#like we all hoped it would somehow turn out this way but then for it to actually happen??? wild

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: a rare night out ends in rushing to PTMC

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is mid to late 20s), parenting, a child (they have a son who is 5) nongraphic mentions of falling down stairs and mild concussion, they call each other mommy and daddy but not in a kink way?? no smut but minors DNI.

notes: requested!!! i don’t 100000% love this, but currently it seems like that is not a new thing for me with my writing LMAO. i hope you guys enjoy this (especially the person who requested!! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc.: 1.6k

Jack can’t help but sigh looking at his pouting son, a face that mirrors his own but eyes that are all yours.

“Buddy, you like Sadie. It’ll be a good night. Mom and I won’t even be out late,”

“But daddy, why can’t I go?”

Because you and Jack haven’t had a night to yourselves in who knows how long. Not that Jack would ever, ever, tell your son that.

“Because daddy wants to take mommy to dinner,”

Your son's pout somehow deepens, “I wanna take mommy to dinner too.”

Jack sighs, “Well, what if when dad gets off work, we both take mommy to a nice restaurant. And tonight you let dad take mom out. Plus,” He crouches down to his son's height, but more weight onto his left side than his right, “you get her all to yourself for three nights in a row.”

Jack watches as his son sighs, but nods his head, “Fine.”

Jack takes it as a small victory. The five year old is completely attached to you, and though he can’t blame him, it can get slightly annoying when he wants to spend time with you and the small boy refuses to stay with the sitter from down the block.

It’s a rare off night on a weekend for him, and he’s determined to have an actual dinner with you that doesn’t consist of your son eating off your plate, you eating off Jack’s, and Jack ending up eating dinosaur chicken nuggets.

It’s also a win that he gets to see you dressed up.

And dressed up you are.

He glances over at the stairs when he hears your heels clacking on the hardwood of the stairs, and he swears you never fail to make his breath catch.

Especially in a black dress.

A little black dress, at that.

Before he can even think to compliment you, a tiny voice beats him to it.

“Wow, mommy look at you!”

You grin, and do a dramatic turn, “Yeah? Looks nice?”

“Veeeery nice!” He giggles, and it makes you giggle.

You finally look at your husband, “Well doesn’t daddy look nice, huh?”

Jack huffs, “Yeah. Not as nice as mommy, though.”

You laugh as he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you into him, placing a quick, but firm, kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A knock on the door pulls the two of you out of your bubble. Jack quickly pulls away from you to go let Sadie in, while you kneel down in front of your son.

“Alright, bub. Be good for Sadie and mommy will bring home a dessert for the two of us to share.”

He gives you a toothy smile, “What kind of dessert?”

Dramatically, you furrow your brows and place a finger on your chin, “Hmmmmm,” He laughs at you, and it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard, “How about cheesecake?”

“Oooooh yes,” Dragging out the oh, he nods enthusiastically, giggles never ceasing.

“Okay, that settles it.”

You kiss the apple of his chubby cheek, standing up right as Jack and Sadie walk in.

“Right, we’ll be back around 11. He should be in bed by 8, but if he wants to stay up a little later and watch TV, that should be fine,” Jack glances at you for confirmation that your son can stay up a little past his bedtime.

Nodding, you glance at Sadie, “9:30 is the absolute latest, though,”

A few minutes later, the two of you are out the door.

In the fifteen minute drive to the restaurant, Jack’s hand lingers on your thigh, squeezing it every so often.

“Do you think he’ll sleep all night?”

You smirk, “Why?”

His voice drops slightly, “You know why.”

You laugh, looking over at him and smiling, “Yes, I think he will sleep all night.”

An all too familiar grin takes over his face.

“But we’ll have to be quiet. We’ve had one too many close calls.”

Thank god for the lock on the bedroom door. He’s never actually caught the two of you, but you dread the thought of it.

“I can be quiet,” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “You can’t.”

Dramatically, you gasp, “Excuse me?”

This time, he doesn’t even look at you, just huffs out a laugh, “You heard me, and you know I’m right,”

An hour and a half later, the two of you are well on your way to dessert, laughing like a couple of teenagers over pasta and steak.

He’s staring when you pull yourself together enough to look back up at him.

“What?” He smiles when you furrow your brow.

“You’re beautiful. And I don’t think I tell you enough,”

You roll your eyes.

“No,” His eyes are locked on yours, “I’m serious. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and you are absolutely the best mother ever.”

His fingers lace with yours, “You gave up a lot,” You immediately go to deny it, but he continues, “Don’t say you didn’t, because you did. You’re whole life changed when he was born, and you made every single sacrifice you needed to without any complaints. And I know, my life changed too, but not as much as yours did,”

His eyes hold a lot of emotions when he squeezes your hand tightly, “You’re the greatest person I know. And I love you more than anything.”

Tears well up in your eyes, but you give him a big smile, “I love him, and I love you, more than anything. All sacrifices have been far worth it.”

His phone ringing pulls both of you out of your conversation.

Jack huffs out a sigh as he digs it out of his pocket, mumbling under his breath, “The one fucking night,”

His brow creases when he sees Sadie is the one calling.

“Hey, Sadie,” You tense up in your seat immediately, she never calls when sitting. Never.

“Wow, hey. Calm down,” He keeps his composure, but the look in his eye tells you that something is wrong.

“The ER? Which one? Take him to PTMC. We’ll meet you there.”

Now you’re panicking, “Why are we going to the ER?”

Jack takes a deep breath and grabs both your hands, “He’s gonna be fine, but he took a pretty bad tumble down the stairs. Sadie said he slipped. His nose is bleeding, but he’s going to be just fine.”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you or himself, but you start feeling overwhelmed.

“He fell down the stairs?” The way your voice cracks has Jack wincing. He had just taken the babygate out over the weekend.

“He’s going to be fine. Go get in the car started,” He digs his keys out of his pocket, “and I’ll take care of the check.”

You’re shaking as you stand, chest feeling tight and fingers going numb as you clutch the keys.

By the time the two of you make it to PTMC, you can tell Jack is panicking. You wish you could say something, make him feel better like he’s trying to do you, but you can’t think of anything to say.

You need to see your baby before you say anything.

“Hey,” Jack stops walking when he notices you aren’t right behind him, walking back to where you’re standing, “Hey.” His hands grab your face, “It’s a tumble down the stairs, and while it is scary, he is going to be just fine. Maybe a concussion but that’s probably it,”

You take a deep, shaky breath, “What if it’s not?”

Jack shakes his head, “He’s going to be just fine.”

A kiss on your head ends the brief moment before he grabs your hand and guides you into the ER, quickly making his way through and to the nurses station to look at the board.

E. Abbot S9

“C’mon.”

He gently guides you to the room your son is in, sighing when he sees Sadie.

“Oh thank god,” The teenager sniffles and walks over to you guys.

“I think he’s okay, they took him for a CT a bit ago-“ A sob cuts her off as she looks at you guys, “I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey,” You gently take one of her shaky hands, “it’s okay, you did everything right.”

She takes a deep breath, and nods.

“My mom is going to come pick me up, I’m gonna go wait for her in the waiting room. Please text me and let me know how he is?”

Jack nods, “Of course we will.”

You give her a tight hug before she walks off, which is perfect timing as Shen and Ellis both appear, wheeling your son though.

“Mom!”

You smile, despite the tears in your eyes, “Oh, my baby!”

You reach to hold his hand, “Are you okay?”

Shen, bless him, “Yeah, it’s a good thing for that hard Abbot head. He has a very mild concussion. I think the sitter was worried the bloody nose was from his head hitting the wall, but from looking at it, he also has bruising on his nose,”

Jack’s glaring, “What did you just say about my kids head?”

You turn and shush Jack, “You are hard headed, don’t start,”

Jack rolls his eyes before glancing down at his son, “You feel okay, bud? Neck hurt or anything?”

He shakes his head, “No and no.”

Jack nods, “Can we take him home?”

The question is directed at Shen, since Ellis is wheeling the two of you into South 9.

“Yeah, even if he wasn’t your kid, I wouldn’t think monitoring was necessary. I think the fall scared the sitter more than anything. He was awake and alert when she brought him in.”

Jack nods, “Good.”

Shen pats his shoulder, “I’ll go get the discharge paperwork.”

Jack walks in as Ellis is walking out, she smiles at him, “Best patient we’ve had all night, boss,”

Jack rolls his eyes and waves her off.

It isn’t surprising to find you laying with him in the bed, his smaller body sprawled over yours.

“Well, I guess he’s sleeping with us tonight, huh?”

The question is directed at you, but a small voice answers.

“Yes, I am.”

[cheftsunoda]

Hello! 🧚🏼

I'm not sure if you have any specific rules or guidelines when it comes to requesting, however I absolutely adore all of your poly fics and I've reread them so often! I'm just wondering if you'd ever consider doing a Yuki x Pierre x Reader? I'm open to anything with them honeslty. Your writing is so so good!! <3

If you aren't okay with it, that's absolutely no worries at all! ⭐️✨

(anything for you baby doll) (u made me blush and i hope you enjoy the fic)

haute and bothered — pg10 + yt22

smau + blurbs

pierre gasly x !hadjar fashion editor reader x yuki tsunoda

isack hadjar x !older sister fashion editor reader

YN Hadjar is Vogue France’s sharpest editor and the undisputed definition of elegance. A force in the fashion world, she’s used to front rows, flashing cameras, and never being the one caught off guard. But when she crosses paths with her younger brother’s teammate and his best friend at a fashion event, a playful request for style advice quickly unravels into something far more complicated—and far more intoxicating.

fc : aylin elma + various pinterest gals

before you read! : isack + yuki are still teammates for plot purposes— thank u, love u, bye

—

yn_hadjar

liked by isackhadjar, voguefrance, olliebearman and 1,205,777 others.

yn_hadjar : where to next? ✈️💐

—

view 127,045 other comments.

isackhadjar : how about to come see your little brother and go to one of his races? 🙄

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : we are literally going to the same event tonight and i’ve cleared my weekend for you. can we please keep the dramatics to a minimum?

liked by isackhadjar

username0 : yn! will you be dressing isack for the event?

↳ yn_hadjar : obv. i cannot be seen with him in something that he came up with.

↳ isackhadjar : she literally used to set out my clothes for school the next day and she still does it for me now.

liked by yn_hadjar and username0

username15 : everyone shut up. these two r so important to me.

voguefrance : our girllll 😻🔥

liked by yn_hadjar

visacashapprb : we can’t wait for our fave sibling duo to be reunited 💙

liked by yn_hadjar and isackhadjar

jacquemus : we 💛 you!

liked by yn_hadjar

olliebearman : my favorite fashion icon

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : my favorite f1 rookie

liked by olliebearman

↳ isack_hadjar : excusez-moi???

liked by yn_hadjar and olliebearman

yn_hadjar : he goes out of his way to read my editorials. do you???

liked by olliebearman

↳ isack_hadjar : no comment.

lewishamilton : 🔥🔥

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ isack_hadjar : can you two date so he can be part of the family?

liked by lewishamilton and yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : menace

alexandrasaintmleux : si belle ma chérie <3

liked by yn_hadjar

—

yn_hadjar added posts to her story!

seen by isackhadjar, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 1,809,253 others.

{caption 1 : @/hugo_official event tonight} {caption 2 : someone tell him to take this off and put on what i pick out before i disown him.}

olliebearman : just disown him and adopt me as your brother

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : deal

isackhadjar : i kinda got ts on tho

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : you look like a gym teacher not like you’re about to be on a red carpet representing your team.

isackhadjar : fine then what event would you approve this outfit for

yn_hadjar : save it for your mid life crisis era

visacashapprb : thank you for making him change, yn.

liked by yn_hadjar

yukitsunoda0511 : can’t wait for my styling class you promised :)

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : can’t wait for that meal you promised to make me after

pierregasly : si jolie mon amour

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : merci mon angeeeee

—

I didn’t knock. I stormed into Isack’s hotel room like a woman on a mission—because I was. We had exactly ninety minutes until the Hugo event, and if my beloved younger brother showed up looking like a clown, it would somehow reflect badly on me. And sure enough, the universe really said, “Let’s test her.” I stopped cold. He turned around slowly, like he’d been waiting for this moment. Like he knew exactly what he’d done.

“Isack.”

He was wearing a shiny, deep red satin shirt, only half-buttoned, tucked into chaotically patterned pants that clashed so hard I actually squinted. And to top it all off? White Oakleys. Inside.

“What. The hell. Are you wearing.”

He gave me the most infuriating smile known to man. “It’s giving ‘fashion-forward driver off-duty,’ no?”

“It’s giving ’man lost in the sale bin at a Las Vegas souvenir shop.’” I walked in and tossed my bag on the bed. “Take. It. Off.”

"YN. Come on. It's kind of iconic."

“It’s kind of traumatic.”

He laughed, clearly proud of himself. “I wanted to see how mad I could make you before you threatened violence.”

“You’re so lucky we share DNA.”

I yanked open the garment bag hanging on the back of the door and pulled out the actual look he was supposed to wear— tailored black trousers, the clean charcoal turtleneck, and that sharp Hugo jacket that made him look like he belonged in a campaign. My campaign.

“You’re wearing this. Non-negotiable.”

“Jeez. Do you treat all your models like this?”

“No. Just the ones who try to show up to a luxury fashion event dressed like Pitbull’s stylist during a midlife crisis.”

He muttered something under his breath as he started unbuttoning the shirt, but I was too busy hiding a smile to care. Honestly, I didn’t know what was waiting for us downstairs or who else would be there. I just knew that if Isack made his red carpet debut in that outfit, I’d have to resign from fashion entirely. And that was simply not an option.

—

The Hugo event was in full swing by the time we arrived—cameras flashing, music pulsing, champagne being passed around like water. Isack, thankfully, looked decent in the outfit I’d forced him into. Better than decent, actually. Smug little bastard knew it too. We stepped inside the venue and he immediately peeled off to talk to someone from the team. I stayed behind near the bar, doing a lazy scan of the room. Models, stylists, influencers, the usual mix. I was half-distracted answering an email when I heard Isack’s voice again—closer this time.

“YN,” he said, a little too casually. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I looked up. Next to him stood Yuki Tsunoda, who I recognized from the grid but had never actually met. He was dressed immaculately—double-breasted navy suit, crisp collar, Hugo brooch pinned just so. And standing beside him, just slightly behind, was Pierre Gasly. All charm and smirk, wearing that kind of black turtleneck that only worked when you were French and stupidly handsome.

Yuki gave me a polite smile. “Hi. Teammate-slash-regretful Oakley enabler.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how quick he was. “So you’re the one who told him the sunglasses were a good idea.”

Yuki nodded solemnly. “I can’t be trusted before 6 p.m.”

I laughed—genuinely. “Well. At least you’re self-aware.”

Isack, annoyingly pleased with himself, gestured between us. “YN, Yuki. Yuki, YN. This is my very controlling older sister. She works at Vogue. Bosses people around. Yells at me a lot.”

“I keep him alive,” I corrected.

Yuki’s eyes twinkled. “She yells fashionably.”

Pierre stepped forward then, offering his hand. “And I’m just the plus-one. Pierre.”

“Vogue France,” I replied, shaking it with a tilt of my head. “YN Hadjar. And no one is just the plus-one if they wear a turtleneck that well.”

He grinned, teeth flashing. “Merci. I dressed to impress.”

“You succeeded.”

Isack groaned like we were already too much. “I shouldn’t have introduced any of you. I can feel the ego growing in the room.”

“Relax,” I said, taking a flute of champagne from a passing tray. “If anything, this might be the most normal group here.”

Yuki raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”

—

The party had started to blur. Most of the photographers had cleared out, the music had slowed to something low and hypnotic, and people were either drunk, half-asleep on velvet couches, or deep in conversation with whoever they were hoping to leave with. I’d lost Isack about an hour ago—probably cornered by a PR rep or sneaking off to find sliders. I was tucked into a quieter corner of the venue, perched on a velvet bench with a glass of wine in hand, shoes dangling from my fingers. And somehow—like gravity knew exactly what it was doing—Yuki and Pierre ended up there with me. They’d brought more drinks. I wasn’t even sure when they left to get them.

“This is your version of relaxing?” Pierre asked, settling in beside me with one arm stretched along the back of the booth. His thigh brushed mine casually—but it stayed there. “Watching the fashion crowd fall apart after midnight?”

“It’s better than the Met Gala,” I teased, swirling the wine in my glass. “No one’s pretending to be sober.”

Yuki laughed, sitting on my other side, close enough for our shoulders to touch. “You really know everyone in this world, don’t you?”

“I’m paid to,” I said, shrugging. “It’s part of the job. Know the faces, the designers, the drama. And make sure the magazine doesn’t implode.”

Pierre leaned in slightly, eyes warm. “So what happens when we ask you for your professional opinion?”

I arched a brow. “You mean you’re not just here for the free champagne and Isack’s tragic outfit reveal?”

Yuki smirked. “That was worth the invite alone.”

Pierre tilted his head. “But seriously. If someone… let’s say two very handsome drivers, wanted to evolve their wardrobes. Less teamwear, more… effortless Parisian heartthrob—could you help?”

I looked between the two of them—Pierre’s charming grin, Yuki’s quiet curiosity. The idea was ridiculous. And kind of… adorable.

“You want me to style you?” I asked, pretending to sound skeptical, even as something fluttered in my chest.

Pierre gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Why not? You have the eye. And we trust your taste.”

Yuki added, voice a little softer now, “We trust you.”

That—that—was what did it. The way he said it. Like it wasn’t a throwaway line. I let the silence sit for a second, the energy shifting in that charged, unspoken way you don’t quite want to look at too directly.

“Fine,” I said, lifting my glass. “But if I style you, you have to give me full control. No last-minute Oakleys. No sneakers with suits. No team caps unless we’re on a track.”

Pierre lifted his glass to mine. “Deal.”

Yuki smiled, slow and sure. “As long as you’re the one undressing us.”

I choked on my wine.

Pierre smacked him lightly on the shoulder, laughing while very pointedly not denying anything. And me? I just sat there between them, flushed and flustered, fully aware I might be in so much trouble. And maybe… maybe I didn’t mind one bit.

—

The fitting studio I booked was quiet—no interns, no stylists, no chaos. Just warm lighting, racks of carefully curated looks, a stack of espresso cups on the side table, and two very smug drivers sprawled across the velvet couch like they were born for it.

“Okay,” I said, clapping once for drama. “Fashion boot camp begins now.”

Pierre stretched his arms behind his head. “I’m ready to be transformed.”

Yuki leaned back with that deceptively innocent look on his face. “Are you going to watch us change, or…?”

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered under my breath, already pulling hangers from the rack.

I handed Yuki a dark forest green suit with a satin lapel and shoved Pierre a moody charcoal turtleneck and tailored check trousers. They disappeared behind the curtain with too many smirks and zero urgency, clearly enjoying how flustered I already was. Pierre stepped out first, tugging the sleeves into place, and honestly? He looked unfairly good. Like something from a magazine I’d kill to shoot for.

He turned in front of the mirror, then looked at me over his shoulder. “Well?”

I crossed my arms. “Could use a belt.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You gonna help me with that too?”

Before I could answer, Yuki appeared—and my mouth actually fell open.

The suit fit like it was tailored to his existence. Clean lines, sharp collar, a single undone button at the top. He noticed my stare immediately.

“Too much?” he asked, feigning bashfulness.

I blinked. “It’s… dangerous, actually.”

Yuki smirked, stepping closer. “Dangerous how?”

“Dangerous like I might start taking back my professionalism clause.”

Pierre came to stand on my other side. “Remind me—did that clause include hands-on adjustments?”

He was teasing, but there was something in the air now. He was close. They both were. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of them, smell their cologne. It was suddenly hard to focus on fashion.

“You’re both ridiculous,” I muttered, reaching to adjust the lapel on Yuki’s jacket, fingers brushing his chest. He didn’t move. Then I turned to Pierre, smoothing the shoulder seam, just barely grazing his collarbone. He didn’t move either.

“You’re blushing,” Yuki said softly, and I hated that he was right.

“You’re both standing way too close,” I whispered.

“Maybe we like it here,” Pierre replied, voice low, steady.

It hit me then—how easy this had become. The three of us in a quiet studio, skin brushing, laughter on our lips, heat simmering just below the surface. I had invited them here to play stylist, to stay in control. But somewhere in the middle of the zippers and buttons and side glances, I’d lost my upper hand. And for once… I didn’t really care.

—

I was trying to play it cool. Trying to pretend I didn’t just spend the last hour dressing two of the most dangerously attractive men alive and getting thoroughly wrecked by the way they looked in my clothes. Professionally speaking, of course. But then Pierre ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the mirror like he belonged in a Saint Laurent campaign, and Yuki looked at me with that quiet, unreadable expression of his—the one that always made me feel like he already knew what I was thinking.

“You didn’t give us a grade,” Pierre said. “On our final looks.”

I exhaled, tucking my phone back into my pocket. “You passed. Barely.”

Yuki grinned. “That sounds like a dinner-worthy score.”

I looked between them. “You want to go to dinner like this? Fully styled?”

Pierre tilted his head. “You did say no team caps. We’re trying to be on our best behavior.”

Yuki stepped closer, casual but intentional. “Come on. We’ll feed you. You’ve been working hard. You’ve earned a glass of wine that doesn’t taste like it came from the Hugo party’s gift bag.”

I raised a brow. “Are you bribing me with carbs and alcohol?”

Pierre smiled slowly. “Is it working?”

It was. God, it so was. And maybe it was the lighting or the way they were both looking at me—equal parts challenge and invitation—but suddenly dinner didn’t feel like just dinner. It felt like… the next page of something we weren’t ready to name yet. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, fighting a smile. “Fine. But if we’re going out, you’re both paying. For emotional labor. And trauma. From Isack’s outfit this morning.”

Yuki laughed. “Fair.”

Pierre offered his arm like a damn movie character. “Lead the way, Hadjar.”

I took it—of course I did—and let Yuki fall into step beside me. And as the three of us stepped out into the night, our reflections in the shop window caught my eye. We looked good together.

—

Dinner was supposed to be normal. A low-key place tucked into a side street in the 7th arrondissement. Candlelight flickering against the windows, soft jazz humming in the background, and a little corner table that Pierre insisted on—for privacy, he said with a wink. I’d let them order for me. I was too busy trying to process what exactly this was. A friendly dinner? A thank-you? A tease? I didn’t know. But I was wearing heels again. And lip gloss. So it wasn’t nothing.

Pierre had undone the top two buttons of his shirt, gold chain peeking through. Yuki looked effortless in a crisp white tee under a jacket I hadn’t even realized I picked for him earlier. They looked like trouble. Like my trouble. Conversation was easy—almost too easy. Laughter flowing, legs brushing occasionally beneath the table. We talked about the grid, my job, fashion week disasters, and how Yuki once fell asleep mid-photoshoot.

“I was jet-lagged,” he said, totally unapologetic.

Pierre chuckled. “The stylist threatened to cry. He still follows Yuki on Instagram.”

Yuki smirked, taking a sip of wine, and then leaned toward me just a little. “Would you cry if we fell asleep during a fitting?”

“I’d make sure you didn’t wake up in anything flattering,” I shot back.

That earned a soft laugh—and then, casually, effortlessly, Yuki let his hand fall under the table. And found my knee. My brain short-circuited. It wasn’t a graze. It wasn’t an accident. His fingers curled lightly just above the hem of my skirt, warm and unhurried. Just… there. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just… interested. I swallowed. Pierre didn’t notice at first. He was halfway through a story about a party and a very confused DJ. But then his gaze drifted down. He saw the way I shifted in my seat, just slightly. The way Yuki’s hand stayed. And his expression changed. Slowly. He smirked. Looked back up at me.

“You okay?” he asked, innocently.

I cleared my throat. “Mhm. Wine’s strong.”

Pierre leaned closer, voice low. “Is it the wine… or the company?”

I didn’t answer. Because Yuki was tracing slow, gentle circles against my thigh now, his face unreadable, like we weren’t in a room full of people. Pierre’s foot tapped mine under the table. Light. Intentional. Okay. So I wasn’t imagining this. I set down my fork, took a long sip of wine, and smiled—sweet, measured, practiced.

“Both,” I said. “Obviously.”

They didn’t push. Not yet. Just sat back, smug and satisfied, the tension between us like a stretched silk ribbon, ready to snap. And I realized then—this dinner wasn’t just dinner.

—

The air outside had that warm, early summer weight to it—the kind that clung to your skin like a secret. We left the restaurant slowly, like no one wanted to break whatever fragile thing had formed between the wine and the way Yuki’s hand lingered on my thigh. Pierre walked on my right, close enough that our arms brushed every few steps. Yuki was on my left, quiet but there, his hand grazing the small of my back as we waited for the crosswalk light to change. Paris looked soft at night. Golden. But the silence between us buzzed with anything but calm.

“You live around here?” Pierre asked casually, like he didn’t already know from the reservation name and the way I’d reflexively glanced down the street.

“Mhm,” I replied, lips curled just slightly. “About five minutes.”

Yuki looked over. “We could walk you.”

“You are walking me.”

“Then maybe we finish the job.”

I bit back a smile. When we reached my building, I stopped on the steps, keys dangling between my fingers. They both turned toward me, waiting. Expectant, but never pushing.

“You could come up,” I said carefully, not looking at either of them yet. “Just for a bit. If you want.”

Pierre tilted his head, slow grin spreading. “Are you inviting us up because you want help reorganizing your closet?”

I looked at him. “I’m inviting you up because I had dinner with two men who managed to flirt, emotionally destabilize me, and look criminally good in every outfit I styled. So. No. Not for the closet.”

Yuki’s smile was softer. But his eyes held something heavier. “We don’t have to come in.”

I finally met his gaze. “I know.”

And I did. That was the thing. There was no pressure here—just possibility. The kind of quiet, magnetic maybe that I’d spent years writing off. But tonight? With them? It didn’t feel like a risk. It felt inevitable. I pushed the door open. And when I looked back over my shoulder, they were already following me in—Pierre with that devil-may-care confidence, Yuki with that quiet steadiness that somehow made me feel safer than I expected.

I closed the door behind us, letting the soft click of the lock settle between us. Pierre wandered further in, glancing around with casual curiosity—his fingertips dragging across the back of my sofa like he was trying to read the room through touch. Yuki stayed near the door. Watching me. Always watching.

“You really live like a Vogue editor,” Pierre murmured, picking up a coffee table book and flipping it open. “Minimalist. Expensive.”

“I try,” I said, leaning against the entry wall, pulse fluttering under my skin. “Want the tour?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “You offering… the apartment? Or something else?”

I blinked at him, and something must’ve shifted in my face, because he smiled like he already knew my answer.

“I don’t play games,” I said, quieter this time.

Pierre had crossed the room by then. He was in front of me before I realized how fast he’d moved, his hand ghosting along my hip. “Good. Because I’m not here to waste time.”

Yuki came closer too—slow and measured. His fingertips grazed mine as he passed me, just a brush, but I felt it in my spine.

“I just want to make sure you want this,” he said, voice low. “That this isn’t about wine or adrenaline or proving a point.”

I looked at him. Then Pierre. Two different energies. One storm. One fire. And somehow, I wanted to get lost in both.

“I invited you up, didn’t I?” I asked.

Pierre smiled like I’d handed him something precious. He leaned in first—his lips brushing mine, warm and teasing. Not claiming. Just tasting. Yuki’s hand slid up the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. His kiss came next. Slower. Like he had all night. Like I could take as long as I needed to decide. But I didn’t need long. I reached for both of them—tugging Pierre closer by his shirt, letting Yuki pull me against his chest, our bodies finding a rhythm I hadn’t even realized we’d been building all night. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was intentional. Lips on my neck. Fingers on my waist. The kind of warmth that blooms low in your belly and makes you forget your own name. Somehow we made it to the bedroom without breaking apart too long. Jackets hit the floor. Pierre’s chain dangled against my skin. Yuki’s voice whispered things in Japanese that I didn’t understand but felt in my bones. They treated me like something rare. Reverent. Like I was the thing they’d both been waiting for. And when everything finally faded into soft moans and tangled limbs, when my skin was flushed and my breath shaky, I realized—This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was about belonging.

—

yn_hadjar

liked by isackhadjar, yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly & 2,090,555 others.

yn_hadjar : jet lagged as fuck so have a photo dump

—

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chanelofficial : always timeless 🩷🤍

liked by yn_hadjar

username0 : am i delusional or does that look like yuki in the bed??

↳ username15 : i thought the same thing but then the other pic looks like pierre

username0 : oh to be in a yukierre sandwich

isackhadjar : why is there an unknown man in your bed?

↳ yn_hadjar : who said he is unknown?

isackhadjar : i am ending it all

yukitsunoda0511 : don’t remember you taking that

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : u were 😴

username0 : not delusional.

pierregasly : white looks good on me, no?

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : you look good in anything

lilymhe : you are so beautiful it is insane

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : you are so kind 🥺

—

yukitsunoda0511

liked by yn_hadjar, pierregasly, isackhadjar & 1,220,005 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : dubyeeeeee

—

view 52,045 other comments.

pierregasly : still have frosting up my nose

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : my bad

username0 : unexpected trio on a vacay together??

yn_hadjar : was not prepared for a thirst trap on my feed

liked by yukitsunoda0511

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : don't act like you don't like it

liked by yn_hadjar

isackhadjar : are you just a professional third wheel now?

liked by yukitsunoda0511

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : mmm if third wheeling involves being apart of it then sure

username0 : YUKI

—

pierregasly added a post to his story!

seen by isackhadjar, yn_hadjar, yukitsunoda0511 & 2,500,003 others.

—

yn_hadjar added posts to her story!

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly, isackhadjar & 3,407,001 others.

{caption 1 : never let me drive in the sand} {caption 2 : i don't want to leave}

pierregasly : you are so beautiful

liked by yn_hadjar

isackhadjar : wait- why are you in dubai too??

↳ yn_hadjar : happened to be over here for something with work

↳ isackhadjar : oh ok

↳ isackhadjar : you look beautiful though ma sœur

liked by yn_hadjar

yn_hadjar : first nice thing you've said in years. love you

liked by isackhadjar

alexandrasaintmleux : i think i am finally catching on here;)

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : glad someone is because isack sure isn't

yukitsunoda0511 : 美少女

liked by yn_hadjar

—

The desert stretched out endlessly beneath a blazing sky, waves of sand rolling like golden ocean tides. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows and painting everything with a soft, honeyed glow. Yuki, Pierre, and I had escaped the noise of the city for a few hours, trading skyscrapers for silence and luxury for raw nature. We stopped the jeep on the crest of a dune, and the world felt impossibly vast and quiet. The wind whispered through the sand, carrying a scent of earth and something wild. I kicked off my shoes, letting the warm grains sift between my toes. Pierre pulled a blanket from the back of the jeep and spread it out. We settled down close, the three of us a small island of warmth in the wide, empty desert. Yuki reached out and took my hand, fingers threading together naturally, as if this had always been meant to be.

“I could stay here forever,” he murmured, eyes soft in the fading light.

I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. Pierre draped an arm around both of us, and suddenly the desert didn’t feel so big anymore. It felt like home. As the sun sank lower, the sky exploded into color—pinks, oranges, and purples bleeding into one another. We sat in comfortable silence, watching the horizon burn and cool at once. Yuki whispered something funny, and Pierre laughed, the sound low and warm. The first stars began to blink awake above us, shy at first, then confident, until the entire sky was a glittering dome. I felt their hands tighten around mine, grounding me in that perfect moment. The desert was endless and timeless, but right there, wrapped in their arms, I knew exactly where I belonged.

—

The soft chime of the boutique’s doorbell barely registered as I stepped inside, still savoring the warmth of the Dubai sun on my skin. Yuki and Pierre followed close behind, both grinning like they were up to something—which, knowing them, they definitely were.

I was halfway through scanning the latest collection when Pierre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Hey, have you seen that new limited edition bag from [your favorite designer]? The one with the gold clasp and the little pearls?”

I laughed, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s beautiful, but honestly, a little impractical.”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Says the Vogue editor who probably writes about impractical all the time.”

Pierre winked. “We know you’ve been drooling over it for months.”

I tried to brush it off, but my heart sped up. I hadn’t said much—it was just a tiny detail I’d mentioned once, months ago, during a dinner with Yuki and Pierre. I never expected them to remember. Yuki tugged me toward a quiet corner of the boutique, where a sleek black box rested on a velvet cushion. My breath caught. Pierre opened the box slowly, revealing the bag—exactly the one I’d admired in magazines, the one I’d secretly dreamed of owning.

“Surprise,” Pierre said softly, watching my face light up.

I stared, speechless, the words caught somewhere between shock and joy.

“You actually remembered,” I finally whispered.

Yuki chuckled, sliding an arm around my waist. “Of course we did. You’re kind of hard to forget.”

I reached out, touching the bag like it was something fragile, something magical. “This is… you guys didn’t have to.”

Pierre grinned. “We wanted to.”

I laughed, eyes glossy, heart full. “You two are seriously impossible. But I love you for it.”

—

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the table, casting warm shadows on crystal glasses and polished silverware. The restaurant was quiet, tucked away in a secluded corner of the hotel, and for once, the world outside felt miles away. Yuki reached across the table, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was tender, deliberate, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Pierre caught my hand next, his fingers curling around mine with a quiet strength that grounded me. The way they both looked at me—like I was the only person in the room—made my heart swell.

“So,” Pierre said softly, voice low and steady, “how does it feel? Being spoiled by us?”

I laughed, eyes shimmering. “Like I’m living in a dream I never want to wake up from.”

Yuki’s grin was slow, mischievous. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

We talked through the courses, sharing stories and stolen glances. Every laugh, every brush of skin, pulled us closer. There was something electric in the way their hands found mine under the table—light touches that spoke of promises and possibilities.

Later, as the waiter cleared the plates, Yuki leaned in, whispering, “You make even the quietest moments feel unforgettable.”

Pierre’s eyes softened as he added, “We want to be part of your every moment, YN.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling overwhelmed with everything and nothing all at once. This wasn’t just a dinner. It was a beginning.

“I want that, too,” I whispered back. “With both of you.”

Yuki’s smile was pure warmth. Pierre’s fingers tightened around mine.

—

f1gossipgirls

89,003 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Things looked a little extra on the fashion front this morning—coincidence? We think not. @/yn_hadjar, Vogue France’s top editor (and big sister to Isack Hadjar), is in the paddock today… and suddenly the boys remembered what a steamer is. We spotted more linen, more color, and more intentional fits than we’ve seen all season. Let’s just say—if this is the YN Hadjar effect, we are absolutely here for it. Fashion queens, please stand up.

—

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username0 : ISACK-omg. @/yn_hadjar...do you want a sister in law??

↳ yn_hadjar : if you take over the duty of steaming his clothes...welcome to the fam

username15 : aw yn and ollie!! he rlly is her favorite rookie

↳ yn_hadjar : that's my boy. i don't play about him.

liked by olliebearman

username10 : it isn't the YN effect for Yuki and Pierre- it's the girlfriend effect.

liked by yn_hadjar, yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

username10 : OH MY GHDFNDKJ

isackhadjar : she held me down and threatened me to put on what she picked out.

↳ yn_hadjar : and clearly i did you a favor bc there is a comment section full of women waiting for you

isackhadjar : fair

oscarpiastri : yn i did not get the memo that you were here today. pls don't hurt me

↳ yn_hadjar : i forgive you

yukitsunoda0511 : she literally dressed me this morning so yes it is because of yn. everyone say thank you, yn!!

liked by yn_hadjar, pierregasly and f1gossipgirls

pierregasly : it is common courtesy to look good for someone as beautiful as yn

liked by yn_hadjar and yukitsunoda0511

↳ isackhadjar : barf. she is just my sister. not god.

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : ive seen god and god is a woman.

liked by yn_hadjar and pierregasly

username8 : YUKIIIIBD :fj

—

yn_hadjar

liked by isackhadjar, olliebearman, pierregasly & 3,030,053 others.

yn_hadjar : so cutesy

—

view 115,023 other comments.

isackhadjar : ollie and i carried this post

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ isackhadjar : also why are you letting random men hold our dog??

↳ pierregasly : you talk about me like im some common whore

liked by yn_hadjar

alexandrasaintmleux : you are ethereal. i am in love

liked by yn_hadjar

olliebearman : you are right. the gucci wrap was necessary for the outfit

↳ olliebearman : you ATE

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : add to the folder of reasons why ollie is my fave

yukitsunoda0511 : i do not remember anything from karaoke and i am glad i do not

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : i have videos if you need reminded

↳ maxverstappen1 : give them to me.

↳ lando : need

↳ olliebearman : pls share with the class

—

I was curled up on the couch with Yuki, his arm around my waist and his stupidly warm hands resting under the hem of my t-shirt, tracing lazy circles against my skin like he had no plans of moving for the next decade. We were watching the most unhinged documentary, but I’d let him pick because I liked hearing his dramatic commentary. It was peaceful. Dreamy. Domestic. Then the front door slammed open like we were in a horror movie.

“I BROUGHT DONUTS!” I heard Isack yell from the hallway.

I blinked. Yuki didn’t even flinch. He just muttered, “You gave him a key?”

“No,” I hissed back, still fully horizontal. “He stole it after fashion week. I just… forgot to take it back.”

And then Isack appeared in the doorway. Bag of donuts. Sunglasses on his head. Immediately offended.

“WHAT the actual hell is going on here?” he asked, eyebrows halfway into orbit.

“Breakfast,” Yuki answered flatly, as if he belonged here. As if my little brother hadn’t just caught him spooning me. I didn’t even bother sitting up. What was the point? It was already spiraling.

Isack’s jaw dropped. “Are you—YUKI?! You?! My teammate?! What the fuck?!”

“You know,” I said, grabbing a donut from the bag like this was brunch and not a betrayal, “you could’ve knocked.”

“You could’ve warned me before I walked into my literal teammate dry humping my sister on the couch!”

“We’re literally just cuddling,” I deadpanned. “Calm down.”

Yuki, to his credit, gave the most Yuki shrug of all time, like: yeah, this is happening, keep up.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Isack muttered. “I’m gonna throw up on your designer rug. You’re both—this is illegal. Against the sibling code. Against F1 regulations. This is—”

And then, like God decided this couldn’t get worse fast enough— Pierre walked out of the bedroom. Shirtless. Hair tousled. Stretching like he’d just woken from a coma.

“Oh no,” I muttered.

“Oh WHAT THE FUCK,” Isack shrieked.

Pierre froze mid-stretch, looked around, blinked. “Didn’t know we had guests.”

“WE DON’T,” Isack yelled. “WHO EVEN ARE YOU TO THIS STORY?!”

Pierre grinned. “Depends. What genre is it?”

I slapped a hand over my face. Yuki, still annoyingly calm, yawned. “Rom-com. Heavy on the com.”

Isack stared at the three of us, twitching like a sim about to catch fire. “This is a nightmare. I’m calling our mother. I’m calling the FIA. I’m calling God.”

“You want a donut before you have your little meltdown?” I asked sweetly, tossing one at his chest.

He didn’t catch it. It hit the floor.

“Unbelievable,” he said, turning and storming out. “I’m changing my last name. Don’t talk to me at the paddock. I’m disowning everyone in this room!”

“Love you!” Pierre called after him, totally unbothered.

“I hate it here!” Isack screamed from the hallway.

The door slammed shut again. Yuki looked down at me. “He took that well.”

I bit into my donut. “Honestly? Better than I expected.”

Pierre flopped back onto the couch, grabbing Yuki’s abandoned half-donut. “So… are we doing the pigeon documentary or something sexier?”

I groaned. “You two are never allowed to be shirtless in front of my brother again.”

Yuki just smiled. “Noted. We’ll wear robes next time.”

—

yn_hadjar

liked by pierregasly, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 5,090,777 others.

yn_hadjar : comments will be turned back on once isack stops having a meltdown (so never). however, i have two sexy men in my bed every night so idc.

tagged : pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

pierregasly

liked by yn_hadjar, charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 4,008,013 others.

pierregasly : my brother in law isack is not very happy with me rn so why not add fuel to the flame. love you bothhhhhh

tagged : yn_hadjar and yukitsunoda0511

—

view 175,090 other comments.

yn_hadjar : so cuteeee. love my boys

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

charles_leclerc : how did he not know?

↳ yn_hadjar : he was born naturally oblivious

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

username0 : isack's recent google search is how to make yn - no yuki no pierre

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : i fucking love you lmao

isackhadjar : you are NOT my brother in law

↳ isackhadjar : i refuse

↳ isackhadjar : my eyes are still burning.

↳ isackhadjar : had to walk in on yuki practically having sex with my sister

↳ yn_hadjar : we were literally watching a pigeon documentary

↳ username20 : always thought isacks 2025 crashout would be racing related not due to pierre and yuki dating his sister.

—

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, yn_hadjar, olliebearman & 2,097,008 others.

yukitsunoda0511 : love you both even if it means putting up with her brother and the fact that pierre is a blanket hog.

—

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pierregasly : love you more- even when you talk in your sleep

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and yn_hadjar

visacashapprb : we both ask that you both behave in a manner that is professional as you are teammates.

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : @/isackhadjar ^^^^

liked by yn_hadjar

lando : i need a diagram of who sleeps where

liked by yn_hadjar

↳ yn_hadjar : i sleep in the middle and those two switch sides like every 3-5 business days

liked by lando, pierregasly and yukitsunoda0511

yn_hadjar : my cutie pies

liked by yukitsunoda0511 and pierregasly

isackhadjar : i am the victim in this story and no one is talking about it

↳ pierregasly : isack erasure :(

↳ yn_hadjar : the only thing you are victim to is a horrendous fashion sense

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : yes you def are the victim after walking into an apartment that is not yours unannounced.

—

[moon-fics]

So I dont know if this is your style but I figured I lose nothing by asking!

I have been really wanting to see a Bob Floyd x reader, baby announcement using B.O.B (since hangman calls him Baby on Board) like reader wear a shirt with BOB right on the stomach as a hint to either the dagger squad or Bob himself and it takes way to long for people to get it 🤣 just a thought!

Your fic's have been a saving grace for my Lewis Pullman hyper fixation!

I love this idea! It's so cute and I KNOW the dagger squad would be so excited.

You cannot believe you let Jake and Nat convince you of this. Is the idea cute? Yes. Will this put a smile on Bob's face? Also, yes. So, in theory, this is a good idea. It's witty and adorable, which Bob loves.

Except you've been standing next to him the entire night, and he hasn't mentioned it. It's gotten to a point where Nat pointed at your shirt a complimented it in hopes Bob realizes. He, instead, complimented it as well.

It's comedic and torturous. You want so badly for him to figure it out on his own, but you aren't sure he will. It's not because he's stupid; he's far from that. He's just a little oblivious to the hint you're dropping. In other words, he's not picking up what you're putting down.

You haven't had a lick of alcohol either, of course, for the baby's sake. However, that can't even be seen as a hint, either, because you don't get drunk on the regular. So, you're stuck hoping something will click in his brain.

"Hey, you're looking a little different," Jake says. Your eyes snap to him with a glare that could kill him where he stands. Jake's eyes are darting between you and Bob with an expression that can only say 'come on, man'. You quickly realize he's trying to aid the process. "Have you been doing anything new?" He says with a smirk.

"A lot more cardio," You say through gritted teeth. Bob's attention has already been grabbed by the conversation. His eyes were bouncing back and forth. "I thought this shirt really showed that off." You cannot be anymore clearer.

"You do look amazing," Bob agrees with a sparkle in his eyes. "You've been glowing recently," He adds with a smile.

"Yeah, I just find it weird she's wearing a shirt with your call sign on it," Natasha finally joins in. She plants the butt of her pool stick on the ground as her investment in the topic grows. "Y'know, it reminds me of those stickers people put on their cars. What's it stand for again?" She taps her chin.

"Oh, baby on board," Bob answers with a nod. You want to slam your head into a wall. He is right on the money, and yet, he is somehow using it as printer paper. "I always thought those were cute," He chuckles. Natasha and Jake are left staring at him with amusement.

Bob turns towards you and glances at your shirt for the thirty-first time tonight. His smile drops after a few seconds, and his eyes widen. They flicker to lock with yours, and there's a question on his tongue he can't quite get out.

"Is that what it means?" He asks loudly. He already knows the answer, but he just needs to hear you say it.

"Yeah, it is." You can't stop the grin from growing on your face as his eyes light up. The moment he knows the answer, he's lifting you off the ground. His arms are tight around your torso, and you can hear his laughter.

"I'm going to be a father!" He cheers while placing you back down. Bob's enthusiasm gathers the attention of the rest of the dagger squad. Everyone besides Jake and Natasha is surprised. They all let out a few congratulations while clinking their drinks together.

"Fucking finally. I was starting to think I'd have to just straight up tell him," Jake jokes with a slight nudge to your arm.

"I would have snapped his arm for ruining the surprise," Natasha steps up next to him. Before she can say anything else, Bob is pulling you away. He's already heading out of the bar with a mission in mind.

"Honey, where are we going?" You ask in a sing-song voice.

"I just found out my wife is pregnant. I'm spending the rest of my life pampering you," He says while pulling out the car keys. He says that as if he doesn't already do that. However, you won't say anything to argue against him. You know it's pointless.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 54 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Drug use, period typical racism, Laurence   AN: The votes are in and the winner is: A month long MisD birthday party! Get your MisD asks in and I'll be answering them all month long as we wish MisD a very happy first birthday! Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Want a bonus chapter on Wednesday? Unlock it via KoFi updates! More information here

Alastor stepped into the bedroom, carrying a load of linens in his arms. For a moment, he paused and just enjoyed the sight. The midday sun was strong, sending bright rays into the room to highlight your hair as you ran a damp rag over the wooden wardrobe. 

“Where would you like these?” he asked, after deciding he could stand there all day and still not have taken in enough of the sight of you. 

“On the floor by the bed is fine,” you smiled at him over your shoulder at him, bringing a new light to the room. This was what your life would be like, in a few short years at most. 

“What’s got that smile on your face?” Alastor asked, setting the bundle of linins down before wrapping his arms around your waist. He leaned down, placing a quick kiss on your forehead before giving you a bit of space again. 

“Just the idea that this could be normal. This could be my future. Our future.” 

“It can, if we want it.” Alastor bent down and kissed you one more time, not lingering long enough to give you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper. “But first, let me go scrub the stains from the counter.” 

“Do you think you can work them out?” You had been working at the stains left by Laurence’s tincture since he had started storing it on his bedside table. Though you had worked and worked at it, the amber stain was still there.

“I do,” Alastor chuckled, “Let me go work my magic.” 

Laurence staggered down the sidewalk, phantom aches seizing his legs as he made his way past house after house. People looked at him from windows, whispering words of judgment to their partners. 

He couldn’t see them, but he could feel their eyes. Men who should be working but snuck home to their wives or mistresses, somehow still making enough money to get through each day. 

He hated them. He hated how they mocked him. It wasn’t Laurence’s fault that things kept going wrong for him. It wasn’t his fault his business was failing. It wasn’t his fault that sure bets were failing. It wasn’t his fault the police had caught him.

None of it was his fault. 

But that was alright. He would get through this. He would get through this and make it out the other side stronger. He would rebuild. He was a Latimer. Building wealth and growing businesses was what they did. It would be a matter of time before he was back on top. 

It just may take some extreme measures. He could take extreme measures. He had resources still. There was one resource he hadn’t tapped into yet, even now. Sure, he had almost, but… He would do whatever it took. 

But first, he had to get through the pain. 

Alastor hummed as he scrubbed the grout, letting the cleaning fluid soak into the stain. It hadn’t been coming out as easily as he had hoped, but he was determined to get it. Removing the stain of Laurence’s drug use became somewhat of a personal mission for him. 

He couldn’t remove the stain of Laurence on your life. The scars of what your husband had put you through would likely linger throughout your life, long after the meat rotted of your husband’s bones. 

He couldn’t wash away the scars on your heart or mind. There was nothing that would take away the scars on your body. The least Alastor could do, what he was determined to do, was to take the scar Laurence had left off your counter. 

Laurence walked up the sidewalk, pace quickly building into a jog as he took the stairs up to the porch two at a time. As he reached the door, he slowed. Music played inside, the damned radio turned up and playing something jazzy. 

Laurence looked through the window before slotting the key into the door. If he was lucky, you were in the kitchen baking some fucking bread or a goddamn pie. You better get good at baking, he thought darkly. You may need to sell them while he waited for his luck to change. 

The door squeaked as he opened it. Music poured out of the house as Laurence stepped inside. Looking around, he found no sign of you and that was just fine by him. Perhaps you were too stupid to turn off the radio before going out to do your shopping. 

It would be better if you were not home. He could tell you the house got robbed. With some of the good silver, the radio- maybe he could make enough to at least pay off the radio prick, keep his car for at least another month and put some fuel in it. 

If he played his cards right, maybe he could spin some items, make them worth more than they actually were. If he could pay off a few more bills, get some people off his ass. Once he had a little bit more breathing room, he could push for more runs. He could take some time and work on some easy marketing contracts. 

That’s what he needed. Once he took a few contracts, he would deliver good, high-quality products once again. He would only cut the corners he had to and he would rebuild the reputation of his company. 

He’d do it right. As soon as he was pulling in money again, he’d do things right. He’d stop going to the speakeasy. He’d stop running hooch for Emma’s family. Fuck, if he could get himself out of this, he would drop Emma. He’d be loyal to you. 

Fuck, he would be kinder. He’d be the kind of husband you deserved. He just needed to get out of this bind. 

Laurence walked slowly toward the stairs. Fuck, his back hurt. He wasn’t sure in the moment if he’d be able to scale them, but he had little a choice. 

Each step was more painful than the last. Laurence found his focus on the money and his plans for the future being replaced by the thought of the little brown bottle that would take his pain away. He had one stashed in his desk drawer, right next to the envelope that held only half of the payment Alastor was demanding. 

Laurence’s eyes were downcast, focusing more on ensuring each step he took resulted in his foot being properly grounded on the step. The last thing his back needed was for him to miss a step, stumbling. It wouldn’t do his back any favors to crash into the railing or worse, fall down the stairs. 

While he took the final step, he registered the sound of humming. You were not one for humming while you worked, at least not while Laurence was home. You knew he didn’t care for the sound. Sure, you could indulge while he was working, like you did with the fucking radio, but…

Alastor stepped out of the washroom, jacket missing and sleeves rolled up, displaying his too dark forearms. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Laurence snapped, rage fairing to life to push away the fatigue that chased him all evening. 

“Laurence?” you screamed from the bedroom. 

Of course you were in the bedroom. Laurence’s lips curled up in a snarl as he watched you step into view, face pale and lips too pink. You had done your makeup for the day and for what? For who?

“Have you been fucking him?” Laurence took a staggered step toward you, only to have Alastor step further into the hall.

“Calm down.” He spoke calmly to the enraged man, only causing more anger. “I’ve done nothing improper with your wife. She allowed me in to use the washroom. I was going to see if you were home before I went to the studio.” 

“You slimy son of a bitch!” Laurence yelled as you stepped closer, not sure what to do. “You’re just as fuckin dirty as your no good mother. Dirty fucking-” 

“Let’s step into your office?” Alastor held his hand out toward the locked door, “We can discuss this like gentlemen.” 

“No,” you whispered, though neither man heard it over the sound of Laurence’s insults. In your heart, you knew if Alastor stepped into that office with your husband, he would not leave it in anything resembling the same condition. 

“Yes.” Laurence’s shoulders relaxed for a moment before pulling up around his ears again. “Yes, we’ll go into the office. It wouldn’t do to discuss your affair with my wife in front of her. Perhaps- Perhaps we can revisit the terms of our deal?”

Alastor glanced down the hall as Laurence stepped into the newly unlocked office. He mouthed words and for a moment, your mind couldn’t register what he was saying. Then it hit you. He was telling you he loved you one last time before your husband surely killed him. 

 Alastor closed the door behind him as he stepped into the office. This was bad, very bad, he knew. He could not make it out of this, though the chance was small. It was vital that he did everything he could to stack the deck in his favor. 

That’s why he closed the door just enough to seal the room, but not enough for the door to latch shut. He made a show of flipping the lock, not actually turning the knob at all. 

The less he had to mess with if he needed to leave the room in a hurry, the better. 

“Laurence,” Alastor said carefully as he crossed into the center of the office. “Have you had any luck raising the funds?” 

“I think we have bigger things to discuss than that,” Laurence answered back, rummaging around his desk drawer instead of looking at his creditor. 

“Things bigger than you missed payment?” Alastor laughed as he watched Laurence pull out a little brown bottle, knowing full well what was in it. The disgusting marks of addiction were clear on the blond man’s face, his grooming, and his actions. 

“Yes,” Laurence said simply, unscrewing the cap and squeezing fluid into the dropper inside. Throwing his head back, Laurence greedily swallowed the contents of the dropper. 

“If you’re not careful, that stuff will kill you,” Alastor said mildly. 

If Laurence overdid it on the tincture and stopped his own heart, it would be all the better for him. It would be easy to explain, easy to clean up. There would be no mess. Alastor’s stomach rolled as Laurance moaned as he swallowed the tincture. 

“You should worry about yourself.” Laurence’s fire was returning as the tincture quickly entered his system. 

“I don’t have a failing business.” Alastor said, stepping back as Laurence stepped around the desk. His eyes fluttered around the room, always returning to the trapped animal of a man as he sought any sort of item he that would make for a cleaner, easier kill than the small knife in his pocket. “Nor am I addicted to any substances.” 

Laurence laughed before he answered, “You think the dirt hasn’t touched you?” His voice was climbing. “You think you’re so fucking good? And why? Just because you think people forget who you are because your skin is light enough to lie?” 

“This has nothing to do with the color of my skin,” Alastor said calmly. “Let’s sit and discuss?” 

“Oh!” Laurence was closing the distance as he yelled, “Your mother was the color of fucking dirt! And that’s all she was fucking worth!” 

Outside, in the hall, you clasped your hands in front of your mouth. You’d heard Laurence say vile things about the people whose skin looked different from what he considered proper, but you had heard nothing as terrible as what he was screaming at the man you loved.

Inside the room, Alastor’s jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. His fingers itched as he tried to avoid imagining the way blood would color Laurence’s blond hair red. 

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part one

you could admit, to some degree, that you knew the danger you were putting yourself into volunteering to become one of the realm's seven holy knights.

but the dangers were something you've grown accustomed to not caring much about.

you knew from an early age that there weren't many paths for noble women. it was either become wives, mothers, widows, or in lucky cases, spinsters. you realized early on that this would be the most terrifying outcome you could think of. so you begged, pleaded, sobbed, and begged even more until your father allowed you to learn how to fight, how to hold a sword and bow properly.

the years bled together, and sooner or later you found yourself with quite a reputation following your wake; a faceless knight who nobody had ever heard of.

you were able to earn a spot as one of the seven holy knights, protectors of the crown and its livelihood. you were lucky that it was in the code of honor not to reveal one's face, as it was unheard of in its centuries of existence to have a lady fighter, but you had slipped up a couple of times, almost revealing your true nature.

thankfully, all the other men were oafs and couldn't tell if you took your helmet off and revealed your face outright.

for a few motnhs you seemed to go undetected. or so you fooled yourself into believing.

the younger prince, gojo satoru, had a knack for busying himself with the lives of the knights. he often trained with you all in the daytime, hanging around during the night as he skipped dinner with his family to eat with you all.

and although you were careful enough not to talk or even lift up the bottom half of your helmet to eat something, it felt like his eyes were always on you.

it also didn't help that you kept besting him in almost every practice. sword fighting, arrow shooting, hunting, anything you could think of, and suddenly the prince, who was revered for his knight-like abilities, was paling in compassion to you.

so perhaps it was your paranoia or your inability to read people's thoughts, but somewhere deep inside, you had a sneaking suspicion he was onto you.

gojo always singled you out in conversations, trying to hear more than a grunt or a nod. all the other men had given up, but gojo persevered, needing to know who was lying underneath all that armor.

"do you enjoy the countryside?" he asked one day, following you around after everybody had hung up their bows, the two of you the only ones left in the courtyard.

you roll your eyes in annoyance, sighing deeply through your nose as you nod once.

"say, the way you hold your bow is reminiscent of some ocean tribes. have you lived there? near the ocean?" gojo crowds around you, watching intently as you put your bow on its hook, watching from the corner of your eyes, seeing the way his smile was eerily deceptive, something cold and hard beneath his cheerful demeanor.

you grunt, not giving a definitive answer.

gojo felt his lips twitching, fists balling at the fact that you had gone on for more than four months without uttering a single word, somehow holding conversations with just two movements.

"some of the men and i were talking earlier," he starts again, and you turn around, hoping he'd get the hint to leave once you start walking towards the corridors that lead to the private quarters, "and we think we'd like to see the town nearby one of these nights."

you still, your armor clanking as the prince halts by your side. he looks down to your helmet, trying to look between the metal slits that help with your breathing.

you don't say anything, sweating bullets as you wait for him to continue.

"we would be honored to have the best swordsmen join us," gojo tries to say, his voice dipping slightly on the word "men," as he tries to gauge any reaction from you.

you blink, wondering if his blue eyes were just a gimmick and they were truly the only interesting thing about him. it's not very often you can see him this close, and you find yourself thinking that the ladies that fawn over him have never seen him panting and groaning and sweating as you hold a knife to his leather-clad chest.

you grunt once again, shaking your head in disbelief that the other knights would risk breaking their code of honor and defacing themselves just so they could get closer to the prince. a prince who isn't even in line to get the throne.

you clank through the stone halls, trying to fend him off as he matches your pace, his face slightly flushed and his cheeks pink.

"is that a yes?" he asks, staring at you as you breathe heavily, the sound echoing around your mask.

you stop at your door, your head tilted down as you shake it.

hearing his muffled shouts of confusion, you almost barricade yourself inside your room, panting heavily as you shed off your armor. You wipe at your brow bone, drenched in sweat, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

you were right. he knows your secret. and it's only a matter of time before others follow suit.

[draftbeerbibi]

FOR ME, IT WILL ALWAYS BE YOU - Sylus x Non MC! ( Part 6 )

Summery: you find yourself in lads universe after a particularly close interaction with truck kun. How does life go from here after arriving in the N109 zone leaders backyard when MC hasn’t arrived yet?

Disclaimer, Sylus might be OOC, since I'm not very good at writing so bear with me. This will be multiple parts!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Something gnawed at him.

A feeling of unease he wasn’t able to shake. It was very uncharacteristic of him and it made his mind wander even when walking next to MC. They still hadn’t made any progress even after weeks.

The love he once held for her had dulled to a soft murmur, only held alive by the curse her past self inflicted on him. This constant cycle of love, pain and death had long since become something he started dreading. He no longer had the energy to entertain this façade, so instead, he tried to get her to remember, so she could finally break this binding curse and set him free.

A notification from his phone made him snap out of his train of thought.

He would’ve been happy seeing you used his card, but he heard you leave, and he’s seen you deteriorate these past weeks. He knew he should’ve spoken up. Knew he was breaking something that had yet to start.

Yet he didn’t know how to explain. “Hey, this is my soulmate, and I'm literally, sharing half a soul so I cannot escape my fate with her!” And expect you to understand? No. He was going to fix this before things could get out of hand.

Or so he thought. He thought seeing where you were would put him at ease, but the notification only rooted the feeling of dread deeper, seeping into his very being.

Something was wrong, and he was going to figure out what it was. He excuses himself and left MC dumbfounded as he sent Mephisto flying to the bar and called Luke and Kieran instructing them to figure out your whereabouts.

He willed himself to calm down. Nothing was wrong, you just decided to get a drink. He didn’t even blame you, he was acting like a total dick and he knew it, but this was new to him too. He didn’t expect to fall for you, a mere mortal, so utterly and pathetically normal. Yet fall for you he did. You turned his life upside down in a way he hadn’t realised he craved. No longer bound by fate, revelling in the normalcy.

He should’ve known better. He had almost hoped MC wouldn’t show up, but to his utter dismay she did, and with her arrival, she threw everything upside down for the worse. His heart ached seeing you loose yourself more and more every single day, yet unable to explain himself, he spent more and more time with MC to try and get her to break the curse. But she wasn’t cooperating. Somehow, in this damned timeline, she had chosen another man, leaving him alone with this curse, destined to die by her hand yet again.

But he wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. So he worked harder, growing more impatient by the day. It had irked him, he was turning into someone he no longer recognised, or, to put it frankly, was scared to recognise. His fragile love story with MC started with the same damned feelings. But with you, he felt okay letting it happen. Being vulnerable was not something he excelled in, but he had learned with MC.

His phone lit up with a text.

Twins: we can’t find her. We’re pretty sure someone got her.

He felt his blood run cold. It was his fault after all. If he hadn’t run away and just told you straight up, you never would have gone there in the first place.

He orders the twins to find you. And even if it killed him, find you he would.

~~~

Everything hurt.

Your brain was pounding in your skull, a protest to the excessive drinking you had done last night. But it wasn’t just your head, no, every fiber of your being hurt.

Breathing laboured you try to move, but a sharp pang in your wrists made you stop in your tracks. Then you remember. The drinking, walking outside when suddenly your pulled into a car. The rest is a hazy blur and now you were here.

You try to open your eyes slowly. Your in a dark room, without windows, the only light coming from a singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that’s barely working. The room looks rundown, like a cement basement. It smells like dust and mold, and there are small puddles on the floor. The room is barren except for some racks with canned food. You guess it truly is a basement.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as you try to asses you situation. Your sat in a chair, with your wrists tied behind your back, making it borderline impossible to move. Why the hell did someone take you? Why would anyone even want you anyways? You don’t get long to think when you hear a door open and piercing light filters through. Before your eyes could adjust, the door is promptly closed again and an unfamiliar silhouette walks in your direction.

He's masked, so you can't make out his features, but even if he wasn't, your sure the pounding in your head would've made it impossible to see anyways.

He doesn't say anything, just assesses you like a product for sale. That makes your heart skip a beat. What if you are? You stare at him, questions clouding your mind, but fear grips at you so hard that you can't utter a single word, so all you manage to do is examine him as well.

He grabs a notepad and a pen off of a rack and writes some things down. You force yourself through gritted teeth to speak up. "Who are you, and why am i here?" He looks up at you, and despite the mask you could have sworn he was grinning but he doesn't respond, he just continues writing on the notepad.

And just like that, he leaves, isolating you with your thoughts. How long has it been? Where even are you? Did Sylus notice your absence? If he did, would he come? The air felt too thick, the humidity and mold mixing to make every breath taste like toxic waste.

You try to wiggle your arms, but the material around your wrist was tight, and when you wiggled too hard, it cut through skin. You hiss in pain, tears welling up in your waterline. You blink profusely as you try again, but to your dismay, the material doesn't budge but only cuts deeper. You wince as a tear rolls down your cheek.

You look around the room, searching for anything, but with no windows, and both your hands and feet bound, you had no way of escape. You were bound by the whims of fate, unsure if freedom was ever written in the stars for you.

~~~

He finally found a lead.

It had been hours since he last heard from you. Well, if a payment notification really counts as hearing from you. The twins were hunting down the streets for every lead they could find. At first he thought it was EVER, but to his surprise they had nothing to do with it, making it that much harder to track you down.

Checking the footage of Mephisto flying around Linkon, Sylus looked around the area of the bar. It had been cleaned meticulously, so they weren't amateurs, but then, something caught his eye.

Your bracelet.

Correction, the bracelet he had gifted to you for one of the auctions you had attended with him. It was concealed between some rocks and dirt, hidden from sight so that even he almost missed it. But thank the heavens he didn’t, because in between some of the beads of the bracelet some hairs were tucked. Possibly a sign of struggle. Immediately he called one of the twins over to have it checked.

He cursed himself for taking so long to find the bracelet. The next minutes felt like days, waiting while looking, not finding anything new.

He cannot remember the last time he lost control over his emotions like this. He, the leader of Onychinus, ruler of the N109 zone. But regardless of the titles he holds, it feels useless without you by his side. He should have told you. He shouldn’t have run away, trying to fix it on his own.

“Boss! We found a match, it’s one of the rising gangs. They traffic women without significant background so no one looks for them. We don’t know how they found her yet but we’re on their tail, almost know where they went too.” Kieran informs. Luke stands behind his brother, observing. He had never seen his boss like this.

“Good, we’re moving out as soon as we find her, you hear me?” They nod in unison at their boss’s words. Sylus’s phone rings, and when he checks it he sees MC’s name illuminating his screen.

He huffs out a soft curse as he picks up, MC’s soft voice echoing through the phone’s speakers. “Where did you go? I thought i was supposed to break this ‘curse’, how am i supposed to do anything when i don’t even remember anything?”

Her voice was soft, laced with concern. Had he shown how worried he was? He couldn’t remember, all he knew right now was that he needed to get you back asap.

“I know, listen, something happened and i’ll be back as soon as possible, in the meantime please just try to find any leads on breaking the curse.”

His head hurt, it was taking way too long to find you, especially with how many resources he has. What if something happened to you?

A soft sigh resonates from the phone.

“Listen, i don’t know what’s going on, but if i can help in any way, just let me know okay? You looked like you were about to set the world on fire when you left.”

He hums softly. “Thank you miss hunter, but i think it’s best if you don’t get involved in this specific case.”

He rubs his temple, MC agrees and hangs up the phone, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again. Then just like that, one of the twins sends coordinates. He doesn’t need a name to know that they found you, so before his mind can even process, his feet are already moving.

~~~

The door opened again, and this time 3 men entered.

They looked rushed, and one of them moved over to you to untie you. Were they discovered? Were they moving you? Not without a fight they’re not.

As the man stepped behind you to tie you up again you quickly elbowed him, resulting in him falling to his knees gasping for air. You could have sworn you heard bones breaking but you didn’t focus on that as you now had the attention of the other 2 men on you. You could maybe dodge them? You sure as hell were going to try.

As one of them lunged at you, you moved out of the way as fast as you could. He managed to grab a hold of your blouse and tore off your sleeve as the momentum sent him toppling over his friend. Colleague? Didn’t matter. You turn to the other man and you freeze.

Your eyes grow wide as your met with the last man holding a pocket knife in his hands. You were so not prepared for this. You never bad to fight, not even in the N109 zone. Sylus had always kept you close to him so not once had you been forced to retort to violence yourself, but being eye to eye with someone who clearly has the intent to kill made something in your brain switch, clearing up your mind more then any hangover drink ever could.

Your hands tremble as you stare at him, and it’s like a countdown to your death. He swings, and you barely evade, but while stepping away he slices at your arm. A groan escapes your lips as you grab tight to the wound. It’s a shallow cut, but still bleeding much heavier then you would like.

Before the man could swing again the door bursts open with way more force than necessary causing it to fall out of its hinges entirely. And when your met with his crimson eyes you can feel relief wash over your entire being. He looks feral, eyes locked on the man with the knife, and before you can blink the man disintegrates into thin air. The other 2 men follow suit and just like that, your alone with him, heaving heavy breaths of relief.

Tears spill over your cheeks, and before you can fall to the ground he picks you up effortlessly, caging you in his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you allow yourself to let go, and you sob. You knew you looked ugly but you couldn’t care less right now. You were safe. He was here. He cared. Enough to save you at least. Enough to not let you fend for yourself.

And he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you finally collapse under the heave weight of fatigue, letting him swoop you up.

“We’re going home.”

And then you’re out.

~~~

A/N: Hello! I know every update is taking longer and longer and I'm sorry for that, but I have never written an action scene before and none of worked right in my head :( Thank you for being so patient with my I really appreciate it y'all! That being said, I hope this chapter was worth waiting for and I'll work hard to cook up more delicious food for everyone <3 Have a great day everyone!💕

Taglist:

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[elacular-kink]

June Hicth 2025: Hiccoming out

So I did cheat a bit, since as soon as I voted in the poll, I had an idea for one of the prompts, this one specifically. But I only started writing it today when I knew that was the prompt. Anyway, the hiccups are honestly pretty minimal and only come in at the end, so not my best as far as a hicfic goes, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Have a little queer love story.

TW: Dysphoria

Kinks: Hiccups

Davey had gained weight.

That was one of the first things he'd told me would happen when he went on testosterone. That he would gain weight. It was something he'd worried about at the time, but as he stood shirtless in front of me now, he seemed completely unashamed of the soft, squishy belly he'd developed, which was dusted lightly with body hair. Body hair was another thing he'd told me about. I'd joked that he never shaved anyway, so it wouldn't really change much, but he'd grown more than I expected.

He'd gotten past the acne stage, much to his relief, and though his facial hair wasn't growing in particularly thick, it had gotten to the point where it was visible, though it did absolutely nothing to hide his big smile. His hairline had started receding a bit, and when I stood behind him, I could see the bald spot he was developing, which I reminded him to put sunscreen on, much to his chagrin.

He'd also developed muscle in the time since he started T. Muscle that was much more noticeable than I realized it would be underneath the still-freshish scars of his top surgery, but were also very visible when he playfully flexed his biceps. He was joking, but they...

Yeah. His arms really did look a lot stronger.

"So, what do you think? Sexy as fuck?" Davey asked, his voice still crackling a bit. He laughed as he said it, but looked ridiculously happy as he stared at his shirtless, beshortsed self in the mirror, pansexual and transgender flag handkerchiefs tied around his neck.

"You know it, dude." I smiled and slapped him on the back (while I still could. His pale ass was going to get sunburnt no matter what I did for him).

Davey laughed more. It was funny. His voice training had even changed his laugh, but it still sounded like him. And his big eyes sparkled as he looked at the mirror again.

They were the only thing about him that hadn't changed. But they were also the thing that had changed the most. I never saw them shine like that back when we were together.

...I'd seen them shine a little, though. And I always loved those moments.

"Hey, Mick," Davey looked back at me and I abruptly came out of my stupor. His huge smile made my heart skip a beat in a way I'd been trying to ignore for a long time now. "You gonna wear that cute 'Straight, no h8' crop top you bring out every year?"

"Ahhh..." I'd worn that the first time I went to pride with him back when we were both in high school, and somehow, despite how goofy it felt, he'd talked me into wearing it again every single time. But...no. "No, not this time."

"Aw come on, Micky, why? You think that just 'cause you're in your mid 20s now you've stopped having great abs? Please tell me marvel movies aren't making you want to dehydrate yourself again."

"No, no way, nothing like that!" The idea of looking all overmuscled like that honestly made me feel gross. "It's, uh...it's more like..." a part of me had been winding up to this all year, but a part of me was absolutely shocked that I was doing it today and wanted me to shut up, but...

But the way he turned and looked at me, I...

"It's more like it doesn't fit anymore?" I saw the way he squinted and slapped my forehead. Of course he'd take that too literally. "Me! It doesn't fit me anymore, Davey! It...it doesn't fit me." The way he tilted his head hadn't changed, and I half laughed before taking a deep breath. "Because I'm not. Straight. I'm not."

Davey's eyes widened and he focused even more completely on me. "You're not?"

"No. I-I like girls! I definitely like girls!"

Davey nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You definitely like girls. So if you like girls, but you're not straight, does that mean that you..."

"I-it means that..." I stuttered and closed my eyes, wondering how exactly the fuck this was so terrifying. "It means I'm bisexual!"

"...oh." I opened my eyes and saw Davey staring at me, face...blank? Like all the emotion had been surprised off of him. "I, uh, legit didn't see that coming. So you, uh...you like—"

"I like men!" God, I yelled it way too loud. Being around Davey had never stopped making me feel vulnerable and nervous and act like a loser. Maybe just because I was almost never performing around him anymore. "I like men and women. But not, like, equally? I like women more than men, so, like, pansexual's not quite right—a-and I could totally date nonbinary people too, so the men and women thing—i-it's not just like—"

"Hey, hey, take a breath, Mickey." Davey pantomimed taking a deep breath in and a deep breath out, and I followed along with him. "You're good." He smiled up at me and patted my arm, and his touch made my heart race like we were back in high school again. "You don't have to explain it all to me right away. You don't even have to understand it all right away. It's okay."

"Right. It...it's okay." Even though it had initially made my pulse spike, his continued touch calmed it down again as he rubbed up and down my arm. "It's okay. It's okay."

"Okay." Davey nodded and smiled at me. "I'm proud of you." That sent my pulse right back up again. He patted my arm twice, then turned around and started rooting through his drawers. "I think I still have a few shirts of yours from way back in the day, and maybe you could use some of mine as a crop top if you still wanna do that. Oh, not wearing it doesn't mean you have to be out right away, that's totally up to you."

As he kept talking, I felt myself frowning more and more, and eventually I cut him off. "Don't you want to know?" He turned from his clothes and looked at me. "Don't you...don't you want to know how I learned it? How I learned that I was into men?"

"Uh..." he looked away for a moment before meeting my eyes again and shrugging. "K-pop?"

I couldn't help but snort out a laugh, and his smile let me know he'd done it on purpose. God dammit. "No, Dave. If it were K-pop, I would have figured it out in, like, middle school or something." He laughed too, and I loved the way he grinned. I cut him off before he could start making fun of my taste in music again, though. "But no. I, um..." this was sort of the hard part, and I had to seriously steel myself for it. I clenched my fingers around one arm, my nails almost starting to dig into me before Davey grabbed my hand and pulled it away. "Ah! Um, thanks. Yeah. But, um..." I swallowed. "No. I figured out that I like men because...b-because I still like you. And I never stopped liking you. Not even for a second."

"Oh shit." He said it softly, and I immediately started explaining that I knew this didn't mean we were dating again and that it was alright if he didn't want to, but before I could get very far, he patted my hand and shook his head. "No, no, it's not that. It's just..." he laughed softly. "Didn't you say that you hated, like...guy smell? And flat chests? And beards and mustaches and dicks?"

"Yeah, I did." Thinking back to that conversation hurt so much. It was bittersweet, but the sweet was almost impossible to taste most days. "And I wasn't lying. And I was worried that me still wanting you meant that I saw you as a girl, even when all those things started happening, like, you started binding and using a packer and going on T. But I still liked you and wanted you even with all those things on you. They didn't seem gross. They just seemed...right. And when I looked at other guys, I realized it seemed right on them too. I just never noticed before, I guess. That, uh...that probably sounds weird, right?"

"No, I get it." Davey reached out and took my hands, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. "I totally get it. I know exactly what you mean." Given that he'd known he was pansexual since high school, I sort of doubted that, but he sounded too earnest for me to say that out loud. After a moment, he laughed. "Didn't expect it, though. So, you, uh..." he smiled, and even though I could see his nerves in it, it was still the sort of smile he'd never wear back when he was dating me. "You still like me?"

The vulnerability in his voice made my heart flutter. "I still love you, Davey. I never..." I bit my lip, feeling my face go red. "I never stopped."

He laughed and smiled. His real smile. The one I thought I'd never get to see at the same time as him looking at me like this. "I never stopped loving you either, honey." My face burned. I'd always loved when he called me pet names like that. "And I never thought that this could happen again. So would you..." His hand was on my cheek, and I hated my facial hair for being between my skin and his. "Would you like to..."

Nobody finished that sentence. Nobody had to. I kissed him, and he kissed me, and I did everything in my power to avoid bursting into tears. It would be so fucking embarrassing if we finally started kissing again and the first thing I did was—

"I love you," hearing him say that made me tremble, smiling against his lips as he whispered into mine. "I'll always love you. Dating or not. No matter what. And you can tell me anything. You could come out as anything to me and I'd still love you."

I knew that. But for some reason, it was still the thing that broke me. I started sobbing, hearing him mumble another exclamation before he guided me down to the nearest chair. I covered my face, trying to get my breathing back in order. "I'm sorry, I'm sorr-*heep!* NNh!"

Fuck, I hated this. It was bad enough that I was crying, but crying almost always gave me the stupid hiccups, and I couldn't stop myself from doing either. Now they would take forever to go away. "H-hey, hey, it's okay, sweetie, it's okay." Hearing him call me that swirled immense joy into the mix of all my emotions, though I wasn't sure what the stutter I heard in his voice was about. It didn't seem to matter when he started rubbing my back, though, pulling me into a sideways hug and holding my head to his soft, flat chest. I could hear his heart beating. It was going so fast, but it still made me just melt into him. "It's okay to cry."

I was trying to internalize that, I really was, but it wasn't so easy. And the extra embarrassment didn't help. "It's n-not o–*khey* to get th–*hup* the hiccups fro–*uck* from it."

"Okay, that...that's stupid." I couldn't help but laugh when he said that, and a louder *HEEK* shook me against him. I felt his chest move as he chuckled and rubbed my far shoulder. "I'm serious, babe, that's stupid." I groaned and turned to bury my face in his chest. It wasn't the same as back when he had breasts, but I was surprised that I still liked it just as much. "It's not okay to...to h-hiccup? Like, where the fuck did that even come from?"

It was weird how he sort of tripped over the word, but it was probably just a voice crack. "I don–*hnk* don't know." I sighed. On the plus side, him making me laugh had helped put a stop to my tears. The fact that they were happy tears didn't mean I had any idea how to handle them. "It's em–*MMK* embarrass–*ingk* though."

He hummed and I felt it vibrate through his chest. I also felt and heard his heartbeat pick up a bit of speed. "W-well," okay, that stutter was unusual. I looked up and saw that his face was red, though he was still smiling. "You, uh...you wanna hear me say something? Uh, come out and tell you about a thing I like that you won't expect at all?"

I sniffed and pulled away from him, starting to wipe my eyes and nose on my arm before he gave me a fist full of tissues. "Sure? *HNK-llk!*–mmf!"

That hiccup made me rub my chest, but I was looking right at Davey, and I saw his face get redder as he rocked nervously on the balls of his feet. "So, uh, I know that we didn't end up having sex while we were still dating for...a lot of reasons. Nerves, dysphoria, blah blah blah." Honestly, I still wasn't sure about having sex with anyone. I'd tried it, and I'd mostly just felt like a gross gorilla. But if I was going to have it with someone, I'd probably want it to be Davey. "But, uh, another reason is because I knew I'd be a real motherfucker for you to get off. Part of that was 'cause I hadn't figured out, uh, how to do it yet. But another part was that there's a thing I like. A thing that turns me on most. More than anything. And it's, uh...hiccups."

I stared at him. There was nothing about his nervously-smiling face or his rapidly bouncing heel that looked like he was kidding. I hiccuped loudly, and his face got redder. "Oh. *HUP* That..." Actually, now that I thought about it, that explained quite a few things that had happened between the two of us. Especially when one or both of us was drunk. "Yeah, I di–*HILP* didn't expect that." I shook my head, but then got up and rubbed his shoulder. "But i–*HIP* it's not a bad surpr---prise I do–*HNK* don't think?" He sighed and rested a hand on mine before leaning his head against my arm. "You like wh–*IUK* when I get th–*HEEP* the hiccups?" It felt surreal to say, though the flush of his face half answered the question already.

"I mean, yeah," he laughed a bit nervously. "I like it when anybody gets them, but..." he blushed more. "But especially you. Yours are just so cute and girly."

I "*HEEK!*" hiccuped loudly and buried my face in my hands. "Don't j–*EULK* just say th–*HILK* things like *HIP* that!"

Even though my cheeks were burning, for some reason I couldn't stop smiling.

"Alright, alright," Davey's laughs died down. "Now come on, I want to get down to the parade!"

"Now? *HNK!*" I turned to him. "B-but I still have the–*HEEK-ULK!* a-aaahhh..."  I hid my face again.

"So?" Davey pulled one of my arms and smiled at me. "Don't worry, babe. I'll survive your nuclear hotness. And I'll do all the talking. But I wanna be there for when we get started!"

Without saying anything more, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the apartment with him. I ended up having the hiccups most of the day, being incredibly embarrassed and nervous and not being able to put on the performance I usually did. But Davey was by my side the whole time, both smiling adoringly at me, and chatting confidently with anyone who spoke to him.

I remembered back when we were in high school and he would cling to my arm, hiding behind me and his ill-kept long hair and hardly saying a word. But here, with our roles reversed, he had never looked or acted more like himself, and I...

I'd never felt more like myself either. Even with the hiccups.

[artingstarvist]

So I've started reading Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know and I thought it might be fun to periodically update this blog with some of my reactions as I read it.

Here are my thoughts on chapters 1 - 3.

Chapter 1

GREAT way to open a story. "Oh no, everyone thinks our lord is locked away inventing a new cultivation path but really he's locked himself up with a smutty romance novel and I don't know what to tell everyone" is just an amazing hook.

Ok, so his Left Protector is definitely the love interest. Can already tell Yin Hanjiang is gonna be a little bit of a freak. I do love a loyal knight/ prince dynamic.

So this 'romance' book is a possible future timeline, but it sucked so much somehow he got sent this book and told to 'do better this time'? 😂

Lmao the reviews at the end. God I also would hate that book so fucking much. Idk Baili Qingmiao yet but she deserves to be a cold uncaring bitch. Let her be a calamity this time please.

Ok so this guy is ARO aro lmao.

Well, so far Wenren E is giving heavy aroace vibes and even if he's actually not or he's just demi I understand him. I too would be horrified to find out that in my future I fall in love and die for it after spending my whole life going 'lmao what's wrong with y'all' to allo ppl.

VERY excited to find out what Yin Hanjiang did to creep all the readers out.

Chapter 2

This guy (YHJ) is so intense. I hope one day he learns how to have his own opinion on something. I hope, at some point in the story, he doesn't follow an order. Just once. As a treat.

He tried to turn her into lamp oil???? Yeah he's a freak (affectionate). I'm glad Wenren E appreciates it.

(I guess that's also one way to not follow an order)

He's so dramatic. "I thought about life without my lord for 2.5 seconds and bit my lip till it bled" Get it together man it was just a thought exercise.

Already digging the Right Protector. Girlboss.

Ok. Shu Yanyan's also a freak (affectionate).

I like that these cultivators have pokemon types. What's good against Lightning Type cultivators?

"It seems what this Venerable doesn't know amounts to a great deal" This centuries year old demonic sect leader from the Path of Slaughter is really just an innocent bean lmao. This should be fun.

Love this logic- "Ok in the books these ppl destroyed me. Better go hang with them to prove that they won't destroy me."

I think Shu Yanyan should just be the sect leader she seems way more nefarious than Wenren E lmao. They should just let him retire. He seems tired to me.

Chapter 3

Ok these characters need collector cards showing their evolution stages, power levels, and elemental types.

Love that Wenren E never looked twice at Yin Hanjiang till he found out in the future he concocts an elaborate and exceedingly cruel revenge scheme for him. Like against the girl he died for and asked him to protect lmao. Now he's all heart eyes like actually maybe this guy is the best??? How did I not realize?

Obsessive, Resolute, and Loyal. My fav kind of love interest.

Lot of sword metaphors going on here and I'm not sure if they're supposed to be dick jokes or not.

Welp. Wenren E is already whipped. That was fast.

Lmao he still made Yin Hanjiang do the evil deed. Still waiting for the leader of the Demonic Sect to actually do something evil himself. 😂

Shu Yanyan I'm so sorry you are stuck trying to work with these incompetent dumbasses lmao.

Okokok. Shu Yanyan x Baili Qingmiao's gonna be a thing now right? Right??? Can we just kick He Wenzhao out of the story completely?

Huh. So he feels he owes past-life-Baili for his success. I kind of dig that as a reason not to just kill her off at his first chance. I hope in this timeline she brings many new disasters. 💜

Overall thoughts: I like it. I'm interested. Every character is some level of deranged and that definitely makes for a fun time. Love a story from a 'villainous' pov. I cannot even imagine how these two will actually navigate romance dear lord.

[zestyzigzagoon]

I won't write this because I'm still in a rut and I have other things to catch up on, but fun AU idea: famous person x normal person AU, except the normal person lives under a rock and has no fucking clue who the famous one is

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

best New Year's Eve in forever cos my sister and I fucking FINALLY started watching Interview with the Vampire

[hunsa-jars]

Dread be dreading

[classyrbf]

NOT GOOD ENOUGH! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after child birth, you don’t feel or look the same as before, brining on new insecurities and anger stirring within yourself

INFO...husband!toji x fem!reader, angst with a happy ending, mentions of child birth, weight gain, stretch marks, feeling ugly, body checking, just very insecure and upset reader, slight jealousy, toji being there for you, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

toji notices how quiet you are when you both arrive back home from Shiu’s birthday party. You didn’t say a word to him on the drive back home and you aren’t speaking to him now that you walked through the door. All you do is head straight to your shared bedroom, heels clicking against the floor. He can’t understand what’s wrong, he’s trying his hardest to piece together what may have went wrong tonight but nothing comes to mind. He was hoping that this night out would be fun and special considering it’s the first time you guys have had alone time since giving birth to Megumi almost a year ago now.

But that frown on your face and the silent treatment makes a pit settle in his stomach because this isn’t you. He follows you to the bedroom where you’re sitting, turned away from him, taking your heels off. “Can we talk?” He breaks the silence, leaning against the wooden door.

“Not right now.” You clear your throat, avoiding any eye contact with him as you throw your shoes in the mess that is your closet. “Can you get out? I need to change.” You’re snatching clothes out the dresser, your tone flat and bored.

“Get out? You always change in front of me—”

“Just get out, Toji!” You walk over to the bedroom door, slamming it in his face and locking it. He stands there, confused.

But behind closed doors, you cautiously remove your dress that you’ve been so excited to wear for months now. Except, it didn’t look how you expected it to. The whole night, the moment you put it on, it just didn’t seem to look right. Your arms had extra fat, your stomach was chubby and everytime you sat down you could feel it hang over your underwear, and your thighs were squeezing against the fabric. But it wasn’t just the dress, it was everything. For weeks and weeks you’ve been feeling like absolute garbage, reminiscing over how you used to look before child birth. The dark circles were new, you the stretch marks on your stomach and thighs that seemed like they’d never go away. The brittleness of your hair, and your mood swings that had you questioning if you’re overreacting or not.

You felt ugly. That’s it. Inside and out. The way you looked and how you acted towards toji and yourself, it wasn’t you. And you would never blame your son over this, no, he was the most precious baby ever, and you loved him with all your heart. You just wish you’d had started taking care of yourself sooner. When you look in the mirror, you’re reminded that your husband can do so much better, thinking of all the attractive women that were trying to talk to him today at the party. You couldn’t help but compare yourself, how much better looking they were and how full of life they looked. Maybe he would enjoy someone younger and happier, instead of having to come home to a miserable, insecure wife who wouldn’t even let her own husband touch her.

You frowned, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at yourself, the palm of your hand running over your stomach, feeling the loose skin. Your eyes drifted to your sagging breasts, thinking of how they only look good in a supported bra now. Tears. All you felt were the tears streaming down your cheeks, slipping on your baggy shirt and pants to hide each and every bad thing you thought about yourself.

“Mama, open the door. Are you crying?” Toji called from behind the door, twisting the handle back and forth like it would somehow magically unlock.

“I-I’m fine! I’m still getting dressed!” You wiped your tears, a weak attempt at hiding your feelings.

“Bullshit. Open the door, tell me what’s going on with you. Y/n, I swear I’ll break this damn door down. Please, open it.” You shuffled your feet across the floor, unlocking the door for him. He immediately stepped through, concerned eyes scanning over you. “Mama, what happened? What’s going on with you, hm?” He cupped your face, searching your glossy eyes.

You immediately broke, clutching onto him as you sobbed into his chest. “I’m sorry, Toji,” you hiccuped. His arms held you close, wrapping his warmth around you.

“Shh, shh. You got nothing to apologize for.” He kissed the top of your head, caressing his hand up and down your back. “Talk to me.” You shake your head, finding it embarrassing to even talk about, but he doesn’t take no for an answer. He cups your face again and forces you to look at him, wiping your tears away. “Did I do something?” He questions.

“No, no,” you sniffle. “I just…I don’t know how to explain it without feeling stupid.” It frustrates you to your core, having all these bottled up feelings inside of you but finding it so difficult to explain. It’s overwhelming, every single bit of it.

“You’re not stupid. Come here, sit down and talk with me.” He holds your shaking hand while guiding you to the bed, both of you sitting on the edge as you attempt to catch your breath.

“Tonight, I was excited to spend some alone time with you. I got dressed and did my makeup and hair, but…I didn’t feel comfortable or pretty or anything. I haven’t been feeling like that for a good while now, Toji.” Your voice cracks, hot tears brimming your eyes once more. “I look at myself and see how much weight I’ve gained, my stomach, arms, thighs, everything! And I hate it! I hate looking at myself because it makes me so angry and ugly. So, I get jealous and insecure when I see other women near you. Like tonight.” Your lip quivers, hiding your face in your hands. “And I’m sorry I took it out on you,” your voice breaks through the sobs, vision blurry. “I’m sorry that I’m not better.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Mama? Better? You’re already fucking perfect.” He sits up. “Look at me.” And you hesitantly do so, frowning, your eyes puffy and red. “I don’t care about anyone else but you and our son. Our son that you gave life to, birthed him from your own body. You’re fucking incredible for that. So, no, I don’t give a damn about your weight or stretch marks or anything else your pretty little head is making you overthink about.” He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Toji…” you trail off. His words only make you more emotional, his reassurance providing you comfort and security.

“You’re beautiful no matter what. I married you. You didn’t marry me. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you, mama, are you kidding?” He chuckles, making you smile in response. “See, there’s that smile.”

“Stop.” You stifle a laugh, covering your face with your hand.

“Never. You’re stuck with me. You’re stuck with me forever. I signed up for forever, okay? We could be all old and wrinkly together and I’ll still think you’re the most beautiful woman in this world. So, baby, please don’t beat yourself up because you don’t look like some fake ass super model or some random girl you see on the street. From the tips of your toes, to the top of your head, you’re all mine.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another and then another, before attacking you with kisses. “I’m so in love with you and so attracted to everything you do, you make it hard not to give you another baby. So incredibly sexy.”

“Toji!” You gasp in shock, laughing at him. “You horndog!”

“Can you blame me, huh?” You kisses your neck. “Seriously, mama, I apologize. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize sooner that you were going through this.” He holds you, pulling you beside him as he lays down.

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you, and explain my feelings. I thought it was something that would go away on its own—”

“I don’t wanna hear any more apologies from that mouth of yours. Next time, just speak to me. Pull me aside, vent to me, cry in my arms. I’d rather you do that than feel like this ever again. I should’ve been more attentive to you.” The pad of thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“I love you, Toji.” You snuggle into him, basking in his warmth. “Thank you.” He knew just how to make you laugh, how to take all those bad thoughts away and lock them up. You should’ve never hesitated to come to him, he’s always been there for you since day one.

“I love you more.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We still have the whole night to ourselves, let’s not waste it.”

“Oh, can we order some chinese? I’ve kinda been craving crab rangoon.” You raise brow at Toji.

He smirks. “Go and get the menu.”

[biscuityskies]

With the impending implementation of Project 2025, I suspect that AO3 will come under fire as well. And given that it’s a US based organisation, and the US has wedged itself somehow into every possible thing, I would also suspect that this will have global impacts. I cannot be certain of it - I’m certainly not an expert on political things and Trump remains, frankly, unpredictable - but I have personally found it’s more helpful to prepare beforehand than to scramble to keep myself afloat in the midst of a crisis. Knowing how important our favourite stories are to so many of us, here’s what I suggest:

Readers, I recommend you find your favourite stories again. Go all the way back in your bookmarks. Tell the authors you appreciate them, and you love their work. I think we could all use some nice words right now. If you want to keep the story, I recommend downloading it: here’s a guide on how to do so from the AO3 FAQ. I personally have wanted to take up bookbinding for a hot second; I might print off my favourite fics for myself and figure out how to bind them. The OTW also recommends downloading your favourites - see link below.

Authors, I recommend you keep your manuscripts. Download them onto an external flash drive and save them for a rainy day four or so years from now. Even the ones you don’t like are worth keeping - I guarantee you somebody else likes them even if you don’t. (I’m speaking to myself here, too.) Project 2025 has blatantly laid out a ban of pornography, and they will take that to mean whatever they want it to; I suggest you don’t even keep your fics on a Google drive if possible it’s definitely easier to keep them all online, trust me, I know, but so does the government. Corporations do not care about you: they will sell you out to whoever is willing to pay. Remember also to turn off AI scraping wherever possible, or better yet use sites that don’t engage in that behaviour.

For further reading from people more qualified than I, here’s the OTW’s statement on what their plans are so far.

I hope I’m wrong. I honestly would love nothing more. But more importantly, we will get through this. Humanity has told stories and put blorbos in situations for literal millennia. We’ll see the other side of this.

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[errruvande]

WHAT WE DO IN THE TOILET

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Fem!Reader

Summery: what if you stumbled upon your fucking ex boyfriend in a squid game toilet?

Triggers: SMUT, oral (both receiving), fingering, a bit of a dirty talk

A/N: first squid game smut, second smut fic in almost 10 years from me 🫡 English is not my native, so please, bear with it if you find a mistake, cause I'd die from embarrassment

A/N #2: dialogue formatted like this said by Thanos in English

Word count: 4k

Once you gave yourself a word that you will never meet him again in your life. You'd been trying to support him through his, not to say the list, pretty feeble rapping career, keeping him hyped up when his new tracks didn't hit the numbers he hoped for yet again. It was before he started investing his money into the crypt. You were the first one to say that this cryptocurrency shit was definitely a scum, but Su-Bong couldn't care less to listen, he had too much fun getting the first money back, doubled in number.

"This is all scum, Su!.." you once rattled at him, seeing Su-Bong changing yet another thousands of won to that crypto shit.

"We're gonna be fucking rich can't you see, señorita???" He grabbed the multicolored cash in his hands, throwing the money up in the air like a confetti. "I'm gonna win this life, baby!"

You only rolled your eyes at him, grabbing one 5000 won bill and making your way out of the room. "I'll look at your dumb ass when you invest all of your stupid money in this and they'll fuck you up, señor."

Now, you wandered how low did he fall to appear in this fucking shit hole. How many layers of buttom did his smoked, stoned ass broke to land on that pile of cow shit. How much debts did he have now? Definitely more than you, but how much more? Though after hearing some players' debts, you thought of your own to be a mild inconvenience.

You saw his head popping out from the crowd, the tallest guy in the group, as he always has been, with his head glowing purple in the dull green room. Thanos. You only prayed for him to not notice you, cause above all else, you would not stress his pathetically comical attempts into being not only a rapper, that you've already learned to stomach, but a comedian.

You were led out of the room, up and up and up by the pink strais that looked as if it have been snatched straight out of the psych test picture. Once you were high enough, you were instructed to go though the huge, massive doors leading to the open playground.

You saw him clinging to the pretty girl immediately after all of the players entered the playground, it didn't really sting, but it tugged on something buried deep down beneath the layers of indifference you've grown throughout the last year and the half.

"Hey, señorita."

You turned your head instinctively on the word. It was your word. You didn't know why, but when Su-Bong called that random girl señorita, you felt that string snapping inside you, that definitely did sting. It stinged even more, when you saw Su-Bong getting all turned on when the girl sent him off, rolling her eyes in a sheer annoyance.

Fuck him. Fuck him. FUCK HIM

You shouldn't have felt anything. Not for him, not after all of this hardships of getting him off of your mind after you two broke up.

Somehow, the thoughts of your past relationships overstaffed your head, you were running and ceasing on autopilot while you brain suffered the memories of you and Su-Bong having the time of your lives.

You didn't register how you crossed the finish line, slithering further away from the doll through the panicking players right until you felt two big heavy palm on your shoulders. The heaviness that was too familiar, and the fingers that clawed your bones with such familiarity you haven't felt for far too long.

"Babe!" The loud shriek Su-Bong forced to come out sent shivers down your body. When you looked up at him, his face was gleaming as he was laughing and studying you head to toes. "My fucking Nebula baby is here, like damn bro we're gonna be unstoppable!"

"Don't fucking call me that..." You shook his hands off you, turning on the tips of your boots, trying to get closer to the pink soldiers standing next to the doors.

"Babe, don't you want to ask me how I've been?" Purplehead grabbed you by the wrist, motioning you to swirl back to face him once more. He bent untill he somewhat leveled to your height, his face perfectly positioned in front of yours, eyes on the same level. You hated to admit that he still was as handsome as you remembered, face so fuckable the only look at it made your stomach swirling.

"What point in asking if you're here?" You tried to maintain the annoyance, but felt your voice cracking just fairly a bit, which was enough to catch a sardonic smile on Su-Bong's face, right before the words settled in his head and his face tensed with thinking.

The metal dome covered the sunlight and the pink soldiers opened the doors, making all of the remaining players to walk back to the main room, dumbfounded. Some rat looking guy snatched Thanos from your side and walked him to their beds once you entered the room. Thank you, you thought, sighting out in relief.

From your bed you saw Su-Bong and this guy from across the room. The rat guy pointed in your direction vaguely, and Su-Bong almost punched him, you could read his expression saying "shut the fuck up, man". You spent a few more minutes staring mindlessly into Thanos' direction, not exactly registering what was going on in the room, but at once you thought that the effect of the pill he swallowed during the game wore off, the comic bravado wanished from Su-Bong's face as he stared equally mindlessly into the emptiness in front of him.

After the voting you all had a little meal prepared, it felt all too close to your heart with the school like lunch, as if they tried to put you all at ease. You saw Su-Bong starting a fight with that damn Coin man, the one you knew from Su-Bong's crypto problems, but it didn't take much time before the player 001 beat the shit out of him for interrupting the meal time.

You didn't quite recognize your own feelings seeing Su-Bong lying on the floor half dead as the man was having him in a chokehold, Thanos whimpering and squirming under him. You felt the corners of your mouth lifting in some manic rushing tide, but when the man finally stood up and you saw Su-Bong's face, corrupted with both fear and anger you suddenly felt pity for him. How miserable of you.

The night crippled in, but the slumber decided not to show you any signs of life. To be fair, you could find at least twenty more people who couldn't sleep that night, and well, you had more questions for those who could.

You jumped down from your bed and slowly walked towards the bathroom. It was when you have done all of your things and was splashing your face with the spring cold water you heard some muted grumbling over the wall.

"Fuck man, c'mon!"

You creeped out of the female toilet room, tiptoing to the male one, hearing the grumbles more clearly, as well as the slapping sounds. You opened the door only for a few inches, when you saw Thanos standing in front of the mirror with his pants lowered to his knees, trying to jerk off.

"Stupid fucking shit, just fucking work!" His low voice was on the verge of growling, he never looked as pathetic and lost as now, standing half naked, trying to bone his dick up. Having sex, or at the very least jerking off, was his second to favorite activity to relieve the stress. The first one was getting high as fuck.

"Stressful day, huh?" He jerked his head into your direction seeing you leaning on the doorframe, smile completely roasting him.

He gulped, looking at you, detecting your gaze that was focused on his slumber dick in his hand.

"My señorita, do you want to help?" The desperation and anger in his voice washed away as soon as he saw your mocking face. He he let go of his dick and took a step forward to you, shaking his legs in the air to free them from the pants. "You always knew how to get it going, my fucking love."

He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you closer untill your body was pressed fully to his, then he unclasped his palm and put one of his hands on the crook of your back, lowering it untill he was able to grab your ass cheek and squeeze it.

"Why should I?" You didn't move away, nor did you shake his hand off your ass, but you also moved your face to the side when he tried to kiss you. "There's a nice, pretty guy in that room, I'd rather fuck him."

You knew that stupid cunt had a rejection kink. The seconds you said those words you felt his dick starting hardening, pressing against your inner thigh.

Su-Bong chuckled lowly, his voice vibrating through your skin as his lips were in mere inches from your ear. "Cause you still fucking love me." He squeezed your ass harder, pressing you flat into his groin. "You know none of these suckers can outdone me in fucking, right? I'm a fucking hump legend."

Too miserably for you, he fucking was. You never met someone who fucked your better than Thanos did, especially when he was under the influence of his stupid pills. You hated it, the pills, but loved the ferocity with which he thrusted into you or eated you out untill he could feel your soul on his tounge when he was on the pills.

"C'mon, my señorita, I want you so bad, just suck my fucking dick, please."

You didn't even know why, but you gave in. Maybe because you didn't know if any of you would live to see another day, or cause you knew he had his pill again and the mere thought of what he could do to you made you shiver. Or maybe because his dick was already hard enough it could leave a bruise on your thigh if you had kept staying still like this for another minute.

You slithered your hand down between your bodies, finding his dick pressed to your leg, and carefully wrapped your fingers around it. Making just a few tugs, your ear felt arousingly hot from Su-Bong's slow breathing. When he got too comfortable with you jerking him off, you relocated your hand further down his shaft, barely touching his balls, as you lifted up on your tiptoes, brushing his ear with your lips.

"If I hear you calling other bitches señoritas, I'm gonna kill you myself." You heard him mewl pathetically into your shoulder as you squeezed your fingers around his balls, practically digging into them with your nails till Thanos hissed and digged his fingers into your ass cheek in return, surely leaving some nicely framed bruises on your skin.

"You gave this name to me," you pulled your hand with his balls in it to the side slightly, stretching the tender skin almost painfuy, winning the muffled whimper from Su-Bong, as he sucked hectically on your neck. "it's fucking mine to bear."

"Done, baby, you won't hear it." He wheezed into your shoulder bucking up his dick against your thigh. You laughed, the sound was barely a whisper tickling Su-Bong's ear, but boy did it make him shiver, biting the skin on your shoulder?

"Atta boy." You bit his earlobe and let go off his balls, hearing him growling into you as his balls got back to their rightful place.

Finally for him, your tore your body off his, feeling the stinging warmth where his fingers were nailed into your ass even after you tore his hand off it, and kneeled down, finding the eye contact with Thanos before even getting close to his dick. His eyes were reminding you of boba balls, just a huge black circles amidst the white eyeballs, he was so high on his pills it drew you crazy and made you feel wet between your legs.

"Make me cum, my señorita." Once you sat down on your knees, Thanos placed his hand on your head, sliding it down to your cheek and finally your chin, leaving the trail of goosebumps on your skin as he went.

You touched his dick with your finger, pressing it up to his belly and got closer to the shaft. Su-Bong saw your tounge swirling inside your mouth, and when you stuck it out completely soaked in saliva, he squeezed your chin with his fingers, tugging your face closer untill he felt the watery tip of your tongue touching the base of his dick and shivered, snickering lowly.

You pressed your tongue flat to his very base starting to slide your way up to the very tip of it, slowly and tormenting, hearing Thanos grunting though his teeth, his hand moving back to your nape, controlling your every move.

You were sliding up and down, rolling to the tip of your tongue and touching Thanos's dick just so lightly it sent waves of shivers down his body, and then rolling it back flat, polishing his shaft with your tongue.

"I missed that so much." Through the muffled whimpering Su-Bong almost moaned, tugging on your nape to make you lick him higher. "No one's sucking the way you do, babe, my fucking slut queen."

You couldn't still the smile forcing on your face. That one thing keeping the bond between you two - you both were each other's best fuckers. And that was such a huge problem. That wasn't something that's easy to get off your mind. Every man you had after Su-Bong was intrusively compared to him while being in you, and let's be honest, none of them had the high ground. Every time you were fucking someone, at some point your head started getting clouded. Su-Bong would have already made me cum twice.

And without wandering, you knew this sucker had the same problem having every single girl compared to you.

"You'll make me cum yes?" Thanos placed his free hand on your finger that was pressing his dick to his stomach and pulled it off, making his dick fall, bouncing up and down right next to your lips. "I'll pay you back, you won't be disappointed."

You knew you wouldn't. You were sitting on your knees, thighs squeezed together in an attempt to stop your lube running down as you looked up at Su-Bong, his wide stoned pupils studying every inch of your body, lips framed in a manic smile and purple hair catching the light of the lightbulbs sent another wave of swirling down your stomach. The things he would do to you...

You wrapped your palm around his shaft, directioning the tip of his dick into your mouth and started circling it with the tip of your tongue, barely touching it. You made a few circles clockwise, a few counterclockwise, you licked it up and down and left and right, hearing Thanos' breath became loose and rapid. While you were circling his head slowly, your hands were working up and down his shaft.

"I've dreamt about thi- fuck-..." He muttered, his hand jerked automatically, sticking you on his dick deeper. Thanos didn't give you the time to adjust, starting shoving his dick down your mouth, deep into the warm tender mouth of yours, feeling your tongue sliding flat on his shaft until he felt the tip of his dick pressing into the back of your throat, you gagging, spasming over his shaft, only making Thanos moan gutturally, watching your head bob a little with a rythm he controlled. "My fucking sweet paradise. Fu-uuck!"

You felt his precum sliding down your throat, almost tickling making your insides jolt, as you started loosing your breath. The bolt of panic shattered though your chest as you started gagging without any air in your lungs, but, at this point, your desire to finish Thanos dry made you collect yourself. You started breathing though your nose, letting him guide your head in a timing that was perfect for him. You would make him cum and he would eat you out afterwards.

You felt his finish was close enough, so you grabbed his balls again, squeezing them gently, tickling and caressing them with your fingers, feeling them hardening under your touch and his dick trembling in your mouth as Thanos let the guttural moan into the air, his dick spurting semen into your mouth, nearly choking you.

"My señorita." He took his dick out of your mouth, tilting your chin up to look up at him, wiping with his finger the mix of his own cum and your drool that was soaking through the corners of your lips. "That was so fucking hot"

The way you swallowed Thanos' seed maintaining the eye contact visibly brought shivers on him, it awakened something animalistic in him as he pulled you up by the chin untill you stood up firmly and kissed you, ravaging your mouth completely. His tongue wasn't waiting for invitation, he slide it between your lips and you opened your mouth instinctively, feeling how his tongue slid deeper into your mouth over your own. At this point, you could only whimper into his mouth, thighs pressed to each other in order to find at least a bit of satisfaction.

"Fuck!"

Your kiss was interrupted by the two voices down the hall, two male voices that were creeping closer to the toilet.

"Fuck babe!" Thanos rattled, grabbing you by your pants and tugging into the closest stall, closing the doors behind you shut. The adrenaline got into him, his pupils, thought you thought it's impossible, got even bigger, as he untied the laces on your pants and tugged I'd down, along with the panties. He bent just a bit, to be able to press his lips to the side of your face and whisper gravely, "you thought it's gonna stop me?" His hand slid down your body, forcing you to open your legs. "Fuck no."

And you felt two of his digits sliding into you roughly. He didn't give you a chance to gather your scattered thoughts together, or adjust to his fingers, when he curled them, one at a time, shoving then up your cunt.

Thanos growled softly into your ear, you didn't even grasp what was the reason of your airy moan - his fingers or his voice, vibrating though your skin, but with two people outside your stall you did your best to still your vocals, only letting the little weep escape your lips and then shutting them together in panic.

"Good fuck, good day, huh?" His voice sent goosebumps running down all over your body, making you squeeze your thighs around his hand, your hips volunteerly moving down on his fingers.

"Okay, children's games, done" Thanos said, suddenly making your cunt uncomfortably empty, greening down on you, his body, towering high over yours squeezed the little whimper out of you which you bit down, almost bloodying your lip. "Want it?" He snickered jittery before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips, sliding them lightly on your bottom. You lips fell open as on a command, but as soon as you craned your neck forward to embrace his digits with the warm hug of your lips, Thanos yanked his hand back, his fingers in his mouth now and sucked them viciously, testing you before sliding down to his knees.

For a second, you forgot about all the people in the toilet and slammed the wall of the stall with your flat palm, trying to redirect your frustration and agony out of your mouth to your hand, while Thanos was sliding his hands up your inner thighs, spreading them without any effort. He pressed his face to your pubic area and breathed you in vigorously before sighing out.

The proximity of his face to your cunt sent a tugging pulsation through your body, making you squirm on your toes, hips bucking up. You want to face fuck him untill his mad soaked in your cum, just as in old good times.

In a second, you put your free hand on his head, fingers threading through his purple hair. You tugged on his nape, angling his head up untill his chin was on your puffed, soaking wet folds, and you moaned though the bitten down lips.

"That's so fucking beautiful." He said as he lowered his head, sliding down your folds with his chin and slurped you for the all the miserable desires you had. He eated you vigorously, the sound of him sucking your lube messy, letting his drool drip down your thighs mixed with your wetness turned you dazzlingly dizzy. Thanos was rubbing his tongue flat up and down your clit, pulling it in and out of your tight hole, your walls clenching hectically desiring something more. Something bigger that just a tongue. It wrecked your insides. It warmed up your cunt and made you even wetter, and you tugged on Thanos' hair to tear him off you just to see how wet his face was, covered in your slime.

"Fuck..." Was the only thing you could moaned out, looking at his absolutely deranged smile and his tounge framing his glossy lips. Thanos' eyes were nothing but pupils, two black buttomless holes staring back at you with manic desire, the previously dried blood on his cheek got soggy again and was smeared all over his jaw. Damn, that stupid señorita girl from before died in from of him and now you fucked your man with her blood on his face and for fuck's sake that almost turned your insides upside down.

Thanos wrapped his palms around your wrist and freed his hair from your grasp, pressing your hands to the wall on the both sides of you. "Let me finish my meal, babe."

He fell back into your cunt, licking you dry and biting you clit just enough for it to teeter on a slightly painful side, making you wriggle, your ass catching on a wooden wall of the stall.

"Su-.." You caught your breath as a heat wave slammed down at your nether regions, curling your toes and fingers as Thanos kept slurping the juices your body rewarded him with for his work. "-Bong..." His name finally left your lips as you collapsed on his face, your feet too weak to hold your body up.

You barely registered how he snickered, one sound on his lips - lust. He pressed his lips back to your folds and slurped all of your cum at once, his tongue circling around your cunt gathering the juice.

"My señorita..." Thanos put his hands under your quivering thighs as his head appeared in front of yours. He kissed you roughly, letting you taste yourself from his tongue, salty and sweet. "I told you I'll pay you back."

He sat you down on a toilet, opening the door slightly enough to check if anyone was still there. No one.

"We live another day, babe, and I shove it up your cunt." Thanos looked at you, cupping his dick in his hand and smiling like a demented junkie he was. "Let's go, you first."

You tugged on your panties and pants, action was rather challenging with your whole body still trembling from your climax, and popped your head out of the stall. The path was clear. Walking out of the stall you threw the pants Su-Bong left laying on the floor under the sinks to him and was about to left the room, when he wrapped his hand around your waist, slamming your body into his. "Please, babe, don't die, cause I'll need it again." Su-Bong murmured into your ear before leaving a wet kiss on your neck.

You trotted back to your bed, people were still mostly sleeping. Barely making your way up, climbing the ladder to your bed, you sat, knees pressed to your chest, and watched Thanos walking jauntily across the dormitory. His fucking cheeky ass would absolutely run his mouth to his new friend when he wakes up, no chances Thanos would keep his tongue behind his teeth about having the blowjob of his life.

You clenched your jaw on the thought of it, but, ugh. That would be a problem for the future you. Now, you had to fall asleep with the warm pleasure between your thighs, praying for Su-Bong's name not to slip out of your lips in a dream.

Tags: @verdantsecretgardens @wintaemoonjen

[pureomi]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…why would you?

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

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

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

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

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

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