.

"Oh," Seungmin sighs into your ear. "So you like it when I'm a little nice too."

"Yeah-"

"Okay then." Seungmin kisses your earlobe. "I'll play nice tonight. Mostly because I like when you're already fucked out once I put my cock in you."

Your squirming gets stiffer, involuntarily fighting against Seungmin's hold on you as he works you toward your release. He bites your ear and you almost choke on your own spit, abs curling tightly in your stomach.

"Oh fuck fuck please-"

"Mhm," Seungmin hums, hot breath fanning the inside of your ear. "Let go, pretty. I'll help you through it."

You do and he does.

Strong, tingling waves of raw pleasure contract through your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you writhe helplessly between your boyfriend and the wall he's pressing you into. He holds you as you squirm through your high, fingers gentle over your clit and kisses soft against your cheekbone.

"There you go," Seungmin exhales, digging his hard length into your hipbone through your clothes.

Only when you whine and flinch away from his touch does he let up, pulling out of your underwear to hold your waist with both his hands. He takes half a step away from you, only so he can get a good look at your slightly dazed and flushed face.

He's grinning, ear to ear, absolutely beaming from where he's staring down at you.

You huff, relying on the wall and Seungmin's hold to keep you from swaying. "What?"

"Nothing."

You scoff but can't help the curl at the corners of your lips. "Right."

He leans down and kisses you through his smile, tender and heartfelt. Until his movements turn just a bit rough. He pulls away, voice strained.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to stand here and keep making out but I really need to fuck you right now and I'm not doing it against this wall."

You giggle airily as he seizes the same wrist he was touching under the restaurant's table and drags you toward your bedroom.

This is why every time Seungmin initiates PDA, you know you are in for a good time.

copyright © 2024 woozyvee. all rights reserved.

[tpwk-formula1]

hi! could i pls get sicilian crust with alfredo sauce, pepperoni, pineapple, roasted mushrooms, and goat cheese. then also sprite, dr pepper, truly, and dessert? sorry for the big order 😭

p.s. i love ur writing so much 🫶🏻

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian dating Alfredo sweet sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" roasted mushroom “Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” goat cheese "Look so pretty like this" sprite size kink dr pepper dirty talk truly belly bulge dessert yes served by Ollie Bearman

Ollie x Gf! Reader

TW - Oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, slight teasing, belly bulge, slight size kink

WC 1400+

Y/N POV

"If we get married one da-" I start saying but get quickly cut off by my boyfriend Ollie scoffing making me turn my head with a raised brow.

"IF? If we get married? You mean WHEN we get married," Ollie corrects making me laugh slightly and nod my head in agreeance.

"Well, ya when we get married, would you want to write personal vows or standard ones?" I reply softly with a blush creeping on my cheeks just at the thought of marrying Ollie one day.

"Well, what would you want? I love love to be able to get up in front of our entire family and friends and tell them exactly how much I love you and all the promises I make to you but I understand if you would rather do that in a more personal setting," Ollie replies softly while looking down at me.

We had spent the whole day being pretty lazy and had currently been watching The Office while cuddling when the random question popped up into my head.

"Well, I've always pictured myself doing a first look before I walk down the isle so maybe we could do personal ones just us and maybe with our parents and closest friends and then during the ceremony maybe giving the standard ones," I reply back making Ollie smile and nod.

"Well, that sounds like a good plan to me. I'm shocked a bit that you would want to do a first look," Ollie tells me softly making me laugh lightly.

"I don't know I just love first looks they feel really personal and then that way we can have our moment alone before having a moment for everyone you know. I'm sure there's gonna be a lot of people and eyes on us so I think it would be nice to have something for just us and the important people," I tell Ollie softly making him nod.

"God, we really are gonna have a lot of people there," Ollie says clearly thinking about all the the people we would be inviting to our future wedding.

"You think you're gonna invite all your engineers from Haas and Ferrari?" I ask slightly laughly making Ollie chuckle along.

"Probably not, but definitely the important ones. You gonna invite everyone in your ballet preformances?" Ollie questions with a laugh falling from his lips.

"No, definitely not. Maybe 1 or 2 of them are deserving of an invite. Please tell me you're not inviting every driver on the grid," I jokingly ask while cringing just thinking about how much ruckus the 20 of those boys could cause.

"Oh definitely all 20," Ollie says with a smirk falling on his lips making me laugh and nod.

"Ya I guess they are pretty important," I nod laughing with Ollie.

"You're really gonna marry me one day?" Ollie asks suddenly getting serious.

"Well ya, when the day comes that you ask me to marry you I'll say yes in a heartbeat," I tell him with a smile starting to spread across my face. Ollie matched my smile before pulling me closer to his chest and kissing me softly on the lips.

"I fucking love you," Ollie tells me making me laugh and tell him I loved him too.

I pulled Ollie back in for another kiss this one turning into a heated makeout session with me crawling into Ollie's lap and grinding down softly feeling his cock starting to grow hard under me.

"Fuck baby," Ollie groans making me giggle softly.

"I can feel how hard you are," I reply softly against Ollie's lips making him groan when I grind down harder into his growing cock.

I pull off my shirt quickly leaving my upper body completely bare for Ollie's large hands to grip onto my tits making me whimper slightly.

"God, I love these tits," Ollie groans making me smile softly.

Ollie starts teasing my nipples with his fingers making me whimper before I start pulling off Ollie's shirt making Ollie pull away slightly to help pull it off all of the way.

I look down at Ollie's toned chest making me rub my hands along his chest and abs before settling on the waistband of his shorts pulling them open just slightly so I can sneak my hand and squeeze his hard cock.

"Fuck," Ollie groans when I start jerking him off slightly.

Ollie and I both climb out of bed and strip our clothes off before I pull Ollie in for another kiss and push him to sit on the edge of the bed so I can get on my knees for him.

"Look so pretty like this" Ollie mumbles while staring down at me on my knees for him.

I slowly start jerking his cock off before leaning down and pulling the tip of his large cock into my mouth pulling him farther down my throat and making me gag slightly around his cock.

"Fuck," Ollie moans when I start bobbing my head. I hum softly against his cock knowing how much he loves the soft vibrations against his sensitive cock.

"Slow down," Ollie groans pulling my hair into a ponytail and pulling me up his cock slowly when I start gagging around his cock.

"Don't want you to get hurt," Ollie mumbles when I look up at him confused.

"I'm fine, wanna make you feel good," I explain softly while bringing him back into my mouth and down my throat gagging once again but this time Ollie just groaned and enjoyed the pleasure.

"Fuck, Look so pretty wrapped around my cock," Ollie groaned making me whine around his cock and bring my hand between my thigh to tease my already-soaked pussy.

"Get on the bed," Ollie groaned pulling me up and helping me onto the bed.

Ollie was between my thigh within moments, pulling my clit into his mouth and sucking it like his life depended on it.

"Oh fuck, Ollie," I whimper pulling his hair between my fingers and tugging him closer to my core.

"More," I beg when I feel Ollie slowly slip two fingers into my pussy.

"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Ollie groaned against my pussy while picking up the pace with his fingers making the band in my stomach tighten warning me of the orgasm that is starting to build.

"I want you cumming on my cock," Ollie says while slipping his fingers out of my pussy making me whimper at the loss of pleasure.

Ollie sits up before he slowly slips his cock into my pussy making me whimper when I feel his large cock starting to fill my tight pussy up.

"Oh god," I scream out when Ollie is all the way seated in my pussy. I could feel the stretch of him all around me making me whimper.

"Too big," I gasp when Ollie starts thrusting his hips softly trying to stretch me out as much as possible before picking up his pace.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight," Ollie groans when he can feel me starting to relax around him, allowing him to pick up the pace.

"Ollie," I moan loudly when I can feel my orgasm start to build in the pit of my stomach again.

“Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy,” Ollie groans making me trail my eyes down slightly noticing instantly the bulge that keeps showing back up every time Ollie pushes in all the way.

"Oh Ollie," I gasp in a stunned manner not expecting it to be so noticeable.

"So tight for me," Ollie mumbles while slowly starting to push down on the bulge so I can feel it more.

"Oh fuck," I scream when I start cumming all over Ollie's cock. All the pleasure was far too overwhelming around me I don't realize that OIllie's thrusts have stopped until I feel his cock pulsing deep in my pussy before he starts unleashing rope after rope of his cum.

"Fuck Ollie," I gasp out of breath as he slowly starts slipping out of me making me feel his cum leak from my gaping pussy.

"Fuck," Ollie groans while slowly climbing out of bed and grabbing a discarded shirt on the floor to wipe me down quickly before climbing back into bed and pulling me into his chest.

"Fuck, I could do that the rest of my life," I joke softly making Ollie laugh lightly with me but still nodding his head in agreeance.

[solxamber]

Dragon's Favourite Sacrifice – Trey Clover x reader

Trey finds himself volunteering to be the human sacrifice to you in place of his siblings. What he didn't expect was to become your housekeeper instead of being eaten.

Crossposted from my ao3!

The village doesn’t know how to react when Trey volunteers as a sacrifice. He’s fully prepared for the worst, thinking back on all the horror stories the elders tell about the dragon god—the terrifying, ancient being that can destroy their village with one swipe of a claw. At least, that’s what everyone says.

But it had to be done. The village is on the brink of disaster and their last hope was the dragon god that lived in the mountains. The villagers began to proclaim that this was happening because they forgot to send a sacrifice in recent years. And when the current sacrifice chosen turned out to be one of his younger siblings, Trey had no choice but to volunteer himself.

As he approaches the temple, though, Trey wonders why the place looks like it hasn't been touched in years. Not exactly what you’d expect from a wrathful deity.

Maybe they just don't care about keeping things tidy before eating their next victim?

The inside of the temple is surprisingly cozy, but he doesn't have time to think about it. You, the ancient dragon, make your entrance—or rather, you wander in, yawning, and blink at him like you've just woken up from a really long nap.

“Hey… uh, are you the dragon god?” Trey asks, clutching the bundle of supplies he'd brought along.

You stretch, wings fluttering lazily behind you, before giving him a confused look. "Who else would I be? The village’s lost pet?"

Trey blinks. This is not what he was expecting. He was ready for a quick, brutal end. Maybe some fire and brimstone. Not... this.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Trey, from the village. They sent me as the sacrifice.”

You squint at him like he's just told you the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. "Sacrifice? They still do that? I haven’t asked for a sacrifice in… decades. I was actually happy to not have my nap interrupted by scared humans. I was going to help with the crisis anyway."

Now it’s Trey's turn to stare. “You… don’t want the sacrifice?”

"Nope." You shrug, completely nonchalant. "You can go back to the village if you want. Or, if you're looking for a change of scenery, the village on the other side of the mountain is kinda nice."

Trey lets out a small sigh, but it’s not exactly relief. “I… can’t. If I go back, they'll think the offering was rejected. My siblings could suffer for it."

You pause, then nod thoughtfully. "Ah, yeah, human politics." You click your tongue. "I hate when that happens. Well, just so you know, the past sacrifices? Yeah, they all ended up in the village on the other side of the mountain."

Trey’s jaw drops. "Wait… what?"

"Yeah." You nod sagely. "They all thought the same thing—'Oh no, the dragon’s gonna eat me'—but I just sent them over there.”

He blinks at you again, trying to absorb all of this information. "So… you don’t actually…?"

"Eat people?" you finish for him, giving him a strange look. "No. That’s gross. Why would I do that?"

Trey's lips twitch upward. A beat of silence passes before Trey clears his throat again. "Mind if I stay, then? I can cook, clean, and—"

You give him a sideways glance, and your eyes light up. "Wait. You cook?"

"Yeah," Trey says, still trying to grasp that he’s negotiating his survival with a dragon.

A slow grin spreads across your face. "Well then, you’re hired. Welcome to dragon duty."

Trey’s not sure whether to laugh or cry at how anticlimactic this has all turned out. He’d prepared himself for noble sacrifice, but instead, he’s somehow signed up for dragon housekeeping duty. With a deep breath, he puts on a smile. "So, uh, what do you want for dinner?"

From that moment on, life with you is… surprisingly comfortable. Trey, ever practical, makes himself useful.

He handles things with the same calm practicality he’d use back in the village, except now, there’s a giant, sometimes snarky dragon looming over him as he goes about his tasks.

He spends his days cooking, tending to the temple’s neglected gardens, and even baking pastries—though you still don’t believe him when he says there’s no oyster sauce in his sweets.

“You’re pulling my tail,” you mutter, eyeing the perfectly innocent-looking cake Trey’s set out in front of you. “I can taste something weird in it.”

Trey just smiles. “Oyster sauce. Definitely.”

You huff, giving up on trying to figure him out, and focus on enjoying your meals and new company instead.

One evening, after a particularly good dinner (with no discernible oyster flavor, much to your disappointment), you glance at Trey lounging by the fireplace. He's been here for a while now, and you find that you're quite enjoying his company. In fact, you're enjoying it a little too much.

"So, you’re not as terrifying as the stories make you out to be," Trey comments one day, setting down a plate of food.

You snort, flipping lazily on your side. "Thanks, I guess. Humans are always so dramatic."

"And the drought?" Trey asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Taken care of," you reply with a smug smile. "Already brought in the rains.”

He nods and settles down next to you, holding a book from the library that you never bothered to visit.

Well, it's now or never. “So,” you begin, almost casually, “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” Trey looks up from the book he’s reading.

“That you’ll be my mate.”

He nearly drops the book. “Your... what?”

“My mate.” You stretch your wings, trying to look as imposing as possible—though you’re pretty sure Trey isn’t intimidated by you anymore. “You’re the first human who actually stuck around. And you can cook. That’s mate material.”

Trey is, understandably, at a loss for words. “…You’re serious?”

“Completely.” You flash him that grin again, all teeth and playful confidence. “Unless you’ve got a better offer somewhere else?”

Trey pinches the bridge of his nose, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “No, I think I’ll stick around.”

And just like that, Trey Clover—the supposed human sacrifice—finds himself the mate of a centuries-old dragon. Maybe this wasn’t the fate he expected, but all things considered… it could be worse.

At least the dragon likes his cooking.

Masterlist

[thevoidstaredback]

Hey! So, it's been a while, but I finally remembered to come back to this! But, it's not gonna go the way you'd think.

If Danny had it his way, he'd be at his Aunt Alicia's house for the summer instead of New Jersey. This place is gloomy, grimy, and soaked through with so much crime that it's a Problem(TM). Like, seriously? New Jersey hasn't allowed the death penalty since he was seven, but can't they make, like, one exception? Get rid of The Joker and half of Gotham's problems are solved.

Unfortunately, he's only here as a guest, so he can't really do anything. Which, for the record, is a shit rule. Call a goose and goose, and that's exactly what Gotham City, New Jersey is.

It isn't all that bad, he supposes. Sure, the pollution blocks out the entire sky at all times, the buildings that aren't condemned are only feeding the rich while stealing from the poor, an entire twenty-four block are has been given up on by mostly everyone, the local vigilantes won't kill the recurring problems like the cockroaches they are- There was a good point to all this.

Oh! He has family here. That's it. That's the only silver lining, and it's bronze.

But, hey, it can't be that bad. From what he understands, his half-brother and company don't actually live in Gotham. Bristol, according to Talia is technically outside of Gotham City Limits, but is still considered as part of the city. Makes sense, aside from the fact that there's no bridge between Bristol and Gotham. Weird design, but he's not rich so he's not really inclined to care or understand.

Half brother, right.

Danny doesn't like Damian much, but that's because he's a clone...of Damian. Danny's a clone of Damian, not the other way around. Ra's makes that very clear

The only reason Talia wants him with Damian is because she's upset with Bruce Wayne. What is it with divorced parents and putting their kids on the middle of their fights? Or maybe that's just Talia?

Anyway.

Gotham, New Jersey is a dismal place. Danny's not germophobic by any means, he can't really afford to be, but even he's having a hard time being in the city.

It was so much easier hiding out with the Fentons.

Well, 'hiding' is a subjective term. Ra's and Talia knew where he was, so did Deathstroke, probably, but that was it.

Essentially, everyone he should be hiding from knows where he's been hiding, which means he's just been on some kind of twisted, extended vacation.

As far as Danny knew, Bruce Wayne had no idea he was coming. Damian knew because Talia had wanted him to pick Danny up from the airport. Weird because while Damian is technically older, Danny is still legally two years older.

Well, 'legally' is a stretch. He doesn't technically exist, outside of the LoA and Amity Park.

The point is that Damian is waiting for him at the end of the terminal, looking as much like an excited puppy as he can, with an older gentleman. Talia had given him nothing to work with, but Danny didn't really care who this guy was as long as he didn't try to make him do anything he didn't want to.

...living in the Midwest was doing wonders for his mental stability, but Ancients was it making him soft!

"'Danny', I presume?" the old man asked, his accent heavy.

Good, so Talia did give Damian his actual name. "Yep. You are?" He may not want to be here, but he still knows his manners. Even if he's only going to use the bare minimum of them. Malicious Compliance and all that.

"Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler." He didn't extend his hand to shake. Danny didn't mind. In fact, he actually preferred that.

Okay, so maybe he's a little bit haphephobic. Leave him alone!

"Danny," Damian greeted, a smile of excitement in his voice but not his face, "It's good to have you here. How did Mother convince you to come?"

"Bribery." Mostly.

Damian seemed to deflate a bit. "Father and the others don't know you're here."

"Do they even know about me at all?"

"No."

"Perfect! Then I can stay at a hotel-"

"For the entire summer?" Alfred raised his eyebrow, "I must insist that you stay at Wayne Manor while in Gotham. Master Bruce will most pleased to meet you."

"Why?" Danny scoffed, "I'm not his kid, nor do I want to be."

Damian slouched a little bit more. "Come, we must get back before the others send out a search party for us."

"Dramatic much?" Danny scoffed.

"Not at all," Alfred took both of Danny's bags before leading the way out to the car, "It' happened before in less time."

"I don't doubt it for a second. I'm calling Bruce a dramatic bitch."

Alfred smirked ever so slightly. "Quite right, Master Danny."

"Don't call me that."

"Alright then, what should I call you?"

"'Danny'. No honorifics, no add ons, no trying to fullname me, nothing else."

"And when you go out with the rest of the family?"

He scoffed again. "You really think they'd let me go out with them? I'm an assassin. In fact, the first thing I'll do the second I'm let out of the house is kill the clown bastard."

Damian rested his hand on Danny's arm. "They let me out with them and I tried to kill Drake. As long as you uphold a promise not to kill anyone, you'll be allowed to patrol with us."

They reached the car, Damian sat behind the driver while Danny sat behind the passenger. Alfred put the bags in the trunk. "So? What will you be called on patrol?"

Danny rolled his eyes, popping his headphones in and not looking away from the window. "Respawn."

Storyboard

[toxintouch]

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts.  I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it.  p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.  

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers.  So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar.  You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

 That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.”  Mhin says in lieu of a greeting.  You startle, reeling around to face them.  Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”  You chide, in mock affront.  “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.”  Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.”  They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling.  You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold.  You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it.  Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?”  You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment.   “Sometimes I wonder…  Fine.  Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold.  The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind.  You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building.  Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?”  Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.”  Mhin responds.  “Actual ghost sightings are very rare.  And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources.  People in Eridia can be quite superstitious.  Count on rats or other pests.  It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?”  You ask, more out of curiosity than anything.  You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.”  Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark.  Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind.  Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind.  You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step.  Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort.  You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor.  As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly.  Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.  

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint.  An abstract painting with no proper canvas.  It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose.  The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison.  You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…  

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?”  You wonder aloud.  You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting.  “I wouldn't define that as art.”  Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall.  “That’s just…paint.  If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks.  Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one.  A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change.  A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff.  “...I don’t smell anything.  Do you?”

“Dust.  Rotting wood.  And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for.  Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–”  Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted.  Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches.  No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?”  You posit.  You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes.  There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close.  They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin.  They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other.  You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.  

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.  

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it.  Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood.  “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit.  “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.”  Mhin announces.  “And a feeling that you’re being watched.  Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well.  Hold this.”  Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel.  Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror.  There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there.  Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider.  “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away.  A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all.  Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down.  If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages.  (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)  

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious.  You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole.  “Stay close.”  There’s a brush of fingertips against your back.  “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly.  And there’s not much in here that it could throw.  Just stay calm.  If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray.  You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet.  There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air.  Musty and earthy-floral.  Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

    Eyes on you.  

Touch like a gossamer spider web.  Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently.  “Something just–”  

The cold hits you then.  Bone deep and all consuming.  Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too.  Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close.  And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up.  Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede.  They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit.  Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.  

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee.  Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them.  With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.”  Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones.  How did Vere even do that?  You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process.  Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact.  Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care.  You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw.  They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air.  Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm.  Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia.  Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin.  You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger.  Their grip is assertive, certain.  You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride.  Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak.  Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back.  You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them.  You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful.  The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky.  You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home.  You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.  

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned.  You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language.  Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering.  Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down.  “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved.  The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

 

“You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?”  Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.”  Mhin crosses their arms again.  “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I?  Consider it hazard pay.”  Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere.  “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though.  Don’t forget.  I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say.  Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity.  Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to.  You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can.  And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.  

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract.  Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it?  To include you in their life?  Is that what you’re supposed to take from this?  That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

 

Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?  

“Goodnight, Mhin.”  You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

   ✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

 

 You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine.  The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed.  You smooth down the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight.  You tug the covers up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable.

As your eyes finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.  

It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you.

Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort. 

You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream.

“Vere, what–”

“Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin.

“I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Every since you wrote it it hasn’t left my mind and i love it so much

Just that one part in A Glimmering Collar, where we finally get tired of Jason avoiding us and we write down “I want you” poor Jason i bet he was was so happy and in disbelief, i bet reading those words, finally finally we want him whether just for the moment or we accept him and what he’s doing

He comes back at night when we’re waiting for him and he’s bringing his hand up to touch our face to prove to himself that this is real, not a fantasy that his tortured-self conjured up to have an escape and we accept him and maybe even lov- what…what do you mean you just want your questions answered? But you said-

I bet his little heart cracked more, feeling blindsided by this what do you mean you want answers he already told you, you don’t need to know or worry about it, answering things makes everything more complicated and makes him vulnerable and jasons just wants us to understand that everything is fine why do we need answers why can’t you just accept this accept HIM

Idk those are just my thoughts i love the way you write AK! Jason and i can’t wait to see what u write next about him! Precious boy he’s been through so much

NONNIE!!! Ahhh, yessss!! This is exactly what I was trying to portray in that scene!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! 💙

Let me ramble here, Jason comes into your cage apartment, just as he does every night. He's told you this, but he has no idea how you feel about it. But he wants you to be comfortable here, comfortable with him.

He checks the notepad, the one that almost always sits pristine and empty on the glass table, but this time, there are words on it. His heart rate spikes. You're asking for something. He almost feels giddy. This is his chance to prove that he can be worth something to you.

Expect, the words don't quite make sense in his brain. Alll you've written is 'you'.

Jaaon doesn't know what to do with that. He could wake you up and demand an explanation. Fall to his knees, and thank you for giving him a chance, for still seeing that he's still your Jason.

Instead, he leaves the apartment and spends the next twenty-four hours trying to figure out what you could mean. He doesn't manage to get a clue before the sun has set again, and he knows that it's about the time you go to sleep.

So, he gathers all his courage and goes to you, and the air leaves his lungs because it's you, it's always been you and you asked for him and he doesn't know what to say. He reaches for you cause he needs this to not the some sick prank the universe is playing on him and asks if you meant it.

But then you're confused. You want him to take the mask off. His stomach is twisting when he does. He needs to know if you meant it. That out of anything you could ask for, everything he would have given you, you wanted him. So he asks again.

And then you tell him you just want answers. And his heart drops. He lowers his hand. Because, of course, this wasn't what he hoped it was. None of his dreams ever come true. He can never really have you.

You want answers. He doesn't have any other than you need to be here. He can't tell you that you were the only thing he held onto in that asylum. So he drapes the choker around your neck and thinks, maybe, in this way, at least a part of you will be his.

[sweetieviktor]

viktor x librarian!reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios)

summary: how you've meet each other, when you feel in love and your first exchange of "i love you"s.

content warning: just tooth rotting fluff and cuteness between those two. :D

author notes: i know that sooo many people writed this same idea but i can't help it, it's just so cute and so good to write!! when i was writing, the words came almost instantly and gods, i love to write fluff so much!! oh, and today, when i was re-reading this with my friend i was thinking the whole time "damn i love him" ((and i was awoken until 3am yesterday trying to finish this one but i feel sleep and couldn't end it, but i finished it this morning and now, at night time, im posting in here! anyways, hope you guys like it. :)

» the moment the doors hang open, you turn to see who it is, and as you do so, the whole world stops.

» the prettiest man you've ever seen in your life just came into the library you work in. literally, the prettiest man.

» the way his fluffy hair falls around his face and his curious eyes keep looking at everything, scanning all corners of the room, every little thing he can, shining whenever he sees something he likes.

» and his boyish little smile, barely showing his teeth, that he was giving while talking to a furry someone just by his side.

“oh hi, dear friend!” waving, heimerdinger spoke, walking with tiny, fast steps in your direction, pausing when he was close to you. meanwhile the boy beside him was walking a little slower, his cane thudding softly against the floor.

he stopped near the yordle and looked at your face, giving a polite smile, offering to you his non-occupied hand, and you shaked it, giving him a smile of yours. “i’m viktor, heimerdinger's assistant. he said you could help me with some resources i might need, and i would very much appreciate any help your books could provide.”

“i hope you don't mind him coming here to do some researches, friend. he may come here often!” the yordle laughed, looking between the two of you and then walking away.

“ehhh.. so, do you have any books about-”

» basically, this is how you and viktor knew each other, through a friend in common. and, from this day on, he came to the library more and more often.

» at first, he just showed up, asked for a book you could provide and got out of the establishment. then, he tried to strike up a small talk with you whenever he was waiting for you to look up said books. now, he just straight up rants about any experiment he may be doing at the time.

» and if you're genuinely interested in his rant, he could go for hours just explaining every little detail to you, and he would love every second of it.

» because now he is a regular, you just analyze what he is up to in the most recent days and choose some books that might be useful to him, putting them in the drawer, below the reception desk. and when this happened for the first time he was almost flustered, because you cared enough to look up, sort and search for things that he didn't even asked for.

when you heard the door swing open, you looked at it's direction, smiling as you realized who it was. “hey, viktor! welcome again!” it was the third time this week he got to the library, looking for the same type of books, so you just worked a bit ahead this time. “i don't know if it is exactly what you need but i think that you could use these ones, they have some information you might like.”

“but i still didn't ask for anything..?” he stared at you with a puzzled face, trying to understand why you were giving him those.

“i just think it goes along with your research. also, i wanted to help.” you shrugged, smiling brightly at him.

and maybe this was when he thought for the first time “damn.. i might be in love.”

» after this, he always tried to stay closer to you, to say things you might like, to show you that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him.

» he even brought coffee (he got sweet milk for himself) and pastries for you both to share one day. and this was for sure one of the best excuses to transform a boring afternoon with no clients, into a lazy reading session, this, of course, until a client came and ruined the cutesy atmosphere between the two of you.

» of course he thought about asking you out before, but it was hard. he wasn't used to the feeling of love, of liking someone so deeply like this. so what could he do besides admire you everyday he was in your library? look at you with pure adoration, chuckle lightly whenever you said something that wasn't even that funny, and after it all just show you the most beautiful, bright and in love smile.

» he didn't like to belittle himself, but he really think you would be better with someone that wasn't him. you were so different, yet so alike him, it almost felt like it was meant to be.

» then, in one of his “oh, i will stay here for 15 more minutes and then i'll go home” times (that never lasted 15 minutes, to be honest), it was almost closing time, all of your coworkers were in their homes, no more clients in, simply, not a soul in there. only you both.

» you kept looking in his direction from afar, thinking to yourself how could you get someone so intelligent, so brilliant, so beautiful, so... him. you knew what you wanted, but again, it was hard. and, if saying your feelings out loud was way too scary, writing it all down seemed easier. so, you picked up a pen and a paper, writing in it everything that was inside your chest, your heart. you poured all your feelings into every word that you scribbled down.

» until you heard him packing up his stuff. you started to panic, and now there was only two options, leave the paper as it was and try to act neutral, or try to hide it and look even more nervous? well, there's no time to think! he was already in front of you while your head was spiraling nonstop.

“hey... you are fine? you look stressed.” he examined your face, tilting his head to the side, admiring every little feature of yours. your pretty eyes, your nose, your kissable lips...

“yes! i'm completely fine, no need to worry!” you put your hands on top of the little confession, smiling anxiously, hoping that he don't notice the sweet words you wrote down just for him.

“oh, what did you got there?” he looked at the paper, then at you, and back to paper. on a common day you would like to have his focus only on you, but it was making you even more nervous now, your stomach was turning itself, your hands were cold and trembling. and when he noticed it, he took your hand in his, and you could feel that he was shaking too. “hey... look,” he took a deep breath, almost like he didn't want to continue, like he was still choosing the right words to say. “i understand that some things we just want to keep them personal, only for ourselves. so, ehh, you don't have to show me what you wrote.”, he said with a nervous smile displayed on his lips, while caressing your knuckles with an almost feather-like touch, too afraid to ruin the moment and lose you right now.

and you didn't want to lose him too. even with your brain telling you that you shouldn't tell him, your heart knew you needed to say it, breaking itself or not. so it was now or never. “well... recently i've been thinking about our friendship, about what it could possibly be, about you.” you averted your gaze to the ground, wishing that you came up with fancier words and a better way to confess to him before it all, but you couldn't turn back now. “honestly i can't stop thinking about you, it's like you consumed every logical thought in my brain, everything that wasn't... you.” finally you looked at his eyes, just to see he already looking at you, eyes finally shining for you, because of you. “i love you, viktor. with everything in me, i really love you.” it seemed so right to say these three little words to him, to let him know how you felt since the first time you've seen him.

“and i love you too.” he came closer to you, still with his hand on yours, but now holding it gently, intertwining your fingers together, pressing quickly his lips in yours, smiling in pure awe, completely lovestruck after it. “i love you more than anything, my little star.”

[archangeldyke-all]

Reader who's been hired as more muscle for the gang? Maybe Sev is a bit jealous and/or is mean to reader, but the reader plays this off by flirting/teasing Sev. And ends up topping her.

Jfdjhggj I need more bottom Sev in my life lmao

bottom sevika is the loml actually

men and minors dni

you cannot, for the fucking life of you, figure out why sevika hates you so much.

you've been working for silco for about six months now, and it's been great. the best job of your life. sure, you're constantly committing crimes and dodging punches, but silco pays well, you get unlimited drinks at the last drop, and you've found a great group of friends in all his other goons.

well, all of the goons except sevika. she despises you, and you've got no fucking idea why. you've been nothing but pleasant and respectful toward her, but lately your patience is starting to wear thin.

"everyone was great at the dropoff today, boss. ran saved us half an hour with some quick thinking and knife skills, and deckard was surprisingly accurate with his math."

"that's what i like to hear. any issues?" silco asks from his desk, where he's puffing on a cigar. your stomach sinks-- you know what's coming.

sevika's silver eyes flick over to you, a small smirk on her lips while she speaks. "the fuckin' rookie forgot to fill the van with gas." she says.

you scowl and scoff. "i did not! that was your fucking assignment-- i was in charge of driving!"

sevika's smirk turns into a grin-- it seems like the only thing she likes more than bothering you is when you fight back. "are you seriously speaking to your superior in that tone right now?" she asks.

"my 'superior'?! as far as i'm aware you're just the bitch at work who makes my life fucking miserable."

all the air gets sucked out of the room, and behind you ran mutters something under their breath. "wrong move, rookie."

sevika's sneering at you, and you get exactly one second of warning before she's grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and is dragging you out of the office, a series of 'oooooh's following behind you.

"oh, great, now she's gonna fuckin' kill me before i can even get paid for today's work." you mutter to yourself as sevika drags you to her office, slamming the door shut behind her. she shoves you against the wall hard, and you grunt. "fuck! what is your fucking problem!?" you shout, shoving at sevika's shoulders. she barely budges.

"you talk too much for your own fuckin' good, y'know." she growls.

you sneer up at her. "and you'd be a lot more attractive if you learned to play nice."

sevika freezes, her anger melting into a shocked expression. you giggle a little-- it looks like you've finally found a way to fight back with sevika-- flirting. "sh-shut up." she mutters eventually. you snort.

"what's wrong, sev, got you tongue tied? that's all it takes, huh? a little compliment and you lose all that bite?" you tease.

sevika doesn't get angry like you expect her to, though. instead, she gulps, and her eyes get wide. you burst into giggles and sevika blinks, her shoulders hunching up. "shut the fuck up." she tries to sound scary, but her voice is too shaky for it to work.

"oh, shit!" you laugh. sevika hunches in on herself even more. "holy shit! you've got a crush on me!" you cackle, pointing an accusing finger at sevika. you watch in fascination as a blush creeps all the way up her neck to the tip of her ears.

"n-no i don't." she tries to deny. you're still reeling from your discovery, giddy and flabbergasted.

"you totally do! holy shit how did i not realize this before!? you're an emotionally constipated shithead, of course you don't know how to flirt! you probably didn't even realize, did you? just wanted to tug my pigtails and get my attention somehow huh?" sevika blinks at you owlishly-- more surprised than you've ever seen her before. you snort. "everything makes sense now." you chuckle to yourself.

"f-fuck off." sevika mutters eventually. you cackle and smack her on the shoulder.

"i've got you all worked out, hah! monday's gonna be a breeze." you laugh to yourself as you make to leave. sevika reaches out and spins you back around before you can open the door fully. you raise an eyebrow at her. "yes?"

sevika looks flustered and confused and slightly scared of you. you giggle a bit as you watch her try and fail to come up with anything to say, before rolling your eyes and giving her a little help.

"figure out a nicer way to flirt with me and you might be surprised, sev. until then, leave me the fuck alone unless you want me telling the gang why you've been picking on me so much." you say, then turn to leave again.

this time you make it halfway out the room before sevika's pulling you back in the room, slamming the door shut and shoving you against the wall again. for one horrible second you worry that you've read the whole situation wrong and you've only managed to enrage sevika even more with the suggestion that she might like you-- especially when sevika's hand wraps around your throat-- but then she freezes and takes a shaky breath. her fingers unwrap from your neck, slowly trailing up to cup your face.

"shut up." sevika whispers at what must be the cockiest, pleasantly surprised smile on your face. you just snort.

"make me." you demand.

sevika swoops forward to kiss you, and you giggle against her lips.

she's like putty in your hands, letting you guide her hands up and down your body, moaning against your lips. when you sink a hand into her hair, she shivers, and you manage to flip the two of you so you're pressing her against the door.

sevika's panting and staring at you with stars in her eyes. you snort at the sight-- endlessly intrigued with her now that you've figured her out. "oh, you're sweet aren't you?" you tease.

sevika tries to glare at you, but it falls flat with her eyes blown so wide they're black and her hands desperately clutching at your hips. "no, i'm not." she denies. you giggle and lean forward to start sucking a hickey against her throat-- the idea of sevika wearing your bite on her throat in front of the gang tomorrow making you dizzy.

"you are." you say. "bet you're fuckin' soaked for me, too, aren't you?"

sevika whimpers. you have to kiss her again to keep from laughing at her. she's pathetic. it's so fucking hot.

sevika grabs your hand and tries to shove it down her pants. you laugh, pulling away from her and grabbing her chin-- forcing her to look at you. "sevika, take a breath, babe." you request. she moans at the petname, and you laugh. "fuck, you're cute."

"fuck off!" sevika growls. you snort.

"i need you to use your words before i can take care of you, honey."

sevika shivers, her voice shaky as she speaks. "fuck... please fuck me."

you raise an eyebrow at her, and sevika actually stomps her foot. you laugh. "and why should i?" you ask.

sevika sputters, then cringes. you watch her mentally debate whether or not she's horny enough to communicate-- and you're surprised when she takes a deep breath, rolls her eyes, and then speaks. "b-because... because i've got a stupid fuckin' crush on you, okay!?" she shouts.

you grin and lean forward, kissing her cheek. "okay." you say simply, shoving your hand down the front of her pants and boxers. sevika whimpers, leaning forward to bury her face against your shoulder as you gasp. "oh, baby-- you're soaked." you coo.

she bites your shoulder. "would you just-- shut the fuck --ah!" she gasps at you sink two fingers inside her. "f-f-f-fuck!" she whines. you laugh.

"you better shut up or everyone's gonna know what's goin' on in here." you tease. sevika whimpers, and leans back-- shoving a fist in her mouth. you snort and lean forward, nudging her hand out of the way with your face. "move that. i got a better way to shut you up."

sevika's hand wraps around you, clawing at your back as you start to kiss her. it's uncoordinated and sloppy-- both of you too focused on her cunt to care much about your lips-- and it's the hottest kiss of your life. especially because sevika keeps whimpering into your mouth.

you manage to muffle most of her moans and groans, but when she cums, sevika leans back and shouts. "oh, oh, oh fuck!"

you giggle against her throat-- there's no explaining that away-- but you think sevika might've done it on purpose. you have a sneaking suspicion that sevika's going to be a possessive lover if the way she's clinging to you as she catches her breath is any clue. you don't mind.

"you're a fucking mess." you tease. sevika grunts and pinches your ass.

"shut up."

"that's rich coming from you. think the walls shook with how loud you were squealing."

"shut up!" sevika growls. you laugh.

"you don't scare me, baby. 'specially not when your cunt's still squeezing my fingers." you say, wiggling said fingers just a bit. sevika growls and bites your shoulder again, and you giggle. "are you gonna go back to bein' a bitch to me now or have we moved past that?" you ask.

sevika huffs and picks her head up, peeking up at you with puppy eyes. "i'm... sorry." she mutters. you smirk, raising an eyebrow at her, and sevika groans and straightens up. "i am!" she whines. "i just-- y'know." she says, waving her hand at you. you giggle.

"i do know." you say, nodding. "you're a mess."

sevika huffs. "yeah, basically."

"it's okay, sev. you're a hot mess." you tease. she snorts.

"i can't believe i like you." she groans. you just laugh. sevika huffs and you pull your hand out of her pants and straighten her out a bit. you make to leave and sevika squeaks. "wait!" you pause in the doorway, and sevika gulps, cringes, and groans. "fuck. fuck! fuck, i don't... just-- what're you doing tonight?" she asks.

something inside you flutters and you shrug. "you tell me."

sevika smiles a bit, her eyes darting away from you as she reaches up to rub the back of her neck. "...i won a shitload of money in cards last night... i could take us up to the promenade?" she asks. you grin.

"pullin' out all the stops, huh?" you ask. she shrugs.

"'s an apology."

"i like it. you've got yourself a date, sev."

sevika grins.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

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@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[emilyprentissluvr]

A New Light (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 5)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds stuff

Words: 2k

"How's that big head of yours?" Emily asked as she leaned against the door frame of Derek's hospital room. She had come straight from the crime scene, where Hotch had received a call that Derek was being released but needed someone to pick him up. Emily immediately volunteered, the lingering guilt still at the back of her mind. 

"Always the flatterer, princess." Derek chuckled as he packed his bag, "Doctors think she drugged me transdermally."

"Jesus. She really was two steps ahead of us," Emily sighed, and Derek nodded in confirmation, "Hotch said she struck again?"

"Yeah, she's taunting us," Emily said.

"This is my fault. I should have done more to stop her-" Derek started before Emily cut him off.

"She drugged you, Derek. No one could have seen that coming."

"I know, but-"

"Ah! No buts! Except for yours, which is about to get pushed around by me in a wheelchair." Emily smiled as she gestured to the wheelchair outside of his room.

"Like hell I am," Derek scoffed as he tried to walk out of the room but was stopped by Emily. 

"It's hospital protocol. And I'll call Dad if you don't cooperate!" Emily threatened.

Derek rolled his eyes but eventually sat in the wheelchair. Emily could be very scary when she wanted to be.

Out of everyone, he was glad that it was Emily to get him. They shared an easy camaraderie, which was exactly what he needed. 

"I don't think Hotch will approve of you calling him Dad." Derek quipped back as Emily pushed him through the halls of the hospital.

"Yeah, you're right. Mom suits him better." Emily smiled, causing Derek to laugh, "Ten bucks to say that to his face." 

"Oh, you're on," Emily said, flicking the back of his head, and their bickering continued all the way to the car. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

"Alright, my beautiful crime fighters," Penelope started as she walked into the conference room where the rest of the team was. As soon as Emily and Derek had walked into the bullpen, Hotch had called everyone to debrief and review new information.

"I found a whole lot of nothing with the information Derek gave us, but I did possibly find something!" Penelope said as she connected her computer to the TV. 

"I ran the name Y/n Y/l/n, and unsurprisingly, I found nada. However, I ran the name Alex Painter, Y/n's first victim, through VICAP and got this.."

The technical analyst pulled the picture up, and the team sat in confusion.

"Alex Painter was a woman?" Emily asked, extremely skeptical if this was the right person.

"And she was killed in 1991? Assuming Y/n is in her mid-20s, that would put her at about 6-10 years old when she killed Alex Painter." Spencer chimed in.

"COD was blunt force trauma to the head; I mean, even though it sounds unlikely, it isn't entirely impossible," Derek said.

"I've seen it before," Rossi added. 

"You can't be serious," JJ said defensively, causing the whole team to look at her, surprised by her uncharacteristic tone, "She was just a kid. There's no way she could have done that by herself."

"I'm with JJ," Emily said, although much calmer than her blonde counterpart, "Something's off. This is either the wrong Alex Painter, or we're getting into something a lot bigger than we thought."

The rest of the team nodded; not everyone was on the same page, but everyone knew something wasn't adding up. 

"Well, that's my cue to do more sleuthing. I will update you guys when I'm done. PG out." Penelope declared as she grabbed her stuff and made her way to her lair for the foreseeable future. 

"While Garcia's doing that, I want a new profile on Y/n, especially after last night,"  Hotch said as he motioned to the numerous boxes on the table. "Go over all the case files again; maybe there's something Interpol missed." He said before going to his office to no doubt do his own work.

"Well, this should be fun," Derek grumbled, earning a sigh from everyone else.

"Coffee, anyone?" Emily asked, knowing this was about to be a long day. Everyone gave a pleasant nod. Before she left the room, she turned to JJ when no one was looking and mouthed "tea," to which JJ gave a grateful smile.  

As Emily was brewing the coffee, she felt her phone buzz. Not thinking anything of it, she pulled it out of her pocket. But when she saw the sender of the text, her heart dropped. 

Y/n (10:23 am): Did you like the flowers?

Emily scoffed, about to turn her phone off, when another message popped up.

Y/n (10:24 am): It was hard to find them on such short notice. But only the best for you, darling.

Emily (10:24 am): I don't want anything from you.

Emily quickly typed out. She didn't know if this was against protocol, but she couldn't just not respond. 

Y/n (10:25 am): We'll see about that.

Emily pocketed her phone, leaving the conversation at that before turning to the coffee pot and filling up everyone's mug. 

"Thanks for the tea," Emily heard from behind her and turned to find JJ.

"Of course. You feeling okay?" She asked as she handed JJ her mug, "No morning sickness, thankfully. But I give the smell of coffee two hours before it makes me puke."

"I'm sorry," Emily said apologetically, but JJ waved her off.

"So, have you put any more thought into you and Will?" Emily asked, trying not to pry, but she also wanted to get her mind off of Y/n.

"I don't know," JJ sighed, "He was blowing up my phone last night."

"After you told him you were at my place?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, he was just worried," JJ said quietly. 

Emily tried not to let her emotions play on her face, but god, she couldn't stand Will. 

"Well, you're welcome to come over whenever. And if you need me to talk to Will-" Emily started before JJ cut her off.

"It's fine, Em. But thank you." JJ said appreciatively, squeezing Emily's arm. 

"Yo! Where's that coffee, princess?" Derek called from the conference room. 

"Well, duty calls." JJ chuckled as she helped Emily grab the mugs. 

When they returned to the conference room, there were files everywhere. It was going to be a very long day.

By 6 pm, it seemed as if they had made no progress. Emily's eyes were strained, and she honestly didn't think she was retaining anything she was reading. 

"This is insane," Derek muttered as he picked another file out of the box.

"What is?" Spencer asked, adding another file to his stack that was probably double the size of everyone else's.

"Her victim count. It's insane." Derek said as it was the most obvious thing.

"Why? Cause she's a woman?" JJ asked.

"Yeah," Derek said sarcastically, causing Emily to throw her pen at him, hitting him right in the forehead, "Hey! I was kidding!"

"I know," Emily smiled, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"What I meant was that she's in her twenties and already has a kill count in the hundreds. What happened to her that made her into the killer she is?" Derek questioned.

"I don't know. And until we figure that out, we stand no chance of catching her," Rossi added.

Emily bit at her bottom lip. She didn't want to think about how many more people were going to die before they caught Y/n.

"Maybe I can try and lure her out again." Emily offered and was immediately met with a resounding no from everyone.

"We already did that, and it didn't work," JJ said. Not even wanting to think about sending her friend to meet Y/n again. 

"And besides, you know that's not how we work, Prentiss," Derek said.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right." Emily said with a small nod. But she couldn't help but think they could catch Y/n quicker if they did, except for the fact that Derek was right. The BAU didn't go undercover and lure people; they profiled and caught unsubs from an outside perspective. And that's how Emily wanted to do things from here on out. Right?

It was almost 8 pm by the time she walked into her apartment. The last two days were catching up to her, and Emily wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next 12 hours. She quickly popped a frozen pizza into the oven before going to change. 

As she waited for the pizza, she browsed through her bookshelf when she suddenly remembered that Y/n told her she was a writer. Was it possible that Emily had read one of her books? She had quite a hefty collection in her apartment, but it wasn't even a fraction of all the books she'd read in her life. 

What kind of books did Y/n write? Emily wondered. Mystery? Romance? Fiction? Fantasy?

And what got her into writing? How did she even have time to write and murder hundreds of men?

The oven rang, pulling Emily out of her thoughts. She shook her head as she walked back to the kitchen. Reading was supposed to help her get out of her head, and all she could think about was Y/n. 

She took her pizza on the couch, putting on some reality show that she didn't pay any attention to. 

After about twenty minutes, Emily pulled her phone out and went to her text messages with Y/n. She knew she should tell Hotch she was in contact with Y/n. But what if Hotch disapproved and made her end it? She couldn't get rid of the only lead they had, so maybe she should wait until she got enough out of Y/n. 

So, without thinking too hard about it, she texted Y/n. 

Emily (9:02 PM): Alex Painter.

The name was all Emily typed before turning off her phone. She knew Y/n wouldn't be able to resist talking to her. And even if the younger woman didn't give her anything, what harm could it do? It wasn't like the team was making much leeway anyway.

Y/n (9:03 PM): I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? Change of heart?

Emily (9:03 PM): No. I just want to know about Alex Painter. 

Y/n (9:04 PM): What about her?

Y/n (9:04 PM): Also, this is not the kind of late-night text I prefer, Emily.

Emily scoffed, ignoring the last message.

Emily (9:05 PM): Did you really kill her in 1991?

Y/n (9:05 PM): I don't know, did I? I thought your team was supposed to be good at stuff like this.

Y/n (9:06 PM): Also, what are you wearing?

Once again, Emily ignored the last message.

Emily (9:06 PM): You were just a kid in 1991. How were you able to overpower a grown woman?

Y/n (9:07 PM): Answer my question, and I'll answer yours.

Emily groaned as she looked down at her outfit. She knew what Y/n was doing, and she didn't want to play into her game. But if she could get an answer, it would be worth it. And it wasn't like she was doing anything illegal.

Emily (9:09 PM): An old Yale T-shirt and flannel pajama shorts.

Y/n (9:09 PM): Surprising, but nonetheless hot. Want to know what I'm wearing?

Emily (9:09 PM): No. I answered your question, now answer mine.

Y/n (9:10 PM): Bummer. If you wanted to know, I would have told you that I am taking a very relaxing bath right now and am wearing absolutely nothing.

Emily gripped her phone, cursing her brain for visualizing that for even a second. God, this was a bad idea.

Y/n (9:10 PM): And if you had said please, I definitely would have sent you a picture. 

Emily (9:10 PM): Back to Alex Painter 

Emily typed, not wanting to entertain Y/n any longer. 

Y/n (9:11 PM): Yes ma'am.

Y/n (9:11 PM): 1991 is correct. More specifically, I was 7. And to answer your question, I took the last hit.

Emily (9:11 PM): What does that mean?

Y/n (9:12 PM): You tell me. But I have to say I'm quite bored of this conversation now. We'll talk later, darling.

Emily shut off her phone, knowing the conversation was done. But what did Y/n mean by her taking the last hit?

Emily quickly went to clean her kitchen before getting into bed. 

She tried to sleep, but all she could think about was Y/n. 

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.6

Hii guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed the other parts you can find them in my masterlist.

- Silverstone 2023 -

It's not your first time at Silverstone, and it surely won't be your last—especially with McLaren's home race being such a staple in your life. The familiar roar of engines and the endless stretches of track feel comforting, grounding you in a way that's desperately needed. The past week has been a blur, with your dad busier than ever, leaving you to your own devices and, more importantly, your own thoughts. And those thoughts? They've been anything but quiet.

You can't stop thinking about that anonymous message. Who could have sent it? What did it mean, "Franco is not who you think he is"? And how did they even know about you and Franco in the first place? You hadn't told many people about meeting him. The only one who really knew was... Oliver. And that thought sends a ripple of unease through you.

But there's something else gnawing at you, something even more confusing—your feelings for Franco. You like him, that much is clear. You feel a connection with him that's hard to ignore, a playful, easy energy that makes your time together feel effortless. But now, that message has planted seeds of doubt in your mind. What if Franco isn't what he seems? What if his feelings toward you aren't genuine, or worse, what if he's playing some kind of game? You hate how much that idea bothers you. You can't tell if the confusion you feel is about him—or about how much you've already come to care.

And what about that other question, the one that lingers just under the surface? What exactly is going on between you and Franco? Are you just friends, or is there something more developing between you two? Every moment you've spent together has felt significant, but neither of you have put a label on it. Now, you're not sure what to believe.

As your thoughts spin, something clicks in your mind—Oliver. He was the only person who really knew about you and Franco. Could it have been him who sent that message? He'd acted normal the last time you spoke, but maybe there was more beneath the surface than you'd realized. What if he knew something you didn't about Franco and was trying to warn you?

Determined to get answers, you make it your mission to find Oliver while you're at Silverstone. You need to know if he sent that message, and more importantly, why.

You spot Oliver in the Prema garage, warming up for a test session. He's chatting with a few team members, the usual calm confidence on his face. You approach cautiously, unsure how to start this conversation, especially with everything on your mind. When he sees you, his face lights up in a friendly smile.

"Y/N! Hey, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," he says, stepping away from the crew to meet you.

You return his smile, trying to push the anxious thoughts aside. "Yeah, I figured I'd check in before everything gets crazy later."

Oliver laughs. "It's already crazy, but that's Silverstone for you."

You chat for a few moments, the conversation is easy and comfortable, just like it's always been with Oliver. He's kind, engaging, and makes you feel at ease. But the question you came here for lingers, and as much as you're enjoying talking with him, you need to know the truth.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to dive in. "Oliver, there's something I need to ask you. It's been on my mind, and I just need to clear it up."

He tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes. "Sure, what's up?"

You hesitate, then pull out your phone, showing him the strange message you received. "I got this last week. I don't know who sent it, but you're the only person who knew about me and Franco. Was it you?"

Oliver's brow furrows as he reads the message, clearly taken aback. "No," he says quickly, shaking his head. "Y/N, I swear, I didn't send this. I don't even have your number. How could I have texted you?"

His reaction seems genuine, and for a moment, relief washes over you. But there's something else in his expression, a flicker of something more—concern, maybe even frustration.

"Are you sure?" you ask, still a bit unsure.

"Positive," he replies firmly, meeting your gaze. "But... this is weird. Whoever sent this clearly knows about you and Franco. And to be honest," he adds, his voice lowering slightly, "I don't think you should trust him."

You blink in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Why?"

Oliver sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He's reluctant, but something about this situation has clearly bothered him for a while. "Look, I've never really liked Franco much," he admits. "I don't know if he's the kind of guy you think he is. There's just something about him that doesn't sit right with me."

What he doesn't say is the part that's been growing louder in his mind recently—now that he's gotten to know you better, now that he's found himself thinking about you more than he should, his dislike for Franco has only intensified. It's not just about Franco anymore; it's about the way Franco seems to have caught your attention, a place Oliver quietly wishes he could fill.

But he pushes that thought aside, not wanting to show his hand. "I'm not trying to scare you or anything," Oliver continues, keeping his tone neutral. "I just... want you to be careful, that's all."

You look at him, unsure how to respond. His concern seems real, but there's a hint of something deeper you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you appreciate his honesty.

"Thanks, Oliver," you say quietly, tucking your phone away. "I'll be careful."

He gives you a small, reassuring smile. "Good. If you ever need anything, I'm here, okay?"

You nod, grateful for his support, but as you walk away, your thoughts are swirling. I guess it's time to talk to Franco.

[luciathcv]

insecurities - kth

summary: taehyung comforts you when feeling insecure about your small chest || warnings: reader is naked at first (non-sexual) || genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship || word count: approximately 380 || a/n: see the request here!

After getting out of the shower, you stood in front of the mirror, looking at your bare chest. You turned to the side before facing forward again, using your hands, to get them to look bigger, even if it was only a little bit.

You were always insecure about your chest size. Feeling like certain tops looked weird on you because of it. Not only that, though, it was the way they looked when you didn't have anything covering you. You weren't sure what it was exactly but it bothered you.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you wrap the towel around your torso and leave the bathroom, walking into your bedroom and scouring through your closet for some pajamas.

As you were doing so, Taehyung entered the room. He was already showered, in his pajamas, and ready for bed. He came up behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist from behind as he pecked the side of your neck.

You don't say anything, still upset after looking in the mirror as you pick out some clothing.

Taehyung could sense that something was wrong, his boyfriend-senses activated, as he looked at your face from behind you.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

You don't bother being secretive about it because Taehyung already knew about your insecurities when it came to your chest region.

"I hate my boobs. They're too small. I know they are so please don't lie to me." You complain.

Taehyung lets out a soft sigh as he lets go of you before turning you around, making you face him.

"How many times do I have to tell you this? They're not too small. They're perfect. They fit you beautifully and I love them." He comforted you as best as he could.

"You're just saying that because you're my boyfriend." You said.

"Maybe. That doesn't mean I don't think they're truly perfect, though." He said. He really meant his words.

You let out a soft sigh, "Well, I don't think so."

"Yeah, and I hate that. I do. I wish you'd see yourself how I see you. And I think you're perfect." He said softly.

"No one's perfect." You remind him.

"Well, you are to me. Imperfections and all." Taehyung said before leaning down and kissing you.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[pepperf]

Question to all the Five fans who haven't blocked me yet: is there anything actually in canon to say that he worked closely with/was personally victimised by the Handler, or is this just an incredibly popular headcanon (because people feel it explains a few things)? Because that wasn't at all how I read it, but Five is not my focus, so I may have missed something?

From what I remember: when she first appears in the apocalypse, they're definitely strangers, and she recruits him. Then on her next appearance, it sounds largely as if that was the last time she'd seen him. She tagged along on the killing of Lila's parents, but this was stated to be unusual, maybe even unheard of ("Management never came on missions" or words to that effect). She focuses on him in s2, but she's working on a specific plan at that point, and although she deliberately plays cat and mouse with him, it's not exactly the worst thing that happens to him that week. And after that, she's fully dead.

I ask because I have seen a lot of comparisons of Five and Lila's relationships with the Handler, and I'm honestly not seeing where that comes from. Lila had years of abuse from childhood, she was indoctrinated and manipulated, gaslighted into loving her tormentor, told that she'd been 'saved', her loyalty had to be absolute - the relationship was one of abusive parent and abused child. Whereas Five was recruited by the Commission, worked for them for...five years? (I don't think they ever specify, but he's already Old Man Five in the apocalypse), and then got out. He barely seems to know the Handler - or the building and people, judging by the introductory tour he gets.

I'm sure he had a shitty time there, and the Commission absolutely uses people! But like...on the level of denying expense claims, judging by Hazel and Cha Cha. And oh, they'll definitely kill you if you're in their way - but it's not personal. For my money's worth, I would say his life in the apocalypse was far more formative for who he is as a person - and that absolutely was as terrible a fate as anyone could wish.

(Relatedly, I think it would be kind of hilarious if Five's there complaining about the Commission with an undercurrent of 'I know that place like the back of my hand', whereas in fact everyone there is like, "The new guy? Yeah, I think I met him in the canteen once...kind of mean...")