#please I’m joking please I’m joking please I’m joking please I’m joking

[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromases with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromases together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as a the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[starsjulia]

Old, In Love, and Annoying // Leah Williamson

a/n : so sorry i haven’t been consistent with my posting, life’s stressful at the moment, but here’s a cute fic i whipped up.

warnings : pregnant!r, one sexual joke i think

“I’m literally trying to cook,” you muttered, nudging her with your elbow.

“And I’m literally trying to love you,” Leah replied, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Dunno why you’re being so difficult.”

“You’re being clingy,” you said, though you didn’t actually try to move away.

“Babe, I have to be clingy,” Leah said, her hands rubbing over your belly. “Our baby’s in here, and they need to know I’m their favorite already.”

“Oh yeah?” you snorted. “Natalie’s gonna be fuming if this one comes out preferring you. She’s already convinced you’re corrupting them from the womb.”

“Sounds like a her problem,” Leah said smugly, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Before you could reply, your teenage daughter’s voice rang out from the other room.

“Mum! Mummy! Can you please stop being gross in the kitchen?”

Leah smirked against your skin. “She’s jealous.”

You rolled your eyes and shouted back, “We are cooking! Not being gross!”

“You would never let me hug you while you’re cooking,” Natalie shot back.

“She’s got a point,” Leah teased.

You turned your head slightly, arching a brow. “Oh, do you want me to start holding you hostage while you try to make dinner? See how fun it is?”

“I wouldn’t complain,” Leah grinned, kissing your shoulder.

Before you could reply, there was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Beth and Viv,” Natalie said, clearly grateful for the interruption.

Leah finally pulled away (with a dramatic sigh, of course) to let Natalie open the door while you focused back on the food. A few seconds later, you heard Beth’s voice.

“Bloody hell, it still stinks of romance in here.”

“I told you, mate,” Viv chimed in, shaking her head as they walked in. “They get worse every time.”

“Oi!” you said, turning to glare at them as they entered the kitchen. “You come into my house, insult my marriage, and expect to be fed?”

“Yes,” Beth said immediately, grinning.

Leah was already reaching into the fridge for drinks. “Well, you’ll just have to suffer through the romance first.”

Natalie groaned loudly. “This is literally my worst nightmare.”

Beth laughed, ruffling her hair. “Don’t worry, Nat. One day, they’ll be too old to keep up all this PDA.”

“You’d think that,” Natalie grumbled, “but somehow, they just keep getting worse.”

“Because we’re still madly in love,” you said sweetly, turning to Leah and fluttering your eyelashes. “Aren’t we, baby?”

Leah smirked, stepping closer and resting a hand on your bump. “Oh, absolutely. More in love than ever.”

Natalie gagged.

Viv shook her head in mock disappointment. “You two were reckless at 23, and you’re reckless now.”

Beth nodded. “Having two kids? At your age? Couldn’t be me.”

Leah gasped dramatically. “Are you calling us old?”

“You are old,” Natalie mumbled, sitting down at the table.

“I think you mean seasoned,” you corrected, pointing a spoon at her.

Beth grinned. “You did have Nat young, though. No wonder you’re still obsessed with each other.”

“It’s called commitment, ladies,” Leah said smugly. “Try and keep up.”

Viv raised an eyebrow. “You got her pregnant again. That’s not commitment, mate. That’s madness.”

Leah grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Madly in love, madly in love,” she sing-songed.

You beamed up at her, smitten as ever. “Aw, baby, you’re so sweet.”

Beth gagged. “I hate it here.”

Natalie groaned. “Same.”

Viv just shook her head. “You two are gonna be eighty and still making everyone sick with your love, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, laughing. “Gonna be snogging in our rocking chairs.”

Natalie put her head in her hands. “Please stop talking.”

Leah smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “She’s just mad ‘cause she knows we’re still gonna be shagging.”

Natalie screamed.

Beth and Viv burst into laughter as Natalie jumped up from the table.

“I’m leaving,” she declared. “I’m running away.”

Leah grinned. “Need help packing?”

“You’re a monster,” Natalie muttered before storming upstairs.

Beth wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m so glad we came over.”

Viv nodded. “Highlight of my week, honestly.”

You laughed, shaking your head before reaching up to kiss Leah’s cheek. “Well, babe, at least we’re still fun, right?”

Leah smirked. “Oh, always.”

Beth groaned. “You’re disgusting.”

Viv raised her glass. “To disgusting, sickly love.”

Leah winked at you. “Forever, baby.”

And despite all the teasing, despite all the groans from your daughter, you knew without a doubt—this was the happiest life you could have ever asked for.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Hi! Happy holidays! I have a fic idea I’d like to request. one where Mattheo is winning reader over because he likes her, but despite never letting his feelings known, Theo has been in love with her since second year 🥺 angsty but still with a happy ending perhaps? thank you love! <3

Me or Him

Mattheo Riddle x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty, mentions of drinking and reader being drunk, gender neutral

If someone had told you in your first year that two of your best friends both had feelings for you, you’d have laughed. They were friends, some of your closest friends, nothing more. Right? They were hot, you couldn’t exactly deny that. And they were funny and nice and maybe if you weren’t so close, you might’ve had a crush on them, because you 100% did not have one now. You definitely didn’t notice them growing into their bodies and getting muscles from quidditch. You, for sure, never noticed the way they seemed a bit more touchy with you either and how your body reacted. Totally didn’t notice any of that.

And now, you were at one of the infamous Slytherin parties, just sipping on a drink somewhere among the crowd.

“Ah, there you are. Been looking for you.” A pair of hands grabbed your hips from behind as the voice spoke near your ear just loud enough to hear above the music. “I thought you were hiding from me.”

“Seems like I didn’t hide well enough if you found me.” You said, turning your head enough to look at Mattheo.

“I can always find you. I can feel the beauty and sweetness radiating off of you before I can even see you.” He said with that stupid smile he always wore around you.

You roll your eyes but smile at his words. “That’s a bit cheesy, isn’t it?”

“You liked it though, didn’t you? It works, huh?” He said, moving his arms to wrap around your waist. “Come dance with me.” He said as he started leading you over to where everyone else was dancing.

“You’re not even gonna ask nicely?”

“Please, dance with me, (Y/N).” He turned you around to face him now, still leading you as you walked backwards.

“I even got a ‘please’. How cute.” You smiled back at him.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’.”

“Because I didn’t say ‘no’.”

“So, that’s a ‘yes’.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re a little brat, you know that?” Mattheo said with a small chuckle.

And while all that was happening, Theo was watching this whole interaction not too far away. He couldn’t hear what you two were saying, but he saw the way Mattheo was touching you and the smile on your face and how you let him lead you to dance. Not even mentioning watching you two dance, how your bodies were touching. Merlin, Theo was sick.

He’s had feelings for you since…as long as he could remember. Maybe since he met you. You two just clicked and you were so nice to him and you were so cute. And those feelings only grew over the years. At this point, he could confidently say he was in love with you. The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself, your personality, your jokes and teasing, just you. He loved it all. He was just too scared to say anything. How could he tell the person he’s loved for years that he has feelings and possibly be rejected. He’d rather be by your side as friends than possibly never have you in his life. But that sentiment was quickly dying at every touch and flirt that Mattheo shared with you. 

Why did his best friend have to like you too? He’s heard Mattheo talk about you, talking about how good you looked, how cute you were when you spoke about something you liked, how he enjoyed teasing you. And it took everything in Theo not to hit Mattheo in the face. Because, how would that be fair when Theo never expressed even liking you in the first place?

But now, you were as stunning as always, dancing with his best friend instead of him and he wished it was him. He longed for you to look at him like that, to make you smile like that. He had to fight every urge to go over there and push Mattheo off of you. It wouldn’t be right. You looked happy and that was his best friend.

He just watched as you two danced and laughed for a while before you excused yourself. Theo took notice of how drunk you were as you nearly stumbled as you walked away. He quickly came over to you, wrapping an arm around you to steady you.

“Easy there.” He said, helping you walk.

“Theo! I was wondering where you were.” You said, giving him a bright smile that he adored.

“I’ve been around.” He said, giving you a smile in return. “You’re very drunk, sweetheart.”

“No.” You said, dragging out the word. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe we should get you back to your dorm.” His smile never dropped, he found you adorable like this, but he was also concerned you were gonna get yourself hurt.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, leaning your head on him.

“Of course.”

“Yay! Maybe we could have a sleepover.” You said cheerfully.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He laughed, guiding you towards your dorm.

You rambled to him about anything as he walked you both to your dorm, little ‘mhm’s and ‘yeah’s leaving his mouth to let you know he’s listening. He got you in your dorm and sat you down on your bed, kneeling down to help you get your shoes off when you suddenly brought Mattheo up.

“And then Mattheo and I danced and it was a lot of fun.” You spoke so happily, not even knowing how annoyed Theo was with Mattheo.

“Yeah, sure sounds like it.” He huffed, pulling one of your shoes off and setting it aside.

“What? Why do you sound annoyed now?” You asked, looking down at him with a small frown.

“I’m not. I’m fine. You had fun with Mattheo, why would that make me mad?” He asked, but was clearly annoyed. Even in your drunken state, you could tell.

“I don’t know. You just sound mad.”

“Well, I’m not.” He said a lot louder than intended as he got the other shoe off and placed it with the other one.

“Theo…”

“It’s fine. I’m-You had a great time with one of our friends. My best friend. It’s fine.”

“Yeah,we just danced and-”

“Do you like him?”

“What?”

“Do you like Mattheo, (Y/N)?” He asked, finally standing up and looking at you.

“I don’t understand, why are you-”

“Please, just answer me.”

“I don’t know.” You said, annoyed with his attitude.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know. Okay? He’s sweet and nice and flirty but I haven’t exactly thought about him in that way.”

“You haven’t?”

“It’s just fun. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth.”

“That is the truth!”

“You can just tell me if you like him.”

“I don’t!”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I love you!” He blurted out. And now it was out in the open. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t try to correct himself. He sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair, turning his head to avoid looking at you as the silence filled the room. It was a good 10 seconds of silence, but it felt like an hour to Theo, not knowing your response.

“You do?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah.” It was all he could manage to say in his embarrassment.

“How long?”

He swallowed, still looking away from you. “A while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice was still so quiet and soft.

Theo scoffed, finally looking at you. “Why would I when you and Mattheo were all over each other?”

“Because I’d pick you over him any day.”

That sentence made him speechless and he just stared at you in disbelief.

“I like you. If I’m not making myself clear enough.” You spoke up when he didn’t reply after a moment.

“But Mattheo-”

“Is not you.”

He swallowed again, this was a little overwhelming for him. “Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” He finally got out in a rush and it made you giggle.

“Only if you don’t give me that same attitude from a few minutes ago.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “That’s a fair condition.”

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@delulugirl2000 @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

@ilovehpb0ys @satosugu4-ever @mattiesgirl @ur-local-wizard

@alwayslatetothefandoms @satosugu4-ever @whydoireadanymore @dustie-faerie

@shaquilles-0atmeal @gillyweeds @pluto-9456

@hereticdance @cindyss @saint-marvel

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5 @kenjikishimotoswifey @fallingblackveils @simpforromance

@strxwberri-s @nickirae @esmerai-artemis @blu3b3rrymuff1ns @yootvi

@roseofsharron438 @abeoavita @rafesba @ter-luer

[gyuuberryy]

pushing on my buttons!

pairing: bodyguard!jay x rich ceo's daughter!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, tension

synopsis: after a kidnapping attempt, your father hires jay, a cold and infuriating bodyguard you can’t seem to get rid of. you push his buttons at every turn, but as danger closes in, the tension between you turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable connection neither of you can ignore.

warnings: mentions of blood, a bit of fighting, kissing

note: i'm dropping smth two months later finallyy(i'm still in the middle of exams AGAIN). i feel like this is not my best work, i had a major writer's block with it and ended up making it basic? idk i haven't been feeling well recently with the insane amount of workload i have since the start of this year and the burn out shows in this ughh. i hope the fic isn't too bad TT enjoy!

word count 5.8k

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist

the heavy oak doors of your father’s office loomed before you, their polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the hallway chandelier. you paused, your fingers hovering over your phone screen, scrolling through a feed of designer handbags you didn’t need but absolutely wanted. 

the text from your father had been curt, almost ominous: “my office. now.” 

you rolled your eyes. it was probably about the credit card statement again. you had a perfectly good excuse ready—charity auction, obviously. he’d buy it. he always did.

with a sigh, you pushed the doors open, not bothering to knock. “you rang?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the doorframe, still engrossed in your phone.

your father didn’t look up from his desk. “sit,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to make you glance up.

you blinked. okay. not a good sign.

it was then that you noticed him. the man standing beside your father, a silent shadow in the room. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in black—black tactical pants, black fitted shirt, black boots that looked like they could crush a skull without breaking a sweat. his arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but somehow radiating intensity. his face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room with a precision that made you feel like he’d already dissected every inch of it—and you along with it.

you straightened, your phone slipping into your pocket as you took a step forward. “who’s this?” you asked, your tone light but laced with suspicion.

your father gestured toward the man, his expression unyielding. “this is jay. your new bodyguard.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and absurd. then you laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. “you’re joking.”

your father didn’t laugh. neither did jay. in fact, jay didn’t so much as twitch. his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

you turned back to your father, your laughter fading into a scoff. “this isn’t necessary. i’m not in danger. that whole kidnapping thing? a fluke. it’s been weeks and nothing’s happened.”

your father’s jaw tightened. “which is exactly why you need protection. we’re not taking any chances.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but jay beat you to it. his voice was low, calm, and infuriatingly even. “i’m not here to be liked, just to do my job.”

your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. excuse me?

he met your glare without flinching, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall. he didn’t care. not about your annoyance, not about your defiance, not about you. the realisation made your blood boil.

“congratulations on the worst job in existence,” you said coolly, tilting your head as you studied him. “because i’m not some damsel in distress.”

jay didn’t blink. “right. you handled the last situation so well.”

your jaw dropped. the audacity. “excuse you—”

“enough,” your father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “jay will be with you at all times. this isn’t up for discussion.”

you stared at him, then at jay, who was still standing there like some brooding statue, completely unfazed. your mind raced, already plotting ways to make his life a living hell. fine. if this was happening, you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

you flashed jay a sweet, taunting smile, the kind that usually made people nervous. “try and keep up.”

his lips twitched—just barely—but it wasn’t a smile. more like a challenge accepted. “i don’t plan on falling behind.”

oh, you already hated him. hated the way he looked at you like you were a problem to be solved, hated the way he stood there like he owned the room, hated the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. but most of all, you hated that he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by you.

your father exhaled, clearly done with the conversation. “jay will start immediately. i expect you to cooperate.”

you didn’t respond. instead, you turned on your heel and strode toward the door, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. you could feel jay’s eyes on your back, tracking your every move, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. let him try to keep up. you were already planning your first escape.

as the doors swung shut behind you, you couldn’t help but smirk. this was going to be fun.

the first twenty-four hours with jay as your shadow were unbearable. it wasn’t just his constant presence—it’s the way he moves like he knows what you’re about to do before you do it, like some kind of infuriating psychic in tactical gear.

you woke up to find him standing right outside your bedroom door. arms crossed, eyes alert, posture straight. like a soldier. like a statue. like someone who had absolutely no life outside of making yours miserable.

you glare at him, silk robe slipping off your shoulder, hair a mess. “do you ever sleep? or do you just stand there like a creep all night?”

jay doesn’t react. not even a twitch. his gaze flicks over you, assessing, before looking away.

he didn’t react. not even a twitch. his dark eyes flicked over you briefly, assessing, before he looked away, his expression as blank as ever.

“good morning,” he said, his tone flat.

you rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face.

when you went to get coffee, he was already there, waiting. the barista gave him a once-over, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scar that ran along his jawline. then they glanced at you, their eyebrows raised in a silent question: are you okay? do you need help?

you forced a smile. “he’s harmless,” you said, though the words tasted like a lie. jay didn’t so much as blink.

you grabbed your latte and stormed out, jay falling into step behind you like some kind of silent, brooding ghost. you could feel his eyes on your back, watching, always watching. it was suffocating.

in meetings, it was worse. you sat at the head of the conference table, your laptop open, your team discussing quarterly projections, and there he was—standing against the far wall, arms still crossed, his gaze sweeping the room like he was expecting an ambush at any moment. every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

you tried to ignore him. you really did. but his presence was like a thundercloud hovering over the room, dark and oppressive. by the time the meeting ended, you were ready to scream.

you had to get rid of him immediately.

attempt #1: the emergency exit 

it was simple, really. you waited until you were in the middle of a crowded lobby with jay, your phone pressed to your ear, your face the picture of distress. “no—no, stay right there, i’ll be there in five minutes,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. then you slipped out the back door, quick, smooth, victorious.

you couldn’t help but grin as you rounded the corner, your heart racing with the thrill of escape. finally, some freedom. finally, some—

jay was already there.

leaning against your car, arms still crossed, not even looking at you. like he’d been waiting for hours. like he’d known exactly where you’d go.

you froze, your smile slipping. “how the hell—”

he finally acknowledged you, tilting his head just slightly. his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. “you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

your fingers clenched into fists. oh. it was war.

attempt #2: the disappearing act

you waited until you were at a charity gala, the kind of event where everyone was too busy sipping champagne and gossipping to notice anything amiss. you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, your movements quick and deliberate. you ducked behind a potted plant, then made your way to the service entrance, your heart pounding with excitement.

you were almost there. almost free. and then—

“leaving so soon?”

you whirled around, your breath catching in your throat. jay stood in the doorway, his arms still crossed, his expression as calm as ever. he didn’t even look winded.

“how do you keep doing that?” you demanded, your voice rising.

he shrugged, the motion infuriatingly casual. “it’s my job.”

“your job is to annoy me to death?”

“if that’s what it takes to keep you alive, then yes.”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with frustration. he stared back, unflinching, his dark eyes boring into yours. for a moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, and you wanted to so badly give into it and just cause a tantrum. instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the gala, jay following close behind.

attempt #3: sensory overload

the mall was a chaotic symphony of chatter, clattering shopping bags, and the faint hum of pop music playing over the speakers. you strode through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, your eyes darting toward the exit signs. jay was a step behind you, his presence as unshakable as ever. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, his posture tense, like he was expecting a sniper to take a shot at any moment.

you rolled your eyes. “relax, rambo. it’s a mall, not a war zone.”

he didn’t respond. of course he didn’t. he just kept walking, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, like he was making sure you hadn’t somehow vanished into thin air.

you gritted your teeth. this was supposed to be your day. you had a date with someone your mutual friend had set you up with. your father had forbidden you from going, but since when had you ever listened to him? and yet, here was jay, ruining everything like some overgrown shadow you couldn’t shake.

you bit back a sigh. if you wanted to shake him, you’d have to get creative.

spotting a perfume shop up ahead, you darted inside, the overwhelming scent of floral and citrus hitting you instantly. jay followed without hesitation, his towering frame making the narrow aisles feel even smaller.

“why are we here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

“to test some new scents,” you replied innocently, grabbing a random bottle and spraying it on your wrist. “you wouldn’t understand.”

jay raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

you tried a few more perfumes, using up the space on your wrists and arms. finally, you turned to him, holding up a bottle.

“hold out your arm.”

jay blinked. “what?”

“you’re supposed to test it on skin,” you said, your tone overly patient. “and i’m out of space. come on.”

reluctantly, he extended his arm. you sprayed the perfume lightly on his wrist and leaned in, inhaling deeply.

jay tensed under your touch, his muscles stiffening as your fingers brushed his skin. you glanced up, noticing the tightness in his jaw, but you didn’t comment.

“it’s not bad,” you said, tilting your head. “but maybe something lighter.”

you reached for another bottle, quickly spraying it on his other wrist. this time, you didn’t stop at one spray. you pressed the nozzle again and again, filling the air with an overpowering mix of scents.

jay sneezed once, then twice, stumbling back a step as he tried to clear his nose.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled between sneezes.

“just testing!” you said, holding up your hands in mock innocence. “you’re being dramatic.”

jay glared at you, but before he could recover, you dropped the perfume bottle and bolted, weaving through the crowded store and out into the mall. you didn’t look back. you didn’t need to. you could hear his footsteps behind you, heavy and determined.

your heart raced as you sprinted through the mall, dodging shoppers and strollers. you spotted a clothing store up ahead, its entrance tucked away in a quieter corner. perfect. you ducked inside, your breath coming in short gasps as you scanned the store. the dressing rooms. that was your best bet.

you darted toward them, slipping into the first stall you saw. you yanked the curtain closed, your chest heaving as you pressed your back against the wall. for a moment, there was silence. then you heard it—the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the stall.

the curtain flew open, and there he was. jay. his chest was rising and falling slightly, his dark eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped into the stall, his body crowding yours as he pinned you against the wall. the curtain fell shut behind him, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. he was so close you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his neck. his hands were braced on either side of your head, his body caging you in. the air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with running.

“you’re not as clever as you think you are,” he said, his voice low and rough.

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “and you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “try me.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue. his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, and something shifted between you. the air crackled with electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body seemed to press closer without actually moving.

for a moment, neither of you moved. then jay stepped back, his expression shuttering as he regained control. “let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped.

you didn’t argue. for once, you didn’t have the words.

the party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint hum of a live jazz band. you stood near the centre of the room, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged your figure perfectly, a glass of champagne in hand. you laughed at something your friend said, the sound light and carefree, but your attention was elsewhere.

jay.

he was standing across the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. he wasn’t even trying to hide it. he was watching you like a hawk, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense enough to make your skin prickle.

your friend leaned in, her voice low and teasing. “he’s been looking at you all night.”

you shrugged, pretending not to care. “who? jay? he’s just doing his job.”

but the truth was, you did care. you were hyper-aware of him now, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. and it annoyed you. it annoyed you that he could stand there, so calm and collected, while you felt like you were unravelling.

so you decided to push him.

you flirted with everyone but him. you laughed a little too loudly at a joke a handsome stranger made. you let your hand linger on the arm of a guy who clearly had no idea what personal space was. you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, pretending jay didn’t exist.

but he did. he always did.

suddenly, a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grin—stepped into your space, his hand hovering near your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. his breath smelled like whisky, the proximity way too close for your comfort. 

you froze, your smile faltering. before you could react, jay was there.

he moved like a shadow, swift and silent, stepping between you and the man with a presence that was impossible to ignore. his voice was cool but sharp, cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. “hands off.”

the man blinked, his grin faltering as he took in jay’s imposing figure. “whoa, man, i was just—”

“i don’t care what you were just doing,” jay said, his tone low and dangerous. “back off.”

the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between you and jay, before he finally raised his hands in surrender and slunk away. you stared after him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest.

when you turned back to jay, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “you have no idea what you’re doing.”

your breath caught. “what are you talking about?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice rough and tinged with something that sounded almost like frustration. “flirting with strangers. disappearing into crowds. acting like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i can take care of myself.”

“can you?” he asked, his tone challenging. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. he was close—too close—his body crowding yours, his heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodsy, and it made your head spin.

as the night wore on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, rough and low and so, so close. you caught yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time your eyes met his.

oh.

so he did care.

it happens slowly. or maybe it doesn’t. maybe it’s been happening this whole time, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice. but now, you do.

you start noticing the way he moves. always a step ahead, always positioning himself between you and anything that could be a threat. his sleeves are always rolled up, revealing the veins that line his forearms, his hands steady and sure. you notice the way he watches you, his dark eyes scanning every room like he’s mapping out every possible danger, but it’s never just that. there’s something else in his gaze, something you can’t quite name.

and worse? you start feeling it.

the heat in your chest when his hand brushes yours as he passes you a coffee. the frustration that coils in your stomach when someone else looks at him for too long. the way your breath catches when he says your name instead of brat or princess or whatever sarcastic nickname he’s come up with that day.

this is a problem.

but you handle it the way you always do—by pushing him.

it’s late, with the city feeling quiet, almost peaceful, and the only light comes from the flickering neon sign of a 24-hour diner. you’re sitting in a booth by the window, picking at a plate of fries you didn’t really want but ordered anyway because you were too stubborn to admit you were hungry. jay sits across from you, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the nearly empty diner like it’s a potential battlefield.

you roll your eyes. “relax, jay. the only danger here is the cholesterol in these fries.”

he just takes a sip of his black coffee, his expression as unreadable as ever.

you lean back in the booth, crossing your arms over your chest. “you know, you don’t have to babysit me 24/7. i’m not a child.”

his eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. “could’ve fooled me.”

you glare at him. “excuse me?”

he sets his coffee cup down, his voice low and even. “you act like rules don’t apply to you. like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

your jaw tightens. “and you act like you’re my dad. newsflash—you’re not.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the tension between you is thick, almost suffocating, and you can feel it building, building, building until it finally snaps.

“why do you even care so much?” you demand, your voice rising just enough to draw the attention of the tired-looking waitress behind the counter.

jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t get it, do you?”

your heartbeat stutters. “then explain it to me.”

for a second, he says nothing. he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure you out. then he stands, slow and deliberate, and slides into the booth beside you. he’s close now, closer than he’s ever let himself be, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

you don’t back away.

his eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. the air between you is so thin, so sharp you can almost taste it.

he leans in, his voice low and rough. “you have no idea what i’d do to keep you safe.”

your pulse is in your throat, waiting, waiting, waiting.

but before anything can happen—

the bell above the diner door jingles, and a group of loud, laughing teenagers spills inside, shattering the moment.

jay pulls back instantly, his jaw tightening as he slides out of the booth. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. he just walks to the counter, his posture rigid, like nothing happened.

like nothing almost happened.

but you know better.

you press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, but it’s no use. your mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over again—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the way your body had reacted to his nearness.

this is getting dangerous.

later, as you sit in the back of the car on the way home, you can’t stop thinking about it. jay is in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. you stare at the back of his head, your thoughts a tangled mess.

you think about the way he’d stepped between you and that guy at the party, his voice sharp and commanding. you think about the way he’d leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

and you think about the way he’d pulled away, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean anything.

but it did. you know it did.

you mentally groan, leaning your head against the window. this is a problem. a big problem. because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you can’t deny it anymore.

you like him.

and that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

you don’t talk about it.

the almost-kiss, the tension that stains every interaction now—it hangs between you like a live wire, sharp and charged. you find yourself watching him more, catching the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. his gaze lingers a little too long, his movements a little too deliberate, and it drives you insane.

but you don’t talk about it.

instead, you push. you push him, you push yourself, you push the boundaries of whatever this is between you. and he pushes back, always steady, always in control, until—

one day it happens fast. too fast.

you’re walking back to the car after an event, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. jay is a step behind you, his presence a constant, grounding force. you’re arguing about something stupid—something meaningless—because that’s what you do now. you bicker, you snipe, you push each other’s buttons, all while pretending the tension between you doesn’t exist.

and then, out of nowhere, it happens.

you don’t even see it coming. one moment, you’re stepping off the curb, and the next, jay is moving—swift, silent, and utterly precise. he shoves you out of the way, his body shielding yours as a figure lunges at you from the shadows.

there’s a flash of metal, a grunt of pain, and then the sound of footsteps retreating into the night.

you stumble, catching yourself against the car, your heart pounding in your chest. “jay—”

he’s already turning, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers. “get in the car.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. “you’re bleeding. we need to go to the hospital—l”

“it’s nothing, just a scratch” he says, his voice calm, like this is just another day on the job. like he didn’t just take a knife for you.

but it’s not nothing. it’s not nothing because your hands are shaking as you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the warm, sticky blood staining his shirt. “jay—”

“get in the car,” he repeats, his tone sharper this time. “now.”

you don’t argue. you can’t. your mind is a blur as you climb into the passenger seat, your eyes never leaving him as he slides behind the wheel. his movements are steady, controlled, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel.

the drive home is silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. you keep glancing at him, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. fear. guilt. something else.

when you finally arrive, you follow him inside, your hands still trembling. he heads straight for the bathroom, and you trail after him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“let me see,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t argue this time. he just sits on the edge of the bathtub, his shirt already half-off, revealing the deep gash along his side. it’s not fatal, not even close, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist.

you grab the first aid kit from under the sink and kneel in front of him, your hands shaking as you clean the wound. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and unreadable.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say, your voice breaking. “you shouldn’t have—”

“it’s my job,” he interrupts, his tone calm, like that explains everything.

but it doesn’t. not to you. not when your hands are stained with his blood, not when your chest feels like it’s about to collapse under the weight of everything you’re feeling.

“don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “don’t do that again.”

he looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see it—the crack in his armour. the flicker of something raw, something real.

“you don’t get it,” he says, his voice low and rough. “i’d do it again. every time.”

your breath catches, your hands still pressed against his side. “why?”

he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. instead, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.

and that’s it. that’s the breaking point.

you don’t think. you don’t hesitate. you just pull him in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and relief. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and you’re terrified you’ve made a mistake.

but then his hands are in your hair, his mouth moving against yours, and it’s like the world stops. the tension, the anger, the fear, it all melts away, leaving nothing but the two of you.

the room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. jay’s hands are still tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rests against his chest, and it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s as affected by this as you are.

but then he pulls back, his expression shuttering as he regains control. “we shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and rough.

you blink, your chest tightening at his words. “why not?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he stands, his movements stiff as he turns away from you. “because it complicates things.”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “complicates things? jay, you just took a knife for me. i think things are already complicated.”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t understand.”

“then explain it to me,” you snap, your frustration bubbling over. “because i’m tired of pretending like this—whatever this is—doesn’t exist.”

he turns to look at you, his dark eyes blazing with something you can’t quite name. “you think i don’t feel it too? you think i don’t want—” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “it doesn’t matter what i want. my job is to keep you safe. that’s it.”

you step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “and what if i don’t want you to just be my bodyguard? what if i want more?”

he doesn’t respond. not with words, at least. but you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. for a moment, you think he might give in, might finally let himself feel something.

but then he steps back, his expression hardening. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

you laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “don’t i? because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re the one who’s scared.”

his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve pushed him too far. but then he exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “you’re right. i am scared. because if something happens to you—if i let myself care too much and i can’t protect you—” he cuts himself off, his voice breaking. “i can’t lose you.”

your breath catches, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “jay—”

he doesn’t let you finish. instead, he steps forward, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again. this time, it’s softer, slower, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you. and you let him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. “i can’t promise this will be easy,” he says, his voice low and rough. “but i can promise i’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

you swallow, your throat tight with emotion. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

you don’t talk about it for a full twenty-four hours.

not because you regret it. god, no. if anything, the memory of his hands on you, his lips against yours, plays on a loop in your mind, leaving you breathless every time. but now, there’s no going back. no pretending this isn’t real. no pretending you don’t feel the way his presence sets your skin on fire, or the way your heart races when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

jay is still jay. still overprotective, still infuriating, still the same stoic bodyguard who drives you up the wall. but now?

now, every argument ends with him pulling you in by the waist, his voice low and rough as he murmurs, “you’re impossible,” before silencing you with a kiss.

now, every lingering stare actually leads to something—a brush of his hand against yours, a heated glance that makes your stomach flip, a moment where the tension between you becomes too much to ignore.

and now, your father figures it out almost immediately.

it happens during a family dinner, of all things. you’re sitting at the table, picking at your food while jay sits in his usual spot by you. your father is at the head of the table, his sharp gaze flicking between you and jay with a calculating look that makes your stomach sink.

you try to act normal. you really do. but when jay’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a glass of water, and you catch yourself smiling at him without thinking, your father clears his throat.

“so,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “when were you planning on telling me?”

you freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth. “telling you what?”

your father raises an eyebrow, gesturing between you and jay. “about this.”

you feel your face heat, your heart pounding in your chest. “i—what are you talking about?”

your father sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already done with this conversation. “at least it’s him.”

jay freezes, his posture stiffening as he looks at your father. you gape, your mind racing. “excuse me?”

your father shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “you were always a handful, but he can handle it.”

you stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. this is not the reaction you were expecting. not even close. you were prepared for yelling, for threats, for jay to be fired on the spot. but this? this casual acceptance? it’s almost worse.

you turn to jay, still reeling. “is this really happening?”

jay looks equally disturbed, his jaw tight as he meets your father’s gaze. “sir, i—”

your father holds up a hand, cutting him off. “don’t. just… keep her out of trouble. that’s all i ask.”

and just like that, the conversation is over. your father goes back to his meal like nothing happened, leaving you and jay to exchange a stunned look.

later, when you’re alone in your room, jay leans against the door, his arms crossed as he watches you pace back and forth. “well,” he says, his voice dry, “that could’ve gone worse.”

you stop pacing, turning to glare at him. “worse? he basically gave us his blessing. that’s not worse. that’s… i don’t even know what that is.”

jay shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “guess you’re stuck with me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away when he steps closer, his hands settling on your waist. “lucky me,” you mutter, though the way your heart skips a beat betrays your words.

jay’s smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes searching yours. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you don’t respond. not with words, at least. instead, you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “just don’t let it go to your head, okay?”

he chuckles, the sound low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you. and as his lips brush against yours, you realise something.

maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to pull away.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[starryhyuck]

green gables. (m) — PREVIEW

pairing: e2l!jaemin x afab!reader

words: 22.9k+

summary: your search for a family lands you at green gables, where you learn to adapt to the new challenges that come your way.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: takes place in the late 19th century, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, bigdick!jaemin, creampies, fingering

release date: march 26, 2025

inspired by anne of green gables, anne of avonlea, anne of green gables (1985), anne of avonlea (1987), anne with an e

this fic is already released for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

“You have to be the one. There’s no way I’m getting in that boat!”

“You’re such a coward, Soeun.”

“Then why don’t you try it, Sookyung?”

“You’re all ruining the vision,” you scold, gripping a handful of daisies. “We’re supposed to be girls who have been widowed by our one true love. We’ve succumbed to our tragedy, accepting our fate by floating out into the river, where the Earth will decide how to dispose of our bodies.”

Ever since Soeun’s uncle passed away shortly after the new year and the poem you’re reading for your book club discusses the fate of a widowed bride, you’ve all become obsessed with glamorizing death. In the poem, the girl sealed her devastating fate by climbing into a boat, holding a bouquet of flowers, and drifting away into the night. She was never heard from or seen again.

The girls insisted on recreating the moment, leading you to the lake. Hyojung borrowed a small canoe from her father and Sookyung picked the flowers from her mother’s yard. However, once you got to the final step, all of them chickened out of actually playing the role of the widow.

“I’ll be her,” you proclaim, and they exhale in relief. “But you must say the lines, and with fervor. It’s only right that we recreate the scene exactly. Wait for me at the other side of the river.”

With help from Hyojung, you step into the canoe, laying down as you rest your hands over your chest. You close your eyes when Soeun begins the rehearsed dialogue.

“Sister, farewell forever,” she murmurs, throwing dried flower petals over your form.

“Farewell, sweet sister.”

“And she lay as though she smiled,” Hyojung finishes, giving a small push to the canoe.

You start floating down the river, exactly like the poem describes. You marvel at the solitude, listening to the birds chirping in your ear. It’s all straight out of a novel if you’ve ever read it, but it’s abruptly disrupted by a stream of water soaking your dress.

You shriek, eyes popping wide open as you sit up. Water continues to fill the boat, progressing fast enough where you understand you won’t possibly make it to the other side. As you come up to the nearby bridge, you quickly grasp the foothold, holding onto it tightly as the canoe sinks.

You hear the girls begin to scream loudly when they don’t see you return. You ponder on if they’ll get help and save you from this uncomfortable experience, but another boat slowly comes up beside you.

Na Jaemin says your name with amusement. “I must say, I did not expect to find you here on my Sunday afternoon.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you going to just sit there or help me like a gentleman?”

He laughs before extending his hand. You take it gratefully, stepping into his boat. You sit across from him, drenched from head to toe. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t utter a single word to him.

“So you’re not going to explain-”

“No,” you gruffly reply. “But I am very much obliged to you.”

He sighs. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to me. Can’t we be friends already? You know I was only joking with you on your first day. I didn’t mean to mock you by calling you a princess, even if I think you look exactly like one. Let’s forgive and forget, please.”

You stare at his hopeful countenance, remembering how kind he was to you over the holidays. You also craved his cookies for weeks after, resisting the urge to walk over to his house and ask for another batch.

“Fine. Friends. And friends only.”

He beams at you, grinning widely. He begins to row the boat back to shore, and you avoid his inquisitive gaze. The girls are in hysterics when you arrive, pulling you out and hugging you tightly.

“We thought you had drowned and died,” Hyojung sobs into your shoulder. “It wasn’t romantic at all! Nothing like the poem.”

You assure them with gentle pats, and Jaemin anchors the boat to the dock. Soeun perks up when she sees him.

“Oh Jaemin, were you the one who saved her? A true knight in shining armor, indeed!”

He nods. “I’m happy to help.” The girls move to take you away and leave Jaemin and Soeun on their own, but he clears his throat to stop you. He addresses you by calling your name before questioning, “B-Before you go, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day.”

Hyojung and Sookyung’s jaws drop while Soeun acts as if someone just stabbed her in the back.

You stutter. “I- That’s- I’m not-”

“She’s going to my Aunt Nayoung’s annual Valentine’s party. You should come too, Jaemin. It’s at her big mansion in the city,” Hyojung invites.

You shoot her a bewildered look while he replies, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Of course not. She would be happy to have you.”

He smirks. “Perfect. I’ll be there. Now if you ladies don’t mind, I have to get back to fishing.”

When he drifts away in his boat, Soeun stomps away from you, grumbling to herself. Sookyung throws you an apologetic look before following after her. You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“What was that?” You bark at your best friend. “How dare he ask me that in front of everyone like- like-”

“Like he likes you?” Hyojung finishes.

You glare at her, still soaked from the lake. “No. And how could you invite him to your aunt’s party? You know I haven’t even asked Ilkyung if I can go yet.”

“She’ll let you, come on,” Hyojung insists as she helps you trudge back to Green Gables. “If not, I’ll have my mother convince her. Plus, how can you not see how head over heels Jaemin is for you? That boy looks at you constantly and Christmas? Don’t even get me started. His house is miles from here, there was no other reason for him to stop by than to see you.”

“I won’t let you go on any longer. I have never harbored any affection for Na Jaemin and I never will. Have you forgotten about my dreams, Hyojung? I don’t want to be the wife and mother. I want to write and teach and earn enough income so that Ilkyung and Ilnam can retire comfortably.”

“Silly girl,” she murmurs as she nudges you playfully. “You can have all of that and Na Jaemin too.”

want to read the rest of this fic now? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[gpcwsl]

Alexia and r have a 10 year age gap and alexia’s always acting really sweet and boyfriend to r in private but refuses to acknowledge there’s something between them and being cold in public then being apologetic but happy ending please!

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Invisible in the light - adored in the dark

WC: 969

MasterList

Warnings: age gap, ignored? Kiss?

Song: you were good to me - Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

Maybe Alexia didn’t hear you when you called her name. Maybe the restaurant was too loud, or maybe she was too focused on whatever conversation she was having with her teammates.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

In private, Alexia was everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She held you so close at night that it felt like she was afraid you would slip through her fingers.

She pressed lazy kisses to your forehead in the mornings, whispered sweet nothings in Spanish that you couldn’t yet understand but still loved the sound of.

She traced shapes onto your bare skin, her fingers moving over your back like an artist painting on a canvas.

But in public?

It was as if you didn’t exist.

Alexia wouldn’t look at you. Wouldn’t talk to you. Wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence. She was ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth she showed you behind closed doors.

You thought you could handle it. You thought it wouldn’t bother you.

You were wrong.

You’re at a team dinner when it happens again.

Alexia sits at the other end of the table, deep in conversation with Mapi and Patri, laughing at some inside joke you aren’t privy to. You, on the other hand, are stuck in an awkward silence between two of the younger players, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw, pretending that it doesn’t hurt.

But it does.

It’s not just that she’s ignoring you. It’s the way she goes out of her way to do it. The way her gaze dances around you, how she shifts her body away when you try to move closer, how she only speaks in clipped, professional tones if she absolutely has to respond.

Like you’re nothing more than a stranger.

Like you’re not the same person she held in her arms just last night, whispering soft te quieros into your hair.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

You try to hold it in, to swallow it down. But when the team finally gets up to leave, Alexia walking right past you like you’re invisible, something inside you snaps.

The apartment door barely clicks shut before you say it.

“Why do you do that?”

Alexia turns to you, mid-way through pulling off her jacket. “¿Qué?”

“You know what.” Your voice wavers, but you keep going. “Why do you act like I don’t exist in public?”

Alexia freezes. Her brows knit together, confusion flickering in her hazel eyes. “Y/n, I don’t—”

“You do,” you cut her off, stepping forward. “You do, Alexia. You ignore me. You won’t even look at me.” Your voice cracks on the last part, frustration mixing with something more vulnerable.

Alexia exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

There’s a long pause. She looks at you, really looks at you for the first time all night, and her expression softens.

“I—” She hesitates. “I’m scared.”

Your brows furrow. “Scared of what?”

She glances away, lips pressing together. “Scared of what people will think. Scared of how they’ll see me.”

It clicks then. The age gap. The inevitable judgment.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“So what?” Your voice is quieter now, but no less firm. “You’d rather pretend I don’t exist than risk people knowing we’re together?”

Alexia’s eyes snap back to yours, and there’s something raw in them. Guilt. Regret.

“Y/n…” She steps closer, reaching for you, but you don’t move.

“You can’t have it both ways,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t treat me like I’m the most important person in the world when we’re alone and then act like I’m nothing as soon as other people are around.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.

Then Alexia sighs, shoulders dropping. “You’re right.”

You blink. “I am?”

“Yes.” She takes another step forward, closing the space between you. This time, you let her. Her hands find yours, fingers curling around your wrists. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you.”

You swallow. “You were.”

She nods, gaze full of remorse. “Lo siento, mi amor.”

You sigh. “In English, Alexia.”

A small smile tugs at her lips despite the tension in the air. “I’m sorry, my love.”

You hold her gaze for a long moment, searching for any trace of insincerity. You find none.

Then she’s pulling you into her arms, wrapping herself around you like she’s trying to shield you from the world. “I’ll do better,” she murmurs into your hair. “I promise.”

You exhale against her shoulder, the weight on your chest easing just a little. “Okay.”

She pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your cheek. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. She’s said it before, but never like this—never so openly, so unguarded.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

And then she kisses you.

It’s slow, tender, full of unspoken apologies and silent vows. She kisses you like she’s making up for every second she’s ignored you, like she’s trying to prove with her lips what she failed to show in public.

And you let her.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours. “Cuddle with me?” she murmurs.

You can’t help but smile. “Only if you actually acknowledge me tomorrow.”

Alexia chuckles softly. “Deal.”

You curl up together on the couch, her arms around you, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And for the first time in a long time, you feel seen.

Because in the end, love isn’t about the whispers in the dark.

It’s about the way someone chooses to hold your hand in the light.

[ofbatsandballads]

have a little Jason drabble inspired by me going to my work bestie’s bachelorette party tonight. yes, yes I did imagine all this while getting ready and what about it? also consider this a part of my jason gets the girl series.

Jason Todd is a worrier. You knew that the very first night you met him when he automatically assumed that you, a woman living alone and wearing fuzzy pajamas, would be a danger to him. You know that now by his incessant questions that he’s been pelting at you for the past hour.

“You’ll keep in contact with me, right?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Of course, Jay,” you reply as you twist like a contortionist while shaving your legs.

“I know it’s a bachelorette party, but please don’t drink so much that you don’t know what’s goin’ on around you, baby,” he says, voice raised so you can hear him over your hair dryer.

“I know, Jay. I’ve not forgotten where we live!” you shout back as reassuringly as you can.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to stay here with me?” he asks, only half joking, as you flip through the hangers in your shared closet looking for what to wear.

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” you concede as he kisses down your neck. “But no. Alas, I cannot be a shitty friend.”

“Fine. But at least wear somethin’ that goes with the jacket I got you,” he grumbles.

You laugh under your breath. This man. He’s such a worry wart. But you get it. Jason goes out every night into the belly of the beast, sees the worst of the worst. He knows what happens to vulnerable young women in this city, and you can’t blame him for his overprotective nature. So if wearing the tan leather jacket, a smaller replica of the one he wears as Red Hood, that has a tracker sewn into the interior is what he needs to ease his anxious mind, you’ll do it without complaint.

“It’s a gorgeous jacket, Jaybear. It goes with everything,” you say as you scratch soothingly at his scalp.

“You know where you’ll be tonight?” he asks from the foot of your bed, watching you as you put on your makeup.

“Uh huh. We’re not going to any bars or clubs or anything like that. Maid of honor just rented a penthouse in the Diamond District. We’ll probably spend the night eating pizza and drinking cocktails,” you answer as you try not to stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand.

Jason makes a little grunt of agreement. You idly think that he sounds just like his dad, but you also don’t say that because you’re not a complete idiot. Also because you once told Jason he looked like Bruce and how miraculous that was since he was adopted, and he spent the next three days mumbling 'don't look anythin’ like the old man’ every time he glanced in a mirror.

You glance behind you in the vanity mirror to see the love of your life. His expression tugs your heartstrings. He looks so…melancholy. Emotions are storming in his sea green eyes and all you want is to ease his worries. You lay down your makeup brush and pad over to him, settling down in his lap. His hands come up automatically to rest on your hips, thumbs stroking over the softness.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you whisper, smoothing out the creases between his furrowed eyebrows with the tips of your fingers.

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, tries to find the words he needs. “I’m not tryin’ to be overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those guys that tells their girl what to do.”

He takes a breath and you stay silent. He has to get this out and you’ll wait as long as it takes.

“I just…worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t,” and his voice breaks like stained glass. “I wouldn’t survive it. I know this is fuckin’ stupid. Me actin’ like this over a bachelorette party but I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about all the things that could happen.”

Oh. Oh, your sweet, loving, heaven sent boyfriend. You know his past haunts him, that this city haunts him. You wish you could take all his worries away and wrap him in a nice warm blanket. You’d tuck him away from the world, keep him safe and happy and cared for all his days if you could.

“Jason, look at me,” you tilt his head up with your fingers under his jaw. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to be as safe as possible. I won’t drink irresponsibly. I’ll make sure to text you if anything, and I mean anything, starts to get weird. It won’t, but if it did you would be on speed dial. And trust me, angel, I have no intentions of staying the night.”

You don’t. Good friend or not, you can’t sleep well if you’re not wrapped in the strong arms of the man beneath you.

“So I expect you to be waiting on that tricked out bike of yours to pick me up,” you beam at him, run your hand through his hair because you know it makes him melt into your touch.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you,” he says, a solemn promise that extends far beyond tonight.

“Good. Now that being said, I will be bringing home all the dick decorations because I wanna plant them in your brother’s apartment. Just to fuck with him,” you giggle.

Jason lights up for the first time tonight. His green eyes gleam with mischief and adoration.

“Oh, you are my fuckin’ soulmate, baby. I’ll help you break in.”

[artstennisracket]

Say Ah! ib: Say Ah by Trey Songz please listen while you read :) patrick zweig x art donaldson x fem!reader

cw: nsfw(18+), drunk sex, drug use, dirty talk, squirting, eiffel tower of sorts

girl it’s your birthday open wide i know you’re thirsty say ah

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson were two very notable names at your very prestigious boarding school. Art’s parents were rich but they were new money. Art’s dad had created a startup tech way before Art was born and it became super successful.

Patrick’s parents though? They were old money. Like Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie type old money. No one even knows what his parents do but with amount of money they pay for boarding school tuition, no one really cared.

Art and Patrick were attached at the hip. It made sense though, they were roommates for years. Their families are friends now. They spend breaks and summers on trips to europe or the carribean. Between the Zweig’s chalet in Geneva, the Donaldson’s villa in the Bahamas, the Zweig’s chateau in Nice, and the Donaldson’s beachfront house in St.Kitts, they were spoiled for options.

There were rumors going around that they share girls. You weren’t 100% sure what that meant but you could use your imagination. There were other rumors that they were actually dating each other but you weren’t sure about that either.

Your paths hadn’t crossed much in the almost 6 years you guys have been here. But tonight your best friend insisted you guys go clubbing tonight for your birthday. You liked to party from time to time but you’d try not to go overboard. Emphasis on try. But you were a party girl at heart.

You put on the white shirt and a sequin mini skirt. You finish your makeup and throw on some heels.

“should we pregame?” You ask fiddling with your hair in the mirror.

“nah we won’t need to,” your friend, Liz, says as she finishes zipping up her thigh high boots.

You raise an eyebrow. You know it’s been a minute since you went out but you’re pretty sure pregaming is still the most cost effective way to get drunk.

She continues as she stand up, “we’re going to Patrick and Art’s section tonight at Ikon.”

Oh.

“oh um- i-i didn’t know, i’ve never partied with them before,” you’re unsure why you’re nervous. You’ve been clubbing a million times. And it’s just Patrick and Art, how intimidating could they be.

She shrugs, “i’ve been out with them a few times, they’re super nice. they just always order bottles so there’s no point in pregaming with cheap stuff.”

You nod and follow her out the door.

When you guys get inside the club is already pretty packed. Sweaty bodies and sticky floors. You hold onto you friend hand as she drags you through the club and upstairs. Weaving through the masses.

You’ve never been to Ikon before, you usually frequent Barcelo or Kapital more. But so far you were liking the vibes.

Once you guys get to their section, your friend steps over the velvet rope and you follow suit.

There’s a ridiculous amount of people from school here, mainly girls but a few guys as well. There were a few champagne buckets with ice on the table. In them, so many bottles. Clase Azul, Dom Perignon, Don Julio. Oh wow, Liz was not joking.

She greats them each with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“lizzzzzz, lizzie, you made it i’m so happy you came,” Art says. He’s definitely a little tipsy.

“couldn’t let you host without inviting the life of the party and the birthday girl,” She says gesturing to herself and you.

Patrick smirks. He’s holding a bottle of 1942 in his hand. He takes a swig before he says, “and who is this birthday girl you’ve brought with you?”

You’re nervous again. Why are you nervous? Fuck. They’re just two rich white boys, you need to pull it together. You take a breath and say, “y/n”

Art smiles and claps his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, “have you taken a shot yet? c’mon pat give her a shot. it’s her birthday.”

Patrick is more than happy to oblige. He walks over to you, holding the neck of the bottle, “c’mon birthday girl, say ah.”

A shot is exactly what you need to loosen up. You tilt your head back, opening your mouth. You move your hand to cup right under your mouth as a safeguard for any spillage.

“there you go, uh uh no hands baby,” He says. The butterflies in your stomach going crazy after he says that. But you move your hands nonetheless. He pours some tequila into your mouth. His aim wasn’t perfect so a little does dribble down your neck. He leans down to whisper by your ear, “good girl.”

And just like that he’s gone.

The rest of the night is really fucking blurry. Art and Patrick were giving out shots like water. If you ever had an empty cup it was filled within minutes. If you were dancing so you hadn’t had a drink in a minute, Patrick of Art were there in seconds. They didn’t even have to tell you what to do anymore. You instinctively tilt your head back and open your mouth everytime they approach you with a bottle in their hand. Their excuse being “it’s your birthday, can’t let you go thirsty”

There’s a moment where you walk back to the table in the section that Patrick and Art are sitting at. They’ve got a few lines of coke on the table, Art going first. So Patrick is the first one that spots you and gestures for you to sit next to him.

“enjoying yourself birthday girl?” Patrick smirks. But before you have a chance to answer, Art is passing him the very tightly rolled $100 bill for Patrick to do his lines. So Art steps in to fill the conversation.

“hey having fun?” He smiles a big goofy smile. He’s actually kind of cute. And a decent contrast to more chill Patrick Zweig. But you haven’t really gotten to know them yet so you’ll hold back on the assumptions for now.

You nod slowly, fearful that too much head movement sitting down would make you dizzy, “so much fun, you guys are good hosts so that makes it better.”

Patrick sits back up and wipes his nose. He turns his head to look at you, “where are my manners? did you want?” He asks gesturing to the half empty tiny plastic baggy on the table.

You shake your head no laughing, “i tried it once and I just threw up all over the place so i’ll pass”

He nods in understanding. You notice he has his hand on Art’s thigh as he keeps talking to you, “good birthday so far?”

You nod smiling, “best birthday so far.”

“good i’m glad we could make that happen for you,” He says leaning into your personal space bubble. If you don’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to kiss you, there’s just one more question you want to ask first.

“you and Art seem pretty close,” You say, not creating any distance between the two of you. If anything you lean in closer. You keep eye contact with Patrick. You can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks of how he should answer that.

He smirks, he does that a lot you’ve noticed, “do you wanna see just how close we are?”

You nod biting your lip, but you’re not 100% sure if this is going where you think it’s going.

He sits back up turning his head to Art’s direction. He puts his hand on Art’s chin making Art face him, pulling Art away from whatever side conversation he was having. And he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sloppy, expected since they’re both kind of drunk at this point. Art kisses Patrick back with no hesitation, so they’ve done this before.

When Patrick pulls away from the kiss he turns back to you while Art goes back to his side conversation. A smirk plastered right back on his face, “does that answer your question?”

“so the rumors are true? you guys are together?”

Patrick laughs. He actually laughs so hard he throws his head back. When he finishes his laughing fit, he turns back to you to say, “fuck no I am not dating blondie, we just like to have fun.”

They just like to have fun. Have fun? So do they share girls? It’s another rumor you heard and it sounds like something someone who likes to have fun would do.

Before you can think on it anymore your body is spewing out the words, “so do you guys share girls?” No reference to the rumor at all, so it almost sounds like you’re asking for yourself.

Now that peaks Patrick’s interest. So maybe it is true? He leans down by your ear again to whisper, “do you want to find out?”

That’s how you end up in their dorm room at 3am.

Initially you didn’t want to leave your friend Liz behind but apparently she had already left with another which she sent you a text about an hour ago. Wow you really don’t check your phone when you’re drunk.

The three of you waste no time taking off your clothes. It’s been a minute since you’ve had sex with one person, let alone two.

You noticed they had pushed both their beds together, very interesting. Patrick and Art start making out on their bed, Patrick is lying down and Art is on top of him.

You’re not sure where you should jump in until Patrick grabs Art’s curls pushing his head down to come face to face with Patrick’s cock. Once Art starts sucking, Patrick gestures for you to straddle him.

You climb on top of him and he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s slow and sensual, like he’s trying to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Art pulls off Patrick’s dick and moves his focus to your pussy. Since it’s right in his face now, he can’t really resist. He lazily continues jerking Patrick off as he licks up the crease of your folds.

He licks up and down, making sure to go down far enough to lick at your clit too. The he comes back up to push his tongue inside of you.

“oh fuck,” You moan into Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick pulls away from the kiss biting your bottom lip, “make sure you’re getting her ready for us.” You assumed he was talking to Art and on cue Art stuck two fingers inside of you, making you gasp.

Patrick moves his hands so one is grabbing your ass while the other is cupping your breast, toying with your nipple.

You being moved into a different position but you can’t tell where Patrick body ends and Art’s body begins. You’re not sure whose hands are where but now you’re on your on your hands and knees with Art in front of your face and Patrick behind you.

You’re looking up at Art as he drags his tip against your lips, smearing his pre cum around.

“fuck, you’re really fucking pretty,” Art breathes out.

At the same time Patrick had already rolled on a condom and was teasing your entrance, “don’t get all sappy on me now donaldson. c’mon y/n say ah”

As soon as you hear the phrase you’ve gotten acquainted to over the course of the night, it’s like muscle memory and your mouth opens.

Art and Patrick pushing into you at the same time from opposite is a euphoric feeling you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

Patrick hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you. Art’s hands tangles in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. Patrick bruising your cervix, while Art bruises the back of your throat.

There are some differences between the two of them. Art is very whiny. He whines alot as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, mumbling over and over about how good you’re making him feel. While Patrick is more of a groan-er. He groans and moans as he fucks himself in and out of you, saying how well you’re taking his cock and what a good girl you are.

They went back and forth saying stuff like:

“holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“fuck, shit, love seeing your lips wrapped around my cock”

“taking my cock so well,” They both said that in unison at the same time. Kinda freaky. But it added to that pit in your stomach that was building towards your orgasm.

All you could do was moan around Art’s cock that was shoved down your throat. Art’s shoved your face towards his pelvis almost suffocating you and you’re not sure why at first, until you hear kissing?

They’re making out above you. At least you can check eiffel tower of some sorts off of your bucket list.

You can feel both of their thrusts start to stutter, they’re close. They pull away from their kiss and you hear Art say, “fuck baby I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—.” You feel his release shoot deep down your throat before he pulls out. And you swallow it all down.

When Art cums you feel your orgasm rip through your body but it feels different, “im cumming—“ You moan as your body contracts and there’s a rush of liquid. Patrick pulls out halfway as you squirt all over his dick. “jesus fuck,” He moans.

He was already on the edge but your tight hole squeezing around his cock mixed with the visuals of you squirting on his cock pushed him over the edge, “shit im gonna cum—“ He releases inside you before he pulls out and ties off the condom.

Art had already fallen asleep on his side of the bed but you couldn’t really blame him because he was drunk.

You’re not sure if you should leave and try to sneak back into the girls dorms or if you should stay. Patrick comes back and hands you a rag so you can clean up.

“thanks,” You say with shy smile, unsure why you’re feeling like you’re sobering up a little.

He offers a soft smile, “you know you can stay if you want, i wouldn’t kick you out.”

You gesture to the soiled bedsheets on what you assume is Patrick’s side of the bed, “sorry about the mess, i can help you clean up.”

He lets out a small laugh, “don’t apologize that was fucking hot, you do that often?”

You offer a smirk this time, “wanna find out?”

You both have to carry Art’s passed out body onto the sofa while you guys change the sheets. When Art wakes up the next morning to find new sheets on his bed, Patrick ignores all his questions about it, insisting that “it’s better if y/n just shows you what happened.”

a/n: bonus points if you recognize the club names :)

[writtenbyan-aries]

DADDY RAFE PLEASE ITS BEEN TOO LONG 🙏🙏🙏

∶ Summary: Your best friend, Sarah Cameron, had one rule, and you just couldn’t help but break it.

∶ Warnings: smut, swearing, kook!reader, sneaking around, secret relationship, unprotected slightly rough sex, creampie, fluffy filth

∶ Word Count: 2074

∶ Smut right under the cut ;) enjoy!

⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅

Rafe’s hands grip your hips tight as you continue to bounce up and down. His jaw hangs slack as he watches you boobs bounce with each movement, “That’s it, baby. Keep going.” He sighs, rolling his head back, “Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders tighter, “M’gonna cum, baby.”

“I’m not stoppin’ you, baby. Go on.” He urges, bucking upward, “come all over me.”

You slam your hips down harder, biting down on your lip to keep your moans you so badly want to release contained.

Rafe reaches up, pulling you in to press his lips onto yours. His hand holds the back of your head, swallowing your moans as the lip from your parted lips.

“Gotta be quiet, baby girl. Can’t let everyone know you’re my little slut, right.” He smirks as you nod, tilting your head back, “Right.”

He rolls over, his thrusts taking over and your back immediately lifts from the bed.

Suddenly, there’s a bang on the door, “Rafe.” Sarah’s voice sounds from the other side, “Are you in there?”

Rafe slides his hand to cover your mouth, pressing it against your lips hard, “The fuck you want, Sarah?” He continues thrusting, “m’kinda busy right now.”

“What, with your drugs are one of your kook whores?”

Your eyes go wide and Rafe’s lips form into a smug smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“No. Just-“ she sighs, “Dad needs you.”

You feel yourself coming closer to the edge, eyes squeezing shut, but Rafe taps your cheek, shaking his head when you open them to look at him.

You keep your eyes on him, brows furrowing as your cunt squeezes around his cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down his biceps.

“Tell him.. I’ll be down in a second.” Rafe answers, looking down at you. He moves his hand, pressing his lips to yours and Sarah yells, “Well, hurry up.”

“Bye, Sarah.” He rolls his eyes and plants his hands by your head, “Fuckin’ bitch.” You tilt your head, “That’s my best friend you’re talkin’ about.”

He shrugs, “My sister.” He leans in, “Just shut up.” He smirks before pressing his lips to yours. Your arms wrap around his neck and you feel your self let go right as his cock twitches. He guides you through your high, slowing down as he comes down from his own.

He pulls out, leaning down to grab a towel for you.

You clean up before moving to get dressed, “Will you distract her for me. I’ll sneak out and then ring the doorbell.”

“I don’t just see why she can’t know about us.” He shrugs as he pulls up his cargo shorts, “What’s the big deal?”

“She made it clear, none of her friends date her brother because if something happens between them, it makes things weird between Sarah and said friend.”

You walk over to him, “But isn’t it fun, sneaking around and all.” You bite your lip and he leans in to peck your lips, “You’re lucky I’m like head over whatever for you, or else I wouldn’t give two shits about ratting us out.”

“Wow.” You raise your brows, “Rafe Cameron does have a soft spot in his ice filled heart.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughs, “You should feel special.”

“Oh I do. Trust me. It’s not everyday you drop all your hoes for one girl.” You tease and he rolls his eyes. You pull him in, “I’m joking, baby. Calm down. I dropped all mine for you.”

He scoffs, “Did you now?”

“I did.” You slide your hand down, slipping your fingers into the band of his shorts, “Maybe later I’ll send you some nudes I took last night.”

“Baby. Don’t tease me, I gotta go see what my dad wants.” He cups your cheeks, “Fuck, just.. send me a warning before you do it, a’ight?”

“Since you asked so nicely, now go. I have to really be here in a few.” You push him towards the door and he slips his shirt on, shaking his head as he leaves his room.

You give it a few, waiting for that text, Better hurry that cute ass of yours down to the door.

You make your way down quietly and slip out. Giving it a few seconds before ringing the door bell. Sarah’s opens the door, “Hey. Come in.”

You walk in, Ward giving you a smile, “Hey sweetheart, how are ya?”

“I’m good. How are you?” You smile back and he shrugs, “Can’t complain.”

“Come on. We can go hang out in my room before heading to the beach.” Sarah leads you up the steps and you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you until he can no longer physically see you.

“So.. I have to tell you something.” Sarah whispers as she closes her door, “and you can’t tell anyone.”

“Okay? What’s up?” You sit down on her bed and she walks over, “I’ve been seeing someone.”

You raise your brows, “Oooh.” You smirk, “Do tell!”

She smiles, shaking her head, “I don’t want to.”

“Come on! You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger like that! I promise I won’t judge!” She sighs, “Okay, so you know that guy who hangs out with Kie?”

“There’s like three of them, isn’t there?” You furrow your brows and she nods, “Yeah, but John B is who I’m seeing.”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, “I mean, I am a little shocked. It’s nothing against you, it’s just that he’s a pogue. You’re the kook princess.”

She sighs, “I know, I know. It’s not normal, but he’s really sweet, and I genuinely like him and he likes me and it’s just going so well, y/n. Please don’t tell anyone.”

You hold out your pinky, “I swear. Your secret is safe with me.”

She interlocks her pinky with yours and she smirks, “So.. how are you and the whole saying scene?”

You knew there was a chance Rafe was outside the door eve’s dropping, so you elaborate the story a little, “I am actually seeing someone.” You smirk, “He’s.. a pretty boy, but I honestly think he’s a total sap when it comes to being totally head over whatever for someone.”

“Aw.” Sarah smiles, “That’s so cute!”

“Yeah. It’s actually going pretty well.” You bite your lip, “I just hope it lasts you know, I actually really, really like him.”

She nods, “I’m sure it will, who is it?”

“Someone knew to the island, he wants to keep things lowkey until he’s settled in. I actually knew him prior to him moving here. It was crazy when I seen him.”

Her phone rings and your eyes move from her phone to her face, “That your lover boy?” She rolls off her bed, bringing it to her ear, “Hello, lover boy.” She giggles and walks over to the window.

You pull your phone out, going into Rafe’s text thread, Warning, hot content coming your way. You select a few pictures you mentioned earlier, and send them, watching the delivered go to read straight away.

You lock your phone as Sarah comes back over, but she’s too busy talking to John B to notice, so you unlock it, looking at Rafe’s reply, My fuckin girl look at you fuck need you again soon baby please.

You smirk, tapping on the screen, oh did I forget to mention that my parents won’t be home tonight?

He responds instantly, my dad needs help with something later, but I can come over right after, and you better be ready for me. I want you just like those pictures.

You send back a few kissy face emojis, anything for you baby.

You look up, dropping your phone into your lap as Sarah comes back over, “John B wants me to go hang out with him.” You raise your brows, “Go! What are you waiting for?”

“You’re not going to be mad if I ditch you for some guy?”

You shake your head, “no, my parents are leaving here in an hour, so I have to go home anyway.” She smiles, “You’re literally the best person ever.” She sighs, “Do I look okay?” She stands up and walks over to her mirror, “should I change?”

“You look gorgeous.” You walk over, fluffing up her hair, “Now go!”

She turns around, “Okay.” She leans in, giving you a hug, “Fuck, okay. I’m going.” She grabs her bag and walks to her door. She opens it, giving Rafe a look, “What are you doing you creep.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, “uh huh. Isn’t it a little rude to ditch your friend?”

“She’s leaving, too, Rafe. Don’t even think about it.” She looks back at you, “I’ll text you!” You nod, “Okay!”

“Where is she going?” He motions and you shrug, “Can’t tell you.” You stare at Rafe until you hear the door shut, “She’s going to meet a guy, but you can’t say anything.” You point and he sighs, “Yeah, yeah, come here.”

He pulls you to him and presses his lips to yours. He backs you up against the wall, your kiss turning into a make out.

You were so into it that you didn’t realize Sarah had come back up to grab her sunglasses until she yelled, “Oh my god! Rafe!”

“Oh my god, Sarah.” He groans, “I can’t kiss my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?!” She looks at you in shock, “I had one rule, and it wasn’t to date my stupid fucking brother.”

“I love her, Sarah.” Rafe stares at her, “I’m literally, head over whatever for her. I love her so much.”

She furrows her brows, “do you even know what that means? Because I’ve never heard you say that about anyone before.”

“Because, not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before, honestly, it’s kind of weird, but Jesus fuck, Sarah.” He sighs, “Get over it.”

“Do you love him?” She looks at you and you nod, “I really do.”

She raises her brows, “Oh, wow. Okay. I mean, why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I was afraid you’d look at me different. I didn’t want to end up like of the other girls that dated your brother who claimed to be your best friend. I actually am your best friend. I love you, and I love Rafe, I mean, not in the same way, but I still love you. Even if Rafe and I do end up breaking up, that won’t change anything about our friendship.”

Sarah stares at you, her eyes moving from you to Rafe, “Are you being honest?”

Rafe nods, “Jesus Christ, Sarah. Yes. Yes I’m being honest.” He looks at you, his eyes softer than they’ve ever been, “I love her.”

Sarah is silent for a second before she lets out a whine, “Aww! That means if you get married, we’ll be sisters!” She walks up to you, pushing Rafe out of the way to hug you, “Oh my god.”

“I don’t..” you laugh, “I don’t think we’re there yet, but yes. Maybe someday.” You give Rafe and I don’t know look and he smirks, shrugging his shoulders. She leans back, “Okay, well I’m just going to go hang out with John B.”

“John B? That pogue douchebag?” Rafe scoffs and you take his hand, “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Did I say John B? I mean JJ.” Sarah smirks and Rafe scoffs again, “He’s even worse.” You pull him towards his room, “Come on. I know something that’ll get your mind off of that.”

You yell to Sarah, “Have fun!”

Rafe follows you into his room and he closes the door, immediately lifting you up and pushing you against it, “So does this mean I get to take you out on my family’s boat and fuck you on the deck of it?”

“You can do whatever you want to me.” You slide your hand to his cheek, “I’m yours, baby.”

⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅

Thank you so much for reading! I love you so much! Catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[crushpunky]

college!reader and joe visit joe’s parents

masterlist

based on this ask. college!reader is a bit of a STEM/math girlie for sake of conversation lmao warning: mention of sex/a sex joke

Y/n was pretty sure she was going to have a heart attack the entire drive from the airport to Joe’s childhood home. She knew what she was getting into when she agreed to fly home with Joe for a long weekend, but still the churning in her stomach continued.

“You a’ight?” Joe asked, quirking his brow as he turned to her from the driver’s seat of the car he’d rented for the weekend. She fiddled with her pants, the fabric rubbing back and forth between her fingers as she nodded quickly. It felt like her mind was racing at a million miles a minute, each mile they drove closer to his house causing her worries to multiply. What if they hated her? What if they didn’t think she was good enough for their son? What if she said something wrong and they thought she was stuck up? What if they just—

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, ok?” Joe said lowly, taking one of his hands off the wheel to stop her anxious fiddling, taking her hand in his own. “They’re gonna love you. I promise.”

Y/n sighed, taking her eyes off the trees and fields rushing by to look over at Joe. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, raising her hand to his lips to press a chaste kiss to it before the car began to slow. Y/n took in a deep breath as Joe pulled into the gravel driveway of his home. It was a quaint little home with white siding and brick accents, the picture perfect childhood home… so perfectly Joe.

As the car rolled to a stop, Joe popped his seatbelt before climbing out of the car. Y/n followed, slinging her backpack over her shoulders as she rounded to the back of the car, but Joe had beaten her to it. He lifted their duffels from the trunk, holding both of them over one shoulder with ease.

“You ready?” Joe said, grinning down at her as she followed him towards the front door. He raised his fist, rapping his knuckles against the door before resting his hand along the small of y/n’s back. Behind the door, she could hear excited bustling about before the door finally flew open. The two of them were greeted with the wide smiles and excited squeals of Joe’s parents.

“There you are!” Joe’s mother said, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, my baby, Joey.”

Joe chuckled lightly, an embarrassed red rising in his cheeks at the nickname before his mom finally pulled away from him.

“How are you, son?” Joe’s dad said, pulling him into a hug, reaching up to ruffle Joe’s hair. Y/n smiled, watching the way Joe’s parents so clearly loved and admired their son.

“I’m good,” Joe said with a sigh before turning away from his parents, his hand finding its spot on the small of y/n’s back once more. “Uh, Mom, Dad, this is y/n.”

A nervous smile spread across y/n’s cheeks as Joe’s parents turned to her, looking her up and down with the same grins they’d greeted their son with.

“Y/n, sweetheart, it’s so good to finally meet you.” Joe’s mother said, pulling y/n into a hug. Y/n’s eyes widened, her arms tensing before moving to hug Joe’s mother back. Once she pulled away, Joe’s father pulled y/n into a hug.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Joe’s father chuckled. “So, so much. Joe loves talking about you.”

“Dad,” Joe groaned, running a hand along his jaw once his dad released y/n from a hug.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, too.” Y/n giggled. “I’ve heard so much about you… especially about your cooking, Mrs. Burrow.”

“Oh, Joe loves to play my cooking abilities up,” Joe’s mother chuckled with a shake of her head. “And please just call me Robin, sweetheart.”

Y/n nodded, Joe looking over at her with a grin.

“Well come on in, we don’t want dinner to get cold.” Joe’s dad said, ushering the two of them inside. Y/n stepped into the foyer, looking around at the family pictures, trophies, and keepsakes that littered the entryway. Joe started up the stairs, looking back at y/n as she was lost in the memories adorning the walls.

“I’ve got plenty more photos we can look at after dinner,” Robin whispered to y/n, quirking her brows as she walked past her into the kitchen. Y/n laughed before turning to follow Joe up the stairs.

“Already plotting with my mom, hmm?” Joe teased, elbowing her lightly before opening the door to his childhood bedroom. However, he froze halfway before quickly closing the door again, turning on his heels to face y/n.

“Um, there’s something I forgot to tell you.” Joe muttered, avoiding y/n’s eyes as he stood firmly between her and his bedroom. 

“What? Is there something wrong?” Y/n asked, furrowing her brow as she looked Joe up and down.

“No, it’s just…” Joe sighed. “My bedroom hasn’t changed since I was, like, 12. I mean I got a bigger bed, but the decorations and… stuff are still the same.”

Y/n tried her best to stifle a laugh, Joe groaning as he leaned his head back against the door with a thud.

“It can’t possibly be that bad.” Y/n grinned. Joe sighed before turning back to the door. He opened the door slowly, revealing the contents of his room. Inside, y/n was quite shocked to see his entirely Star Wars themed bedroom, complete with a themed comforter, posters, and multiple lightsabers adorning the walls. Her jaw dropped as she stepped inside, looking at the action figures and Lego sets that filled the shelves.

“Ok. Uh, wow.” Y/n said with a giggle. Joe groaned once more, setting their bags down on the floor before flopping onto his bed. He writhed around with an exaggerated moan, which only caused y/n’s giggles to worsen at Joe’s dramatics.

“I was just a little shocked, ok?” Y/n said, sitting next to Joe on his bed. “I actually think it’s kinda cute.”

“Really?” Joe smirked, biting his lip as he looked up at y/n flirtily. He reached out, running a finger along the soft skin of her forearm.

“Cute, not sexy, Burrow.” Y/n scoffed, shaking her head at him.

“What? You don’t wanna have sex on my Star Wars bed sheets?” Joe teased, a cheeky grin on his face. Y/n laughed, smushing her hand into his face playfully.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Y/n and Joe’s heads quickly jerked their heads to the side to find Joe’s dad standing in the open doorway to Joe’s bedroom. Y/n quickly scrambled to her feet, taking a measured step away from the bed as Joe sat up with a groan.

“Dinner is ready.” Joe’s dad, Jim, said, nodding to the two of them before heading back down the hallway. The second he was out of earshot, y/n let out a groan as she ran a hand down her face.

“Hey, it’s fine. You’re fine.” Joe said, getting up from the bed. He stood in front of her, crouching his head down as he ran his hands along her arms. Y/n met his eyes, a slight pout on her lips. Sure, their initial welcomes into their house had been nothing but kind and warm, but dinner was the main event. The time for her to prove (or fail to prove) that she was the right girl for their son.

“Joe, I’m scared I’m gonna fuck this up.” Y/n sighed. “I’m scared I’m gonna ruin this and then they’re gonna hate me and—”

Joe cut her off, moving his hands up to cup her cheeks before pressing a kiss to her lips. He pulled away slowly, rubbing his thumbs gently against her cheeks as he looked back at her.

“Look, I love you, y/n, and I promise you— promise you— that they will too.” Joe whispered, smiling down at y/n. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Joe cocked his head towards the door, guiding y/n down the hall as he rubbed his hand down her back smoothly. The two of them descended the stairs quietly before entering into the kitchen. The table was set, pans and dishes of food filling the air with their heavenly aroma. The food at LSU wasn’t particularly bad, but it for sure wasn’t a home cooked meal.

“Oh my god,” Joe groaned as he quickly rounded the table, eyeing the delicious looking food. “Y/n, baby, you’ve got to try my mom’s chicken casserole—”

“Jeez, Joseph,” Robin laughed as she pulled her apron over her head, taking her seat at the table. “Let the girl sit down first.”

Joe shook his head, laughing a bit to himself before pulling out a chair for y/n next to him. She took it graciously, scooting underneath the table as the Burrows began to dig into their feast. Y/n watched for a moment, unsure of what to do and not wanting to impose upon their family traditions.

“So, y/n, how are you enjoying LSU?” Jim asked, taking a bite of chicken as Joe simultaneously handed y/n a bowl of rolls.

“I like it a lot,” Y/n nodded, taking a roll from the dish and setting it down onto her plate. “I love the city and the professors are pretty great. And the people, too.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” Robin smiled. “Your classes are good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” y/n said. “I’m actually taking a really interesting math class.”

“What’s it about?” Jim quirked his brow, turning his attention fully to y/n.

Y/n launched into a passionate conversation about her math class, which naturally progressed to Robin and Jim asking questions about her other interests, childhood, likes and dislikes. Joe nudged y/n lightly, a smear of jam on his lips as he grinned at her before pressing a jelly covered kiss to her cheek.

The dinner went smoothly, y/n finding herself getting more and more comfortable with Joe’s parents as the meal continued. As they finished up their meal, y/n helped Robin clear off the table while Joe went out back to help Jim carry some firewood out to their shed. Robin put on a CD, the classic rock song playing gently throughout the kitchen as they washed and dried dishes.

“I know I probably shouldn’t say this,” Robin sighed, passing y/n the last dish that needed dried, “but I can’t remember the last time I saw Joe this happy.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, looking up from the plate she was drying to meet Robin’s eye. She could feel her heart skip a beat, her cheeks warming as Robin smiled at her.

“You’re a good girl, y/n.” Robin said, leaning against the counter opposite y/n. “Joe’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him.” Y/n grinned. Robin winked, pushing off the counter before grabbing the now dry plate from y/n and putting it into the cabinet.

“Well, now that the boys are out… I wasn’t joking about showing you the baby photos.” Robin grinned, gesturing for y/n to follow her as she went into the living room. Y/n sat on the couch as Robin crossed the room to rummage through a wooden chest. After a moment, she held up a thick photobook with the name “Joseph” written in a swirling script. She joined y/n on the couch, sitting next to her before cracking open the book.

Immediately, the pages fell open to a picture of Joe dressed in a bright orange wind suit, his hands on his hips as he posed in front of the fireplace. He had the same fiery look in his eye and smirk on his lips, even as a child. Y/n and Robin continued flipping through, laughing and aww-ing as they looked at photos of Joe on Halloween, at his first football game, showing off his toys on Christmas.

“What’s going on in here?” Jim asked as he came back in the house, Joe behind him, running a hand through his hair.

“I was just showing y/n some baby photos,” Robin grinned, causing Jim to chuckle and Joe to groan. “But, I think we’re done for tonight. I’m gonna go up to bed.”

“Same,” Jim yawned, stretching his arms. The two of them said their goodnights before leaving Joe and y/n alone in the living room. Joe crossed the room before sitting down on the couch next to y/n, tossing his arm over her shoulders. Y/n relaxed into his touch, resting her head against his shoulder.

“You were quite the cute baby, Joseph.” Y/n teased.

“Oh, jeez,” Joe shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I think they might like you more than me.”

“Oh don’t.” Y/n laughed, elbowing Joe’s ribs lightly.

“Seriously.” Joe said, looking down at y/n. “I told you they’d love you.”

Y/n smiled, pressing a kiss to Joe’s jaw before relaxing back into his chest. The two of them sat in silence, feeling the comfortable nostalgia of Joe’s childhood home. A house that had quickly become a sort of home to y/n, too.

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 9.7K

Warnings: explicit smut, fingering, NSFW so MDNI

A/N: I’m so touched by all the love on this series ❤️ this is the first explicit smut in this series so let me know how you guys feel about it and if it has a place in this series xo

You barely registered the path you took through the lavish space, your heart pounding in your chest, your vision blurring slightly from the mix of emotions and alcohol. Everything that had happened in the last half hour crashed over you all at once- Whisky’s words, Miles’ offer, the suffocating weight of doubt pressing into your ribs. It was all too much.

You just needed Claire.

You pushed through the doors to the quieter lounge area, your eyes scanning the room desperately until they landed on her. She was standing with Lionel, her expression serious as they spoke in hushed voices. But the second her gaze flicked up and found yours, everything else faded.

"Baby?" Her voice was immediate and alert. She took one look at you, at your glassy eyes and unsteady stance, and her body went rigid with concern. "What’s wrong?"

Lionel sighed, clearly irritated by the interruption, but he took one look at you and seemed to decide against saying anything. "We’ll finish this later," he muttered to Claire before excusing himself. You barely noticed him leave.

Claire was already closing the distance between you, her hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently. "Hey, hey, talk to me, sweetheart," she murmured, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Let me make it better. What happened?"

A small, broken sound escaped your lips as you collapsed into her, your arms winding around her neck, your body molding to hers as you clung to her like she was the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. Claire caught you instantly, wrapping you up in her strong arms, her warmth anchoring you as you buried your face against her shoulder.

"Shh, I got you," she whispered, running a hand down your back soothingly. "I’ve got you, my baby."

You wanted to speak, to explain, but all that came out was a shaky breath, and Claire’s hold on you only tightened. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her sharp eyes scanning your face, taking in every little detail- the redness in your eyes, the way your lower lip trembled.

Her expression darkened, protective. "Who do I need to kill?" she half-joked, but there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "Tell me what you need, baby."

You just shook your head, your fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress. "Just… you, please, I need you," you murmured, barely coherent.

Something in Claire’s face softened, but the worry never left her eyes. She exhaled slowly, one hand slipping down to your waist as she effortlessly lifted you onto the table behind her, hiking your dress up to your hips as she stepped in between your parted thighs, pressing her body against yours.

"I’m right here," she murmured, one hand still cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to hers. "You’ve got me, baby. Always."

Claire forced herself to pull back, her breathing uneven as she cupped your face between her hands. Your desperation had set her blood on fire, but now that the haze of lust was clearing, she could see just how wrecked you truly were.

"Baby," she murmured, searching your face, brushing her thumbs over your damp cheeks. "No, c’mon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to pull her back in, trying to press your body closer, anything to get her to give you what you wanted. "Nothing’s wrong, just- please, mommy, please," you whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress like you were afraid she might let go. "I just need you, need to feel you close, need-"

"Hey, hey, shhh, baby," Claire soothed, her heart aching at the way your voice cracked. You looked so overwhelmed, so lost, and it killed her that she didn’t know why. "You have me, sweetheart. You always have me."

She softened her hold on you, brushing a hand down your back, grounding you. "But I need to know what’s going on, okay?" she coaxed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Tell me what’s got you like this, my pretty girl."

Claire felt you trembling in her arms, your grip on her tightening like you were afraid she’d slip through your fingers. Her hands instinctively curled around your waist, holding you firm, steady, grounding.

"Baby, hey," she whispered, brushing her lips against your temple. "Tell me what’s going on."

You swallowed thickly, burying your face in her neck for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. Your eyes were glassy, desperate. "Whisky… she said you’d never come out," you admitted, voice small. "That after Senate, there will just be another goal, another reason to hide. She said I was stupid to believe you." Your breath hitched, hands clenching in the fabric of her dress. "Tell me she’s wrong. Please, tell me she’s wrong. She doesn’t know you, she doesn’t know us."

Claire’s whole body went rigid.

For a moment, there was only silence- thick, tense, and charged. Then, slowly, her hands slid to your thighs, gripping them as she stepped closer, pressing herself firmly between them. "That bitch needs to stay out of our business," she seethed, voice low, dangerous.

You gasped softly at the sudden shift in her, the fire in her eyes blazing with something fierce, something possessive. Claire was always protective of you, but this- this was different. This was territorial.

"Baby," she murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers, her grip firm but reverent. "Listen to me. You are mine. Nobody gets to come between us, nobody gets to plant doubts in your pretty little head. Whisky doesn’t know shit about us. She doesn’t know how much I love you, how much I’d burn down the whole fucking world for you if I had to."

Your breath came out shaky, your heart hammering. "Claire…"

"No," she cut you off, her hands sliding up your body, one curling around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. "You don’t listen to her. You listen to me. I promised you, didn’t I? I said I’d come out after Senate, and I will. I swear it, baby."

"But-"

"No buts," she interrupted, pressing her forehead against yours. "You belong to me. No one is ever going to take you from me. And I’m going to make sure nobody ever tries again."

Her lips crashed into yours, the sheer dominance in her kiss stealing the breath from your lungs. It was deep, claiming, unwavering. You whimpered against her, gripping onto her shoulders, letting her pull you impossibly closer.

When she finally pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, she pressed one last kiss to your lips- softer this time, but just as firm. "Mine," she whispered, her thumb brushing over your cheek. "Forever."

“Forever” you nodded quickly, eyes looking up at her wide and glassy. “P-please Claire… need you” you breathed.

Claire’s fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to mark you up with bruises. “Oh baby, I can’t turn you down when you beg for me like that,” she groaned, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lace panties and tugging them off.

She pulls back just enough to get a glimpse of your glistening pussy on display for her, her fingers twitching against your thighs as she inhaled sharply at the sight.

“Fucking hell baby…” she eventually managed, letting her middle finger brush lightly along your glistening folds, lightly flicking your clit with the tip of her finger. “Already so wet for me hm?” She trails kisses up the column of your throat as you tilt your head back to give her unfettered access.

She gently nips at your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation, gasping out a breathy plea for more. She happily obliges, slipping two of her fingers inside your aching pussy making you feel deliciously full.

“C-can I-?” you panted against her as her fingers slid in and out of you at a maddeningly slow pace.

With a subtle nod of Claire’s permission, you are allowed to take what you need, holding onto her shoulders as your pussy clenched round her long fingers. She’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride her hand, her thumb keeping a relentless pace on your clit as you writhe against her, the two of you working in tandem to bring you to your release.

Claire has spent many a long night committing every last inch of your body to memory, so she knows how to curl her fingers just right to drive you over the edge.

“F-Fuck, mommy I‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Claire is quick to wrap a hand round your throat, pressing her lips against yours in a filthy kiss to muffle your desperate moans.

“You’re gonna get us caught pretty girl,” Claire warns you, but she doesn’t slow her pace, determined to make you fall apart on her fingers.

The danger of being discovered with Claire’s fingers knuckle deep inside of you has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Claire’s name as it hits. She allows you to ride out your high till you begin to feel yourself twitch, oversensitive, before removing her fingers from your pussy, bringing them to her mouth and swirling her tongue around them to taste your slick. The sight alone was almost enough to make you cum again.

“You taste fucking delectable baby,” she breaths as her hands pull your limp body against her chest, words going straight to your core.

You were breathless, panting softly against Claire’s lips, your body still trembling from the sheer intensity of her kiss. Your fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as you let out a delicate whimper, overwhelmed, overrun by the force of her love, her claim on you.

Claire exhaled sharply, grounding herself, before her hands slid back down your body, gripping your waist as she pulled you up onto your feet. She kept you close, unwilling to let you go for even a second, her arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Baby," she murmured, pressing a flurry of soft kisses over your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose. "My sweet girl. My love. I’ve got you."

You let out another shaky breath, melting into her, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed along your jaw, her lips warm and tender against your skin.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses, her voice soft but unwavering. "So much. More than anything. You’re mine, baby. No one will ever change that."

You whimpered again, clutching at her, your body still sensitive from everything- your emotions, her possessiveness, her fingers deep inside you. Claire held you through it, her hands smoothing up and down your back, grounding you, steadying you.

"Shh, I’ve got you," she soothed, pressing another lingering kiss to your temple. "Always."

You exhaled shakily against Claire’s shoulder, your body still thrumming from everything that had just happened. Her arms remained locked around you, protective and grounding, her lips brushing over your temple like she was afraid you might slip through her fingers if she let go. You wanted to stay in this moment, just wrapped up in her, safe from everything that had happened tonight- but you knew you had to tell her.

You swallowed hard and pulled back slightly, looking up at her, still holding onto her tightly. "Baby," you murmured, voice quiet, almost hesitant. "There’s… something else I need to tell you."

Claire’s body tensed instantly. Her hands tightened on your waist, her protective instincts flaring up the second she heard the shift in your tone. "What is it?" she asked, her voice lower now, sharper.

You hesitated, but then you forced yourself to say it. "Miles- he, um… he offered to help me with my books."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"He said he could get me the best of the best to promote my work," you explained, watching her face carefully. "Make me a household name. Said I’d be a younger, hotter Stephen King or something."

The moment the words left your mouth, Claire’s entire expression hardened. Her jaw clenched, and her grip on you became just a little tighter. "No," she said immediately, her voice firm, unwavering. "Don’t you dare."

You blinked in surprise, confused by how fast and fiercely she shut it down. "What?"

"I mean it," she said, pulling back just enough to cup your face between her hands, forcing you to look at her. Her thumbs brushed over your cheeks, but her gaze was sharp, serious. "You don’t want to be indebted to him in any way. You don’t want to owe him anything."

"I didn’t say yes," you protested, thrown off by her intensity. "I just said I’d think about it, but I wasn’t actually- "

"Don’t," she interrupted, shaking her head firmly. "Don’t even consider it. That man doesn’t do favors, baby. If he’s offering you something, it’s because he’s expecting something back. And once he has his claws in you, you’ll never get out. He will own you."

You bit your lip, feeling a little uneasy now. You hadn’t really thought about it like that before. At the time, you’d been so overwhelmed that you hadn’t fully considered what it actually meant.

"I wasn’t planning on taking it," you admitted softly, your fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of Claire’s dress. "It just… caught me off guard, that’s all."

Claire sighed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, but her hands didn’t leave you. "Good," she muttered, pressing her forehead against yours. "I mean it, baby. Stay away from that offer. You don’t need Miles fucking Bron to make you successful. You’re brilliant all on your own."

Your heart fluttered a little at that, at the raw sincerity in her voice. She believed in you so fully, so completely, in a way that made your chest ache.

"Yeah?" you whispered, searching her face.

Claire pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her fingers tilting your chin up. "Yeah," she murmured, and there was so much certainty in her voice. "And if you ever do need help with promotion, or dealing with your publishers, I will handle it. Not Miles. Not anyone else. You’re mine to take care of, baby."

You exhaled shakily, your eyes growing glassy again. "You always take care of me," you whispered.

"Damn right I do," she murmured, and then she kissed you, slow and deep, like she needed you to understand just how much she meant it.

When she pulled back, her hands stroked down your arms, her touch warm and steady. "Now," she murmured, her voice gentler, but still firm. "Let’s go get through this damn dinner."

~

Claire kept a steady arm wrapped around you as the two of you made your way back to the dinner, her grip firm but careful, guiding you as you still felt slightly unsteady. Between the alcohol, the overwhelming emotions of the night, and the way Claire had just taken care of you, your legs felt weaker than you wanted to admit. But Claire knew. She always knew.

"Easy, baby," she murmured, her voice low and warm as she pulled you just a little closer, adjusting her grip. "You okay?"

You nodded, nuzzling your face into her shoulder, breathing her in. "Mhm. Just need you close."

"I’m not going anywhere," she promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As you stepped back into the dining area, you could already feel the change in atmosphere. The music was softer now, the drinks still flowing, the group still lively- but you could sense the undercurrent of tension between certain people. Your eyes flickered to Whisky, who was seated at the table, her expression unreadable as she stirred her drink. Claire noticed too.

You felt her tense, her grip on you tightening slightly as her gaze burned in Whisky’s direction, her jaw clenching like she was one wrong move away from saying something she shouldn’t.

You exhaled softly, and before she could stew too much in her anger, you curled further into her arms, tilting your head up to look at her.

"Claire," you murmured, voice soft, wanting to pull her focus back to you, back to something good.

She glanced down at you, her brow still furrowed, her body still humming with frustration, but the moment she saw you- saw how soft your gaze was, how safe you felt in her arms- some of the tension melted away.

"You look so pretty," you told her, your voice slightly dreamy, the alcohol still making you a little loose-limbed and affectionate.

Her expression softened instantly, her eyes flickering over your face, studying you like she always did, like you were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

"Yeah?" she murmured, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

You nodded, reaching up to brush your fingers against her cheek. "So pretty," you whispered, and you meant it so much.

Claire’s lips parted slightly, something unreadable flickering across her face before she sighed, shaking her head slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping her. "My sweet girl," she murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your hair, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back.

She held you close as the two of you made your way to the table, and as much as there was still so much left unresolved- Miles, Whisky, the entire tangled mess of the night- right now, you just wanted to exist in this. Just you and her, wrapped up in each other, in the warmth of her arms, in the way she always held onto you like you were the most important thing in the world.

Miles stood at the head of the long dining table, drink in hand, his signature wide, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. He spread his arms in a grand gesture, commanding the attention of the group as the conversation quieted around him.

"Gang," he started, pausing for effect, his voice warm and performative, "this has been an amazing weekend so far. And let me tell you, the next three days? You’re not ready. We are going to have the most amazing time. I’ve got activities planned, games to play-" he winked, "-a little something for everyone."

There were a few murmurs of anticipation, Birdie clapping her hands together excitedly, Duke raising his glass in agreement. Claire, beside you, exhaled quietly, her fingers still tracing slow, grounding circles against your back as you remained curled into her side.

Miles took a sip of his drink before continuing, his tone turning just sentimental enough to feel practiced. "But more than that, this trip isn’t just about fun- it’s about us. My closest friends. My fellow Disruptors."

At that, a few of them chuckled, nodding along. You caught Lionel’s jaw tightening slightly, his shoulders stiff, but he said nothing.

"You know," Miles went on, "after all this time, after everything we’ve built together, after all those billions… you remain my oldest and dearest friends." His voice dropped into something almost conspiratorial. "And do you know why that is?"

There was a pause. No one answered. Miles grinned.

"Because I appreciate honesty. I value loyalty. I see the real ones when they’re in front of me. And each of you?" He tapped the rim of his glass with a single finger. "You’ve been real ones since day one."

A few voices murmured agreement, Birdie giggling and whispering something to Peg, Whisky taking a long sip of her drink.

"And that’s why we’re here," Miles concluded, raising his glass higher. "To celebrate the bonds that connect us. The trust, the love- the history that’s led us to this moment. So here’s to us, gang. Here’s to the past, the present, and the future of the Disruptors."

Everyone lifted their glasses in a toast, murmuring their own agreements. Claire, beside you, barely lifted hers, her expression unreadable as she stared at Miles with the faintest trace of skepticism.

You swallowed, shifting slightly against her. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he crafted his words that left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

But before you could dwell on it too much, Claire gently pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you closer, grounding you.

"To us," Miles echoed once more with a wide, satisfied grin.

And everyone drank.

Miles grinned, raising his glass even higher. "Here’s to my OGs!"

There were more murmurs of agreement, glasses clinking together, the mood warm and celebratory- at least on the surface. You absently twirled a piece of your hair around your finger as you listened, your gaze unfocused as Miles continued speaking.

"Because that’s what friends do," he went on smoothly, "we help each other. Just look around. Look at what we’ve built together."

He gestured with his glass as he spoke. "I help Claire with her campaign because I believe in her. And look at her? Throwing a grenade into the machine of politics. Lionel? My guy keeps everything at Alpha running like the genius he is. Duke’s building his brand, and I’m making sure he’s got the platform to do it. Birdie’s got a whole new venture coming up, and I’m investing because that’s what we do. We look out for each other."

You frowned slightly, looking up at him. "So what do you need help with?" you asked.

A brief flicker of frustration crossed Miles’ face. "Excuse me?"

You tilted your head. "This dinner." You gestured loosely around the table. "You brought everyone here to celebrate, but also to remind everyone how you’ve helped them along. So what do you need help with?"

Miles hesitated for just a beat too long. Then he let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if amused. "Well… now you mention it…"

You felt Claire stiffen slightly beside you. As Miles spoke, you caught the faint sound of Lionel muttering under his breath to Claire. "I told you there was a reason he brought up my employment…"

Claire exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tightening around her wine glass. You felt her shift beside you, straightening slightly, and you could sense her anxiety growing.

Miles, meanwhile, let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest as if the weight of the world had just been placed upon him. “I’ve been going through something recently and I wasn’t going to mention it but…" he said, tone dripping with faux exasperation. "If you must know… Andi’s legal team has been on my ass."

That got everyone’s attention. The mood at the table shifted- subtle, but noticeable. A few glances were exchanged, and Lionel closed his eyes for half a second, as if bracing himself for what was coming next.

"Something about intellectual ownership and the napkin…" Miles continued, waving his hand dismissively. "It’s all bullshit, obviously. We all know I came up with the founding idea of Alpha, right gang?" He gestured around the table, expecting agreement. No one immediately jumped to confirm it.

"Well, anyway," he pushed on, "there’s no way she can actually prove what she’s saying, but… I’m being taken to court anyway."

There it was.

You felt Claire’s breath hitch, the tension in her body clear as day. Lionel sat back slightly in his chair, rubbing his forehead. Birdie, completely oblivious to the shift in mood, took a sip of her drink like this was nothing more than casual dinner conversation. Your own stomach twisted. Even tipsy, even overwhelmed from the night’s emotions, you knew this was huge. And Miles didn’t seem nearly as concerned as he should be.

Duke, ever blunt, frowned and leaned forward. "So… what does that have to do with us?"

Miles let out another one of his exaggerated sighs, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe they were even asking. "Guys, c’mon. If I’m locked in a legal battle where I might lose everything- we lose everything."

Silence fell over the table.

The realization hit like a slow-moving train, the weight of his words sinking into each of them at different speeds. You felt Claire stiffen beside you. Lionel muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, and Birdie blinked in confusion before tilting her head.

"Why do we lose everything?" she asked, her voice light, still not quite putting the pieces together.

Miles turned to her with the kind of patient condescension he reserved for when he thought he was explaining something so obvious. "Well, Birdie, if Andi takes me to court, I won’t be able to invest in Sweetie Pants. I’ll have to save my money for the lawyers."

Birdie’s mouth dropped open, her freshly glossed lips forming a perfect ‘O’. "What?"

Duke cut in, scowling. "Or my streams? I’m counting on your promotion, dude. That was the whole deal."

Miles sighed again, spreading his hands as if to say what can you do? "And I’d love to give it to you, man, but I can’t… not while Andi is on my ass."

His words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the group.

This wasn’t just about him being sued.

He was making it their problem.

Birdie was the first to break the silence, shifting in her chair, eyes wide with nervous energy. "Well… what do we do?!" And there it was, the first one to show a willingness to stab a friend in the back for the financial security that came with being team Miles.

You swallowed hard. Because the thing was… Birdie might have been the first to say it, but you could feel the same question hanging in the air from everyone else. They were all thinking it.

Miles smiled, like a teacher pleased that his students were finally catching on. "Oh, it’s really simple," he said, spreading his hands. "Something that would make the trial really quick and easy is if you guys just told the court, as witnesses, that you saw me write down the initial idea for Alpha on that napkin at the Glass Onion."

Your stomach turned.

"You know, what really happened," he added smoothly. "Wouldn’t be a lie. Just helping out a friend."

Claire’s grip on your thigh tightened. She was stone still beside you, but you could feel the tension rolling off of her. And that was when it truly clicked. He was asking them to lie.

Under oath.

The silence at the table was thick enough to choke on. Everyone was waiting for someone else to speak first.

Finally, Lionel cleared his throat. "No, man." His voice was firm, but there was a flicker of unease behind his eyes. "We did enough. Cutting out Andi, not protesting when you did what you did… We already stood by while you screwed her over, I’m not doing it again."

Miles sighed heavily, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "That’s too bad, Lionel," he said, his voice calm… too calm. "Because I need friends and employees I can trust."

Claire shifted beside you, she knew what was coming. So did Lionel.

"And if you can’t be here for me in my time of need," Miles continued, "I don’t know if I can trust you to work for me."

Lionel tensed. "Miles-"

"It’s a shame too," Miles interrupted, shrugging. "I was just talking to my investors about funding your work further. Getting you the equipment you need to show off that science brain. But if I can’t rely on you…" He trailed off, shaking his head with a little smirk, before knocking back his drink.

That was it.

It wasn’t a request for help.

It was a threat.

Claire scoffed, shaking her head as she reached for her wine glass. "Miles, can’t your machine of lawyers and power destroy her by sheer dumb force?" She took a sip, voice casual, but her grip on the stem was tight. "Why do you need us?"

Miles tilted his head, flashing that smug, easy grin. "Claire Bear," he said, voice dripping with faux affection.

She ignored the nickname. "Please," she continued, "I’m a politician. You’re asking me to perjure myself."

Miles laughed, leaning forward like she had just said something adorable. "C’mon, Claire. Having you all speak on my behalf will stop this whole back and forth about Alpha, get Andi off my back, and allow us all to-" he made an exaggerated gesture with his hands, "‘inbreathiate’ in the moment again without the threat of Andi hanging over us."

You frowned. "Inbreathiate?"

"Yeah!" Miles grinned. "It means, like, breathe in the energy of life together-"

"That’s not even a word," You muttered under your breath

Miles ignored you, still looking at Claire. "And if we can get this thing settled quickly, I can continue funding the dreams of my fellow disruptors. It’s in all of our best interests, don’t you think?"

Miles clasped his hands together, scanning the table with that same smug, expectant smile. "Yeah? So I can trust you guys, right?"

There was a beat of hesitation, thick and uncomfortable. Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone else to speak first.

And then, predictably, Birdie broke the silence. "Oh, Miles, you know I’ve got your back," she said, her voice a little too bright, a little too eager. "I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I just let Andi ruin everything for you? For us?" She laughed like she wasn’t about to commit perjury.

Miles grinned at her. "That’s my baby Birdie," he said approvingly, raising his glass in her direction.

Duke was next, giving a sharp nod. "Okay, man, whatever you need," he said, voice flat but firm. "I got you."

Miles turned to Lionel now, still smiling but with just the right amount of pressure behind it. "And Lionel?"

Lionel swallowed hard. His fingers clenched around his fork, his shoulders stiff. He knew this was wrong. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his eyes darted away from Miles, in the way his knee bounced under the table. But he also knew what saying no would mean for him, for his career, for everything he’d built.

Finally, he exhaled, looking down at his plate, his voice quieter than before. "Yeah, okay," he muttered. "I’ll do it."

You felt sick.

And then all eyes turned to Claire. Claire didn’t look at you. She was staring at Miles, her expression unreadable, her jaw set.

Miles just kept smiling. "Claire Bear?"

Your grip on Claire’s hand tightened until your knuckles went white. "Claire, you can’t do this, baby, please," you whispered, your voice small and trembling under the weight of what was happening. "It’s illegal. It’s- it’s perjury. You’re a politician. You could lose everything- "

Around the table, the others were watching Claire carefully. Birdie, biting her lip, nodding slightly as if encouraging her to just agree and get it over with. Duke was frowning, arms crossed, brows raised in expectation. Lionel was staring hard at his plate, shoulders hunched, looking nauseous.

And Miles, of course, was smiling.

"C’mon, Claire Bear," he said smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I can only bankroll a candidate I can trust. And if I can’t trust you… well," he made a little show of sighing dramatically, "maybe it’s time I start looking at your opponent instead."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What the fuck?" you snapped, whipping your head toward him. "You can’t do that! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Miles only smirked, ever the composed manipulator. "What? You know how it is, babe. Politics is all about trust. I mean think about it. If her constituents found out she cheated on her husband with a much younger woman? She’s never get their trust back."

Your breath was coming fast now, panic making your chest tight. "Claire, don’t do this."

Claire inhaled slowly, lifting her glass to her lips as if she were simply considering her options, as if she weren’t making a deal with the devil right in front of you.

And then, finally, she exhaled and nodded once, her voice cool and controlled. "Fine," she said, "I’ll say what you need me to say."

Your stomach dropped.

Miles grinned like a cat who’d caught the canary. "Ahh, fantastic! Now that that’s sorted" he clapped his hands together, "let’s eat!"

Just like that, the tension dissolved. The others shifted, murmuring their agreements, reaching for their forks as though they hadn’t just been coerced into a legal conspiracy. As though Claire hadn’t just promised to lie under oath.

You turned to her in horror, tugging on her wrist like a desperate child. "Claire you could go to prison," you whispered, your voice cracking, "Claire, please-"

And then she snapped. "Stop it," she hissed, her voice low but sharp, her grip on your thigh suddenly firm enough to still you completely. "Now."

You flinched at the sudden change in her tone. "But, Claire-"

"I said stop," she cut you off, eyes dark and warning. "I’m handling this."

The finality in her words made your chest constrict. You felt helpless, small, completely stripped of your voice.

Her fingers dug in just slightly where she held you, grounding you, keeping you in place. "I need you to trust me, baby," she said, softer this time, tilting your chin up with two fingers. "You trust Mommy, don’t you?"

You swallowed, eyes welling up. "Not when you’re lying," you admitted in a whisper.

Her jaw ticked slightly, but she didn’t break. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear, her voice barely above a murmur. "I am doing what needs to be done," she said slowly, deliberately. "And I am not having this conversation here."

You blinked back tears, hands trembling in your lap.

She pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice turning sickeningly sweet, masking the undeniable authority in her tone. "Now be a good girl and eat your food, hmm?"

Your heart twisted painfully. The room carried on as normal, conversation flowing around you, but you felt detached, numb.

Claire squeezed your knee before finally pulling away, acting as though nothing had happened, as though she hadn’t just shattered your trust right in front of you. And you had no choice but to sit there, staring at your untouched plate, feeling like the only person in the room who realized they had all just signed their souls away.

As the plates were cleared and the glasses refilled, Miles leaned back in his chair, swirling the last sip of his drink in his glass. With a satisfied smirk, he pushed back from the table, standing with a grandiose stretch.

"Alright, my friends," he announced, clapping his hands together. “Hope you didn’t eat too much, because I have a little surprise for you all."

Everyone looked up, some intrigued, some still reeling from the conversation before.

"I’ve paid for an exclusive nightclub tonight. Whole place is ours, VIP all the way. So let’s get going, yeah?” He checked his watch. "I just need to make a quick call first."

With that, he slid his phone out of his pocket and strolled out of the dining area, already lifting it to his ear.

You shifted, opening your mouth to speak to finally say something, anything, but before you could get a word out Claire shot you a look.

A single glance.

Sharp. Commanding. A silent warning: Don’t you dare. You swallowed hard, your mouth clamping shut.

Birdie, ever the one to fill silence, groaned and stretched her arms over her head, dramatically tossing her napkin onto the table. "Well," she sighed, "if we’re gonna be miserable, we might as well do it in paradise with bottle service and a dance floor, right?" She giggled at her own joke.

You didn’t.

Instead, you scoffed under your breath, standing abruptly. "Yeah," you muttered, leveling the table with a pointed stare. "You certainly have all earned it."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the table, feeling Claire’s eyes burning into your back as you strode toward the deck, needing air, needing a drink, needing to be anywhere but sitting in that tension-filled room, pretending everything would be fine.

~

As soon as you disappeared onto the deck, a thick silence settled over the table. The air was still heavy with the weight of what had just been agreed upon, and the tension was palpable.

Duke was the first to break it, shaking his head before turning to Claire. "You gotta get your woman in line."

Claire’s head snapped toward him, her sharp glare cutting through him like a blade. "Excuse me?" she hissed, voice low, dangerous. "Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that."

Duke held up his hands in mock innocence. "I’m just saying," he defended. "She’s got a problem with this whole thing, and if she stirs up too much shit, she could make problems for all of us."

Birdie nodded, swirling the wine in her glass lazily. "Duke’s right," she said as if it were obvious. "She can’t ruin this for us."

Lionel sighed, rubbing his temples. "It seems like she’s the only one left at this table with a strong moral compass," he muttered.

"Exactly," Duke pointed out, looking directly at Claire. "So make sure that doesn’t become an issue."

Claire’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table, anger simmering low in her belly. "Are you threatening me, Duke?" she asked, voice deceptively calm. "Jesus, this isn’t the Mafia."

Duke just smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I’m just saying, use that mommy thing you got going on with her. Works like a charm, right?" His smirk deepened, knowing exactly what he was implying.

Claire’s stomach twisted, shame curling at the edges of her rage.

Birdie gasped, delighted. "Claire!" she giggled, leaning forward with interest. "I didn’t know you had it in you! Dominating politics, yes, but dominating a teenager-"

Claire slammed her hand down on the table, making the glasses tremble. "She isn’t a teenager!" she snapped.

The table fell silent.

Claire shoved her chair back, pushing away from the table, her heart hammering in frustration. She needed to find you. Now.

But as she stormed through the yacht, her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to the many times she’d used that very dominance to get you to comply, heat coiling in her belly.

She thought about when you’d first started paying attention to her political career, watching her navigate a world of power you weren’t yet accustomed to. You’d questioned things. Pushed back. Sometimes, you’d gotten upset, and Claire- always knowing exactly how to handle you- had taken control.

"Baby, you need to trust me," she’d murmured once, pulling you onto her lap after a particularly tense evening. You had been anxious, worried about something she'd said in a speech, worried about how much she had to compromise to survive in her world. She had cradled you close, her hands smoothing down your back, her lips at your temple. "I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to carry all of this. Let mommy handle it."

And you had melted. Every time.

She thought about how you had been upset just hours ago, overwhelmed and emotional, looking to her for stability. How easily she had pulled you in, settled you, guided you. How much you needed her to be that for you.

And now here you were, spiraling again, running from her, doubting her, and it made something primal and protective snap inside her. She found herself moving faster. She would find you. And she would make you understand. She had to.

~

You slam the empty shot glass down onto the bar, the burn of tequila barely registering anymore. The bartender eyes you warily, but you don’t acknowledge it. You just tap the counter, wordlessly asking for another. You cannot be sober for another second. Not after this. Not after watching Claire- your Claire- agree to something that could ruin her.

Your head spins, your thoughts a tangled, messy blur. Claire had finally said she’d come out for you, finally promised to make that leap. And now? Now, she could go to prison for perjury.

For Miles Fucking Bron.

It’s like you’re watching everything slip through your fingers in real time. You’d fought so hard for this, for her, for a future where you didn’t have to keep hiding, where Claire didn’t have to keep making excuses, where she could just be yours in the open.

And now it could all be destroyed before it even begins.

You don’t even realize the next shot has been poured until the bartender nudges it toward you. Without hesitation, you grab it and down it, feeling the heat sear down your throat.

It’s not enough.

Nothing feels like enough.

You grip the edge of the bar, staring blankly at the liquor bottles lined up behind it. The voices behind you are a distant hum, the party continuing as if your entire world isn’t currently shattering.

You’re dimly aware of someone coming up beside you, but you don’t look up. Not until a familiar voice cuts through your haze- low, firm, laced with warning.

"That’s enough."

Claire.

You don’t even hesitate. You grab the next shot the second the bartender sets it down and throw it back, the burn barely registering.

"That’s enough," Claire says again, voice sharper now, closer.

You scoff, shaking your head as you set the glass down with a clink. "No, it’s really not."

She moves then, reaching for your wrist, and you whip around so fast she freezes mid-motion.

"Don’t you dare touch me." Your voice is sharp, venomous, shaking.

Claire’s jaw tightens, but her eyes- God, her eyes- are filled with hurt beneath the frustration.

"Baby- "

"Don’t," you snap, stepping back like her presence alone is suffocating. "Don’t ‘baby’ me, don’t ‘mommy’ me, don’t act like you have a right to tell me what the fuck to do after what you just did in there."

Claire exhales through her nose, controlled, composed in a way that makes your blood boil. "You need to calm down."

You let out a humorless laugh, swiping at your mouth. "Calm down? Oh, that’s rich. You want me to calm down when you just agreed to perjure yourself for that manipulative piece of shit? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Claire’s expression flickers, something stormy passing over her face. "Watch it."

"Or what?" You step closer now, alcohol making you reckless, eyes burning. "What are you gonna do, huh? Mommy gonna put me in my place? Gonna tell me to sit pretty and shut up like a good little girl while you destroy your fucking life?"

Claire’s nostrils flare. "You don’t understand what’s at stake here."

"I understand plenty," you snap. "I understand that I fucking love you, and you just made a deal with the devil. I understand that you promised me, Claire. You promised me a future together, and now you’re throwing it all away because Miles fucking Bron dangled your career over your head like a goddamn bone."

Her face hardens. "This is bigger than you and me."

"Oh, fuck you," you spit, voice breaking. "Everything is always bigger than me, isn’t it? Your career, your reputation, your fucking political trajectory- but when do I get to be big enough for you to fight for?"

Claire’s face actually falters then, just slightly, just for a second.

And it’s that that makes your chest ache so deeply you feel like you might actually shatter. Because you see it. You see the war in her eyes. The way she wants to argue, to rationalize, to convince herself she’s doing the right thing. But you also see something else. You see guilt.

And that’s what breaks you.

You let out a shaking breath, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "You don’t even believe yourself, do you?"

Claire stays silent.

And that tells you everything.

Claire exhales sharply, trying to ground herself, trying to push past the alcohol on your breath and the sharp edge in your voice. She’s seen you upset before, she’s seen you drunk before, but this… this is different. This is you slipping through her fingers, pulling away from her reach. And she can’t allow that.

So she softens. Drops her voice into something warm, something coaxing, something that has always worked on you before.

"C’mon, baby," she murmurs, stepping closer, reaching for you again, gentler this time. "Let’s just go back to the room, okay? We can take a nice, relaxing bath. I’ll hold you. We’ll talk this out."

Her hands cup your face now, fingers stroking against your heated skin, thumbs brushing the high point of your cheekbones, desperate to soothe, to contain, to fix. And oh, she’s desperate. You can hear it. Feel it.

It’s in the way she holds you like you’ll disappear if she lets go. The way her breath stutters when you don’t immediately soften into her. The way she needs you to believe her. And maybe, a few hours ago, you would have. Maybe before dinner, before Miles’ speech, before this entire night became something twisted and tainted, you would have fallen into her arms and let her convince you.

But now?

Your lips curl into something sharp, something bitter. "You do whatever you want, I’m staying here."

"Baby, please," she says, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "I know you’re angry. I know this is a mess. But look at me."

You hesitate, but your eyes meet hers. Her hands move, sliding down your arms, fingertips grazing your bare skin like she needs to memorize the shape of you.

"You mean everything to me," she whispers, eyes scanning your face like she’s trying to memorize every detail. "I need you to know that. I need you to feel that. I can’t lose you."

Your heart clenches, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. "Then why are you doing this?"

Claire swallows hard. "Because I’ve worked my whole life for this, I have clawed my way to get where I am. I can’t lose everything because of Miles Bron I can’t," She pauses, shaking her head. She steps closer, hands cupping your face again, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to let her in. "Just tell me what you need, baby," she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. "Tell me how to fix this with you. I will do anything for you."

The words almost break you. Because that’s the thing about Claire- she’s powerful, dominant, used to getting her way. But when it comes to you, she would burn the world down if you asked her to.

You shake your head, lips pressing into a tight line. "Anything," you echo, voice laced with bitterness. "You’ll do anything for me, but you won’t say no to Miles. You won’t stand up to him, not even when you know this is wrong."

Claire inhales sharply, her grip on you tightening for a split second before she forces herself to relax. "Baby," she murmurs, her voice thick, careful. "You don’t know him. Not like I do. Not like I have."

Her gaze flickers away, just for a moment, like she’s seeing something you can’t. Something dark. "What he did to Andi- what we helped him do," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "He ruined her. She had everything, and he took it. And now? Now he has more power than ever." She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing over your cheek, reverent. "I can’t let him do that to us." The way she says ‘us’ makes your breath hitch.

"Please, baby," Claire begs, her forehead pressing against yours, her thumbs stroking along your jaw. "Please, try and understand. I have to do this. I have to play the game. I have to survive. But I can’t do it if you hate me. I can’t breathe without my baby girl."

Her voice cracks on the last words, and something inside you breaks.You’re still furious. Still so hurt. But Claire’s love, her devotion- it’s the one thing in this whole mess that’s real. You exhale slowly, your body finally relaxing against hers, and Claire immediately pulls you in, crushing you against her like she’s terrified you’ll slip through her fingers. Her lips press against your temple, your cheek, your jaw- anywhere she can reach, desperate to ground you both in each other.

"I love you," she breathes against your skin, her hands sliding up your back, cradling you like something precious. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

You sigh, tilting your head just slightly, giving her silent permission. Claire doesn’t waste a second- her lips capture yours, the kiss slow and deep, like she’s trying to pour every unspoken word, every ounce of desperation and devotion, into you.

And god help you, you let her.

Because no matter how angry you are, no matter how messy this all is, you love her too. You always will.

Claire kisses you like she’s trying to memorize the taste of you, the shape of your lips, the way you sigh against her mouth. It’s slow at first, deep and lingering, her hands cradling your face with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. But then you press closer, just slightly, and it breaks something in her. A soft, needy sound escapes her throat as she deepens the kiss, arms wrapping tight around your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her hands roam, spreading across your back, sliding down to grip your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your dress like she needs to feel all of you.

"God, baby," she breathes between kisses, her lips trailing along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "You drive me insane."

Her voice is low, husky, full of something dark and desperate. It makes your knees weak.

You grip her shoulders, letting her press you back against the smooth railing of the yacht. The cool night air swirls around you, but Claire’s body is warm, her touch electric.

"I hate fighting with you," she murmurs against your skin, her lips brushing over your collarbone, the words melting into you. "I hate seeing you upset. I just-" She exhales shakily, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are heavy with emotion, with need. "Let me make it better, baby. Let me take care of you."

She kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. Like she’s pouring every apology, every ounce of devotion, into you. Her tongue slides against yours, slow and sensual, her hands tightening on your waist. And fuck, you shouldn’t be melting into her so easily. You shouldn’t be letting her touch you like this, making your head spin, making you forget the weight of what’s coming.

But she’s Claire. She’s your mommy. And when she kisses you like this, like you’re her whole world, it’s so easy to just let go. You whimper softly as her fingers slip beneath the slit of your dress, just ghosting over the bare skin of your thigh. Claire swallows the sound with another kiss, her body pressing flush against yours.

"Let me take you to bed," she whispers, her lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw. "I don’t care about the club, about Miles, about any of them. I just want you."

And god, you’re tempted. So tempted. But then, from somewhere deeper in the yacht, you hear the distant echo of laughter, the clink of glasses, the unmistakable sound of the others getting ready to leave.

Reality.

Claire hears it too. You feel the way her body tenses, how she forces herself to slow down, to breathe.

She presses one last kiss to your lips, softer this time. "We have to go," she murmurs, reluctantly pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "But when we get back, baby…" She breathes, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. "You’re mine."

Your breath catches, but before you can say anything, she straightens, smoothing out her dress, slipping back into that effortless, composed version of herself.

The Governor. The politician. The woman who always has to be in control.

Except you know the truth.

That underneath it all, she’s just a woman who worships you.

And as she takes your hand, leading you back inside to rejoin the group, you realize one thing:

No matter how angry you are, no matter how tangled this all gets, you’ll always be hers.

~

The main deck is buzzing with movement as you and Claire step back into the glow of expensive lantern light. Drinks are being passed around, Birdie is twirling in her dress like she’s on a runway, and Miles- smug, fucking insufferable Miles- stands at the center of it all, drinking in the atmosphere like he owns it (which, to be fair, he does.)

Claire keeps her fingers laced with yours, her grip firm, like she’s anchoring herself with you. You can still feel the ghost of her lips against your skin, the lingering heat of her hands, the way her voice had cracked when she begged you not to leave her. And yet, to everyone else, she looks effortlessly composed. Governor Debella. The controlled, pragmatic politician.

But then Lionel catches her eye. He’s standing off to the side, watching the two of you carefully, before stepping forward. "Claire." His voice is quiet, measured. "Did you talk to her?" He asks despite you being close enough for him to ask you himself.

Your stomach tightens, but Claire doesn’t falter. She tilts her head slightly, fingers flexing against yours before letting go, only for a second, to smooth out her dress, like the conversation is nothing.

"It’s handled," she says smoothly. And then, before Lionel can say another word, she pulls you flush against her side, her arm wrapping securely around your waist. It’s subtle. To anyone else, it would look natural, just a casual display of affection. But you can feel the tension in her grip, the way she needs to keep touching you, grounding herself in you.

Lionel studies the two of you for a moment, then nods, exhaling as if that’s one less thing to worry about. "Good," he mutters before stepping away to refill his drink.

Before you can say anything, before you can even react, Claire turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple, murmuring so only you can hear-

"I need you tonight, baby."

Your breath catches, heat curling in your stomach.

And then Miles claps his hands together, grinning like a man who’s never been told no in his life. "Alright, Disruptors!" he calls out. "Let’s hit the club!"

The group erupts into practiced cheers, Peg already groaning as Birdie takes her hand and spins her toward the exit, Whiskey laughing as she leans into Duke’s side.

Claire finally loosens her grip on you, but only enough to take your hand again, threading your fingers together. And as the group moves toward the waiting speedboats, whisking you off toward whatever exclusive, hedonistic paradise Miles has planned, Claire stays right by your side. Like she’s afraid to let go.

The speedboat cuts through the waves, sleek and powerful, carrying you all toward the glittering neon of the exclusive club Miles has chosen for the night. The air is thick with salt and expensive perfume, the promise of excess and indulgence humming between each crashing wave.

Claire hasn’t let go of you once.

Her arm stays wrapped securely around your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress, like she’s making sure you don’t slip away. And you don’t fight it. Even with your stomach twisting, even with the sick weight of what’s coming, you let her hold you.

And then, like the universe just had to test you, Miles slides up beside you both, that smug, practiced grin in place.

"You’re not still upset, are you?" His voice is smooth, faux-concerned, but there’s something pointed beneath it. Something sharper. He glances between you and Claire, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "We Disruptors stick together through everything. We help each other. Lift each other up." His gaze lingers on you, searching. "You get that, right?"

Claire’s fingers tighten slightly against your waist.

You feel sick. But you don’t show it. Instead, you smile. Soft. Sweet. A performance so flawless it would make any politician proud.

"Claire makes the decisions," you say smoothly, tilting your head slightly, watching as Miles’ smirk flickers just the slightest bit. "I trust her judgment."

And then, before he can say another word, you turn fully into Claire, letting your body relax against her, nuzzling into the warm curve of her neck. It’s for her. Because you can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she’s holding herself together with sheer force of will. And if this is what she needs, if she needs you to play this game, then you will too.

Because, for all her power, all her dominance, she is terrified.

And she needs you.

Claire exhales, long and slow, and you feel the way her grip softens, just slightly. The way she presses her lips to your temple in silent gratitude.

Miles watches for a beat longer, then lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Man," he muses, sipping his drink. "You really do have good taste, Claire."

The words are harmless. On the surface. But you know what he’s really saying. You don’t react. Claire doesn’t either. And as the speedboat slows, the flashing lights of the club reflecting in the water around you, you only hold onto Claire a little tighter.

Because this night is far from over.

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet @athnastasia @eletricheart @her0in-addicttt @writerspirit @sarahhh-plz

[4linos]

not so sweet.

kim seungmin x gn!reader

synopsis/request: when seungmin’s joke crosses a line, you’re left in tears, forcing him to rush after you with an apology and a peace offering.

wc: 1992

You and Seungmin had always shared a humor that no one else seemed to understand. It was a kind of humor that only the two of you could truly appreciate inside jokes, sarcastic banter, and playful jabs that never went too far. You both knew where the line was, and there was an unspoken understanding that no matter how outlandish the joke, it would never be taken seriously.

Today was no different. You and Seungmin were at a candy store, strolling through the aisles like you always did when you went out together. You were eyeing the chocolates you’d been wanting for a while, something sweet to indulge in on a lazy evening at home. You casually mentioned to Seungmin, “Hey, could you pay for these? I forgot my wallet.”

It wasn’t a big deal, you knew he’d probably get them for you anyway. It wasn’t like you were asking for something expensive or outrageous; it was just a small indulgence. He had done it a hundred times before. But this time, his response was different.

Seungmin smirked and, with his usual teasing tone, said, “You really asking me to buy you chocolates? What are you, a gold digger or something?”

It was supposed to be a joke, like the kind he always made. Seungmin loved teasing you, and you had always taken it in stride. But today, in that moment, the words hit you differently. Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just that you were tired of feeling like you were the one always asking for things, even when it was something small. But for some reason, this time, it felt like more than just a joke.

You froze for a moment, the smile on your face faltering as the words sank in. You blinked, trying to process, but before you could stop yourself, you found your voice, biting back the hurt, “Is that what you really think of me?”

Seungmin, who had been expecting a laugh or a sarcastic remark from you, was caught off guard by the sharpness in your tone. “What do you mean?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You looked at him, feeling the sting of his words in your chest. “I don’t know, Seungmin. I don’t know if I’m the one being ridiculous or if you’re serious right now.” You didn’t wait for his response, turning sharply and walking towards the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the store as you tried to make your way out.

The cashier stood there awkwardly, glancing between the two of you, clearly unsure of what just happened. Seungmin, still processing your reaction, quickly pulled out his wallet, paid for the chocolates, and rushed to catch up with you.

But you were already halfway to the car when he caught sight of you. He ran after you, his mind racing, thinking that maybe you were overreacting. He didn’t mean it the way it came out. It was just a joke. You always laughed at his jokes. You had to, right?

You reached the car and were already grabbing the door handle when Seungmin reached you, grabbing your wrist gently. “Wait, hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice filled with confusion and concern. “It was just a joke, I swear. I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”

But you didn’t turn around, and he could hear the slight quiver in your voice when you spoke, “I didn’t think it was funny.” Your words were soft, but they felt like a punch to his chest.

Seungmin felt a lump form in his throat. Something wasn’t right. You weren’t the type to cry. You never cried, especially not in front of him. He could see the way your shoulders were shaking slightly as you stood there, still facing the car, not meeting his eyes.

He stepped forward, his heart aching. “Please, don’t do this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, really,” he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly as he reached out for you, his hands trembling as he placed them on your shoulders. “Please, stop crying. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You know I never want to hurt you.”

You shook your head, trying to wipe your eyes quickly, but the tears just kept falling. It wasn’t like you at all and it tore him apart to see you like this. “I… I didn’t think you’d think I was that type of person,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I don’t know why you said that. I just wanted something small, Seungmin. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

He could feel the weight of your words and realized the gravity of his mistake. It wasn’t about the chocolates, and it never was. It was about how you felt, how your worth felt reduced to a joke in that moment, even if he never intended it.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he repeated, his hands gently gripping your arms now, his voice full of regret. “I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

The tears kept coming, and Seungmin’s heart shattered. He was about to say something else when he remembered the chocolates he had bought for you. He pulled the small box so you could see it and held it up gently. “I bought them for you… because I know you’ve been wanting them. I didn’t want to upset you. I just want to make you happy.”

Your breath hitched when you saw the box. It wasn’t about the chocolates, but the simple act of him remembering, the way he was trying to make it right. It didn’t take away the hurt, but it softened it, just enough for you to breathe again.

You turned to face him then, and Seungmin’s heart dropped when he saw your red eyes, the tear streaks on your cheeks. He reached for you again, pulling you into his arms without saying another word.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, holding you tightly as though he could somehow take away the pain he caused. “I never want to hurt you, ever. Please forgive me.”

You clung to him, finally letting go of the emotions you’d been holding in, the hurt and the confusion flooding out. He held you through it all, silently begging for your forgiveness, wishing he could take back that moment, that careless comment that cut deeper than either of you realized.

Eventually, your tears slowed, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him. “You didn’t mean it, did you?” you asked quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

He shook his head, his eyes full of regret. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry, I was just trying to joke around, but I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. The sting wasn’t gone, but with Seungmin’s arms around you, the weight of the moment felt a little lighter.

“I know you didn’t mean it, Seungmin,” you said softly, wiping your eyes. “But it still hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would.”

He nodded, understanding now. “I’ll never make that mistake again. I promise.”

And with that, you stood there together, both of you silent for a moment, the soft thrum of your shared apology hanging in the air between you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start and it was enough to begin healing the cracks in your heart.

The silence between you two had settled into something more comfortable now, the sharp edges of the earlier argument slowly dulled as Seungmin held the box out for you to take. His expression was softer, his eyes still filled with regret.

"Here," he said, his voice quiet but sincere, "I got these for you. I really didn’t mean what I said, okay? It was a stupid joke. I swear, I’d never want to make you feel like that."

You hiccuped softly, still trying to hold back the emotions swirling inside you. The box of chocolates in front of you was almost like a peace offering, but more than that, it was his way of showing you that he understood the hurt he caused. The sincerity in his voice settled into your chest like a weight lifting, but the sting of his words still lingered just beneath the surface.

Without thinking, and maybe a little too quickly, you snatched the box from his hands. Seungmin blinked, clearly surprised by your sudden action, but a small, relieved smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had expected you to take it gently, maybe even smile a little, but there was something about the way you took it that made him pause, still unsure of how much to apologize.

Before he could say anything else, you looked up at him, eyes still slightly watery, and with a teasing, almost playful grin, you added, "Because of that, though... I’m not sharing these with you."

Seungmin’s eyes widened in shock at your words. For a moment, he just stood there, blinking, as if trying to figure out if you were serious. But the playful glint in your eyes gave him his answer. You were, but it was a way of setting boundaries of letting him know you were still hurt, but in a way that kept the mood from staying too heavy.

“You’re not sharing?” he asked, his voice feigning disbelief but the playful tone creeping in. He raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping him. “You’re really going to do me like that?”

You shrugged, still holding the chocolates close to your chest, and gave him a sly smile. “Yep. You made me cry, Seungmin. That’s the price of your joke. You don’t get a single one.”

Seungmin let out a soft laugh, but it was tinged with regret as he shook his head. "Fair enough," he said, though his voice was still laced with the lingering remorse. "But you know I didn’t mean it, right? It was just a dumb joke.”

You took a deep breath, your smile softening slightly. “I know,” you said, and it was a truth you could feel yourself accepting. The hurt was still there, but you understood. “But still... you’re on thin ice with these chocolates.”

He laughed again, the tension easing between you two as he took a step closer. “Alright, alright. I’ll pay the price for the joke,” he said, his hand brushing yours gently as he reached for your arm. “But next time, no more stupid jokes, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow, still clutching the box protectively. "We’ll see," you said, a hint of mischief in your voice. "But if you make me laugh, I might reconsider.”

Seungmin grinned, a little more relieved now, seeing the playful spark returning in your eyes. He reached for your hand, gently tugging you towards him, his voice sincere again. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just, please, don’t leave me with an empty box of chocolates, okay?”

You looked at him, then at the chocolates, your heart warming a little more. “You’ll just have to work for it,” you said with a playful grin, and as you opened the box, you tossed him one piece with a small wink.

"One piece," you added, teasing. “And that's it. You owe me the rest.”

Seungmin laughed, leaning in to steal a small, quick kiss from your lips before pulling back, eyes filled with affection. "Deal," he said softly,

And as you both stood there, a little closer now, the sting from the joke finally faded into something sweeter, a shared moment of laughter and understanding that, even with the bumps along the way, the connection you shared was more than enough to heal the hurt.

//

masterlist.

[a/n: finally catching up on requests! if you’ve requested something i’m getting to it noww. i promise. 🤞😖]

❌ proofread

[dollyfiles]

lovely!kook!reader patching up pogue!jj after a fight with luke

lovely!kook!reader mlist

cw: mention of violence, blood, luke maybank, slight angst, fluff, suggestive towards the end, takes place before lovely!kook!reader and rafe get back together

the room was quiet, except for the distant hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional sharp inhale from jj as you dabbed at his busted lip. he sat on the edge of your bed, his hands clenched into fists against his knees, knuckles still raw from swinging back. but he wouldn’t say a word about it. wouldn’t give in to the pain, wouldn’t let it show. he was good at that—hiding. pretending.

“jesus, jay,” you muttered under your breath, tilting his chin up so you could get a better look at the damage. his skin was scraped raw in places, knuckles split and bleeding, his cheekbone bruised a sickly shade of red.

“didn’t know you cared so much, princess,” jj teased, though his voice was rough, strained. his head was pounding, his ribs ached like hell, but that wasn’t what had him so on edge.

it was you.

the way you stood between his legs, brow furrowed in concentration, your soft hands working so carefully to clean him up—like he wasn’t some reckless idiot who got in fights every other day. like he wasn’t used to this. like he was something worth fixing.

“ya’ trying to kill me?” he hissed, gripping your wrist as the disinfectant hit his wound. “oh, please..” you scoffed, shaking him off. “you’re not that fragile.” but still, your fingertips skimmed his jaw like you were afraid he might break. and that was the thing—jj didn’t break. at least, not in ways people could see.

he let out a breathy chuckle. if only you knew. people didn’t do this for him. he was used to brushing off his bruises with a joke, used to people rolling their eyes, maybe calling him an idiot before moving on. but this—this silent anger in your eyes, this gentle care, this deep, unspoken need to fix something that had been broken for years—jj didn’t know how to handle it.

you surely didn’t have to ask who did this to him—you already knew. luke maybank was a piece of shit. that was more than obvious to anyone who met him. and jj? stubborn and reckless as he was—had been bearing the strength of his fists for years.

it made something burn in you. a deep, helpless kind of rage. because what could you do? call the cops? jj would never let you. confront luke yourself? that was a suicide mission.

you hated this. hated knowing that jj came from a house that was more battlefield than home. but no matter how much you wanted to fix this, to fix him, you didn’t know how.

“hey,” jj said, snapping you from your thoughts. his thumb brushed against your knee, his voice unusually soft. “i’m fine, y/n.”

you swallowed, forcing your eyes back to his lip. “you’re not fine,” you muttered, running a featherlight touch over his cheek. “you just like pretending you are.”

jj smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “what can i say? i’m a great actor.” you huffed, setting the first aid kit aside. “yeah, well, you suck at taking care of yourself though.”

jj’s lips twitched, for a moment he thought it was funny but then he realized that there was actually some truth behind it. because yeah, he sucked at taking care of himself. always had. it was easier that way. easier to ignore it, push it down, pretend none of it mattered.

but you were making it matter.

and that scared the shit out of him.

he tried to brush it off though, eyes flicking down to your lips instead. “that why you’re doing it for me?” you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. instead, you grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up slightly, placing the bandaid firmly against his cheek.

jj groaned, his hands gripping your bare thighs as you moved to stand between his legs, “i think you just like manhandling me.” you couldn’t help but smirked at that, “you are kinda fun to push around.”

jj snorted, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. his touch was warm, casual—but there was nothing casual about the way his hands lingered, the way his fingertips skimmed just a little higher each time. “y’know, if you wanted an excuse to get close to me, you could’ve just asked.”

you gave him a look. “you have a busted lip, and you’re still flirting?” the pogue boy leaned in, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “can’t help it. you love it.”

and fuck, the way your breath hitched—the way your lips parted like you wanted to argue but couldn’t—yeah, he was right.

maybe you did.

your grip on his jaw tightened slightly, your gaze flickering to his mouth. his lips were split and swollen, but good god, that didn’t stop you from thinking about how good they felt against yours.

jj noticed. of course he did. he always noticed. “what?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your lips. “gonna kiss me better?” you rolled your eyes, but your resolve was already slipping.

“maybe,” you murmured, grazing your finger over another sharp cut on his cheek. and then, without any warning, jj moved.

his hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips as he pulled you onto his lap in one quick, effortless motion. you let out a breathy laugh, steadying yourself against his shoulders. “jay—”

you were straddling him, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his waist, completely caught up in the heat of him. “you talk too much,” he muttered, and then he was kissing you.

it started off slow, sensual and teasing, his tongue grazing your soft lips, but jj—always impatient—tilted his head and deepened it, his hands roaming up your back, fingers sliding under your shirt, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

and maybe he didn’t. maybe, for the first time in his life, someone actually gave a shit about him. and he couldn’t loose that.

he never thought you, a kook—someone so soft, so good, so far from his world—would be the one taking care of him like this. the one wanting him. not just for the fun, not just for the thrill, but actually wanting him.

and jj wanted you. wanted you so bad it made his head spin.

you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his blonde hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you pressed yourself closer. your hips almost moving on their own as they grinded down onto him. and just as things got more heated—jj winced, his whole body tensing beneath you.

you pulled back immediately, eyes big and concern flashing in them, “jay?” he exhaled through his nose, trying to play it off, one hand pressing against the side of his stomach. “m’fine, don’t stop—”

but you weren’t stupid. your gaze flickered downward, suspicion creeping in as you reached for the hem of his shirt. jj caught your wrists, shaking his head. “y/n—”

“let me see.” jj sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “it’s really nothing—”, you glared at him, leaving no room for argument and after a long beat, jj finally gave in, letting go of your wrists as you slowly lifted his shirt.

what you saw made your stomach drop. a deep, ugly bruise stretched across his ribs, the purple and yellow color stark against his tanned skin. it looked fresh, painful, like he had taken more than just a couple of punches from his dad.

you sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers ghosting over the bruised skin, so careful, so gentle, and fuck—jj hated that it made his throat tight. “how could he—,” you shook your head, cutting your own words, “why didn’t you tell me?”

but jj just looked away. he hated this part. hated the pity, the sympathy, the way people looked at him like he was weak. but when he risked a glance at you, there was none of that. just anger.

he shrugged, eyes flickering away again. “didn’t wanna ruin the mood.” you stared at him, disbelief clear on your face. “are you kidding?” jj sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “look, it’s fine—”

“it’s not fine,” you snapped, climbing off his lap and grabbing the first aid kit again. “you could have broken ribs, jj.” he groaned, dropping back against the pillows. “you really know how to kill a moment, princess.”

you ignored him, pulling out a bottle of pain relief gel. “shut up and lift your shirt.” jj smirked up at you, “damn, at least buy me dinner first.” you shot him a glare, squeezing a glob of the gel onto your fingers. “next time i’ll just let you suffer.”

“you’d miss me too much.” you huffed but didn’t deny it. cause it was true. instead, you gently spread the gel over his bruised skin, watching as his expression softened slightly, the tension in his body easing under your touch.

jj’s eyes flickered up to yours, something soft settling in his gaze. “you don’t have to do this, y’know,” he murmured. you swallowed, your fingers lingering on his skin. “yea,” you whispered. “i do.”

jj swallowed, something hot rising in his throat. guilt, maybe. embarrassment. hell if he knew. but you didn’t push, didn’t ask him to talk about it.

he just watched you, chest tight. why were you doing this? why did you care? and then, jj reached up, brushing his knuckles lightly against your cheek. “you’re kinda perfect, y/n,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

you felt your heart clench, warmth spreading through your chest at his words. yet you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse raced. “you’re just saying that ‘cause i’m taking care of your dumb ass.”

“maybe.” jj smiled, like genuinely smiled. but this time he meant every word.

tags: @gibson-g1rl @girlyrafe @beausling @bambiangels @rafesheaven @rafescokewhore @rafesprecious @rafeysbangs @rafesbowbunny @rafesangelita @chris444evr @dearapril @drewsephrry @doestarkey @littlelamy @maybanksangel @maybanksbaby @sematarygirls @cherrygirlfriend @anqelrafe @plaidcowboy @inspiredangel @rafekisser @whinyangel @starzify @prncesschloe @kissyrafe @et6rnalsun @fawnhart @rafesweetie

[littlelamy]

HI THERE! new anon here yasss, okay so i just got this idea

it's kinda a trope where in this case- reader has strict parents, and well obviously- rafe doesnt yknow but, ANYWAYS

I was thinking he texts her and just asks if he can see her or take her out somewhere and she's just like- at first she takes a min to respond but then comes back with "my parents said no :/" and rafe's just like, absolutely flabbergasted. "youre joking, right?" "hm?" "y/n youre 20. seriously?" LIKE- YKNOW?? 😭😭😭😭 you can have the convo go however you please, but however it does end up in rafe being fed up and just going over there and talking to her parents himself teeheeeeee

and reader's all nervous and scared and and and- you can choose how to end it :>

- 🤗 (if it's not taken- if it is that's my mistake but after sending this i'll go ahead and look at your anon list if you have one!)

notes: hi anonie, of course! 🤍

your phone buzzes on your bed, the screen lighting up with a name that makes your stomach do a little flip.

rafe.

rafe <3: wanna go out? take a drive or something?

you bite your lip, staring at the message. you want to. God, do you want to. but you already know what your parents are going to say. still, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing out the inevitable response.

you: my parents said no :/

not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes again.

rafe <3: you’re joking, right?

you: hm?

rafe <3: y/n you’re fucking 20. are you serious?

there’s a beat of silence, and then another text.

rafe <3: this is insane. i’m coming over.

panic flares in your chest, your fingers flying across the keyboard.

you: rafe, NO.

rafe <3: baby, YES.

before you can try to stop him, he's already made up his mind. and when rafe cameron decides on something, there’s no talking him out of it.

twenty minutes later, you hear the unmistakable sound of his truck pulling up in front of your house. your stomach twists as you rush to your window, peeking out to see him stepping out of the driver's seat, his jaw set, determination written all over his face.

"shit," you whisper under your breath, nerves tightening your chest.

before you can even process your next move, there's a knock at your front door. your heart leaps into your throat.

"who's that?" your dad calls from the living room, suspicion laced in his tone.

you barely have time to react before he’s already opening the door. you squeeze your eyes shut, internally bracing for impact.

"mr. l/n," rafe's voice is smooth, polite, way too confident for someone who just stormed over uninvited. "i wanted to talk to you about y/n."

oh god.

you creep forward, peeking around the corner as your dad eyes rafe, arms crossed over his chest. "talk about what, exactly?"

rafe doesn’t miss a beat. "about why she’s twenty years old and still has a curfew."

your mom gasps from the kitchen. you swear you stop breathing.

"excuse me?" your dad's voice drops, the warning clear.

rafe, to his credit, doesn’t back down. "sir, with all due respect, she’s an adult. she should be able to make her own decisions."

your dad’s brow twitches, gaze narrowing. "and you think you get to decide that?"

"no, sir," rafe replies smoothly, voice unwavering. "but she should."

the room falls into tense silence, your mother looking between them like she’s watching a high-stakes poker game. you want to run, to disappear into the floor, but you’re frozen in place, caught between admiration for rafe’s boldness and terror for what might come next.

then, miraculously, your dad exhales, shaking his head with something that looks almost like amusement. "you've got some nerve, kid."

rafe smirks. "yeah, i’ve been told."

another pause. then your dad sighs, the weight of years of protectiveness slipping just slightly. "be back by midnight."

you nearly collapse.

rafe turns, catching your wide-eyed stare, and winks. "told you i’d fix it."

and just like that, you’re out the door, hand in his, heart still racing—but this time, it’s not from fear. it’s from the exhilaration of stepping into something new, something that finally feels like yours.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry @lil-sparklqueen

[cybrasigilism]

A Little Caught Up (Park Min-su/Player 125 X F! Reader DRABBLE)

warnings: smut | not proofread | lowercase intended | rough dom! reader | bondage | degradation | overstimulation | crying | piv | f! reader | mommy kink | outside the games | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: park min-su (player 125)

A/N: THANK YOU @gongyoosgf FOR THIS IDEA OMG, needed min-su tied up YESTERDAY (jokes i swear), but in all seriousness i hope you guys enjoy!

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

“p..p—lease mommy, i can’t take it..”

min-su’s pathetic whines only egged you on while you rode him with more aggression than you’d ever done in the past. he was tied up, completely at your mercy as you fucked him through another orgasm. “oh? y- can’t take it?” you echoed, grabbing hold of his face. “that’s rich, considering you were practically begging me to do this before— if you’re gonna be a slut, don’t be pathetic.” his head fell backwards, overwhelmed from the pleasure as you began to grind down onto him; a pornographic moan leaving his lips in response.

you had to admit, seeing min-su this fucked out beneath you was such a fucking turn on. each time your ends met you dug your nails into him a little bit harder, which in turn made him cry out. you weren’t going to stop though, no way. tears were streaming down his face but you knew he loved this— he loved that his wrists were bound away from him, that he couldn’t touch you or hold you back from going buck wild on his cock. there was no need to convince him to say or do anything because you had this boy in the palm of your hand, and you definitely took advantage of this.

“ are ya’ feelin’ good, sweetie?” you groaned, pressing your palms down on his chest as though to steady yourself before going back to riding him. he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils totally blown. “m-making me f—eel s’ good, mommy.” fuck, you felt yourself tighten around him even more each time he called you that. before min-su, you never would have imagined yourself to enjoy being called mommy, but the way he said it made your stomach do backflips. you wanted to praise him for being so obedient, but he already knew how good he made you feel, so you wanted to try something different.

“you better be, might as well be working overtime to fuck you this good.” you snarled, your speed and rhythm only increasing. “who else can make you feel this good? who else would want to make you feel this good?”

“ju-ust you, oh god— fuck me mommy..” you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither would you at this rate. you could feel him tremble beneath you even with all the commotion you were causing. but he asked for you to be rough with him this time, and you were stopping for no one.

══════════════════

thanks for reading! this one’s been sitting in the drafts for an embarrassing amount of time, but i’m in good spirits and wanted to produce some content! i’ll try to work through some requests :)

as usual, any constructive criticism/advice on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @agornotsworld @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet