#someone else has definitely noticed this im just being

[tobesolnelyx]

fratboy!lottie with a VERY insightful + empathic girl fem!reader who literally sees right through Lottie. her inner pain, the reasons for her behavior, what she hides, everything. fem!reader doesn't know the exact answers, but she always guesses (and somehow always right), and she just really wants to help Lottie feel better, her main goal is to make Lottie feel accepted and loved, but Lottie herself has a hard time with someone digging around in her head. She is simply very scared that someone sees her so deeply, but at the same time, it seems, continues to love her. NSFW or SFW it doesn't matter!!

I really hope that this request will be heard because I have never seen anything like this. thank you for everything you do!

— every breath you take || fratboy!lottie matthews x fem!reader 🪐

a/n: yes, im very aware about what this song is. STILL, it reminded me about this cute little tik tok trend. it's not as cute lol, wrote this while listening all too well 10 minutes version

summary: your girlfriend has problems, but you can't really help when someone is scared of that, can you? hurt/comfrot.

warnings: toxic parents, family issues.

word count: around 1.6k

“Are you alright?” you asked, even though it was more than certain Lottie wouldn’t answer. At least not directly, not with any honesty. That wasn’t what frustrated you most—it wasn’t that she was unreadable. In truth, she wasn’t that hard to decipher. Not because she was transparent, but because when she shut herself off from everyone and pretended she didn’t need anyone, you could still see right through her.

She wanted to be your support, but she didn’t necessarily want it to work the other way around.

You never quite understood why you got her so well. Honestly, Lottie found it more irritating than anything else. You always seemed to know what to do, what to say, how to act. And she had no idea what to do with any of that. She didn’t like how deep you could dig, didn’t like the part of her that knew she would eventually have to open up if this thing between you was going to work. After all, no one had ever taught her how to build something healthy… how to go through all this.

Even the way she held herself—tense, frozen, like an animal alert to danger—told you that things were far from okay. She was staring at some invisible point in the distance, sitting on the porch, lazily smoking a cigarette in her left hand. Her blouse was unbuttoned and wrinkled, the aftermath of whatever that family gathering had been.

Eventually, Lottie looked at you and sighed, then wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. She smelled like cigarette smoke and some absurdly expensive perfume. You didn’t even know the brand, but it stung your nose—it always did. She used too much of it.

“Sure” she murmured. Even though her voice sounded like she’d just spent an hour breaking rocks in a quarry, her tone was firm enough to shut down the topic. “Just tired.”

The problem was, you tended to push. Not because you wanted to burden her further or expose all her wounds at once and betray her entirely. It was more that you just wanted to help. You just didn’t know how—other than always being right.

The porch light flickered. Moths and mosquitoes had begun to gather around it. The Matthews’ backyard was wrapped in stillness, broken only by the rustling trees and the gentle trickle of water in the pond. Evening was cooling, and Lottie was lazily rubbing your arm, trying to warm you up. You’d have to go back inside soon anyway—someone would eventually notice and come looking. Lottie definitely didn’t want to be found. She preferred to return on her own, even if it meant facing more passive-aggressive comments, masked in charm and soaked in overpriced wine.

She never told you outright, but you saw it. It wasn’t hard to miss. From the first dinner with her parents, you noticed how stiff she became in their presence. At first, you didn’t understand. Lottie had everything she could ever want. She practically embodied the stereotype of a rich brat who thought the world owed her.

But by the next family gathering—the one you had the (dis)pleasure of attending—you saw what you’d missed the first time. When her dad cracked his jokes at dinner, and her mom offered you dessert with a too-sweet smile, you finally noticed the barbs. The offhand comments, prettily wrapped like gifts, pretending to be something they weren’t. It wasn’t just comparisons to other kids from that outrageously wealthy neighborhood. It was the nitpicking, the little jabs placed precisely where the seams were weakest, slipping through soft fabric to pierce the core.

You wondered if they said things about you, too, behind your back. Maybe Lottie never meant to tell you, but by the way people looked at you across the table—and the way Lottie’s hand grew clammy as she held yours beneath it—you were fairly certain you weren’t the dream candidate.

“Girls,” came the sugary voice of one of Lottie’s aunts, the kind that made her visibly shudder. “It’s getting cold. Come in.”

It wasn’t a request. Not even a question. Just an order, as if the woman—dressed in hopelessly mismatched clothes—might perish from scandal if you didn’t obey. Sometimes you wondered if it had always been this way. If Lottie had always lived under this looming pressure, with family breathing down her neck, whispering that she had to be someone. That she had to do something worthwhile—anything that wouldn’t bring shame to them all.

Fights happened.

Maybe even more often than either of you wanted to admit. They weren’t an everyday occurrence, but they were a constant presence—repeating themselves in familiar rhythms. Something would stir inside Lottie, something she wasn’t willing to talk about, and all it took was a glance from you to know something was off. Most times, it had to do with her family, so guessing the source of the tension wasn’t exactly difficult.

“Lot,” you murmured, climbing into bed beside her as she sat, hollow-eyed, nursing yet another cigarette like it might ease the pressure bearing down on her chest—as if it might offer some kind of solace.

Lottie felt disappointed. Disappointed that her parents had never given her what she truly needed. And until she met you, she’d believed love simply wasn’t for her. The whole idea of it seemed distant, like something meant for other people, never for her.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” she muttered, waving you off like a fly buzzing at her ear, trying to quiet the world.

It ended differently each time.

Sometimes in sex—when you slipped behind her and offered something to anchor her, if only for a moment. In those tangled limbs and synchronised breaths, she could almost believe she was someone worth holding on to. Someone you needed.

Sometimes she simply left—fleeing the conversation, disappearing for hours to wrestle whatever storm raged in her mind. You knew what haunted her. That knowledge alone unnerved her. She had been ignored for so long, bought off with money and silence. And then you came along and gave her too much attention. Too much care.

And sometimes—worst of all—you both ended up screaming.

You tried to understand her, always. But you were only human, with a storm of your own. The frustration would rise until it boiled over. Lottie never needed to explain herself—because you already knew. But that didn’t mean she wanted to talk about any of it. Partly because she feared you’d one day treat her like her parents did. And partly because saying it aloud—naming that fear of never being enough—might make it real. Like a curse fulfilled the moment it passed her lips.

“You don’t get it!” she’d explode when you pushed too hard. But she knew you did. Probably better than anyone ever had, and that scared the hell out of her.

“For God’s sake, just let it go! Can you even do that?”

“I’m asking for one conversation, Lottie!” Your arms fell to your sides, your eyes wide with disbelief. Like you hadn’t had this same, senseless argument a dozen times. But maybe that’s what it took. Maybe this was some part of the process. You clung to the hope that one day, Lottie would understand you the way you tried so hard to understand her.

“It’s not that much, is it? I see something’s wrong!”

“Because you’re a nosy bitch, that’s why!” She didn’t mean it. But she wasn’t thinking about what she said. “Just stop hovering, okay? Maybe we’re together, but I don’t need you playing my fucking mother all the time!” She gestured wildly. “I’m sick of your bullshit. You don’t know shit about how I feel!”

Lottie was terrified by how deeply you saw her. So she did what she knew: she pushed. Hard.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, drew in a long breath, and readied yourself to say something—maybe to soothe her, to try again, to start from the beginning like you always did.

But the door had already slammed behind her, Lottie gone in a fury.

Only to return hours later with flowers in hand, kissing your face like a woman drowning, apologising through half-sobs. Telling you she didn’t mean any of it. That she’d just been upset. That she loved you more than anything, and she couldn’t lose you—not over something so stupid.

You both knew it wasn’t just something stupid. But you let it slide. Even though you knew better.

You gave her space to be safe, even when she squirmed inside it, unable to sit still in her own skin. You forgave her—because no matter how often she pushed you away, she always pulled you back again. Like she didn’t know what to do with this strange new feeling—being seen, heard, held—for the first time in her life.

Later, Lottie would learn what a healthy family could look like.

She’d learn it when you brought her home for the holidays, to your parents’ house. She might’ve cried—just a little—when your mother baked her favourite cake just because she wanted. Curled beside you in bed late that night, she let the tears fall quietly, not saying a word. You might’ve planted that idea yourself. Just maybe.

[usernyoom]

HELLO??? HELLO?????? SAME SOFA SAME ROOM HELLO??? (x, x)

[cinnabeat]

i love how kh games are just sometimes psychological horrors

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) ̨ give me a chance ! ୨୧ 一 황현진 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ hyunjin is tired of you not giving him a chance  ヾ

bestfriend!hyunjin・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ mean dom hyune, unprotected sex, degradation ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i rq mean dom hyune x his slutty best friend reader idk the plot but ... yeah smut 😃

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!

hyunjin supported everything you did; of course, as his best friend of many years, he supported all your doings. even if that meant listening to you go on and on about your latest fuck with a random dude in a bar — or the random man from tinder that you invited back to your home to fuck , or any of the random men you fuck weekly … yeah he listened to all of it — even if he dreamed of being one of the guys you fucked, maybe being the only guy you fucked.

“when i tell you he was big, hyunjin he was huge.” he sat barely listening to you talk as you laid on his bed , legs swinging off the side of his bed. “i feel like there’s a but to this?” he heard you sigh. “he couldn’t for the life of me make me cum.” you had no problem getting the guy; you just had trouble finding the right guy, a guy who get you there. “it’s like if you’re gonna have a big dick at least use it right, i thought all guys with big dicks knew to use them.”

maybe it was the slight buzz he had from the soju that was sitting on the nightstand; or maybe it was because your boobs we’re about to slip from your tank top, but it was like his mouth moved before his brain could even register what to say. “just because a guy has a big dick doesn’t mean he knows how to use it.” he said. “you’ve fucked about 10 guys with quote big dicks and none of them made you cum, i thought you would’ve figured it out already.”

“you’re saying that like you know someone with a big dick and can use it.” your tank top strap falling down your shoulders, you smirked. “oh i do.” he said, hand coming up to your shoulder strap — the tension in the room suddenly changing and his eyes darkening as he grabbed the strap. “but you’re too busy slutting yourself out to random dudes to notice.” he yanked down the strap, your boobs finally free from the shirt. “hyune!”

you tried to cover your bust, but he was quick to slap your hands away. “finally get to see those tits you love showing other dudes.” you should've pushed him away, you were his best friend, it was highly inappropriate. but as he pushed you back , climbing on top of you and you actually got a feel of his hard cock — you quickly forgot about that and allowed him to pull all your clothes off.

“giving your body to just anyone who looks your way.” he slapped your bare cunt. “not even looking my way once.” he growled, grabbing the base of his cock, stroking himself. “messy fucking pussy, you just get wet for any guy don’t you?” you moaned as he used the pad of his thumb rubbing little circles on your bud. “ju-just you.”

“just me?” he smirked, rubbing his cock up and down your slit. “you mean you weren’t even wet when you were fucking them?” he teased you by pushing his tip into your hole. “just left them use you as a cum dump?” he pushed the rest of his cock inside you. “fuck!” both of you moaned out. “fuck you’re tight , clearly they weren’t that big , your little pussy is quivering right now, struggling to take my fat cock.” he groaned , slowly moving his hips. “this is what a real big cock is supposed to feel like.”

you weren’t gonna lie, he definitely was the biggest yet, his cock was stretching you out. “s-so big.” he chuckled condescendingly. “i know.” he cursed as he pulled out. “im about to ruin this pussy for anyone else.” he slammed back inside forcing his cock all the way in. “fucking slut.” he hissed , moving his hips , pulling your shirt down letting your boobs bounce freely. “tired of listening to how you slut yourself out.” he groaned. “you wanna be a slut , gonna fuck you like one.”

his hand coming up to your throat, squeezing as his cock bullied your sweet spot. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed. “to-too much hyune.” he didn’t slow down though, his thrust were relentless. “take it slut.” he cursed. “if you can take all those random dudes' cocks you can take mine.”

you were a mess; tears streaming down your face, the way his hips snapped against yours, his hands slapping your clit. “you’re crying? my dick is making you go dumb?” babbling nonsense as you felt your orgasm approaching. “fuck your pussy is squeezing me, you gonna cum slut?” you nodded. “cum. cum all over my cock.” your legs shook as you came, but he didn’t stop. “im not done.” he groaned. “you came but i didn't and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“gonna use this pussy as my own personal cumdump.”

©️LUVYENI

[wordbunch]

a/n: to all my moots and friends, no you didn't see me post this and yes im still your comfort lotr girl!!! to all others, hello & welcome to my newest obsession yes I have been corrupted. ENJOY!!!!

emperor Geta headcanons

warnings: toxic behavior obviously lol, mild nsfw-ish mentions, this man should be taken with caution by all means

this man loves like he was starved and then brought to a feast - he inhales and devours every inch of you, every texture, scent, sound, personality trait, quirk, he will eat you UPPPP in every sense of the word; he wants his senses full of you and he can't ever get enough

he is definitely a very obsessive and possessive person, observant, sharp, witty. also when it comes to prayers and sacrifices, he means business - he dead seriously prayed for a wife who was headstrong, intelligent, passionate and fearless; someone who could match him in every way, whom he could verbally spar with, word for word, but also someone who'd have his back unconditionally as he doesn't really have many people to genuinely rely on. he wanted an equal, and he was also hoping for someone either his age or even a bit older - he was afraid of having a childish partner who wouldn't properly fill in a tremendously important role

he is 110% a switch and it fully depends on what kinda day he'd had and the mood he's in

contrary to many interpretations and rumors, he isn't horny 24/7!!!! like yes he IS insanely attracted to you, but his days can be so impossibly draining and tedious so sometimes he would just rather lie down with you and have you close, than do anything else. also, he doesn't do quickies or anything of the sort; he likes to go all in and take his sweet time with you, or let you have your way with him. he enjoys being dedicated and not distracted in bed with you. all in or nothing for this man. and yes he is vocal.

one thing that makes him feel absolutely AMAZING (and you realized quite quickly thankfully)is when you draw him a bath - yes it must be YOU specifically who does it - and then either give him a shoulder rub or wash his hair, or both. he will become putty in your hands and relax more than he can explain in words. pamperrr him sometimes 🥹😭 he finds it so thoughtful that you do this for him at the end of a taxing day; after all, there is nothing in the world he wouldn't do for you.

speaking of, when Geta notices something is off with you, he won't ask if he can make you happy again somehow, he will ask you to name what you want him to do, and he will do it. you are the only person with that effect on him.

most definitely is turned on by someone who is smart and witty and perceptive. also he has very keen eyes and he can read even your slightest signals, even in a crowded room, especially in a crowded room, and he also appreciates when you can read him without him having to verbalize anything to you

the most Protective Person of all time, God forbid someone looks at you wrong!!!

showers you with gifts

you will LOVE this - he likes when you match in some subtle, or obvious, way, like the same pattern on your robes, the same gems on your jewels, anything that shows off your bond and shows that you belong to him and he belongs to you completely. 🤍

almost weekly he has night terrors and horrible dreams either about his childhood/how they were treated by their father, or about something awful happening to you. you always do your best to comfort him, knowing that you're the only one who can do that and the only one allowed to see him in such a state

so you whisper sweet nothings to him, like promises you would never hurt him in any way and that you will always do your best to protect him and love him

touch starved, touch obsessed, cannot sleep without you in the bed, cannot sleep when you are on a journey somewhere and misses you terribly; can barely wait for you to return and then grip you in his arms and just breathe you in

obsessed with your scent

very often you are his impulse control and you just have the power to center him when he's losing his grip on a situation

he is so used to being in control (or having to be), that he will really spiral when a situation is getting out of hand and he feels not powerful enough to stop or change something. he is really bad at holding it together when shit is going down, and half the time he seems to be two steps away from a breakdown. honestly, sometimes you just have to let him rage, panic, and vent it out in whatever way, and he will come back to himself- and to your embrace-shortly.

he needs your approval and appreciation like air. if you don't think he is doing a good job, if you don't think (and show) he is smart, capable, if he isn't the center of your universe, nothing else matters at all

he will combust if he doesn't have at least a hand on you at all times

sometimes he still can't believe how you love him - people who touch him usually either want something from him, fear him, despise him, or all those - your gentle touch is an unfamiliar, yet welcome sensation; he can't get enough.

let's be real he can get anything he wants from you when he looks at you with those gigantic brown eyes, but somehow he seems unaware of that (and you already give him everything anyway)

if big gatherings and constant celebrations aren your thing, he will not let you out of his sight and, as much as you need him there to comfort you, he needs you on his arm to feel happy, safe and fulfilled. you just complete each other. 💛

as much as he enjoys every single loving nickname you give him, especially if you call him 'your' anything - your love, your darling, your heart, your pride and joy - but even more he will melt if you just call him by his name, as one of the very few (if not only) person who utters it with love, softness, adoration...unlike many who spit it out hatefully like poison

Geta feels veryyyy smug and proud of himself when he does an act of service for you, such as giving you a massage or bringing you a drink - look at him, he gets served things left and right, but he remains SO devoted to you only.

well, was that something? leave it to me to humanize the worst (actually historical) person ever and give him some PROPER FLUFF🫠

[7s3ven]

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

[goomyloid]

Can you tell me about your dt player. Since from the way you portray them they aren’t meant to be you. Kinda your oc in a way huh. It’s a cool depiction so that’s why I’m curious.

well today is your lucky day because i literally just filled out this chart right before answering this:

basically my version of them is thoroughly mentally disconnected from all consequences, because everything is just a game to them.

apathetic with only the desire to see what happens, and what becomes of kris and noelle (in the weird route). They always just barely have the upper hand; if things don't proceed down a certain path (i.e. aborted weird route or something) it's only because they allowed for it to happen. kris is very smart, but 'our' knowledge just objectively surpasses theirs in every way. for the most part.

i guess if i had to describe them as a real-life player, it would be the kind of person that plays all the routes without feeling bad about it, someone that somehow doesnt feel as though they're entirely to blame for the story going this way. (they taunt kris over this, maybe just to pick at their brain to get a look of how they're feeling about all of this.)

after all, deltarune is a game. it's meant to be played, it's only natural that people will want to pick it apart inside and out with its level of popularity. nothing should make a player feel bad about playing the game that they bought and spent time on.

regardless of one's investment in the characters, the world is simply not real to us. but in terms of vessel specifically talking to kris or something, it's not like THEY'RE the one saying "kris you're not real lol" or anything like that, it's more so their existence as a 'watcher' of sorts outside the bounds of comprehensible reality renders them in a similar position as us, someone in control and free from any consequences (presumably), letting kris and co. take the brunt of all your wrongdoings.

there's all of that, but i also like to portray them as being more on the extreme side, going as far as to treat characters fictional even when said character is standing right in front of them.

the 'commodification' of noelle plays into this a lot i think. we haven't seen it much in game so far, but we get the implied player attachment to her via treating kris as a self-insert of sorts just so you can get weirdly, creepily close to and controlling over noelle. it comes off more as vessel only wanting to be close to noelle and kind of discarding kris, just like they once were (lol).

the player's funny little fixation on noelle definitely throws a wrench in things kris-and-noelle-relationship wise, because this Thing is masquerading as kris, and noelle (and maybe toriel to a degree) is the only person able to tell something's wrong. it's almost like Hikaru Ga Shinda Natsu in a way -- your friend has been replaced, and you're the only person to notice just because you know them so well. it comes down to noelle's heart and ability to see through whatever vessel throws at her, if she'll be able to reach her hand out and save kris from sinking away before it's too late.

ummm. im getting off track. got too krisellepilled for a sec. VESSEL. i'm definitely not immune to portraying them more lightheartedly sometimes, but when I do that, it's usually in game, more so showing up as the soul instead lol

they're still sarcastic and blunt and weird, but at least they're not crazy destructive and sociopathic. gotta tone it down for the sillies

anyway i think thats all i can think of to say at the moment, if i think of something else big i might add it in a reblog, idk lol. thank you for asking, sorry about the long post!

[sirxaibs]

Bruce Wayne | Batman X Reader

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ You’re Weird ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

masterlist

Check it, Bruce sees you’re drowning and wants to make sure you’re ok. Gotham gazette has a few other ideas.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ Your fingers curled around the warm ceramic mug, the heat soothing your skin. “It’s weird,” you mused, glancing around at the clean streets, the laughter of children in a nearby park, the general lack of sirens. “Being here makes Gotham feel like a fever dream. Like I blinked and woke up in a world that doesn’t smell like wet concrete and cigarette smoke.”

The scent of freshly ground coffee beans swirled in the crisp Metropolis air, rich and inviting. You sat across from Bruce Wayne at a quiet café tucked on the corner of Hyperion Avenue, the kind of place that prided itself on being “low key millennial vibe,” though the exposed brick walls and imported furniture suggested otherwise. Still, it was a breath of fresh air from Gotham’s perpetual gloom.

Bruce smiled over the rim of his espresso, the smallest curve of his lips. “I told you Metropolis would be good for you. A different pace. Safer.”

“Definitely safer,” you nodded, chuckling softly. “Though a little… unnerving? Like it’s too perfect. No edge.”

“You miss the unnerving…ness?”

“I feel like Gotham just might have more personality?” You grinned, teasing. “Besides, there’s no challenge in writing about Metropolis. They treat their criminals like punchlines.”

Bruce looked at you then. That quiet intensity in his eyes, the one you always caught glimpses of in rare, unguarded moments. “You like the challenge. That’s what makes you different.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Different?”

“Just different, you don’t have to think too hard on it”

You looked down, the compliment sinking into your chest a little deeper than you were prepared for. “ahhhh okok whatever mister cryptic. What are we doing in metropolis anyways? you havent even done any work while here”

A pause.

“thats true,” Bruce said softly. “Maybe I wanted to see what it’d be like. Sharing coffee somewhere bright for once.”

Your heart did a little pirouette in your chest. It was nothing nothing, right? Just a moment. A shared breath.

But before you could say anything, a familiar voice called out from the sidewalk.

“Bruce! Well, I’ll be damned!”

Bruce’s smile flattened like someone had stepped on it. You turned in your chair to see a tall man in glasses and a warm beige trench coat strolling up, the sun glinting off his dark hair. Clark Kent. You’d seen him in bylines, youre pretty sure youve seen him carrying a camera around. Mild mannered, curious, somehow always in the right place at the right time. And right now, he looked delighted.

“Clark,” Bruce greeted, standing only because etiquette demanded it. His handshake was brief. You noticed the way his jaw ticked as Clark’s gaze immediately shifted to you.

“And you must be the [Y/N] [L/N],” Clark said, eyes lighting up. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

You blinked. “You… are?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. That piece you did on Clayface? Incredible. All your stories go into so much depth and extremely captivating.”

You felt yourself flush. “That means a lot. It’s mice to meet you.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, his cup suddenly very uninteresting as he picked it up for a sip he didn’t take.

Clark pulled out the empty chair beside you and sat before you could protest. “Oh! Im Clark by the way! I’ve always believed there’s more to every story than just the ‘bad guy’ angle. But the way you frame it, like… you make people care. You make them wonder if these villains could’ve been something else in a different world.”

You smiled, glowing under the praise. “That’s exactly what I try to do. Gotham’s complicated. Everyone wants to point fingers, but no one wants to understand the systems that failed them.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Clark nodded. “You ever think of working in Metropolis?”

Bruce’s cup hit the table a little harder than necessary.

“I like Gotham,” you said, glancing at Bruce. “It’s home. And having a indepth understanding makes for good copy.”

Clark laughed. “Fair enough. Still, if you ever need a second pair of eyes or someone to bounce drafts off, I’d be happy to.”

Bruce cleared his throat.

You turned to see him leaning back in his chair, expression unreadable, but his fingers were drumming a silent rhythm on the armrest.

“So, Clark,” Bruce said coolly, “I’m sure the Daily Planet is keeping you busy.”

“Oh, always,” Clark chuckled. “But it’s not every day I bump into old friends… and get to meet such impressive company.”

You smiled politely, but you couldn’t miss the faint twitch in Bruce’s brow. For the first time since you’d met him, he looked rattled. It was almost adorable.

“So, Bruce,” you teased, turning your gaze back to him, “you were telling me about that time you nearly got arrested in Paris for what was it again?”

Bruce straightened. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Clark’s eyebrows rose, amused. “Arrested? Now this sounds like a story.”

“No,” Bruce said flatly.

You laughed and shook your head, the tension easing around the edges. But beneath the surface, you could feel it. Something had shifted. Bruce had invited you to Metropolis under the guise of research, but his eyes said more than that. His gaze lingered when Clark made you laugh, and his mouth set into a thin line every time you and Clark found common ground. You weren’t sure what to do with that yet. But you knew one thing for certain… You kind of liked it.

And Bruce? He looked like he was very much not enjoying sharing the spotlight not when it came to you. Especially not with someone like Clark Kent.

The conversation had drifted into the realm of old journalism war stories. Clark was on his third anecdote about chasing down Luthor’s motorcade on foot in attempt to get an interview completely glossing over how that was physically possible and you were laughing, your eyes crinkled with amusement.

Bruce, meanwhile, was over it.

He had tried. Really, he had. Tried to play nice, tried to keep the conversation moving without outright snarling, tried not to look like a man seconds away from flipping the café table over. But watching you laugh, that genuine, radiant smile that he didn’t get nearly enough of not when you were in Gotham, buried in crime reports and late night stakeouts and watching Clark soak it in like it was sunshine?

It was starting to itch beneath his skin. So, Bruce did what he did best. He weaponized polite.

“You know, Clark,” Bruce said, smoothly interrupting whatever story he was about to launch into next, “as fascinating as your insight is, I’m sure the Daily Planet is wondering where their star reporter has wandered off to.”

Clark blinked. “Oh I’ve got the rest of the day off. Lois has it covered.”

“Of course,” Bruce replied, tone light but laced with something sharper. “But I imagine someone like you never really stops working. Especially with… so many rooftops to jump between.”

There was a beat. Clark’s smile faltered for just a second, and you blinked, confused at the oddly specific phrasing.

Bruce leaned forward, resting an arm casually on the table, expression carved from cool stone. “Besides, I’m sure [Y/N] wouldn’t want to be distracted from the purpose of her visit. Research, remember?”

Clark chuckled, though this time it came out tight. “Right. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

You arched a brow. Something was going on between them something that felt like more than old friends catching up. A subtle chess game you weren’t meant to notice. But you did notice. Especially when Clark stood with an exaggerated sigh and adjusted his coat.

“Well,” he said, flashing you another warm smile, “it really was a pleasure meeting you, [Y/N]. Let’s chat sometime professional to professional.”

“Definitely,” you said, nodding.

He gave Bruce a weird glance. “Always a pleasure, Bruce.”

“Likewise,” Bruce said, not even pretending to mean it.

Once Clark was gone, Bruce leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly like the air was finally breathable again. His jaw relaxed. His shoulders dropped an inch. He reached for his espresso and finally took the sip he’d been pretending to take all afternoon.

You watched him with an amused smirk.

“Well, well,” you said, folding your arms over the table. “I wasn’t expecting Gotham’s golden boy to be so antsy.”

Bruce didn’t look at you right away, choosing instead to swirl the contents of his cup. “I’m not antsy.”

“You absolutely are,” you said, grinning now. “Clark was lovely, by the way. Very sweet. You could learn something from him.”

“I’d rather not,” Bruce said flatly.

You laughed, tilting your head at him. “rich boy your spoiledness is coming out.”

He finally met your eyes. There it was again that quiet, smoldering honesty buried beneath the billionaire’s mask.

“I just don’t like sharing good coffee,” he said coolly. “Especially when I invited you here.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was electric.

You leaned in just a little, your voice softer now. “Then maybe you shouldn’t hide behind excuses like ‘research.’ Maybe next time, just say you want my attention.”

Bruce’s lips curved ever so slightly. Not a smirk, not quite a smile something just for you.

“ill hold you too it”

And this time, it was your heart doing pirouettes.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

Wayne Tower loomed as it always did, cold steel and glass slicing through Gotham’s ashen sky like a blade. Rain tapped against the windows in soft percussion, blurring the gray city below, but Bruce barely registered it. He sat alone in his office, the lights low, his chair turned just slightly away from the sprawling skyline.

He hadn’t moved in the last ten minutes. Not since that morning paper landed on his desk.

The Gotham Gazette, bold font screaming at him like a damn siren:

“WAYNE WINES AND DINES MYSTERY REPORTER IN METROPOLIS”

Right beneath the headline was a photo of you laughing at something Clark said, sunlight catching in your hair, your posture turned comfortably toward Bruce. Another photo showed the two of you walking side by side, your elbow lightly brushing against his as you reached for your coffee. And, of course, the pièce de résistance: a wide shot of the table, Bruce leaning forward, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Goddammit,” he muttered.

It wasn’t the paparazzi he was used to them, expected them. It was Metropolis that caught him off guard. He thought, stupidly, that the clean air and cheerful streets made people less nosy. Less likely to shove a camera lens into his business.

Clearly, he had underestimated how rabid Gotham media could be. Even there, even with you.

And you.

You hadn’t brought it up. Hadn’t mentioned the paper or the photos or the wild headlines speculating you were Gotham’s newest It Girl, or that the elusive Bruce Wayne had finally found someone to tame him.

That was what was killing him. Not the photos. Not the gossip. Not even the implication that the two of you were something more. It was the not knowing how you felt about it.

Bruce rose from his desk, the chair scraping quietly behind him. He paced the room like a caged animal, the newspaper still clutched in one hand, wrinkled from how tightly he’d been gripping it.

He read the headline again and immediately hated himself for how warm it made him feel. Wayne Wines and Dines. He could hear your voice in his head, laughing. God, Bruce, that sounds like a sleazy rom com title.

He wanted you.

He wanted you in the most undignified, unbillionaire like way possible. Wanted to kiss you until the words stopped working in his brain. Wanted to sit next to you again in some sunshine drenched café and actually enjoy your laugh instead of being consumed by it.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing faster now. He hated this. Hated that he was in a thousand meetings a week with CEOs and board members and city officials, but the second you walked into a room or in this case, a newspaper he felt like a goddamn teenage girl.

What if you didn’t want people thinking you were involved with him?

That’s what haunted him. Not the story. Not the photos. You. Would you hate it? Would you laugh it off? Would you roll your eyes and say, “God, Bruce, you’re so dramatic”?

Or worse would you tell him it was all a misunderstanding, that you didn’t see him that way? The thought made him pause mid step, one hand on the window frame, staring at his own reflection in the glass. His jaw was tense. His eyes darker than usual.

He hadn’t felt this unsure of himself in years. Batman never hesitated. But Bruce Wayne? He was a mess. He looked back at the paper. Back at you.

Back at the way you looked when you laughed, when your eyes crinkled, when you let your guard down just enough for him to wonder what it’d be like to really have you.

He sighed, resting his forehead against the glass.

“Get it together.”

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

it started out very simple. He became fascinated with you. It had been one of those Gotham nights long, bone tired, the kind of quiet that was never actually silent. Just… tired. The flicker of neon through you ur tiny apartment windows painted the walls in restless color, but inside, it was dim, peaceful.

You were curled up on the couch, oversized hoodie swallowing your form, mug of something warm and sweet nestled in your hands. Bruce sat across from you in an armchair, undone just enough to tell you he wasn’t working anymore tie loosened, cuffs rolled. He was watching you. He always watched you. Not in a creepy way but in fascination.

“You ever get that feeling like everything’s just… pressing in all at once?” you asked, voice quieter than usual.

Bruce blinked. “All the time.”

You gave him a weak smile. “Right. Stupid question.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said immediately. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I’ve noticed.”

You looked away, exhaling through your nose. “Yeah, well. Work’s getting heavy. Not just deadlines or research like, the stories themselves. I think its hard knowing so much about someone’s hurt. Its addicting I cant stop. I know I’m good at telling those stories. I know it matters. But lately, I feel like I’m drowning in it.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away. You weren’t sure you wanted him to not with solutions. You pressed the edge of your mug to your lips, then lowered it without drinking. “And Gotham never stops, you know? Never lets you breathe. I love it. But sometimes, I think it’s eating me alive.”

The silence between you stretched. Then Bruce leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice gentle.

“I’m going on a trip.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Business,” he clarified. “Metropolis. Just a few days. Meetings, some board schmoozing. Normally I wouldn’t bring anyone but” He paused, almost like it hurt to admit. “I don’t want to go alone. And I think you need a break.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “You… want me to come with you?”

He nodded once, deliberately. “You need sunlight. Coffee that isn’t brewed by a street vendor in the Narrows. Air that doesn’t taste like exhaust. And I think…” He hesitated again, then met your eyes. “I think it’d be good for both of us.”

You stared at him. “You’re sure this is a work trip?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Mostly.”

You snorted softly, your lips twitching upward. “What, you trying to whisk me away like some overworked intern in a workplace romance?”

“Do you want to be whisked?” he asked, and you knew he was being dry, but the way his eyes softened made it an excellent argument.

You set your mug down, heart thudding a little faster than you were ready for. “Okay.”

He tilted his head.

“I’ll go,” you said, quieter now. “To Metropolis. Maybe a change of pace will help.”

His gaze lingered. “Good.”

You nodded, your smile ghosting. “Good.”

the city outside could rage and howl all it wanted but inside your apartment it was quiet.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

There was no such thing as privacy in the Gotham Gazette bullpen. Not when your desk was sandwiched between the copy editor who played music a little too loud and the sports columnist who smelled like energy drinks and cheap cologne. Not when cubicles had walls barely higher than your shoulders. And definitely not when you’d just come back from a suspiciously timed “business trip” with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor.

You hadn’t even set your bag down before the vultures descended.

“So?” came a voice before you even logged into your computer.

You blinked. “So… what?”

“Oh, come on,” groaned Jamie from Features, leaning over your cubicle wall like a hungry hyena. “You and Bruce Wayne disappear to Metropolis for a weekend, and you come back looking relaxed. In Gotham. What did he do, buy you a new nervous system?”

You rolled your eyes. “It was a work trip. You know those things some of us actually do?”

“Honey, you haven’t even opened your email,” Jamie said. “I opened your email. You’re in the email. You’re trending.”

You stopped, staring at him. “What?”

“You haven’t seen the photos?” asked Liz from Editorial, practically hopping in place as she slid around the corner, tablet in hand. “You two at the hotel. At the gala. At the rooftop bar. Looking suspiciously cozy. Very hands on.”

Your blood ran cold. “There were photographers?”

“Babe, there are always photographers. Bruce Wayne doesn’t sneeze without a hundred flashbulbs going off,” Liz said, flipping the tablet around so you could see the image in question.

And there it was.

You and Bruce, laughing at something you couldn’t remember now. His hand was on the small of your back. Yours lingered on his arm like it belonged there. The skyline glittered behind you like it was painted in.

It looked… intimate. Too intimate.

“Great,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s just great.”

“You’re front page gossip,” Jamie sang. “You made Page Six, babe! That’s legacy status!”

You slumped into your chair, praying for spontaneous combustion.

But the hits kept coming.

“Did he fly you out first class or private?”

“Is he as brooding behind closed doors as he is on TV?”

“Do you think he’s going to propose?”

“Oh my God, please shut up!” you snapped.

That earned a few snickers, but also a hush. You didn’t snap often. You never snapped. Which was why every nosy reporter in hearing range immediately began whispering twice as loud.

You opened your inbox to find a stack of notifications you didn’t want: tabloid alerts, social media mentions, subject lines like BRUCE WAYNE: WHO’S THE GIRL? and MYSTERY WRITER GETS WAYNE’S ATTENTION.

Someone even sent a meme of the two of you photoshopped in wedding attire. Wedding attire.

You nearly threw your monitor out the window.

And to make matters worse someone literally just took a picture of you. You turned so fast your chair creaked.

“Did you just?”

“Noooo,” muttered one of the interns, tucking their phone away and walking very quickly in the opposite direction.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “This is a nightmare.”

Liz leaned closer. “Okay, but like… is anything happening?”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you really think Bruce Wayne would date someone whose cubicle doesn’t even have walls?”

Liz paused. “You make a fair point. Still. You’d be the first tabloid rumor I’d actually root for.”

You sighed. It was hard to tell if that made you feel better or worse.

The truth? You didn’t know what was happening between you and Bruce. Not really. There had been stolen glances. Quiet words. An almost moment by the elevator that hadn’t turned into a kiss only because you’d chickened out.

And now this circus.

You opened a blank document, willing yourself to work.

But your mind wasn’t on the story. It was on Bruce on how quiet he’d gone since the trip. On how he hadn’t returned your last message.

You were halfway through typing a sentence that didn’t make sense when the crowd got worse.

“I swear, if another person breathes in my direction”

“Hey, superstar!”

You winced.

It was this random guy from Politics loud, nosy, and the worst kind of gossip. He strutted into the bullpen like he owned it, carrying a mug that read ‘World’s Best Journalist’ (he bought it for himself, no one doubted it). Behind him trailed two junior reporters and someone from the digital team, all of them making a beeline for your desk.

“I’m not doing this,” you muttered under your breath.

“Come on, just a few words!” Mark leaned against the edge of your cubicle, grinning like the devil himself. “You know the public’s eating it up Wayne’s mystery date turns out to be a journalist?”

“I didn’t agree to be anyone’s date.”

“That’s not what the pictures say,” someone behind him chimed in.

“I hate the pictures,” you snapped. “And I hate this office.”

“You say that every Monday,” Liz said, now openly eating popcorn like this was her entertainment for the day.

Mark held up a recorder. “I’m just saying, give me the exclusive before the others twist your words. I can paint you as the brilliant writer who stole Gotham’s most eligible bachelor.”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Fine, borrowed.”

You stared at him. “Mark, put that recorder down or I’ll throw it in your coffee.”

“I’ll fish it out,” he said without hesitation.

“Oh my God”

Before you could finish, two interns popped up on either side of you like synchronized jack in the boxes.

“Do you like him?”

“What was he like off camera?”

“Did he smell rich?”

“Can you get him to donate to our fundraiser?”

“I’m stopping all of you right there” you said, spinning in your chair and standing, your hands up in surrender. “I’m not answering questions. I’m not giving an exclusive. And I’m not I repeat, not dating Bruce Wayne.”

“But you went with him to Metropolis”

“And it was work! Professional! Boring!”

Liz muttered, “You don’t look like someone who had a boring weekend.”

You grabbed your half finished coffee and nearly spilled it as you tried to retreat.

Mark followed. “Look, I get it, privacy and all, but you’re sitting on a gold mine. Just one quote. Something classy. Like ‘He’s not what I expected’ or ‘Billionaires they’re just like us.’”

You whipped around so fast Mark almost tripped over himself.

“If I give you a quote, will you leave me alone?”

He perked up instantly. “Depends on the quote.”

You leaned in, voice low.

“Here it is: ‘I’d rather be trapped in Arkham with the Joker than give you an interview.’ Print that, Mark.”

The entire bullpen howled. Even Liz nearly choked on her popcorn. Mark gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. No quote. But if he shows up at the office, I’m interviewing him.”

You sat back down, muttering to yourself. “Not unless I strangle him first.”

And then, as if on cue because the universe had a sense of humor you did not appreciate your phone buzzed.

One name. One message.

Bruce Wayne: “Are you free for lunch?”

You groaned. Loudly.

Liz leaned over again, peeking at your screen. “So…nothing happened eh?”

Your phone buzzed again before you could finish your dramatic groan.

Bruce Wayne: “Already here. Back entrance.”

Your heart did a little flip.

You looked up. Mark was still hovering. Liz was now showing your photo to someone from the tech team, pointing directly at your face and whispering like you were a zoo animal. Someone in the far corner had definitely just snapped another picture of you, and the interns were forming a human wall.

You slid your phone into your pocket, stood up quietly, grabbed your jacket, and turned to Liz. “Tell them I died.”

Liz blinked. “Wait, wha”

You were already moving. Fast. Ducking behind cubicles, practically army crawling past the coffee station, then booking it down the hallway like a fugitive. when you finally slipped out the back entrance of the Gotham Gazette into the cool alley behind the building, there he was.

Bruce Wayne.

Leaning against a sleek black car, sleeves rolled up, looking wildly out of place in the grime of downtown Gotham. He looked up the moment the door opened, concern flickering across his features the second he saw your expression.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t have to come all the way here. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said gently. “You looked like you are going to strangle someone.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was just Mark.”

“Should I be worried about Mark?”

“Only if you want to see a grown man cry because I didn’t give him a quote about your cologne.”

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and opened the passenger door for you. You hesitated.

“This isn’t a ‘kidnap the journalist’ situation, right?”

“Not unless you want it to be,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You shot him a look, but the tension eased just a bit. You slid into the seat.

He climbed in next to you. The car was quiet. Luxuriously quiet, compared to the zoo you’d just escaped. It smelled like leather and some subtle, expensive cologne that did make you want to punch Mark for being right.

Bruce glanced over at you. “I really just wanted to check in. I didn’t mean to… make your day worse.”

“You didn’t,” you said, voice softer than expected. “It’s not you. It’s them. People. Eyes. Phones. I feel like I can’t move without being… watched.”

“I know the feeling.”

You turned slightly to look at him. There was something in his tone that made you pause like he meant it more than most.

“You get used to it,” he added. “Eventually.”

You didn’t respond right away. The silence wasn’t awkward, though. It was still, almost warm.

“I didn’t expect you to actually check in,” you admitted after a moment. “Most people would’ve just texted a thumbs up and disappeared.”

He looked at you then, eyes searching. “I’m not most people.”

You were about to respond, something snarky on your tongue to break the intensity but then it happened.

Click.

It was faint, but unmistakable. A camera shutter. Right outside the alley.

Your head fell back against the seat with a loud groan.

Bruce sighed. “is it ok for you to be out of work?.”

“I told Liz to say I died,” you muttered.

“Not sure that’s going to help now.”

You closed your eyes. “God, I’m going to be on some gossip site by noon.”

He hesitated, then reached over and gently touched your hand where it rested on your knee. Just a soft brush of fingers.

“You want me to drive around for a bit?” he asked. “No press. No phones. Just quiet.”

You looked down at where his hand had been, the ghost of the touch lingering.

“…Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And with no more words, he pulled the car out of the alley, away from the flashing camera, and into a city that for once felt just a little quieter.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

The city passed in a blur of gray and gold as Bruce drove. He didn’t put on music. He didn’t speak. He just let the silence stretch, calm and easy, giving you room to breathe. The engine was barely a hum beneath your feet, and the windows were tinted enough that no one could see you inside. For once, you weren’t on display.

You leaned back against the seat, letting your eyes drift toward the city you loved and cursed in equal measure.

“I used to think about leaving,” you said finally, your voice barely above the sound of tires on pavement. “When I was younger. Before I really understood Gotham. Before I knew I couldn’t.”

Bruce glanced over at you. “Why couldn’t you?”

You smiled faintly. “Because people like us don’t get to run. Not when we know how broken the system is. Not when we can do something about it. We stay. We try.”

He didn’t answer right away. You saw his grip tighten slightly on the steering wheel, like he understood more than you knew.

Then, casually almost too casually he said, “And what if you weren’t trying alone?”

You blinked, turning your head toward him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I mean… all of well… this. The gossip. The whispers. The headlines. What if it didn’t have to be something to run from? What if it wasn’t such a bad idea?”

You blinked again.

It took you a second to process what he was saying. Then your heart stuttered. Oh.

“Bruce,” you said slowly, cautiously, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

He faltered. You didn’t need to see his face to feel it. The way his jaw tightened just a fraction. The way the next turn came a little too fast.

And maybe that was what made you soften.

“I would,” you added quietly. “God, I would. I would love it. So much.”

You felt him glance your way again.

“But my whole life… I believed I needed to tell people’s stories. I thought I was supposed to keep myself out of them. Be the one behind the scenes. Not the subject.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be in the public eye like that. I don’t know how to be that kind of person.”

Another beat of silence.

Then his voice, low and steady: “I can be quiet.”

You looked up.

He kept his eyes on the road, but his voice stayed soft, sincere. “I don’t need headlines. I don’t need public. I just need you. However you’ll let me have you.”

It was a crazy thing, the way your heart reacted. Quick and eager and warm. You swallowed down the lump in your throat, caught between laughing and crying.

“That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said.

The car slowed to a red light. He finally turned to look at you, and the honesty in his gaze hit you like a punch to the ribs. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just him, offering.

“I can wait,” he said. “I’ve waited longer for less.”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you reached out and put your hand over his on the gearshift, quiet and certain.

“I’ll get there,” you said.

You watched his profile as the light turned green again. Something about him had shifted softer now, more open. You’d never seen Bruce Wayne so weird. The suit was stripped away, even if the one he wore now was more expensive than your rent.

And then, slowly, a grin curled at the edge of your lips as a realization hit.

“Oh my god,” you said, trying not to laugh. “You were jealous.”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t deny it.

You let out a small laugh, more delighted than you expected. “Clark. That’s what that was about, wasn’t it? You were so sulky that I was talking to him”

Bruce didn’t answer.

“You’re such a child,” you said, but it was affectionate. “Sulking in your tower, giving moody interviews, and then crashing the Gotham Gazette like a bat out of hell…. wait a second…”

You turned in your seat, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re weird. You vanish without notice. And God you could be Batman with how weird you are.”

Silence.

Your laugh trailed off. You stared at him.

“…Wait.”

Bruce didn’t look at you.

He didn’t say anything.

“Bruce?” Your voice dropped into something halfway between suspicion and awe. “You aren’t Batman. Right?”

Still nothing.

You squinted. “Oh my god.”

“Let’s not do this here,” he said finally, quietly.

You opened your mouth to fire off something a question, a scream, anything but he cut in, almost abruptly.

“Why don’t you write about heroes?”

You blinked at the sudden change in tone. “What?”

“In your pieces,” he clarified. “You always follow the criminals. The corruption. Why not write about the ones stopping it?”

You leaned back in your seat, chewing on the thought. “Because that’s not my job.”

“That sounds like a choice.”

“It is,” you said honestly. “Heroes don’t need a microphone. It feels like they feed off it. They’re already being celebrated, idolized, plastered across news stations and cereal boxes. But the ones slipping between the cracks the ones getting hurt, the ones no one’s looking at they need a voice. The ones who don’t make it out. The ones who get silenced.”

You paused, watching the streets pass.

“The heroes are doing the saving. I’m doing the remembering.”

He didn’t interrupt. So you kept going.

“And besides,” you added, your voice softening, “most of the heroes I’ve met… they don’t feel real. They feel like gods pretending to be human. Or humans pretending to be something else.”

Another beat passed.

“But Batman…” you murmured.

Bruce’s hand flexed on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know. He feels different. Gritty. Angry. Sad. The city chews him up and spits him out just like the rest of us, but he stays. Every night, he stays. I think…” you trailed off, trying to find the words.

“I think Batman might be the only hero I really like.”

You looked over at him.

“He feels the most human.”

And that’s when Bruce Wayne flawless billionaire, effortless playboy, Gotham’s golden son turned his head just slightly. The streetlights hit his jaw, shadowing his eyes. And in the flicker of the red glow, he looked haunted.

Bruce turned down a quiet side street, one that wound along Gotham’s upper overlook, where the city glittered like it belonged to someone else. He didn’t say a word as he parked the car.

The engine cut off. The silence wrapped around you like a heavy coat.

You turned to him, half expecting a denial. A smirk. Something to backpedal the idea that he might actually be.

“I’m not going to deny it,” he said quietly. “Not to you.”

Your breath caught.

He looked over at you, eyes tired but so present not a billionaire mask, not a cowl, just a man. And you could see it now, clear as the sky wasn’t: the bruised silence, the late nights, the way he disappeared.

“I meant what I said,” he added, voice low. “I love the way you… make a difference.”

Your brows rose, skeptical. “By being a little shit to the richest man in Gotham?”

He let out a breath of a laugh. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he kept going.

“The way you dig in, ask the questions no one wants to answer. The way you walk into a room like you don’t care if you don’t belong like you’re going to own it anyway. You’re stubborn.”

You raised a brow. “You’re doing a terrible job at complimenting me.”

Bruce half smiled, glancing down, then back up. There was a flush of pink at his neck, almost like embarrassment.

“And since that gala,” he continued, “when you showed up in a dress that didnt match you at all and tried to sneak out after five minutes…” He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know. I saw you and… I felt it.”

“Felt what?” you asked quietly.

“That pull. That connection.” He stumbled a little, like the word sat wrong in his mouth. “I’m not good at… this.”

“No shit.”

“I mean it,” he said, tone a little sharper. “I don’t talk about things. I work. I disappear. I do what I have to. And maybe it’s selfish, but I just”

His jaw tensed. You could see him trying to make the words work.

“I want to,” he said finally. “I want to try. With you.”

You sat there, frozen, heart thudding like thunder against your ribs. The man next to you was Batman. And somehow, more terrifyingly, he was Bruce. Vulnerable. Honest. Looking at you like you were the only person in the city worth telling the truth to.

The silence stretched long between you. The kind that didn’t beg to be filled.

You stared ahead for a while, letting the lights of Gotham blur at the edges of your vision. Your heart hadn’t calmed down since the moment he parked the car, and now it was beating so loud you were almost sure he could hear it.

Finally, you tilted your head toward him, the corner of your mouth tugging up.

“So… as much as you basically just called me a little shit…” you murmured, trying to ease the tension with a smirk. “I’ll try. With you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, something soft blooming there.

You added, quieter now, “But it has to be secret. Just let me keep some part of me mine.”

There was no hesitation.

Bruce reached out slowly, his hand closing gently over yours like he was afraid you’d pull away. And then, without a word, he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

It was soft. Earnest. You swallowed thickly, eyes locked on his. Something warm and unfamiliar settled in your chest.

“…You really are weird, you know that?” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t let go. And he didn’t disagree.

You: “Bruce, you’re emotionally constipated.”

Bruce: “That is absolutely not true.”

You: “Then say one feeling.”

Bruce: ”…Vengeance.”

You: ”…Try again, but like, a normal human.”

Bruce: ”…Mild affection…?”

You: ”…You’re lucky you’re rich and weirdly hot.”

[gdinthehouseee]

Stars Rewritten (bonus smau): KWON JI-YONG x READER

main fic

[VIEW COMMENTS]

User: not both of them liking it LMAOOO

User (reply): they're both probably just laughing at us rn istg-

User: pls tell me this is real

User: IT'S HAPPENINGGG

User: this is SICK and TWISTED and IM SO HERE FOR IT--

User: that better be gd or its on sight

User: 2025 YEAR OF GD AND Y/N LETS GOOO

User: NOT HIM LIKING THE DAMN POST

User: wdym no caption needed... GIRL

User (reply): tags definitely needed tho i swear

User: he's being oddly silent, i fear he's cooking something up himself

User: he liked it...

User: CONFIRMATION???

User: oh he's EVIL for this

User (reply): so is y/n for posting them pics lmaooo

User: sir? SIR??

Ji-yong leans against the back of the couch, one arm draped over your shoulders as he scrolls through his phone. His lips twitch into a smirk every few seconds, and every time he lets out a quiet, amused hum, you know he’s found another dramatic reaction.

“Look at this one,” he chuckles, turning his screen to you.

“I HAVEN’T HAD A PEACEFUL NIGHT SINCE 2017 AND IT’S THEIR FAULT.”

You let out a snort, curling deeper into his side. “I mean… they’re not wrong.”

He takes another sip of his wine, eyes still locked on his phone. His legs are propped up on the coffee table, feet crossed at the ankles, completely at ease despite the absolute mayhem unfolding online.

“They think I accidentally liked that tweet,” he muses.

You scoff, stealing his glass for a sip. “As if you do anything accidentally.”

He grins, tugging his phone back and tapping the screen. “True.”

“They’d sell their souls for confirmation at this point,” you tease, nudging him.

He hums thoughtfully, setting his phone down before wrapping both arms around you, pulling you into his lap. “Should we give it to them?” His voice is low, teasing, warm against your ear.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. Nah.”

His laughter rumbles against your back as he tightens his hold. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, grinning as he watches the numbers climb on both of your posts—millions of likes, thousands of comments, the internet still on fire. Finally, he sighs, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “We should do this more often.”

You laugh, leaning into him. “What? Ruin the internet?”

“Exactly.”

Ji-yong has been watching you scroll through the chaos for the past twenty minutes, his smirk growing lazier, his fingers tapping idly against your thigh. He’s amused, entertained—but there’s something else, something darker flickering in his gaze as he watches you absolutely revel in the mayhem you’ve created. You’re grinning, curled up comfortably in his lap, casually sipping his wine while the internet burns to the ground over your cryptic posts. The way you tilt your head, the smug little smile playing on your lips, the effortless way you keep the world hanging onto your every move…

Yeah, it’s doing something to him.

His hand tightens slightly around your waist. You don’t notice right away, too busy laughing at yet another tweet. “Oh my god—someone just said, ‘At this point, I’m not even mad, I’m just impressed. They’re playing us like a damn violin.’”

He huffs a laugh, but his focus isn’t on the screen anymore—it’s on you. The way you bite your lip, eyes gleaming with mischief, fully aware of the chaos you’re stirring.

His voice drops lower, smoother. “You like messing with them, don’t you?”

“Obviously.”

He hums, fingers sliding a little higher up your thigh, tracing lazy patterns. “It’s kinda hot.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Ji-yong smirks, eyes dark and half-lidded as he leans in, lips barely brushing your ear. “Watching you do this. Teasing them, keeping them guessing… knowing exactly what you’re doing.” His fingers press just a little firmer against your waist. “You know how to keep them on edge. Just like you do with me.”

Your breath catches for half a second, and he notices. Of course he does.

“Oh?” His smirk deepens. “Nothing to say?”

You roll your eyes, recovering quickly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He chuckles, low and smug, before tilting his head toward your phone. “Post something else.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow, deliberate. “Because I wanna watch them lose their minds again.” Then, lower, almost like a confession—“And I wanna watch you enjoy it.”

Your heart skips a beat. Damn him.

You pretend to think for a moment before unlocking your phone and climbing off his lap. You can feel Ji-yong’s gaze burning into you as you go to your Instagram story, smirking to yourself as you prop your phone up so you can take a picture, with him just in the corner. Just for the hell of it, you tag him. 

The moment it's uploaded, your notifications explode.

You’re perched in his lap again, now facing him, your legs straddling his thighs as you scroll through the endless chaos unfolding online. His hands rest lazily on your waist, but there’s nothing casual about the way his fingers tighten every time you smirk at the screen.

“Ji-yong,” you say, feigning concern, tilting your head at him. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours—hooded, smoldering. “Just enjoying the show.”

You let out a hum, dragging your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His grip on your waist tightens.

“They’re really losing it over that last post,” you muse, scrolling lazily through your notifications. “Oh, look—someone just tweeted: ‘If they don’t confirm this soon, I will personally walk into the ocean.’”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but his focus isn’t on your phone anymore. His gaze flickers from your lips to your fingers still playing in his hair, then back to the smug look on your face. You know exactly what you’re doing.

You tilt your head, watching him. “Something on your mind?”

His hands slide up your waist, slow and deliberate. “You.”

You grin, dragging your nails lightly along his scalp just to watch the way his eyelids flutter. “Mm. Flattering.”

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

“The teasing.” His fingers flex against your sides, his voice dropping an octave. “Driving them crazy. Driving me crazy.”

Your grin turns wicked. “Oh? Am I driving you crazy?”

He exhales, tipping his head back against the couch. “You have no idea.”

You hum, dragging your fingers down his chest this time, slow, teasing. “I don’t know… you seem pretty in control to me.”

His hands tighten around your waist, and when he speaks again, his voice is lower, rougher. “Not for long.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t let him see you falter. Instead, you smirk, leaning in until your lips just barely brush his.

“Good,” you whisper.

Then, just to be an absolute menace, you grab your phone and snap a quick photo—your face hidden, just Ji-yong’s hands on your waist.

You post it immediately. The internet erupts.

He swears under his breath as he hears the notification flood in instantaneously. “You’re insane.”

You grin, tossing your phone aside before looping your arms around his neck. “You love it.”

Ji-yong doesn’t even hesitate this time.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, flipping you onto the couch. “I do.”

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis @ldydeath @wcnderlands @eru-vande @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull @aizshallnotbefound 

[sargeteen]

𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 ! ᶠ¹ ᵍʳⁱᵈ

for the sake of my survival ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

𝒇1 grid x 𝒎ale reader synopsis: reader has an alcohol problem and, after some light snitching, is dropped in the middle of the f1 season because of it. he struggles through rehab with little to no contact with his friends, but he comes out the other side swinging, ready for a second chance at racing and at life in general.

genre: angst, smau, REDEMPTION!! warnings: alcoholism & rehab, oscar & charles being snitches, die joke in texts

requested? nope author's note: my dad is 26 yrs sober so like kinda inspired by him ahaha ALSO!! sorry for not posting anything i’ve had no motivation lately for finishing fics ahhhh im sorry 😭😭

masterlist.

HIS FINGERS WRAPPED around another clear shot glass, the translucent liquid inside it sloshed around as he quickly brought the small cup up to his mouth. He threw his head back, and he barely had a reaction as the liquid burned his throat; to someone else, it could be a painful and horrible experience, but to him, it was comfortable and something that he knew well.

Y/n reached for his beer bottle and took a large swig of that immediately after he slammed his shot glass onto the table. He wasn't alone, but everyone else at the table was too deep in conversation to care that he was most definitely taking it too far.

Max sat across from him, the driver that they were celebrating tonight, and he was almost as far gone as y/n was. Today was the Bahrain Grand Prix and the 2023 season opener. Y/n didn't place too high, he ended up in 13th so it earned him not a single point for Haas, but Hülkenberg placed 15th so it made him feel a little better.

Maybe that was his reasoning for drowning himself in tequila and Coronas, but y/n hardly ever had a reason for his behavior.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar, the McLaren driver who ended up sadly DNFing the race, walked up to y/n's side, who was sitting on the edge of the booth in the corner of the bar. He was the most sober one out of all of the drivers that were invited to the bar after the win, which he usually was. His hand came down on y/n's shoulder, and he dipped his head to make eye contact with y/n's unfocused eyes.

"Hmm?" Y/n hummed with a small chuckle. He wasn't too far gone as he was used to his liquor, but he was starting to reach his peak. "Hi Oscaaaaar," y/n dragged out the a in Oscar's name once he recognized the Australian driver who moved his shoulder.

Oscar's brows furrowed, "Hi, y/n. I asked if you were okay." He became more concerned as the seconds passed. Oscar, while quite emotionless and quiet, noticed everything, including y/n's love for alcohol and getting as drunk as he could at night. "You're really drunk. I'll go get you some water, alright?"

Y/n just smiled and nodded at the McLaren driver. He whined quietly when Oscar moved away. If he were sober, he would be insanely embarrassed, but he wouldn't remember this moment in the morning, no matter how hard he tried to.

The time between where Oscar left and appeared back at y/n's side was a blur, so it seemed as though Oscar stepped away for a quick second to y/n. Oscar came back with a large glass of water with a straw shoved between the crushed pieces of ice.

"Drink this," Oscar demanded as he slid the large cup of water onto the table before y/n. With an eye roll, y/n leaned forward and took a large sip of the water before leaning back in the booth. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head back against the booth seat. "Hey," Oscar pats y/n's cheek with his hand, causing his eyes to open. "Stay awake. I'm going to drive you home, alright?"

Y/n nodded as his eyes fluttered shut once more. Oscar sighed and turned to the rest of the table, which was still deep in conversation.

"Hey," Oscar called out over the loud music, which caused all of the heads to turn towards him. "I'm taking y/n back to the hotel," he nodded his head over to y/n, leaning his head on Oscar's shoulder as his eyes closed. "You guys all good?"

A chorus of different positive responses came back to Oscar, but Charles, who also unfortunately DNF'd today, spoke up. "Do you need help? I know where his room is," he leaned forward on the table. He was sitting to Max's left, so he leaned forward so Oscar could hear him better.

"That would be nice, yes," Oscar chuckled lightly. Charles slid out of the booth and helped Oscar get y/n out with a slight struggle. The two more sober drivers nodded to their driver counterparts before heading towards the exit. Y/n's arms were pulled over Oscar and Charles's shoulders as he sluggishly walked between them.

"Thamk you," y/n mumbled when they stepped out the front door and onto the sidewalk. Charles and Oscar glanced at each other over y/n's head and sighed.

Most nights usually ended up like this for y/n, drunk and thrown over two drivers' shoulders while they led him back to his hotel room. Tonight was no different. He slumped in the backseat of Oscar's car, and Charles and Oscar talked in the front seat.

Oscar glanced at y/n in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Once y/n's eyes were closed and he was leaning against the door, he spoke up. "Charles, I'm worried about him," his voice was low in case y/n was listening, even if he knew that y/n wasn't going to be able to remember this when he woke up in the morning.

Charles glanced up from his phone at Oscar. He looked over his shoulder to look at y/n, who was starting to drool on the window. With a sigh, Charles nodded. "Yeah," he breathed out, "me too." Charles wasn't stupid; he knew if something was going on with his friends, and there was something definitely going on with y/n. "But I don't know what to do about it," he sighed, defeated, as he shifted in his seat and faced forward.

"I know," Oscar drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he bit the inside of his lip. His eyes traveled from car to car as they passed, as he was stuck at a red light. He slumped in his seat and shook his head, "I just...I don't know. I hate seeing him like this. He's been like this for a while, and I just don't know what to do about it. I don't want to bring it to the FIA or Haas, but I might have to."

Charles nodded. "Yeah. I don't want him to lose his spot, but it could be dangerous for us if he shows up to a race like this," he gestured to y/n over his shoulder with his thumb. Charles picked at his nails, a nervous tick that manifested over the years.

The silence was tense in the car after their conversation had been left at that. Both Charles and Oscar knew it was the best thing to do for y/n and for the rest of the drivers that they shared a track with, but that didn't make them feel any less guilty for thinking of the idea.

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, haasf1team, and others

f1 BREAKING: Kevin Magnussen to replace Y/n L/n for the rest of the 2023 season.

After some behind the scenes discussions with the Haas F1 Team and L/n, the two have decided to part ways and Magnussen will replace L/n for the rest of the season.

#F1 #Formula1 #HaasF1Team

view all comments

userone yo wtf????

usertwo ok wtf is going on with y/n??? he was performing great his first two seasons, but then he dropped down and started with haas, and now he’s no longer racing????

userthree justice for y/n!!! ⤷ userfour bro it sounds like he wanted this to happen 😭😭

userfive ok now what

usersix when i put mid season driver swap on my bingo card i didn’t mean y/n and magnussen???????? ⤷ userseven right??? like i really liked y/n even if he didn't bring in many points because he always had that 'give no fucks' attitude that not many drivers have ⤷ usersix maybe that's why they dropped him?? ⤷ userseven hmm it could be but i don't think so. he's been like that since he was in f3.

usereight NOOOO MY SHAYLAAA 💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭

usernine thank god, he's a danger to the grid and he brought in NO points for haas ⤷ userten yeah but neither did hulkenberg so like idk

posted april 4th, 2023

TIME SKIP — one year later

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, logansargeant, and others

youruser sober & bleach blonde.

view all comments

usereleven HE'S BACK???????

usertwelve after being gone for a year this is all you're posting????? what happened to hey hello how are you??????

logansargeant everybody cheered for sober y/n ive missed you ⤷ youruser i've missed you too logun sargun 💔

userthirteen sober????? am i missing something here

userfourteen is this implying that y/n was an addict or smth

oscarpiastri sorry for tattling on you btw ⤷ youruser i'd probs be dead in a ditch by now if it wasn't for u and charles thank you osco

charles_leclerc life is finally almost back to normal now ive missed u y/n 💔💔 ⤷ youruser charlssss i've missed you too omfg 💔

userfifteen im crying its a family reunion in the comments 😭😭

lando time to get to work, y/n!! a year long break is too long 💔 ⤷ youruser i agree lando, time to beat ur ass in padle

alexalbon please spare me ⤷ youruser i've practiced padle nonstop for a year i won't spare anyone

usersixteen i've missed you y/n 😭💔💔

userseventeen is the goat going to come back to f1????? ⤷ youruser depends if they want me back or not 🤷🤷 ⤷ userseventeen ??????????? f1 espnf1

danielricciardo fucking finally max isn't funny enough for me ⤷ maxverstappen tf?????/ ⤷ youruser ladies please not in my comments

liked by youruser, danielricciardo, lando, and others

f1 BREAKING: Y/n L/n to be Haas F1 Team's reserve driver for 2024.

After disappearing for a year from the internet, ex-Haas driver Y/n L/n is back and better than ever as he's signed as their new reserve driver for the 2024 season!

#F1 #Formula1 #HaasF1Team

view all comments

usereighteen this was not on my 2024 bingo card bro

usernineteen is this like....legal????? ⤷ usertwenty haas is so down in the dumps the fia hardly cares what they do

youruser the fight is back in haas! ⤷ usertwentyone is this kevmag slander????? ⤷ usertwentytwo definitely sounds like it....

usertwentythree haas is stacked, and i say this only because of y/n and because i want them to win ⤷ usertwentyfour oh that is sooooo real

logansargeant Y/N IS BACK ON THE GRID I REPEAT Y/N IS BACK ON THE GRID!!!!!!!! LET'S PARTAAAAYYYY ⤷ youruser Y/N IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER!!!!

EVEN THOUGH Y/N was just a reserve driver, the FIA had everything locked down when we came back for the 2024 season; 3 sparkling grape juice bottles sat off to the side of the podium and away from the champagne in case he had to drive for one of his teammates and made it to the podium.

There was also a strict alcohol brand partnership rule; the brand must have a nonalcoholic version of their drink for the drivers to have a partnership. The FIA didn’t do this themselves, of course, it was brought forward by y/n’s team and they watched with a close eye if problems were to come to front.

But, other than that, everything was good for y/n for his return. He wasn’t getting as much publicity as his teammates were from the Haas team, but he made a significant impact on the other team’s social pages. Maybe it was his friends doings, but he got a welcome back post from Ferrari, McLaren, Red Bull, AlphaTauri, and Williams.

The rest of the season didn’t go in y/n’s favor much as he was only thrown into a car for the Monaco Grand Prix. He and Hülkenberg DNF’d the race as Checo crashed into both of their cars, forcing a restart of the race. Despite getting the fastest lap in one of the free practices, y/n wasn’t allowed back in a Haas unless completely necessary.

It was no surprise that y/n announced he wasn’t going to be with Haas for the 2025 season, but it was a surprise when it was announced he was going to be racing alongside Max for Red Bull, taking Checo’s seat. Y/n mentioned something about karma in a pre-season interview, but if you asked him about it, he would say he didn’t know what you were talking about.

The FIA was a lot more strict with their rules on champagne for the podium because for this season, it was a lot more likely for y/n to get on the podium in a Red Bull than it was last season in a Haas, and as a reserve driver. So, when y/n pulls out his best performance in years for the Australian Grand Prix and the 2025 season opener and ends up taking P2 next to Lando and George, the three of them pop open their sparkling grape juice bottles—after all double checking they were actually the grape juice—and covered each other in the sticky liquid.

It was an emotional roller coaster for y/n, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was living his best life with his friends, completely sober and walking towards a lifetime full of racing and nonalcoholic beers.

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[chrisspirategirl]

Stream —> C.S. (ᥫ᭡)

Continued.. 🩵

“Tangled in love, stuck by you, from the glue.. don’t forget to kiss me or else you’ll have to miss me..”

Over 2 months had passed since Chris’s confession about you being one of his hear me outs. You guys started texting almost everyday and night with “good mornings” “good nights” all that talking stage shit. You both just instantly clicked, you’ve been following each other for a while occasionally liking each others posts but you’ve never had a conversation with him until now.

Christopher Sturniolo: Good morning gorgeous! Hope you slept well last night. I was dreaming of you like always 🫡

A smile forms on your face when you read his message. Your fingers are quick to type a response.

Y/n: good morning! LMFAO you’re so cornyyyy

Christopher Sturniolo: hey! I’m just trying to be sweet 😒😒 God forbid a man shows a girl how much he’s into her

Y/n: you’re into me? 😏😏

Christopher Sturniolo: DUHH!

You giggle to yourself, he’s sassy, definitely. But he’s funny and so cute looking you really can’t resist! He’s always talking about meeting you which makes you a little sad since you’re in New Jersey and he’s back and forth in LA and Boston. A girl can dream though.

You walk over to your vanity prompting up your phone against the mirror as you click to go live in insta. You’re not a HUGE influencer or anything like that but you have a good amount of followings, 148k to be exact!! Really you blew up by just posting videos of you lip syncing to random audios, it was definitely unexpected but you’re grateful for the outcome! You’re about to hit 1 million on TikTok which still to this day shocks you because you’ve never imagine to be well known over the internet. So to have that privilege to be considered an internet icon is practically an unknown achievement to you.

Viewers begin to join the live FLOODING the comments with whatever comes to mind.

User: Y/NNNNNN

User: natural beauty

User: wife!

User: HIIIIIII Y/NNNNNNNN HRUUUU

User: you’re so effortlessly gorgeous im gagged.

User: did the rizz get you 😏😏

+ 100 more

“Hiii lovelies!!” You exclaim with a sweet smile on your face, “so today I have a few errands to run so I’m gonna quickly get ready while talking to you guys” you explain as you begin preparing your skin. Unaware that Chris has joined the live.

Chris sturniolo: oh hey gorgeous😂🫡

User: CHRIS?!

User: CHRIS WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

User: bro trying to rizz her up

User: need a man who makes it clear he want me

+ 100 more

You look down at your phone noticing how Chris had requested to go live with you, your stomach flutters a bit before clicking accept, the screen splits in half revealing Chris propping up his phone a huge grin on his face when he sees you. “What is up guys!” He says with enthusiasm, his hat on backwards wearing a black t shit and a white long sleeve underneath.

“Hellooo” you respond as you continue putting on your concealer, the comments going BALLISTIC BAT SHIT CRAZY!

User: HELLO?! THE TENSION?!

User: already shipping

User: DATE IMMEDIATELY 😭😭💔

User: someone come up with a ship name

^User: @/user GOODBYE

User: Chris.. count your days.

User: HE CANNOT HANDLE IT LIKE I CAN 😭😭🥀

User: something tells me…

^User: @/user right…

Chris smiles as he reads the comments, “where you off to?” He asks you as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “I have a few errands to do so I should be rushing right now” you chuckle as you try to quickly finish off your makeup, nothing too extreme, just your normal makeup routine. “Boringggg” Chris jokes before reading the comments.

“ ‘Bro thinks he has rizz’ ACTUALLY (🤓☝️) I DO thanks.” He responds with a sassy attitude earning a giggle from you.

“Crazy how you guys really try insulting me as if I’m not the most flawless person out there” he continues playfully rolling his eyes, “he really thinks he’s all that” you respond jokingly Chris gasping in offense, his hand flies to his chest “y/n!! How dare you insult me like that!” He replies with a fake pout.

You continue finishing up your makeup Chris sits there watching you with admiration forgettint that he was on an insta live and not a FaceTime call. The comments taking quick notice of his softened demeanor and points it out. After applying your lipgloss you quickly get up from your vanity chair and rush over to grab your shoes. Slipping them on and returning back in frame “okay guys I’m done getting ready in about to get off live so I can go find my keys because I love to lose them!” You say sarcastically to which Chris comments “the amount of times she has told me she can’t find her keys is insane!” You grab your phone as you walk out of your bedroom walking downstairs “shut up Chris!” You respond “okay seriously I need to go I love you guys bye!” You add before ending the live stuffing your phone in your pocket and rushing towards the living room to search for your keys.

Chris lets out a small sigh before Nick walks into the kitchen spotting him sitting at the dinning table. “I saw you were on live with y/n” Nick begins with a faint smirk clearly teasing him for trying SO hard to be always talking to her, Matt and Nick are the only ones who know about Chris and y/n, they were thrilled that Chris finally started getting back out there and promised to keep their relationship private since you nor Chris wanted anyone to know about the whole situation because then people start creating unnecessary rumors.

Chris lets out a sheepish laugh “yeah” he responds before standing up from the table stuffing his phone in his pocket. Nick leans against the kitchen counter smiling mischievously at Chris, “dude why are you looking at me like that” Chris says somewhat terrified but his tone sounded more playful than serious, “no reasonnn” Nick says emphasizing the ‘n’ at the end of his sentence which catches Chris more off guard. “Alright relax” Chris responds before walking towards his bedroom.

But there WAS a reason and Chris was very unaware of what Nick knew.

Tomorrow the triplets had a video to shoot, but who would Nick and Matt be if they didn’t surprise their little brother once in a while.. the video was originally going to be a vlog of whatever but Nick and Matt agreed that the vlog would have a special meaning and guest.

You and Chris had a 3 hour time difference so by the time you were texting him goodnight which was already 10 pm for you it was barely 7 pm for him. You never explained what errands you had to run but Chris didn’t overthink it since he knew you were busy outside of social media.

The next morning, Nick and Matt had woken up Chris a little earlier than usual which seemed a bit suspicious to Chris but he figured they were going somewhere for the vlog and getting some work done for upcoming tours and events. BOY was that goober wrong. Well kinda.

The camera is rolling Chris is in the backseat, Matt and Nick are in the driver and passenger, Nick is holding the camera talking as he normally would for any vlog bringing up special events happening in the future not just for the triplets career but for spacecamp. And just saying whatever comes to mind.

Matt makes a left turn towards the LA airport earning a confused expression on Chris’s face, “are we picking someone up?” He asks Nick only smiles at the camera as Matt looks over at Chris through the rear view mirror with a subtle grin.

“So we actually have a special guest that will be included in this vlog. We’re very excited to have them be in our video.” Nick says emphasis on the ‘excited’ catching Chris’s attention, he wasn’t aware there would be a guest on their vlog, normally he would know if they were having someone else in their vlog but the fact he didn’t know until now only sparks his suspicions more.

Arriving towards the pick up section Chris moves towards the backseat window eyeing who the fuck could be there that they’re picking up. Nick opens the passenger side door getting out with camera still in hand, pointing it towards the entrance of the airport before you come walking out with a suitcase in hand, a huge smile on your face, Nick points the camera towards a wide eye Chris who’s still in the car before he quickly gets out “no fucking way.” He says completely shocked “surprise!” Nick says cheerfully still keeping the camera on Chris before you walk into frame standing in front of Chris who wasted no time in giving you a tight hug.

“You’re even more gorgeous in person” he whispered to you the camera not picking it up. Before both of you pull back but still close enough to each other. “Hii Nick” you say giving him a hug as Chris takes the camera pointing it at both of you, Matt gets out of the car to give you a warm welcome hug as well. Before Chris hands the camera over to Matt. “You guys are absolutely SICK for doing this to me” Chris says chuckling. The camera perfectly capturing the moment of Chris admirably looking down at you.

He really couldn’t believe that you were right there in front of him, he could literally hold you in his arms and he’s just processing that now. It was crazy how just a few months ago he was talking about how pretty to were on a twitch stream to being right there beside him, If anything he was falling even harder for you at this point. You definitely are his top 1 hear me out!

RAHHHHH I feel like this turned out so bad 😭💔 but you guys wanted a part 2 and who am I to say no when I also enjoyed writing about this even though I kinda don’t like it but WHATEVER. Some of you guys want this as a Wattpad story and OH how I’m so ready to do so, I’ll let you guys know when I have everything set up for that! But thank you so much for the positive feedback on this story I hope you enjoyed!

Besos a mis amores! 💌

↳ @chrisspirategirl ❤️

Dividers from —> @bernardsbendystraws

[luvyeni]

HAVING A THREESOME 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre smut 𖹭 warning threesomes , gxg mxm mxf themes, unprotected sex , pegging, sub jake — parings enhypen hyung line x fem reader | back to library .

— how enhypen would feel when you ask them for a threesome.

「 authors note 𖹭 」 my first time writing a enha member as a sub and i'm not mad at it.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

heeseung is freaky so i think he definitely would be interested in having a threesome; he wouldn't mind having one with a girl but it wouldn't be his first choice , he doesn't really feel all too comfortable with fucking another girl but he's not gonna lie , watching you kiss a girl would be hot , but he definitely doesn't want to kiss her. i think he'd want to fuck you with one of his friends , jake or sunghoon. he want to watch them fuck you , before he does , most likely be into double penetration as well , both of them fucking you at the same time , he just want to show how pretty his girl looks while she's being fucked past her limits by his friend.

"see how pretty she looks when she's cumming , keep fucking her and watch her squirt."

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

jay would never agree to a threesome, he's way too territorial over you , and he definitely doesn't want to fuck another girl. if you ask him ; he's gonna laugh , thinking you're joking, but when he notices that you're serious his entire faces changes. "you seriously asking me this?" he's pissed off that you would even think about that. "what you want me to fuck another girl , cause that's not happening and if you think im bringing another man in here , like one of my friends you're cute baby but you're as dumb as they come." will end up fucking you right there , face down ass up; showing you that you don't need anyone else in the bed room to pleasure you , make sure you never ask a dumb ass question like that again.

"next time you want me to fuck you dumb just ask , don't ask stupid questions to piss me off."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

this mother fucker here , he's down for anything; one of his friends or one of yours he's down either way, jake isn't afraid to admit he'd be down to kiss another dude , like his members , he's also not afraid to admit that he wants to be used by too pretty girls , tie him up and use him , toying and using his cock while he can't do anything but cry and shoot blanks, begging you both to stop even though he doesn't want you too , having you sit on his cock , and the girl sitting on his face , he's in heaven. "let's try something different baby." his eyes widened when you pull out the strapon , he's nervous because he's never had anything up there before but he's such a good boy so he takes it like a champ , he's not gonna lie he did like it more than he thought it would. when he's all gone and fucked out , you let the girl leave and you go take care of your baby.

"i did good right?" "so good baby , you did so good."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

he'd say no at first— he likes fucking you and that's it , but of you really want one he might let it go once , but he has to pick who it is— he chooses sunoo , he thinks sunoo would be the perfect person , simply because he know inexperienced sunoo wouldn't fuck you as well as he would and he knew you wouldn't ask again— everyone wins. he'd guide both of you through the entire thing , making sure you both came , showing sunoo how to make you cum , and cum you did. once sunoo left , sunghoon wasn't finished , now he wanted to let you know that it would be the only time someone fucked you besides him , and that no one could fuck you as good as he could.

"he barely made you cum , you see nobody else could make you cum like i can , so don't ask again."

©LUVYENI

[infevious]

WISH YOU WERE SOBER

sum: confessing to him when you’re drunk

pairing: kinich x gn reader

contains: drunken confession, slight mention of his backstory

a/n: i was listening to “wish you were sober” by Conan Gray and thought of this, this is my first fic so uhhhh enjoy 😀😊⁉️ i have not written a fanfic since middle school and im high asf rn so it might be bad LOL might be ooc

———————————————————————————

This party's shit

Kinich sat around while everyone else was celebrating, he saw how you drank bottle after bottle. It hurt to see someone he cared about so deeply drink, it reminded him of his father, who he hated. But he couldn’t hate you, even if he tried.

wish we could dip, go anywhere but here

After a while you sat next to him, he didn’t want to come; he came for you. You excitedly asked if he was going to the celebration your tribe was having, he only agreed because he knew you would be there.

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips

You were awfully clingy when drunk, an equally drunk mualani had to pry you off her. You did the same to him; grabbing his arm and whining.

“I love you so much thank you for being my friend!” you cried

friend.

That’s all he was to you, just a friend.

And please don't drink more beer

He took the bottle away from you, poring what was left of it onto the floor and placing the empty bottle on the crate he was sitting on. He rolled his eyes as you whined

“You drank enough for tonight”

It hurt to see you drink so heavily, but he would never tell you that.

I'ma crawl outta the window now, ‘Cause I don't like anyone around

He looked around at everyone there, drunk, dancing, and celebrating. He never really talked to any of them and didn’t plan to, after all he only came for you. The few people he did talk to was strictly business. He slowly got up and took his arm away from your grip.

Kinda hope you're followin' me out

But this is definitely not my crowd

“Wait..!”

He turned around to see you stumbling behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m tired” Lies.

“…Me too..um- can- can you walk me home? I’m scared to- to go alone”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want you waking home alone in this state either..”

Nineteen, but you act twenty-five now

You always thought he was mature for his age, in Mualani’s words he always “has a stick up his ass”. You couldn’t blame him though, with the environment he grew up in..

Trip down the road, walking you home

“Come on, trouble magnet”

He waited for you to catch up and put an arm around your waist holding you up so you wouldn’t fall, you could barely walk and he was annoyed, sad even.

“The stars are so pretty”

“It’s really hot..”

“Woah look at the moon!”

He was getting tired of your endless sentences. He couldn’t understand how you could be such a heavy drinker. Was it a coping skill? He went through a lot and never thought about picking up a bottle. Did you enjoy the feeling? He wouldn’t know, he always swore to never try it. He didn’t want to end up like him.

Pullin' me close, beg me, "Stay over"

“Stay over..it’s too late and- I dont want to be alone right now”

He looked down at your drunken state, eyes half lidded, cheeks red; you looked so beautiful. He was always confused on how you were never like his father when drunk, you were always smiling, laughing, dancing, the complete opposite of him.

But I'm over this roller-coaster

He listened to you talk about whatever popped up into your mind, he turned to look at you after you’ve been quiet for some time. You were just looking at him, his lips.

“This- this is a dream right..?”

He looked at you confused, dream? Where did that come from?

“Sure, yeah this is a dream”

He didn’t really think anything of it, were you going to tell him an embarrassing memory? A secret no one else was supposed to know? Or- no. You would never..you said it yourself he was just a friend.

He looked at you, the moon light making you look almost angelic. He noticed you looking at his lips and then his eyes.

“If this is a dream then i can…”

He felt your lips press against his and it felt like time had stopped.

You pulled away, whispering an ‘I really like you’ before passing out almost immediately. He just sat there, a million thoughts rushing through his head. What the hell just happened? He looked down at you and noticed a small smile.

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

[revelboo]

Revel i love u, (platonically) its such a treat to see a notification from you and im scrambling to read it.

no need to write or anything, but what do you think about Pharma?

Thank you! I’ve been meaning to tackle him anyway since I’ve gotten 3 or 4 requests for him, but wasn’t entirely sure how to write him. He does horrible things, but he does them to survive, so he’s a bit complicated. And unstable. 18+ 🌶️

Pulp Fiction

Pharma x Reader

• Guilt a living thing in his spark, it’s almost become a routine now. A deft incision and a few little snips to paralyze the motor functions of his patient. Part of him is relieved that it gets a bit easier every time, while the rest of him dies a little more. They’re going to offline anyway, he knows it. There’s nothing he can do to save them, he didn’t kill them. None of this is his fault. Only taking their T-cog, since they don’t need it anymore and he does. Paralyzed, their optics still stare up at him. Accusing him until he wants to drive the end of the scalpel into those awful optics again and again so they can’t stare at him like that. Shoving away from the berth before he gives in to the impulse, he feels energon running down his servos, down under his plating as he carries the T-cog to the hidden bin and adds it to the rest. Turning away, he almost misses the furtive little sound.

• Sneaker squeaking on the floor, you hold your breath as the giant turns and looks around. Praying it won’t see you. That you’re so small, you won’t be noticed as you fight another wave of nausea. You don’t know where you are or how you got there, but you feel awful and your head is pounding. If you retch, it’ll definitely find you. But it doesn’t matter as those blue optics spot you and widen. Upper lip curling as it snarls something unintelligible at you and lunges. Screaming, you take off.

• What is that? Some kind of horrible, little organic that screeches at him and runs away when he grabs for it. And it’s surprisingly fast as he gives chase, spark thrumming. Snatching up an empty energon cube from a gurney, his peds slide as he overtakes the thing and it falls trying to change directions. Yelping when he slides the cube toward it and it jumps inside to avoid being crushed against the wall. Tipping the cube flat, it cries out as it slides to the bottom before shoving back into a corner away from him. “Little pest,” he mutters, picking up the cube and studying the thing, noticing the coverings. A domesticated pet, maybe? One of his late patient’s? It takes him a moment to realize the noise it’s making isn’t random. It’s talking, or at least trying to. He can’t understand a word of it’s nonsense. “You’re almost cute for a filthy organic.” Big eyes stare up at him as he vents, wondering if he should just toss it in the incinerator.

• Cringing against the side of the clear box when the giant reaches in and touches the top of your head, it takes a minute to realize it’s petting you like a lost kitten. As scary as the thing is, it occurs to you that being on its good side probably significantly increases your life expectancy until you can escape and figure out what’s going on. So you awkwardly reach up and pet his giant servo. “Hi.”

• That tiny hand is surprisingly warm as it touches him, the little thing tipping its head back to smile at him, expression uncannily like a Cybertronian’s. What is this thing? Venting tiredly, he carries it to his office and sets it on his desk and wipes the energon from his servos. “It’s not like I enjoy helping that psychopath. I don’t have a choice,” he mutters to himself. “If I don’t do it, I die and he finds someone else to do it.” You make a noise and he glances over to find you staring at him, a hand pressed to the inside of the cube. Babbling your nonsense as he huffs out a laugh. “Right?” It not like he has anyone else to pour the poison out to, no one who wouldn’t turn him in anyway. And he needs to say it or he’ll go mad. “You understand, don’t you?”

Next

[rene-spade]

Ok but how are the crazy f1 dads with their daughters dating? Who on the grid do they like?

oof this is a loaded ask bc they really are all out of it 😭 they just love their babies fr

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dad! kimi | growing up räikkönen!

FIRST OF ALL kimi doesn’t really vibe with most people in general, let alone anyone who’s trying to get with his little lumienkeli. kimi was lucky to raise a little girl similar to him, who listens when he places a no dating rule lasting until she’s 21 (as far as he knows anyways). despises the guys on the grid trying to get with her; he was one of them once so he thinks of them as animals, especially leclerc who’s known for his brow-raising dating life. also hates pierre but he already didn’t fw him bc he’s french. he is SLIGHTLY more easy going with women around his daughter so any grid guys with girlfriends might have an advantage. he finds that he wants the im-a-dog-and-ill-do-whatever-my-girl-says type for his daughter, but he dislikes unintelligence. he does not like anyone on the grid, but he best tolerates:

mick schumacher!

oscar piastri (+lily)

he vibes with kika okay but hates pierre 💀

bonus! he actually really likes max but his hate/distrust for jos overpowers that so he’s not letting that happen

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dad! jenson | growing up button!

OK SO JENSON is a bit less intense than kimi, however he is much more publicly affectionate with his daughter which means that he has definitely gone on public rants about how no man is good wen enough for his baby. that being said, he is a decent judge of character so he doesn’t hate anyone on the grid. but he gets real serious when he notices people hitting on his baby. this is mostly bc he was def a whore when he was younger so he isn’t quick to trust guys who are living the same lifestyle he was. he kind of turns on dad-mode when he notices anyone eyeing her up. but alas, he raised his own mini-me, who attracts just about everyone, and who likes to flirt back. it takes warming up to, but he can see himself fine with most of the drivers. he most prefers people who are friendly and who didn’t act like him when he was in f1 like:

oscar piastri

daniel ricciaro

george russel

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dad! fernando | growing up alonso!

NANDO IS DEFINITELY one of those guys who thinks he’s a “cool dad” bc he’s a young father and his daughter is his best friend. but in reality he’s one of those intense, fiercely overprotective dads who have impossibly high expectations for his daughters partner. 100% the type to punch a mechanic for saying gross things about his princesa. he’ll be calm and in a good mood then someone on the grid (or any man ever) mentions his daughter and he’s like 😐. UNLESS! it’s carlos. carlos is the only one who meets his standards, sorry to literally everyone else. but even with carlos, he can be a little stern just to get his point across about not messing with his only child. he just feels the need to personally approve of his daughter’s partner bc he’s hyper-paranoid about someone hurting her. his list looks something like:

carlos sainz!!!

that’s it

i mean if you put a gun to his head maybe max bc he’s a winner but he needs to learn to speak spanish so-

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dad! jos | growing up verstappen! unfortunately

FUCK JOS VERSTAPPEN obviously, however this man is one crazy dad who we have to discuss. his love for his youngest daughter is wild and unpredictable, and it’s very different from the way he treats his other children. his baby has some extreme one-sided beef with him that he’s smart enough to know about, so he isn’t too forceful about bonding, it’s definitely more desperate since max found success in f1 and she sticks with her big brother now. her entire life, he’s never allowed her to date, and when he found out about her first secret bf, he got arrested for trying to kill the kid so. he has IMPOSSIBLY high standards for his daughters partner and definitely wants her to marry within the f1 community, but he hates losers and despises half the grid.

suddenly he’s charles leclerc’s biggest fan !

lewis hamilton but he’ll never admit it

MAYBE carlos sainz

bonus! max obvi likes daniel ricciardo best but jos doesn’t fw him like that

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Ren