#sorry i know this isn't that good and it's kind of embarrassing

[bcacstuff]

Hi BC! I hope you are OK. We miss you here

Thanks Anon 🧡, trying to get back in the saddle though need some time to catch up. Spend 4 day in bed sweating the reactions on the vaccination jabs out and not feeling well. Just made myself some soup as I haven't had a normal warm meal all these days...

I came ack to an inbox with 70+ new Anons. Most going on about Ash and him, well they've been annoying me all the time with these shenanigans. I have to take a closer look at the game videos with a more clear head. I don't know. I'll come back later on that. But to everyone jumping to all kind of conclusions and already calling him out for everything but good, sorry you are embarrassing. He has done some dumb things in the past but screwing an employee isn't one of them.

Same goes for the few that are still on the Sarah train, looking for hiding men, or hands that aren't his' or hearing his voice everywhere 🙄🙄🙄🙄 Please grow up, it's so embarrassing to see how you're in a tunnel looking for things that aren't there.

Oh and above goes as well for everyone trying so hard to see things that aren't there, dropping names in my inbox where there's nothing to see. Just don't do that. It's very tiresome.

Anon, this rant isn't for you. Thank you for you're concern, I just made myself some soup and will see if there's anything in a normal way I can answer and give some sort of rational opinion on.

🧡🧡🧡

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈

[primofate]

"Where'd you get that bruise--Oh," in which your Genshin lover gets a good look at the first hickey he left

Warnings: please excuse mistakes as I'm on a time crunch and also sleep deprived, suggestive but still safe for work, humorous in some parts

Other works in this series: (You say I love you for the first time)

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader  

Aether

gets flustered

"Uh-Umm... Maybe, you should..."

he wants to say cover it up but who is he to tell you what to do?

Starts to second guess if he really gave you that

Will start to think about the events of last night and deflates with embarrassment

Finally points it out, feels kind of bad that he left a mark

"It's just...distracting...I'm sorry if it hurt,"

Albedo

stares at it for the longest time.

There's a half smile, half amused look on his face, like he wants to be happy about it but doesn't want to be too obvious.

Just chuckles and points it out without any shyness whatsoever

"It's rather obvious, but do with it what you will,"

Comes up with some sort of concealing potion to help you hide it

Brews about a 100 of 'em

Alhaitham

Sort of does a double take, looks at it for a few seconds then looks you in the eye

"I'd advise you to hide it,"

he really only says that to keep things professional when the two of you go out

but in the next second he snakes a hand up your arm with a small secret smirk between the two of you

"However, I can't say that it won't happen again...Specially when..."

He recalls the events of last night at this moment, and it seems as if he's staring into your soul. He breaks away from you with a slight hum.

"...I best be going now."

He leaves you confused, but he only hurried off because he felt an urge to give you another one then and there.

Ayato

chuckles to himself

"Well, there's no hiding that I enjoyed myself,"

but gives you helpful suggestions on how to conceal it or at least make the colour less obvious, like putting ice against it, or something.

Speaking of ice, you can simply get it from the kitchen but Ayato is a tease... "I suppose my dear sister can adequately help you with that...Though what, pray tell, would you tell her?"

You kind of shrug and say that you'll tell her an animal bit you.

Ayato is amused "An animal," but there's a twinkle and hint of lust in his eyes. "Yes, perhaps that's what I become when it involves you. The statement isn't exactly a lie,"

Cyno

is silent. Not sure if he's happy about it or horrified.

Feels like a crime cause it looks like a bruise.

Does not say anything for a good minute because he simply doesn't know what to say and is talking to himself in his mind

Like Was I really the one who did that? Last night must've been...

Snaps out of his stupor when he's reminded of the events and clears his throat to catch your attention.

"Y/N...You...I...I've managed to leave a mark...on your neck..."

You absentmindedly touch it and let out a small ohhhhhhh in understanding

Clears his throat again and looks away, pretending to be busy with something. Flustered and doesn't know what else to say.

Dainsleif

Eyebrows involuntarily raise up at the marks.

Points it out immediately

"My dear, it seems that I had a favourite spot last night," and taps on your neck to let you know what exactly he means.

"I can conceal it with a little trick of mine, if you don't mind," he says he can make it invisible to the ordinary eye but some "special" people can see it, so...

"I suppose if you run into the traveller that you'd have to be honest about it. Hm? No, I don't quite mind if they know of our relationship,"

Diluc

is surprised, then apologetic

He didn't know is fully aware how rough he had been last night

Apologizes with a slight tint of red on his cheeks and can't seem to pry his eyes away from it.

"My apologies, Y/N. It looks like I was rather...careless...last night. You should wear something with a collar today...or perhaps, my coat?"

Is seriously considering repenting about it

Itto

"Whoa--"

Is legit about to throw hands but then remembers

"Oh yeah. I did that." while scratching his head bashfully

No shame about it afterwards, even has the gall to say

"I'm surprised it doesn't look worse! It was pretty wild last nig--"

You have to cover his mouth to save yourself from embarrassment

Kaeya

smirks and leans in close to brush his fingers against the hickey.

"It isn't the most flattering of marks but... it gives me quite the sense of accomplishment,"

winks, deadass tries to give you another one right away.

"How about we try that again? Just to even it out on both sides of your neck,"

is only half joking

Lyney

mischievous laugh

is more happy about it than shy, embarrassed or apologetic

"That wasn't very nice of me wasn't it?" but is still smiling

"Unfortunately I don't think I have any magic tricks up my sleeve to fix this one,"

Grabs and hugs you by the waist "I guess we'll just have to stay in, the two of us, until it's unnoticeable"

always looking for an excuse to spend alone time with you.

Neuvillette

clears his throat almost immediately when he sees it, like he choked on water

"Y/N," he starts rather sternly but falters and takes a few seconds to think.

"May I suggest wearing a scarf today?" is awkward about pointing it out so goes the roundabout way. You're so confused because it's the middle of summer.

"Well," he coughs once to try an explain to you. "I didn't have all manners of restraint last night...You were simply...irresistible,"

points it out by gently thumbing at it

Scaramouche

shit-eating grin at the sight of it

Doesn't tell you to cover it up, most likely wants you to go parading around with it.

"Tsk. What's the harm if people ask? Just be honest and tell them," he's just fucking around with your head now

but snatches your wrist and looks you straight in the eye with a confident smirk "And be sure to tell them who gave it to you. That'll teach them to back off,"

Tartaglia

laughs but is slightly apologetic

"Couldn't hold myself back, I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

You tell him that the next time he leaves a hickey, he should leave it somewhere where it's more concealed.

"Oh?" sudden glint in his eyes. You might have said the wrong thing. "No take backs, Y/N,"

I think you know what or where he's thinking about

Tighnari

Doesn't say anything at first but immediately whips up a remedy for it. Some sort of green paste that helps with inflammation.

"Here," and hands you the bowl of herbs. "For that,"

He doesn't point at it but instead eyes it rather obviously

He also watches you put the paste on "Alright, just leave it for a few minutes and it should heal wonderfully,"

He doesn't exactly feel guilty but he's more worried that people will look at you weirdly.

"I suppose I'll have to be careful next time," with a sigh.

Wriothesley

laughs but bashfully face palms and tilts his head backwards

Recovers quickly and smiles apologetically

"Sorry love, couldn't hold myself back it looks like," lovingly takes your face in his palms

Can't hold his smile back "But can you blame me? I'm not gunna hide that I was way too excited,"

Suggests you to put a bandage of some sort over it.

"I'll try to be careful next time, but no promises,"

Xiao

Freezes while looking at it

For a split second is confused where you got such a mark but then flusters himself when he remembers it was from him.

"...Y/N..."

seriously does not know what to say

stands there staring at it that you finally just check in the mirror yourself. He hears you gasp and he kind of winces to himself and now feels a little guilty.

"I...didn't mean to hurt you,"

You quickly tell him it doesn't hurt, but you were just surprised.

Thinks for a moment, then mumbles, you can barely hear him "...So it's alright to do it again?"

Zhongli

chuckles, not shy about it. just amused.

"It's no one's fault except my own. I merely wasn't paying heed to how...carnal...my desires were,"

he again chuckles as he explains.

"Not to worry darling, I'm sure Bubu Pharmacy has something to remedy it. I'll be back with it in tow,"

brushes his fingers against the hickey as some sort of apology and promise that he'll fix it

End

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[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

TW: lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm so sorry, I just thought-”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you-” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it-” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[luveline]

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k] 

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision. 

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice. 

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick." 

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?" 

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?" 

"What?" 

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound. 

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges." 

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer. 

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you." 

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you." 

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you." 

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool. 

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that." 

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?" 

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too. 

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?" 

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?" 

"Did you?" 

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely. 

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time." 

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to. 

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm. 

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt." 

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second. 

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight. 

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours. 

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks. 

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it. 

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like." 

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"It doesn't hurt?" 

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign." 

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do. 

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out. 

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap." 

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though." 

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you. 

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies. 

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks. 

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively. 

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too." 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest. 

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please." 

"I'm really warm." 

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there. 

You take a deep breath. 

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls. 

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side. 

"Look up," he murmurs. 

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes. 

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.  

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake. 

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair. 

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore. 

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight. 

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters. 

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face. 

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask. 

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?" 

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch. 

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please." 

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs. 

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?" 

"What for?" 

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him. 

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel. 

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?" 

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it. 

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?" 

"I didn't know they weren't real." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up." 

Your mind blanks. 

"Make sure I can hide it," you say. 

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole. 

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking. 

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return. 

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't. 

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be. 

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?" 

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light. 

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens. 

"Was that so hard?" he asks. 

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness. 

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have." 

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but– but I don't want good. I want you." 

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself. 

"I'm not good?" you ask. 

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders. 

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face. 

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks. 

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped. 

Wiped, but good. Lax. 

"That was nice," you say breathlessly. 

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile. 

"You're like a dead fish." 

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over." 

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started." 

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth. 

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug. 

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked." 

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened. 

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

[yurinaa-world]

May i request love and deepspace boys with clingy!reader? Shes shy too!! In public, she'll hold onto his hand or finger and stays quiet but at home she becomes a yapper machine and also likes to plop onto his lap as she talks. Sometimes likes mindlessly squeezing and playing with his meaty bicep too :3

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, & Sylus x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's clingy at home and mindlessly touches him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I got sickkk 😫 this isn't my usual quality...I'm sorry (it had to be when it's my first post with the 4 lnds guys...Give me another chance!)

💫𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇"

He eats it up, watching you act shy in public, grabbing the piece of his shirt or finger whenever you're in public. The second you feel like you're in a comfortable space he watches you unwind, holding onto him so tightly that he’ll just tease you. 

Your pretty self not wanting to let go of him, not even for a glass of water, straddling his lap, and arms wrapped around his neck, hiding in his neck. You're just begging him to tease you so badly. Yet his jaw just drops whenever you unconsciously touch him more. 

While you’re talking about your day, your hands unconsciously go to his chest. aren’t you so handsy? He stops in the middle of your sentence, teasing you so much even bringing up the other times you act shameless with him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After such a long day, you can’t help but unload everything you had been feeling the entire day, just going on and on while he puts on his irrelevant commentary—letting gasps and hums, you play with the buttons on his shirt before taking your hands away from his buttons, gently caress his chest while you talk about the climax of your entire day.

“You should have seen her, she was completely soaked and the owner didn’t even say anything even though it was his fault that it happened in the first place!” you chirped—your eyes shining so bright there might be little stars in them—leaning into his face to emphasize your point, he just gasps as if he were there experiencing it. “Oh wow…” he smiles back at you—it looked more like a sly lazy grin plastered on his lips.

“Yeah! And then…”

There you go again switching through topics so fast that he might just start taking notes to understand what you’re talking about. But feel his grin get wider, while your hands shamelessly touch his chest like a creep on the streets.

“If you’re going to shamelessly touch me, at least own up instead of pretending to tell a story.” He grins, snapping you out of your story with an accusation of your character. Your eyes go wide feeling embarrassment pool into your stomach, resulting in your cheeks becoming rosy red as your hands spring back.

“I didn’t mean to touch you like.” you stutter as if he were a cop, while he just enjoys watching you freak out. “You’re such a terrible liar, you’re always touching me, taking advantage of me just because I let you do it once” he sighs dramatically, pinching, and pulling your cheek as if he were an adult lecturing a child—in reality he would be the child…“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t bother, I already know the truth.”

💫𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇"

He lets you unwind, it’s good for a person to relax after a long day, and you it’s no different—maybe a bit more affection from him while he lets you grasp onto his arms.

Arms wrapped around his one arm while you talk about your day, with a large smile on your face, your body basically sinking into the side of his. He finds it amusing the way you act but what does he expect? You’ve always been like that; it's not like he hates it, he loves it.

He even lets you play with his tie, slowly untying it and fiddling with it as if we’re some kind of toy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I didn’t tell you about the craziest thing that happened today.” You realized, switching through topics so fast that he has to put his entire mind onto what you tell him, which he doesn’t mind, he’ll always listen to whatever you have to say. 

Your body against his, sinking into his side with your fingers fiddling with the tie as if it were a toy.

His eyes are loving to them while he listens to your voice with such attentiveness as if he were still taking a midterm exam back while he was a medical student. Just going on and on, telling every part of the story, before stopping to think of another story in the past. “Remember when we were kids!…” there you go again.

He’ll always find it adorable, a small plastered upon his gentle face from your hold speaks for itself.

 “Do you remember that?” 

“Pretty well, I remember another embarrassing thing you used to do, always holding and touching…seems that nothing changed,” he smiles at you, his hand going to withdraw your hand that was fiddled with a tie, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles.

“Your touch still feels more like a medical exam,” he gently teased you, seeing your mouth agape made him love you more.

“Not that I dislike the feeling, I can’t go a day without it.” He reassures, bringing your hand to his heart, making you feel where his heart is.

“You can Continue speaking, I won’t stop you.”

💫𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉"

He just loves to listen to your voice, whether it be a childish story about what happened that day or a drama your friend/coworker told you.

Now it’s no different even if he’s dozing off, his head flinching awake while you straddle his lap. It's fine! He’s not tired! You should keep on talking!

Through his half-lidded eyes looking back at you. Your touches might be the thing that brings him towards the border of going to sleep and staying awake, how dangerous you are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“And then she left her boyfriend for her boss,” you gushed, leaning into his face to exaggerate the story more while he looked back at you with his tired gaze, “can you believe it, Xavier? And you know what her boyfriend did!” you exclaimed, he can’t help but let out a yawn.

“What did he do?” he asked sluggishly, his arms snaking their way up your waist, he might just be going in and out of sleep, every time he slowly closed his eyes and opens to jump in between different stories or different parts of one long story, yet he couldn’t fall asleep, feeling your hands move around his body.

“Xavier, are you awake?” 

You gently poke his cheek, while he just softly groans before he pushes you into his neck, taking the chance to hide himself in the crook of your neck. 

“You can keep talking…”

💫𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓊𝓈 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓃𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓈"

He’s very “attentive” to your little story about what happened in Linkon that day, with his eyes softly staring at you with that signature smirk. 

You have quite the hands, don’t you? He would think you were robbing him blind with your touches. Just feeling your arms on his bicep, his bicep right against your chest, even if he pulls slightly away, you just pull him back.

He can’t help himself but stare at you like, to the point you notice and stop your story under his gaze.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So that’s what happened…” he hums, listening to your little stories, grasping tightly on his arm while you laugh at your own story, and the way your lips grin ear to ear. 

“Pity I wasn’t there to see that.” He murmured—the little voice in the back of your head tells that it’s probably not the story he's focused on, cocking his head to the side, watching you go off onto another rant. only for you to cut your story short when you locked eyes with him for too long.

“He…”

“Something wrong?” He tilts his eyebrow with a subtle smirk on his lips, watching your lips pressed together in nervousness. “Well…” you mutter, while he just laughs at your expression. 

“Go on, keep on talking, I'd rather not miss what you were telling me, keep grabbing my arm like that as well.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[xreader-writing]

Someone better | LN4 and FC43

Prologue

Sumarry: Lando is treating his girl badly, but thank God one Argentine is more than happy to do everything he doesn't do.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto X Driver!Reader | Lando Norris X Driver!Reader

WC:1.265

(WARNINGS:) Abusive relationship, manipulation, machismo, sexism, Lando is a complete idiot here, sorry! 😔

A/N: Since Y/n is Brazilian (And in Brazil we speak Portuguese and not Spanish) Franco and she will speak English to each other most of the time, okay?

How do you realize you're in an abusive relationship? When do you realize? Do you... Do you realize it?

Is it when it gets more violent? Or is it already extreme?

Lando isn't violent, but he is aggressive, that always confuses Y/n.

She's only 21, for God's sake, she got her place in F1 this year when she was called up to replace Checo for the entire 2024 season, yes, she signed with Redbull and is now partnered with Max Verstappen

When she started her relationship with Lando, it was very different, well, I think that's the problem with an abusive relationship, you only realize it when it's too late, and sometimes, unfortunately, you don't even realize it.

Lando was handsome, sweet, affectionate and fun, it was impossible not to fall in love with him, but...

Y/n thinks she can remember the first time he acted strangely.

It was when she was in P1 for the first time, Max was in P2 and Charles got P3, she remembers trying to greet Lando, but he walked right past her, making her feel completely embarrassed with so many cameras filming the event.

"He's just frustrated and tired." That's what she thought.

To make matters worse, Lando didn't go to celebrate with her, only God knows where that boy got himself into that night, but she doesn't want to think about it too much.

That was supposed to be her moment, but he managed to ruin everything.

"Enjoy your night, you deserve it so much." She remembers Chales saying that with his hand on her shoulder and a comforting smile.

After a few days he simply went back to normal without saying a single word about it, as if he hadn't broken her heart into little pieces.

The second time it was actually Max who noticed it, well, he adopted Y/n as his little sister, and he really loved her as if she were.

He was in the paddock when he arrived at the Redbull carriage and came face to face with Lando and Y/n in a distant corner.

It wasn't uncommon to see them in each other's garages, but Max frowned when he saw Y/n half-curdling while Lando spoke non-stop in an aggressive and low tone, only for her to hear.

Max got even more irritated when he saw Lando's expression change when he saw the cameras approaching.

He needed to have a little talk with Y/n.

Later that day, Max managed to catch Y/n alone and he couldn't miss the opportunity.

"Hey." He approaches smiling and she forces a smile.

"Hi Max."

"I wanted to ask you something, I don't want to be nosy or anything, but is everything okay?" Max notices that Y/n's hands are shaking so much that she can't open her can.

"It's okay, I just...fucking can." Max smiles weakly, takes the can from her hand and opens it in a second.

"You know he can't treat you like that, right?" Max says, giving the can back to her, who lowers her head a little uncomfortably.

"He's just kind of nervous and frustrated too."

Max laughs in disbelief upon hearing this.

"What kind of shitty excuse is that? He might have the worst day of his life, but he has to respect you." Y/n doesn't know what to do upon hearing Max say this.

"It's okay, Max, I...I like him." Max sighs and puts her hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"You'll always have me, okay? Even if you go to another team, whichever team you go to, you'll still have me, I promise." Those few words made Y/n's day 100% better.

The third time was a little more problematic, Y/n wasn't having a good day, and to make matters worse, the reporters seemed to sexualize her in every question, damn it.

"Why are you so glum?" Lando says, approaching her and taking her hand.

"I just don't understand why they have to sexualize me in every possible question." She says quietly and Lando scoffs.

"You're a woman and you're Latina, what do you expect them to do?" Y/n looks at her boyfriend confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/n, are you going to say you don't like this kind of attention? All this attention they give you?"

"You think I like being harassed? What's your problem?" Y/n lets go of his hand, and he's quick to pull her hand back, squeezing it a little tighter this time.

"Are you trying to put on a show for others now?" He says quietly, looking into Y/n's eyes, and she just wants to scream and run away.

But there are already too many lies and distorted stories about her out there, so she just turns her face away so she doesn't have to look at him, and forces a smile when Oscar and Charles approach to talk to them.

After that, Y/n thinks her mental health is hanging by a thread, the reporters make her seem like a gold digger, that she's only there to sleep with all the drivers, her boyfriend makes her feel ungrateful and crazy, and the haters won't stop trying to kill her once and for all.

But...

In the middle of all this, someone showed up...

Franco Colapinto

Franco and Y/n had known each other since the F2 days, they always laughed a lot and joked together, when Y/n went to F1, Franco cried with emotion with her.

But he knew how much she would be missed.

But now he's at Williams replacing Logan.

When he arrived at F1, he was all joy, Franco got to talk to his favorite drivers, and that was a dream come true, but when he turned around and saw Y/n drinking water and with a completely worried expression, he felt his legs a little wobbly.

"Holy shit, she's still beautiful."

Ele sempre a seguia na~~s redes sociais, mas vê-la tão de perto...

As if she could feel someone looking at her, Y/n turned and met Franco's eyes.

He smiled and waved and she waved back smiling with her mouth closed.

But he needed more, so unable to contain himself, he excused himself to the people around him and practically ran to Y/n.

"hola mi hermosa." Franco pulled her into a hug that she happily returned.

"I missed you so much." Y/n says and Franco smiles more.

When they let go of each other, Franco notices the dark circles under her eyes, and her smile that seems a little forced.

"Congratulations on your pole, it was more than deserved."

"Oh Franco, It's been months."

"Uau? Você me deixou ~~tão orgulhosa e feliz." S/n sorri e balança a cabeça.

"Thank you, it was a dream come true for sure, and I know I'll see you up there soon too." She smiles and Franco's heart races even faster, he had completely forgotten the power she had over him.

"Fuck, I forgot about that." Franco thinks.

Before Franco could say anything, Lando appears looking for Y/n.

"Come on Y/n, let's go have lunch." He takes Y/n's hand and looks Franco up and down.

"Hey, man." Lando lets go of Y/n's hand and offers it to Franco, who smiles as he shakes Lando's hand.

"See you around Franco." Y/n says smiling softly and Lando takes her hand pulling her with him.

Franco's smile fades as they walk away and he sighs self-consciously.

"Fuck, I forgot about that too!"

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[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

56 / 1.2k / medic reader + Ghost + coworkers with benefits

kinktober keywords: subtextual authority kink, workplace smut, rivals to rivals who fuck, coworkers with benefits?, voyeurism (mentioned), actual smut in part 2

...

You watch your would-be beau walk away, shoulder knocking against Simon’s as he goes.

Simon, for his part, doesn’t even bother casting the man a sideways glance. His frosty glare is reserved for you. "This is a military base. I don't think I need to repeat myself when I say that this isn't exactly the place to bring men back to your room."

"I'm familiar with the concept.” You make your tone as chilly as his. “I fail to see how what I do is any of your business." Behind him, you see someone else poke their head out of an open doorway and look around. There’s no way she misses the Ghost standing inside your room, staring you down. You hurry to close the door behind Simon.

"Who was he?"

"A friend from another regiment."

"Yeah? Really? A little late for a friend to be visiting, isn't it?"

"We had dinner. It ran late. I offered tea."

"Right," he drawls. "And all he wanted in return was a good cup of tea? Nothing else? You didn’t cozy up together?"

You cross your arms, saying nothing.

His mouth tightens. "You didn't."

"No. How could we when you barge in uninvited? As if what I do is any of your business.”

"It is my business when I spend my nights on the other side of this wall."

"That's not my problem, Simon."

He resists the urge to use his lieutenant voice. Or hit something. Medic or not, he won’t have you brushing him off. "It is your problem," he snaps, stepping up to stand squarely in front of you. "Don't talk back to me."

You say nothing, but don't back down. Instead, you glare up into his eyes and concede nothing. He’s not your boss and you don’t answer directly to him, but fuck if he’s ever tolerated your sass. Or you his strictness. You’ve never managed to be normal about each other.

He lets out a heavy breath, though it does little to calm him. "I shouldn't be hearing you with other men late at night. Do you get that?"

"Then don't listen."

You can feel his patience wearing thin. "It's kind of hard to," he says through his teeth, "when I can hear every damned sound you make."

Your eyes narrow. Does he mean…

"Everything," he says. You blush from your cheeks to your toes. "And I've been hearing it for a while, medic."

You cross your arms tighter, embarrassment bubbling up in your gut. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you could hear so much. That must be... annoying." you turn away and rub the back of your neck sheepishly. "I haven't really been with anyone since my last— well, the last year or so. I've been frustrated. But that's no excuse for disturbing others."

The sudden lapse in your defensive attitude seems to catch him off guard. He softens his tone, though his glare is still locked on you, stern as ever. "You haven’t been with Soap, then?”

Soap? That’s weirdly specific. You shake your head. "No. Look, don't worry about it. It's a personal matter. I won't bother you again."

There's a moment of silence.

"Look at me, medic."

You turn to him, your back stiff and your face as impassive as you can manage despite the sheer embarrassment coursing through you. "I'll keep it down, Simon."

His lips twitch. "The sound isn't what bothers me. What bothers me," he says, narrowing his eyes and leaning closer, "is that you want company."

"I know. I know. Relationships are off-limits."

He continues to watch you with what you’d swear is the beginning of a smirk. "You never told me that you missed being touched.”

A new flush heats your face immediately. God, the mortification.

"Frankly, I would rather die than admit that to anyone. Let alone my lieutenant."

He studies your reaction for a moment. Then he speaks again, his voice lower. "I'm happy you're comfortable enough to admit it to me," he says. "You're right. I am your lieutenant. I need to know what ails you because it's my job to take care of you. You can rely on me. For anything."

You look up at him again. You think you hear the implication in his words, but surely he's not saying what you think he's saying. Not Simon. Not Ghost.

He takes in your bewildered expression before letting out another heavy breath. When you still don't say anything, he takes a step back.

"Medic..." His tone of voice grows softer. "I'm offering you comfort. If you’d like it."

The longer you stare at him, the more the truth sinks in. He's really offering to get you off. To relieve tension. Ostensibly. Simon, of all people.

You look away. "That's against the rules, isn't it?"

He can't help the smirk this time, though his tone remains warm. "Relationships are against the rules, yes. But this isn't a relationship. This is an arrangement to alleviate tension. Nothing more."

The usual generic protests and reassurances die in your throat when Simon rolls his sleeves up, peeling his gloves off. You’ve never seen his bare hands before.

He chuckles at your expression. Then he reaches back and locks the door.

Your heartbeat accelerates. Your eyes travel up his muscled forearms to see him looking at you with deliberation, like you're the object of his next mission. But the anticipation in his eyes isn’t so clinical.

"Sit down."

Anticipation floods your nerves. Seemingly of their own accord, the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed. You sit.

His eyes never leave yours as he approaches. The room gets warmer with every step he takes, sizing you up. When he reaches you, he stops just before his leg can brush the insides of your knees.

"May I?"

Your fingertips tingle. You want to say yes. You didn't know how much you’d want to say yes until right now. But...

You shift, pressing your thighs together, fighting the urge to ring your hands. "I'm not an easy or particularly fun woman to please, Simon." You glance up at him, trying not to look pained. You’re not trying to challenge him. You’re just trying to let him down easy and give him an out. You’re trying to tell him he doesn't want to do this; it’s too much effort. After all, you yourself have been trying to give yourself an orgasm for months without real success.

Still, your warning doesn’t seem to deter him. "Then I'll put in the time and the work," he says. "I need your permission. Yes or no. Do you trust me to take care of you?"

You swallow, your heart skipping. You want that very much. You honestly wonder if he can feel the selfish want rolling off of you in waves. But do you trust him with this kind of vulnerability?

It's not much of a question.

You look him in the eye, your voice even. The tension between you tilts. "Yes. I do."

"Good." He takes another step forward. The air thickens with your proximity. His boots nudge your bare feet. "Lay back. Let me do my job."

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Ghost / masterlist

[no-144444]

a creepy guy who isn't all that creepy- o.bearman

Day 18 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Why does your cappuccino taste like shit? And why are you being followed by a random 6 foot man? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You walked down the streets of Monaco with a frown on your face. It was raining, and on the rare occasion it rained in Monaco, it fucking poured. You powered through the cold water hitting your skin and manoeuvred your way through the various crowds to your favourite coffee shop. It was a small hole-in-the-wall kind of place. It was cosy, it had good coffee, and usually no one bothered you. You ordered a vanilla cappuccino, knowing that you definitely had somewhere you should be (aka, your office) but you just couldn’t sit inside any longer. Fresh out of college and into an office job, it was great, of course, but sometimes the bland office was slightly oppressive to your creativity. You were an author after all. Published at the ripe age of 20. You had your book tour coming up soon, and you’d be busy with family in a few months too, and-

“Cappuccino?” the barista, Martha (yes, you were on a first name basis with the staff, you frequented a lot) called out. Quickly, you swiped the cup and rushed off, hopeful that your manager wouldn’t mention how long you were gone. 

“Sorry?” a British voice called out behind you, but you ignored it. There was a British guy there, some name starting with L, who tried to ask for your number, and refused to take no for an answer, so you moved on assuming it was him. 

Onward you went, trudging down the almost empty streets, your headphones in. You took a sip of your drink and instead of the usual vanilla foam and black coffee goodness, you were met with a bland black coffee and regular foam. Well, you couldn’t fault them too much, maybe it was their subtle way to tell you to stop ordering the same thing everyday? You weren’t sure. Regardless, you continued on your path, a feeling of unease growing in your stomach as you noticed the tall man behind you, following. 

You sped up, took your keys out-

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, I think I picked up your coffee by accident?” A British voice spoke from beside you.

Oh. Not so creepy then. Just a mix up. 

“Fucking hell!” you gasped. “Were you not taught to not sneak up on people?”

He guiltily smiled. “I did try to call you in the coffee shop, but you walked off…”

“Oh,” you nodded. You took the lid off of your coffee and handed him the cup. He handed you his without the lid. You took a quick sip to find that it was in fact your vanilla cappuccino. 

A bright smile spread across your face. He smiled too. 

“Sorry about that,” you smiled. 

“I’m sorry too,” he apologised. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

You shrugged. “Read a lot of thriller fiction?”

“You’re Y/n Y/l/n!” he exclaimed. “Yes! I love your books.”

You nodded, it still shocked you that people read your books. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, this is probably weird,” he shook his head, embarrassed. “Can you sign my book please?”

He quickly grabbed your latest release out of his backpack with a sharpie, and looked at you with a crooked smile. 

You obliged, as you often did with fans. “What’s your name?”

“Ollie, Ollie Bearman,” he smiled. 

You turned to him. “I know you too! You’re incredible!” 

He looked at you in surprise. “You watch F1?”

“Yeah,” you stated like it was obvious. “You were incredible on your debut, and in Baku.”

He blushed slightly, and you smiled. “Thank you very much.”

You finished signing his book then handed it back. “I guess I’ll see you on the track next year,” you smiled. “Good luck.” 

And with that you walked on. He peeked inside his book to find your personal phone number with a note that said ‘call me xxx’ and smirked. 

Who knew messing up a coffee order could go so well?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[evie-sturns]

period - 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗼

summary: you unexpectedly get your period after spending the night with chris, he does everything he can to make you feel better.

contains: mentions of blood, fluff, crying, swearing.

----------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐------------———

chris and i have been dating for almost two months, i sleep over at his house often though, including last night.

9:46am

i'm rudely awakened by frantic tapping on my shoulder, i rub my eyes and roll over where i'm met with chris's distraught face. "hm..?" i groan out.

"y/n, are you okay" chris rambles, his vision flicks between my eyes and the matress.

"what..?" i mumble, my vision is still partially blurred from the sudden wake up.

"you're bleeding" chris says quietly, swallowing harshly.

i sit up, the matress is dotted with blood, along with the small pyjama set i wore last night.

my period has always been irregular, ever since i was about 12. i'd never know when it would come but i would just deal with it when it did.

my stomach sinks, my cheeks instantly flush from embarrassment, this is the kind of thing thats meant to happen 2 years into your relationship, not 2 months.

my eyes start to burn, im already an emotional person but now that this has just happened i don't think i can physically be okay.

"im so sorry chris." i say, my voice breaking.

chris clears his throat, i can tell he's slightly awkward about this.

the silence in the room grows, but is quickly cut short by a sob coming from me. chris's head snaps round to look at me, "oh fuck-.. no its okay!"

he gets out of bed, without a second thought he leans over the matress and picks me up in a bridal position. he speed walks to the bathroom, "look at me." chris says calmly as i cry into his shoulder, i tilt my head up and lock eyes with him. "don't cry sweetheart, it doesn't matter to me."

i nod with a sniffle, he places me down on two feet. "you wanna get in the bath?" chris says gently.

"yeah.." i say, my voice still wobbling.

i stand still with my hands by my side vulnerably. "you want me to.." chris whispers, keeping his eyes locked on mine. "if you dont mind.." i reply.

he reaches his hand out and peels my tank top off of my body, along with my shorts. he does it so nonchalantly its impressive.

chris has only seen me naked once, which was only a week or so ago after our first hookup.

he flicks the bath on, putting his finger under the stream to check the temperature before lifting me up and placing me down.

chris bends over and picks up the pyjamas, before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. i throw my head back as soon as he goes "how did this happen." i groan to myself.

-

about 10 minutes has passed, the whole time i've just been trying to calm myself, crying about this isn't gonna make it any less embarrassing for me.

my head snaps to the side as i hear 2 soft knocks on the wooden door, "come in" i say with a forced smile, chris peeks his head round the corner with a sympathetic look. hes got a freshly folded pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in his arms, which he places down on the sink. "you okay?" he asks casually, sitting down on the side of the tub.

"i mean, i'm okay as i can be right now!" i smile warmly up at chris,

he reaches into his pocket and clears his throat "i found this downstairs, i think one of nick's friends left it here-..uh" chris murmmers, pulling a tampon out of his pocket.

"thank you chris, honestly i'm sorry about being a pain." i sigh, chris shakes his head "no you're good, promise."

"just gonna go make the bed, yeah?" chris sits up off the tub and walks out of the bathroom.

-

after getting myself together i open the door to the bedroom, chris is sitting on the bed, laying the pillows out strategically. i feel like a kid thats just thrown up, staring at my parent who just had to bathe me and clean the sheets.

he stands up and runs over to me full force, grabbing me around my waist and picking me up, earning a high pitched squeal from me. "chris!!" i screech as he flops down on the bed with me still in his arms.

"what can i actually do to repay you." i whisper into chris's chest.

"give me some awesome head next week."

"christopher."

----------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐------------———

[kentopedia]

I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”

[wondersinwaynemanor]

what if the batkids decided at the same time to bring their partners to the Manor and they argue about it?

[i can't stop writing long scenes]

scenario 1:

Duke has his arm wrapped around Izzy's waist as they make their way to the movie room.

Duke: Have you decided which movie you want to watch tonight?

Izzy, grins: The Notebook?

Duke, opening the door of the room, chuckles: But we've just watched that two weeks ago. Besides, Dick and Jason love that film, I've watched it a lot of times by now.

Izzy, turns the switch on to illuminate the room: What's the harm in rewatching-

they stop in their tracks as Steph and Cass enter the room from the other entrance of the movie room.

Steph giggles and leans towards Cass' face to kiss her. they don't even notice that the room is now bright with the lights on.

Duke, clears his throat loudly: Uh. Just to let you know, there are other people in the room.

Izzy: Sorry! We didn't mean to interrupt.

Steph and Cass, still holding each other, look at Duke and Izzy at the other side of the room.

Cass waves to them.

Steph: What are you two doing in here?

Duke: To watch a movie? Clearly.

Steph: But we started an hour ago.

Duke: I don't see a sign in the door that says it's occupied though.

Duke has really been hanging too, too much with Damian and Jason.

Cass, covers Steph's mouth before she speaks more: Maybe we can watch together.

Izzy, smiles: What were you guys watching earlier?

Steph and Duke, say at the same time: But this was supposed to be a date!

then Steph and Duke glare at each other, suddenly arguing over random things.

Cass shakes her head and leads Izzy outside the room so they can get some food from the kitchen.

---

scenario 2:

Dick continues to lead Wally to the private pool that was just newly built.

they just came home from a mission and some dip in warm water under the bright stars sounds so good right now.

by the time they both strip down to their boxers, Dick is a giggling mess as Wally bridal carries him on the stairs down to the water.

Wally, still carrying Dick on his arms, backing both of them on the pool wall: Have I told you today how beautiful you are?

Dick, blushes, wrapping his arms on Wally's neck: You always remind me. But tell me again-

then out of nowhere, someone shouts, "KABOOOOOM!" and a large splash of water hit both of them.

Dick, rubs the water off his eyes: What the actual fu-

and it's Roy from across the side of the pool, leaning against the wall with a smug grin on his face. on his side is Jason with the same kind of smile.

Roy, brings Jason closer to him: Oh, isn't it my two best friends of all time?

Jason, laughs: Ocupado, Dickface. Sorry.

he wasn't sorry at all.

Dick, groans, coming down from Wally's arms: You lied, Jay! You said you were out of town.

Jason, shrugs: Plans change, Dick.

Wally, rubs Dick's arm soothingly: A little warning next time, guys?

Roy, grins: Not our forte.

Dick, grumbles: You guys are assholes. Go to another area or something, I don't care.

Jason: I'm sorry, what was that, Dick?

Dick: Asshole, I said go to another area. Period.

Jason: Why you-

then the two brothers are moving forward towards each other on the water, aiming for a fight of sorts. one minute, Jason has Dick under the water and the next, it's Dick chasing Jason in the water like ducklings. like birds.

Wally hides Dick's escrima sticks, while Roy hides Jason's guns. just in case the fight escalates.

---

scenario 3:

Roy, whines: Jaaaaaybird, can we sleep now?

Jason: I said give me a minute, Roy. I need to grab a book.

Roy leans his weight on Jason, closing his eyes.

Jason: And I'm not carrying you, idiot.

although, he wraps his arm on Roy's waist, supporting him as they walk to the Manor library.

Jason, opens the door: Give me a few, kay? Then we can- WHAT THE SHIT?

Roy feels more awake than awhile ago as they both stare at Kon, shirtless on the couch and his hair a mess.

Jason: Clone, what are you doing here????

Kon, flushes, embarrassed: I... I... Um.

then Tim appears from behind the couch too, his hair also a mess, but thankfully his clothes still on. or else Jason would have threw up on the floor.

Roy just has a grin on his face the entire time, amused.

Tim, grins: Hey, guys.

Jason, pinches the bridge of his nose: I swear, Timmy, I fucking swear, if you and clone boy don't fucking take your hormones upstairs to your own room, I will-

Tim: You will what, Jay? I mean... You don't own this place. Doesn't mean you spend most of your time here, it's yours.

Jason: I never said I owned this! I just fucking said, don't do funny business on the library couch.

Tim, scoffs: As if you don't do funny business here.

Roy, grins even widely: The boy's got a point, Jaybird.

Jason, now even more upset: Go, go upstairs!

Tim: But-

Jason: Now, Tim!

Tim: You're not my mom!

Jason: And you're not being responsible!

Tim: As if you're any better!

then the two boys continue to argue, leaving Roy and Kon to shrug and make their own conversation by the door.

Roy: Hey, kid. How's the Young Justice?

Kon, smiles: Pretty good. How's the Outlaws?

---

bonus:

Damian and Jon are in the game room, playing some Mario Kart when they hear voices outside the room.

Steph: We were here first!

Dick: I thought I told everyone in the groupchat that me and Wally will be having the Game Room.

Jason: I already called dibs in the room.

Duke: I arrived earlier than any of you, so technically, me and Izzy get to use it first.

Tim: Hey, I never had the Game Room this week!

Cass, suggests: Can we just all share it?

Damian, opens the door, annoyed: Will everyone just keep their mouths closed? I have settled in the room already.

as the batkids continue to make their points, Jon exits the room and flies to the main living room where the rest of the partners are talking.

Jon, settles beside Kon: I guess this is a regular occurance.

Roy, chuckles: You have no idea, kid.

Wally: As long as I can remember, yes.

Kon: You'll get used to it, little brother.

Izzy: With a house so big, they still argue on who gets a room first.

Izzy, sees the Monopoly game under the coffee table, smiling: Anyone up for Monopoly?

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

When they misunderstand and kiss your cheek - svt 95z

💋Who; Seventeen 95 line (individually) x reader. 💋What; lil fluff reactions. 💋Wordcount; around 1k all together 💋Warning; Profanity. Kind of suggestive in places.

Read the other versions here; 96z - 97z - Maknae3

-2024 Masterlist - A/N-I don't even know where this idea came from, it just popped into my head. I got carried away so I had to split it up and shall upload the other members' parts when I finish them. If you have ideas about the other members then feel free to send them in, it could help with any I get stuck on 💖

💋Seungcheol💋 It's a hot day and for some reason, that apparently means Seungcheol wants to go to the store and get ice cream as if he didn't drag you out for the same reason yesterday. "I told you to buy some for your freezer yesterday!" You whine where you're slumped on the couch at his side with no will to move yet knowing you will because you're utterly whipped for Choi Seungcheol. "Shut up and get ready." He pats your knee, exposed due to your shorts, smearing something on you as he does. It grosses you out until you realise it's some of the sunscreen he's diligently applying to his face. So you sit up and rub in the remnants, then the extra he squirts on your skin assuming you had not applied any already. He's right. Seungcheol finishes first and just holds the bottle open ready to give you more as he tries to not stare at the way your hands glide over your legs for the sake of his sanity. He's already hot enough thank you. When you notice him just sitting there, you lift one hand to tap your cheek, implying that you want him to start working on putting the protective liquid on your face. Instead, he dumbly leans over and plants a kiss there, shocking you still. It isn't until he leans back and takes in your bewildered expression darting between his face and the bottle in his hands that he realises his mistake. "Uh, shit, sorry, I didn't think." "Makes it sound like kissing me is your automatic reaction." "Don't be a brat or you can buy your own ice cream." "Ha, yeah right, you always buy me everything." "I spoil you too much, dug my own grave there." He starts to apply the sunscreen to your face to distract you both from his embarrassing mistake. "You know, for the record, I didn't mind it." "You didn't?" He looks at you and you shake your head a little, cheeks slightly pink as you focus on your legs despite the fact all of the liquid was long ago absorbed. "So can I do it again? But maybe somewhere else this time?" "Pervert." "Complete brat, honestly." "You clearly like it, you want to kiss me so bad." "Yeah, I do. So?" "Do it." So he does and you get carried away enough that by the time you make it out of his apartment, the store is already closed.

💋Jeonghan💋 Everyone knows that Jeonghan loves Legos, a fact that means that pretty much every gift he received for his last birthday and Christmas were Lego sets. It's been months yet he still hasn't even managed to open most of them due to his busy schedule so he recruited you to be his assistant. It's mostly just a ploy to spend more time alone with you but he also does know you're probably one of the only people he knows who enjoys the building process as much as he does. "Ooh, making good progress." He comments after glancing over to see that you are pretty much breezing through the castle as he works on the ferris wheel. His words make you look up with a hum to look at his own progress. You give a thumbs up and look up at his face, he's already looking at you in that happy soft way he does when you two are spending quality time together like this. But you barely notice it, eyes instead landing on the smudge of something on his cheek. You lean a little closer and realise it's powder from the snacks he had earlier been eating. You tap your own cheek in the mirror position, silently telling him about the mark which isn't even an unusual action for you two but for some reason, on this day, Jeonghan doesn't take it as a sign to wipe his cheek but instead lean over, placing one hand on the carpet between you to press his lips gently to your skin. He quickly realises his mistake but in true Jeonghan fashion, he plays it off with a smug little smirk as he settles back into his place and gets back to his task. Not willing to let Jeonghan win this, you lean over and grab him by his collar to pull him closer, causing his eyes to blow wide. You wipe at his cheek before kissing it and then all but shoving him back into place. Neither of you says a word as you get back to your builds, both too flustered to remember how to work your mouths in a way that doesn't involve pursing lips.

💋Joshua💋 Lately, Joshua has been really into baking. At any random time, you can get a message from him requesting your help baking a cake or pie or some other kind of sweet treat. And if you don't respond to him fast enough, he takes it upon himself to turn up at your apartment laden with supplies and takes over your kitchen so that you have no choice but to help him bake. The latter is what has happened today; Joshua turned up a few hours ago declaring that you two are going to make "the best fucking chocolate to have existed. Think that Matilda cake but sexier" and who are you to argue with the sweet buff devil of a man. "Okay, I've got to admit, you were weirdly right about it being sexier," You mutter as you carefully pipe chocolate swirls onto the cake. Or attempts at swirls, neither of you is very good at the decor aspect of baking yet. "Told you!" He grins smugly and looks at you before laughing. "What?" "You've got icing on your cheek." "Get it then," He shows you his hands, already smeared with icing. "You've got a mouth, haven't you-" before you can finish and tell him to lick the icing from his hands, his lips are against your skin. "That didn't work." He mutters, leaning back and licking the smear of chocolate from his lips while keeping his gaze on your cheek. He leans in again and again and again, dragging his lips over that same patch of skin enough that he really should've been done long ago. "There." He finally leans back with a satisfied little smirk. "All clean now." And then he lifts his hands to lick the icing from them like you had tried to tell him to in the first place. You can't really focus after that and the smug bastard knows it.

[luveline]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers. 

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?" 

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo." 

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in. 

"Very much," you agree. 

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys." 

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks." 

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?" 

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones. 

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask. 

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny. 

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him. 

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious. 

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says. 

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog." 

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says. 

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower. 

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice." 

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that. 

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest. 

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin. 

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–" 

"Not what happened–" 

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words. 

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes. 

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze. 

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better. 

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone. 

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?" 

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down. 

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again." 

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly. 

"Then I won't say it." 

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory. 

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…" 

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say. 

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?" 

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment. 

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate. 

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks. 

"About you, handsome? All the time." 

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag. 

"That's in poor taste," he says. 

"I would like to hand in my resignation." 

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram." 

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

[olderthannetfic]

Not gonna lie, sometimes being a writer in my native language feels... isolated and alienating. However not in the 'AO3 stats be low and less than English ones' that maybe one could thought of it at first, no, I know what I am doing writing and posting my non-English fanfics on AO3. I have really good friends and a minor readership that I love.

The isolation and alienation comes from people hating their own native languages and being so vocal (almost proud with others encouraging them) about it. Bet I am not the only who has see this. And I am sorry, but that just feel like hot bullshit. Why do you hate your own language that much? Why do you praise/treat like a better language English and English alone? Why do you say 'ew, a fanfic in my native language!" like that is a completely normal thing to say? I try to come with responses and their logic that aren't plain linguistic colonialism, but I can't. It feels alienating because I see it so. freaking. much. In Tumblr, in Discords, in Reddit, in Twitter, everywhere! Sometimes I have my lows and think 'man am I the wrong here? should I despise my own language, my own (literature) culture? everyone does it'. I respond with a 'no' obviously, since I keep writing in my native language and encourage everyone who approachs me to do it. That still doesn't erase the fact that seeing 'ew fics in my native language sucks!' comments in the wild are pretty demotivating and, to be quite honest, shitty, even if the people doing them aren't from my country.

This kind of feels like a consequence of how... imperialist (for a lack of a better word, sorry) the Internet has become in the past few years. Rather, the whole world, yes; and the Internet is just a part of it so of course fandom got affected by it. If it got affected by this puritanical, bigoted and radfem-y viewpoints, it was just a matter of time for this issue ('fics in English are superior/better in general/better to write/better to got numbers') to chime in. Damned 'globalization'. It was so fast.

--

I hate it. I hate it so much. It's been constant for decades (with the exception of a few languages like Mandarin). English isn't special! Whatever century's trade language can reach more people, but that's it: it isn't more beautiful, historic, nuanced, interesting, worthy, whatever.

And god is English not less cringey and terrible when it comes to words for dicks or squelchy sex noises or whatever else people find terminally embarrassing to write about. We native speakers had to get over it in order to write. Native speakers of anything can do the same!

Though, yes, Arabic-speaking anon from last time, I grant you that some languages' speakers are going to have to invent a whole new era of writing in the vernacular. Go forth. Write your Canterbury tales if that's what it takes.