#that I was too scared to even be in the room with until I was in college

[amastarxoxo]

ㅤ          ㅤ          ㅤ   ˇ ✿ ՚՚ love is my curse ՚՚  ഒ

part 2 of worthless talking

thank you sm! i honestly didn’t think that worthless talking would be THAT good to most people and angsty(?) cause i was never good at writing angst. but thank you so much everyone !! and im almost at 200 followers! thank you very much and thank you arcane for being the glow up of my account ( now i just have to worry about what to write after arcane officially dies ) so if i end up doing the mini series considering it a 200 followers special ( ? maybe )

making up with arcane characters after arguing

S1! jinx , S2! vi , S2! caitlyn , and ekko x fem! reader

reconciliation , hurt/comfort , mentions of abandonment issues ( jinx ) , friends → lovers ( vi ) , mentions of marriage ( caitlyn ) , lover boy! ekko , cursing , mild suggestive ( vi )

masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation

not proofread or requested

JINX

the past few days have been quiet. too fucking quiet. especially for jinx. by now, she would have a talking to her hallucinations or blowing something—anything up but she being held down by something, this agonizing feeling in her chest by she hasn’t had a clue of what is it. she going on her daily routine to see what’s so off. when she wakes up, she wakes up next to you; she always talks to you; when she’s collecting parts, it’s always with you; when she’s making another invention it’s with—you. that’s the issue. jinx cursed at herself for her realization that she pushed you when she promised herself that she wouldn’t. no wonder she’s been so “unstable” according to sevika and silco.

she immediately dropped everything, forgetting about the fishbones project and left the lair. and immediately went to your place. she took out her spare key and immediately searched up and down, every corner for you but your house is empty. she was starting to panic, why aren’t you home? did you just get up and leave? she didn’t think her actions would hurt you that bad, she just wants to apologize for what she done, she didn’t mean it. “Jinx?” a soft voice creeps up behind her, “what are you doing?” jinx snaps her head around, tears resting on the edge of her eyes. “baby…” jinx breathes out.

You placed your bags next to the front door and closes the door behind you. suddenly jinx tackles you into a tight hug, sobbing into your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your waist. you pull her in close, letting her have her moment. “what’s wrong J?” you asked her softly, as she starts to cool off, small sniffles and tears drying up on her face. “i…i thought you left me after that argument we had.” her grip tighten around you. “please don’t leave me…i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to call you annoying o-or you were nagging me i promise and i—” you smash your lips into hers, causing her to softly melt into the kiss and share the warmth of the tight embrace. you slip out of the grasp of her lips and stare at her flushed face with a smile. “im not going to abandon you my love, im always going to be here.” jinx held your hand tightly, “i’m sorry.” you reciprocate her action, “i love you.” “i love you too.”

VI

another day, another lost at the pit fight. no amount of training until she sore, drinking her sorrows away, destroying her life is making the pain go away. no matter what she does, she always recalls the scared look you gave her, it sends a shiver down her spine each time. the horror of herself that you had to experience firsthand. the side that she didn't want you to see; caitlyn, whatever; but you. she deeply regrets that she lost her cool with you, off all people it just had to be you. she didn't bother drinking or training today, she can't. she can't even sleep without your face flashes in her thoughts. strolling around the undercity doesn't help much besides giving her some fresh air of the city she was raised in. she doesn't know how but she ended up at the brothel.

walking down the hallway, rooms filled with variety of sexual activities, workers and customers; she didn't care, she just ended one person right now. she walked past the other offices, she knows you mostly handle the money and service of the other workers for the customers. looking through the office window, she sees you looking over some paper works and envelopes filled with money. she twisted the door knob and closes the door behind her as she enters your office. you glance up at now black haired girl, her pink hair seeping through the tips and ends of it. "how can i help you, violet?" she tenses up and her breath hitches as you use her full name. "it's vi for you."

"who?" vi walks around your desk, you watch her cautiously, she hooks her arm around yours, pulling you up and off your desk chair. making you sit on the desk and pinning you down with both of her arms you trapping in between, "viol-" "vi. say my name correctly." she hovers above you, she slips herself in between your legs. your heart pounding in your chest, "fine fine, vi, what do you need?" vi chuckled dryly, " i want you, sweet." you scoff, "me? or that piltover girl?" vi grabbed your waist, "listen, i realized i was wrong; i care for you, and i love you, not caitlyn." her hands move to hips, pulling you in closer to her, "you were always there for me, even when you had nothing to do with me and caitlyn's mission you were there as always. and i'm sorry for taking that for granted and im sorry for calling you a prostitute." her thumbs absentmindly rubbing circles into your skin, she leans in closer and presses her lips against yours, pulling you into a soft passionate kiss; filled with love and affection. you pull away slowly, "I forgive you."

CAITLYN

you lay restless in your bed at home, away form caitlyn, you don't want to believe she's actually cheating, but the way she act together, maddie is always close to caitlyn, always touching, acting shy around your fiancee. you would always try to find time to bring it up but with the things going on with jinx and ambessa, your time with her lessen to almost nothing, even at night, she's always exhausted and out of breath. you're so lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice you were crying until a maid rushed to you side.

caitlyn could barely focused on the work in front of her, when she's training with ambessa, she seemed so distracted and distant from everything, according to the ambessa, "you do not come back until you're back on your feet, commander." the silence hung in the air. "we need not distractions for justice." that the last thing caitlyn heard before she left and went home to her office. maddie returned, he usual soft and comforting aura, it didn't feel like anything in the first place, but that's how maddie tries to come off. "commander, are you alright? you've been staring at the paperwork for 15 minutes now." maddie nervously chuckled. "I'm fine...just.."she rubs her temple in a pain and annoyance. "excuse me, i have to go see someone." she gets up and grabs her coat and leaves without hearing anything from maddie.

she knocked on the front door of your home, waiting patiently for you, she hears small shuffles and movements behind the door, she hears a faint metal sound; you're looking through the peephole. "what do you want caitlyn?" you open the door in a slight crack, enough for her to see and hear you. "hello...dear, you don't look well." caitlyn's face filled with worry and regret, voice low. "I'm fine." swiftly caitlyn, pushes the door open and pulls you into a tight hug. the cold air from outside slips into your home, causing you to shiver. "I'm sorry..." caitlyn started, "i never noticed how maddie was acting until recently, i assure...no...i promise you that I'm not cheating on you; maddie doesn't compare to you. never has and never will." you broke out into small sobs and sniffles, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.." caitlyn caresses your head gently, soothing you as you cried in her chest.

EKKO

since you recovered from that night, you kept your distance from your boyfriend, even on patrols with you, you stayed nearby but kept a small distance between you two, and of course he noticed, i mean he had to with the whole firelight community scolded him for lashing his anger out onto you.

another night again with patrolling with him, and you sat down at the top of the tunnel, where you got stabbed at but this same time, you're with your boyfriend; who seems extra tensed knowing this is where you go hurt. where he failed to protect you, when you didn't listen to him. you notice that he is shaking, violently. you hesitated but reached out and touched his knee, he stares at you in shock.

"calm down, ekko, if you're aren't fit for patrol then we could call-" "no!" he blurted out, "no...that won't be necessary, i'm fine." he continued on. the night sky and cool breeze surround the both of you. "I'm sorry-" you both said at the same time, you stared at each other. "it's okay-" it happened again. you chuckled, the blush rising on your face and also his. "i love you, fire." he kisses your forehead and cheek. "i love you too.." you pulled him into a soft kiss, officially calling this a good night.

tags : @sseleniaa @woldangnight

©︎ A M A T E R A S U. all rights reserved. please don't plazarize, copy, or steal any of my works without my permission, thank you !

guys say thank you to my mother who allowed me to finish this on her laptop or else you wouldn’t have seen this at all this week nonetheless this early .

[dadbodbuck]

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

[notjustjavierpena]

Inés just broke something in the house, what does hubby and wife say????

Mess (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Such a fun writing project, tysm. I missed them terribly! 

Summary: Inés breaks a lamp. Javier has the scare of his life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Family dynamics, Javier POV, fluff, hurt/comfort, i write to fix my own trauma 

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/137384134

Mess

The stack of folded clothes is growing taller whilst the laundry basket on the double bed is emptying out. Javier is enjoying a weekend with time to get housework done before midterms begin at the local college. He is nervous about guiding his students through the exams for the first time since starting his job as a teacher, feeling like he has only just begun his life as an educator and the responsibilities are overwhelming. You’ve sweetly encouraged him each time he’s voiced his concerns to you, told him that his class is lucky to have him whenever he has mumbled about nerves over dishes or during goodnight kisses. 

With your support, he has found that prepping for the exams is best done accompanied by mindless work and he has gone through several tasks on the list saved in his head; groceries have been bought, gutters have been cleaned, and two full baskets of children’s clothes have been washed and dried. He doesn’t want to admit to you that he thinks about the theories behind criminal behavior while folding Sebastian’s tiny socks. 

You are outside with the boys, enjoying the last months of your pregnancy with a book in your lap, laying in the hammock under the large trees. He checks on the three of you often, spotting that you have put down the book as you sway gently to substitute it with watching your children with a hand on your rounded belly. Lucas smiles brightly as he has Sebastian waddling hurriedly after him on the newly mowed grass. The soles of their feet will be green when they come inside later, marking the floorboards that he has just vacuumed but he doesn’t mind. It is evidence of fun, of love and joy. Messes equals life.

Inés is the only one who refuses to go outside. Her giggles and chatter floated up the stairs not too long again, blending with her little feet making the floorboards creak as she paced around with her hobby horse. It offers a rare kind of comfort to be able to hear her having fun while he packs clothes away into dressers and drawers. 

Until he doesn’t hear it anymore. Instead, it is a sudden crash that comes from downstairs and makes Javier tense up. He freezes to listen for her voice calling for him but only silence follows the loud noise. 

“Inés?” He calls. No answer. The t-shirt that he is in the middle of folding falls to the bed and his heartbeat quickens. 

He walks to the open door of the bedroom, grabs the doorframe, and leans out of it to listen again. He calls her name a second time, this time a little louder and more insistently, but there’s still no response. 

In his chest, his heart has started to pound enough for him to be able to hear it in his ears. Many thoughts go through his head at the sound of silence from the living room, firstly images of broken furniture but then finally the picture of his daughter who has fallen and hit her head. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention to her? Why hadn’t he checked on her sooner? 

He is out the door before he even realizes that he is moving, barrelling down the stairs and taking it two steps at a time. Fuck, maybe he could have prevented disaster if he had gone downstairs the second she had gone quiet. He raises his voice without thinking, knuckles whitening as he grips the banister, “Inés? Answer me now!”

When he stumbles into the living room, he first notices the broken lamp, a shattered bulb lying beside the ceramic base on the wooden floor but with no blood on the shards. Next to it, Inés’ hobby horse lies discarded like it has been thrown in a panicked hurry. He furrows his brow, scanning the room to find her. 

When he spots her through the doorway to the dining room, crouched down under the table, relief floods him. She isn’t hurt, no sign of even a scratch on her, but then he sees the way she has her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes are fixated on the broken lamp. 

She’s scared not of the crash, he realizes, but of him; his shouting, his loud footsteps, the way he had said her name. She looks like she is bracing herself for trouble - more specifically the anger and disappointment in his voice - and she’s covering her ears with little, trembling hands in a way that is unsuccessful in keeping out noise. The sight of her terrified face makes Javier remember the feeling of being unfairly scolded for accidents horribly well, and his heart sinks.

He walks calmly into the dining room, not even thinking about the broken lamp anymore, and kneels on the floor. With his hands on his thighs, he takes a deep breath to steady himself, “Inés, I’m not mad at you. I just want to know if you’re okay, baby.”

His daughter lifts her gaze to meet his eyes. His chest constricts at the sight of the tears in Inés’ wide eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, still immovable. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks softly. 

“I didn’t mean to break it,” she answer in a whisper and shakes her head. She’s always so bold, hilarious, and mischievous but she’s so clearly hiding from him, trying to decide if it’s safe to come out or not. 

“I know you didn’t, mija (my daughter),” he reassures and moves slowly until he holds both hands out to her, palms open towards the ceiling, “It’s just a lamp, okay? Come here, I’m not mad. Just let me take a look at you.”

Javier can only imagine how fast her heart is beating in her chest right now, knowing that he hurried down here with his own racing heartbeat. She must be dizzy from the anxiety just as he is disoriented by his adrenaline. He gestures gently at her, beckoning her to him. 

“I didn’t mean to,” she repeats quietly.

“Lo sé (I know),” he offers her a little reassuring smile, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor instead, “Can you come out, please?”

With hesitant steps, she moves from under the table and walks straight to him. He expects that he has to ask for a hug but just as she comes to a halt in front of him, she collapses into his arms like they are a harbor in a storm. He squeezes her tightly. 

“I thought you were mad at me, Papá,” she hiccups as her tears wet his shirt. He rests his chin on top of her head, his broad palm stroking her small back. 

“Not at all, baby. You just scared me is all. You didn’t answer and I thought you were hurt,” he explains while pressing gentle kisses to her hair. He inhales slightly, sighing at the way his baby girl smells of love to him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and practically crawls into his lap. 

“It’s okay,” he replies, cradling her in the same manner as he has done since the day she was placed in his arms for the first time, “It’s just a lamp. Mamá and I can just get a new one but we can’t get a new you.”

“Will you tell her?” She pulls back to look up at him with huge, wet eyes. 

He nods, using his thumb to swipe at the tears on her face, “Yes, I will have to tell her but Mommy doesn’t care about the lamp either. I promise. We care about you. I’ll also tell her that you gave Daddy the scare of his life and made him run down the stairs like a crazy person.”

A tiny, hesitant giggle escapes her and he feels another wave of relief wash over him. She finally smiles and her voice is more steady now, “Silly.”

“Very silly,” he agrees with a smile and runs a palm over her head, threading his fingers through her hair, “But you know what’s not silly though?”

“What?”

“If anything like this ever happens again - if you break something or you get scared - I want you to call for me instead of hiding underneath the furniture. Just say ‘Papá, I need you’ and I’ll be there, okay?” 

She only hesitates for a moment but then nods thoughtfully, “Okay.”

“And hey, te quiero tanto (I love you so much).”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she says, no hesitation this time. 

The two of them stand up from the floor to look at the broken lamp on the floor. Inés makes an uncomfortable face, reaching for Javier’s hand. He holds her hand in his palm, “How about we tell Mom together?” 

“Now?” She widens her eyes but she isn’t crying anymore. 

“Yes now. Watch your feet, alright?” He waits for her to initiate the first step towards the door to the garden. Her eyes are firmly on the floor as they pass the broken ceramic shards. 

Outside, Javier's face is warm in the afternoon sun. There’s a buzz in the air from the cicadas’ singing and the laughter from his two sons. He and Inés find you in the hammock, the book still discarded as you watch your children with fondness but this time, you’ve switched to sitting. 

However, as they approach, your eyebrows knit together when you spot Inés' apprehensive look. You carefully plant your feet on the ground, asking, “Is everything okay?”

Javier glances at his daughter, “Inés has something she wants to tell you.”

She fidgets for a few seconds, looking down at her feet, but when she feels Javier’s hand on her shoulder, she looks up with determination. She confesses quietly but her voice doesn’t waver, “I broke the lamp. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Inés, baby,” your expression softens instantly. With a gentle touch, you brush a strand of hair out of your daughter’s face, “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

She shakes her head, “I’m okay. Daddy said you wouldn’t get mad but it is messy all over the floor.” 

“You’re okay and that’s all that matters,” your gaze flickers to Javier, a look warmer than the sun in your eyes. He feels his heart nearly leap out of his chest but he catches himself in interrupting the moment between you. You continue, “Daddy and I don’t mind messes, do we? As long as everyone is okay.”

“Yes,” Inés nods in grateful understanding. 

“How about you sit here with Mommy while I clean the floor?” Javier finally suggests, “Then the living room will be as good as new and you can play in there again?”

“Yes, please,” she says politely, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. 

“Okay,” you chime in and kiss him softly on the mouth before he heads into the house once more. 

Yes, messes mean life, and Javier is lucky enough to live in a world where life also means love.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[judysxnd]

If you're taking requests for Lando, and are comfortable writing angst. I'm in one of those moods where I need gut-wrenching neglected girlfriend being called clingy and then him grovelling for forgiveness. You don't have to write it, I just really have been in an angsty mood.

Sparkle anon

As usual I don't like what I did, but I have been starting this like a thousand times and never finished it and this time I did. So I'll go with the flow. I hope you'll like it !

I took so much time to write this that your mood probably changed like a thousand times 😭 I'm sorry 😔

———————————————————————

These past few days have been hard for you. Lando has been away for the past three weeks because it was a triple header and you couldn't come with him because of work. You always thought that being famous too would help you have clear weekends to come to the races, but apparently not. You had ads to film, shoots for magazines to do, interviews to prepare and do too, and it was getting overwhelming.

And Lando being in a different time zone definitely didn't help. You barely could texts, or one would respond hours later, the phone calls only last a few minutes (when you can actually call each other) and it wasn't enough for you these days. Your anxiety was getting the best of you, resulting in a few panic attacks daily.

Usually Lando helps a lot, but he had enough stuff on his plate too. He was in a tough battle with Max for the championship, and from what you've seen and what he had told you a bit, he was struggling with the car this week-end. You tried to make it work as much as you could. But you just couldn't do it anymore. You were back at Monaco after working hard until Saturday afternoon, actually coming home at Lando's place around 9pm, crying yourself to sleep, not even eating.

You knew Lando would be back for a few days from Vegas for a couple of days before flying to Qatar. But you definitely didn't expect to wake up at almost 5pm the next day by noises in the kitchen. First of all, how did you sleep that much? You were tired but damn, that's like 18hours of sleep ! And second of all, who was in the kitchen?

You slowly walked, carefully listening to the noises. After leaning a bit, you saw Lando searching the fridge for something to eat.

"Oh my god" you said relieved it was him. "you scared me so much!" you said walking to him, hugging him from behind.

"I scared you- in my own place?"

"yeah as you were in a different country" you leaned onto the counter next to him. "how did it go?" you asked about the race. Yes you didn't watch it as you slept half a day. You were going to watch it as you woke up, before Lando gets back, but well, you definitely didn't have time for that apparently.

"not good" Lando said barely looking at you

"oh" he walked out of the kitchen "but where did you finish?"

"You didn't watch the race?" he asked, going to the living room to eat at the table

"Well, I wanted to, but as you can see I.. overslept" he stared at you, as he was judging you "and you came back before I could watch it, so might as well tell me directly" you sat in front of him

"Well I lost the championship and finished P6, behind Max at the race. Happy?"

"Why are you so mad at me? It's not my fault, I'm just trying to know what happened to support you"

"support me? You weren't even there for that"

"ugh, excuse me? Sorry for having a career of my own, which I might give up with everything happening at the same time"

"like you can't take at least one day to come watch the race"

"that's the only thing you got from what I just said?" you stood up "what the hell Lando? What happened for you to treat me like that? I've been working my ass off, trying to contain my panic attacks all alone because you also have a career and can't be by my side 24/7, you barely even answer my text, you don't call me, you don't even ask me how I am doing!" He just stared at you, not saying anything. "you know what? I think I was better alone" you said, leaving the room, heading to his bedroom to gather your stuff.

"Wait- where are you going?" he said following you, like he suddenly cared.

"I'm going to my parents for a while. I haven't seen them in 2 months between my work and the races. And you're leaving like in two days anyway so, might as well try to have a good time with people that actually care about me" And before he could say anything, you were out of his sight, driving to the nearest airport to fly to your parents (trying to avoid to cry and have many panic attacks on your way).

You knew Lando wouldn't fly to you for the next two weeks with the races getting all of his time. But he did harass you with texts, tried to call you, which you ignored. He also sent you flowers, many flowers, gifts with little cards, apologising and asking for you to answer his texts and calls. You did feel guilty, even if you made it clear that he neglected you, you felt bad for keeping it to yourself that long and just lashing onto him like that.

You watched the last two races of the year, a knot in your stomach. You felt like you made it worse by acting like that and ignoring him. Hell he could have an accident and not make it back and that would be the last thing you said to him? That is a very bad scenario but still. And at the same time, your pride was telling you to keep ignoring him, that you were right and that he was the one to come back to you (which he was actually trying to do).

Until the next Monday after the last race, when you heard a knock to your bedroom. Innocently thinking it was your mom, you told "her" to come in, only to be faced by Lando holding flowers in his hand. You were laying in bed, in your pyjamas at 3pm, scrolling on your phone.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" You said, sitting up.

"You didn't give me other choices" you nodded, admitting that it was true. "I'm sorry for being a bad boyfriend" he said, taking a step closer to you

"keep going" you said, crossing your arms

"I shouldn't have neglected you like that even if I get too busy at work. I know you always take time for me even though you're working too and I should do the same thing" he sat down at the edge of your bed

"hm hm" you nodded

"I know you didn't read my texts nor listened to my voice messages or voicemails, but I've been apologising for a thousand times and, I've been begging you not to breakup with me" you couldn't help but laugh

"I've listened to them" you admitted

"w-were they good?" you tilted your head "you know I'm not good for that type of stuff"

"You're getting there"

"So what are you saying? Are we good?" you leaned a bit closer to him

"No we're not good Lando. It's not a bunch of texts, calls and gifts that are going to make me forget what happened. Hell I told you I wanted to abandon my entire career and you didn't even react" he was about to say something but you cut him off "and I know it's been very tough for you too for the races, that's why I gave you the benefit of doubt when you were away, but- you were sitting in front of me Lando-"

"I know, I know" he sat right in front of you, holding your hands "we've been dating for a year and- honestly I don't know what happened. When I came back from São Paulo you were there for me, and thank god you were, but I think it's just, it went to my head and I was under so much pressure" you wanted to cut him off but he didn't let you "and I'm not making up excuses for what I did. I just don't want to lose you. I'm so sorry, I'll do anything for you not to leave me, just please, don't go. It won't happen again, I promise" you sighed

"I wasn't going to leave you Lando" you had a little smile. You could see it in his eyes. He was scared he really messed up to the point you were actually going to leave him for good. Maybe stepping away for a few weeks made him think, like for you.

"Really?" He seemed genuinely surprised

"Yes, but I needed some time, like you did too"

"yes. I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I won't do it again"

"You better not" you both laughed a little. "I love you too"

"Not as much as I do" and he immediately leaned in to kiss you. "Now I need to give those flowers to your mother because she helped me to get to talk to you" you gasped as he stood up

"of course she did" you laughed "and to think those flowers were for me? I'm offended" you joked

"Didn't you get enough with everything I sent you?" you tilted your head "too soon?" you both laughed

"yeah, too soon" he left the room. You got up and followed him down the stairs.

[vrystalius]

hi! Ive been reading ur fics for a while and i love them sm and hope ur enjoying ur break!

I was wondering if u could write about giyuu apologizing after an arguement?

once again i absolutely love ur fics lol 💗

Apologies

Giyuu apologising after an argument— how does he do it?

Pairing: married!Giyuu x gn!married!reader

“Why can’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m the only one trying here!”

You immediately regretted those words the second they left your mouth. Washing out your mouth with soap won’t wash that expression of your husband from your face, him staring at you in both disbelief and deep guilt. Giyuu knows that he can come off as cold or even uncaring, even to you. It’s never intentional but rather a terrible habit he seemingly can’t get rid off and it keeps forcing him to push people away from him. That’s why it may seem he doesn’t try hard enough to express his thoughts, his feelings.

Despite knowing that you will be understanding and listen to his worries, hold him while you kiss his face until he finally smiles again, all those fears and thoughts that dwell on horrific events he experiences on a daily gone in mere seconds.

So, who should apologise first? Giyuu, or you?

Since your husband left your house after the argument, probably wanting to take a walk or get some fresh air, you had time to think about what to do to apologise to him. Directly talking to him might scare him off and result into him being too intimidated to answer or scurry off to hide somewhere else to avoid you altogether. A letter could work, right?

Composing and thinking about every word, every sentence helped you sort your thoughts out and properly speak about the argument from your perspective while also staying respectful to his own view of the issues. You just hoped that your crow was awake to deliver a letter to your husband. If not, you’ll leave it in your bedroom for your husband to find and read quietly while you waited on him somewhere else.

But before you could prepare a method for Giyuu receiving your letter, Kanzaburo, your husband’s elderly crow, weakly called out to you and ruffled his feathers while resting on your windowsill. A letter was secured around his neck. Gently, you took the bird and put it to rest on your lap, giving him well-deserved scratches while gently unravelling the letter from his neck. It was written by Giyuu, obviously, but before you could read, the door to the room opened and your husband stood in the doorframe, staring down at you in surprise. He eyed you, then the letter in your hands.

“Have you.. read it?”

“No, Kanzaburo just delivered it.”

“Ah.”

You could see the gears shifting inside his mind. He probably overestimated the senior crow and thought the letter would be delivered faster. You scratched the crows head and glanced back to the paper in your hand.

“Should I read it? Or do you want to say everything you wrote down to me personally?”

Giyuu silently averted his eyes, his shoulders sagging and a small frown spreading on his face. He was avoiding to look into your eyes.

“No. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

You watched your husband slowly close the door, leaving you alone with his elder companion. While the crow was contently preparing to nap on your lap, you opened the letter.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

My dearest,

I am sorry. I know I’ve caused arguments again and again because of my silence and my behaviour over all. You feel like you’re the only one trying in this relationship and I’m sorry for that. I thought that if I stayed silent it would be easier for the both of us but that is clearly not the case. I should’ve realised much sooner, but instead I am only doing it now.

I am just too scared to scare you off with my problems and issues since you have your own, just like everyone else does. You are important to me so you always are my priority. My thoughts and feelings can wait, so I stay quiet.

You deserve better than the way I am treating you, you deserve so, so much better. You’ve been patient with me, you stayed with me for so long, through good and bad times. I don’t deserve your love.

I want to do better and I will. Please have a little more patience with me. Please.

I love you, I am sorry that I haven’t said it enough times. I am sorry if you don’t believe me.

Yours forever,

Tomioka Giyuu.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

💠

Thank you so much for requesting!! I’ve been seeing you interact with my posts pretty often so thank you for all your love and support <33 I’ll happily write more requests for you in the future if you liked this one!

Also, I haven’t forgot about Kyojuro’s thighs request :,) I started writing it and it’s halfway finished— my NSFW meter just ran out and I started writing this instead XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves, physically and mentally <3

[daisymbin]

32. "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay?" with dk 🥺🤏🏽❤️

oh my god i can so picture this 😭 this is so him!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // seokmin's m.list

fluff prompt #32: "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay?"

"come on, it’ll be fun!" jeonghan’s voice rang out as he gleefully dragged you and seokmin toward the entrance of the horror-themed escape room. beside you, seungkwan was already cackling, clearly enjoying the prospect of watching everyone else scream.

"fun for you, maybe," you mumbled, clutching your bag tightly as the eerie music from inside the room echoed through the hall.

"oh, don’t be so dramatic," jeonghan teased, holding the door open like a villain welcoming his victims. "besides, you’ve got seokmin to keep you safe."

you glanced at seokmin, who was looking just as nervous as you felt. "i wouldn’t count on that," he muttered, his attempt at a smile faltering.

"seokmin can’t even protect himself," seungkwan added with a laugh. "remember the carnival? the animatronic clown?"

"don’t remind me," seokmin grumbled. "that clown was a menace."

you couldn’t help but laugh despite your nerves, and seokmin caught your smile, relaxing a little. "hey," he whispered, leaning close, "we’ll stick together, okay?"

"yeah," you said softly. "okay."

the escape room was worse than you imagined—dim lighting, creepy mannequins, sudden crashes, and faint whispers that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. you stayed close to seokmin, gripping his sleeve as tightly as you dared.

"this way!" jeonghan called, his confidence annoyingly intact as he led the group deeper into the maze. "there’s a clue in here somewhere."

"or a jump scare," seungkwan muttered, smirking as he bumped into you just to hear you yelp.

"seungkwan!" you hissed, clutching seokmin’s arm even tighter.

"what? i’m just helping you prepare," he said, clearly enjoying your misery.

"you’re terrible," seokmin mumbled, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. "come on, let’s just focus on getting out of here."

by the time you reached the last room, your nerves were completely shot. the narrow corridor leading to the exit was filled with mannequins, their blank faces illuminated by a flickering light. you froze, unable to take a step forward.

"nope," you whispered, gripping seokmin’s arm. "i can’t do it. there's no way I'm going in there."

"you have to," jeonghan said, clearly amused. "it’s the only way out."

"we’re right behind you," seungkwan added, though his teasing tone didn’t help.

"you don’t understand," you muttered, feeling your chest tighten. "i can’t."

seokmin turned to you, his own fear momentarily forgotten. "hey," he said softly, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hand. "i’m scared too, but…" he hesitated, then gently took your hand in his. "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay? to the exit."

your breath hitched at the warmth of his hand around yours. you glanced up at him, his nervous smile giving you just enough courage to nod. "okay."

"we’ll do it together," he promised, squeezing your hand lightly.

with seokmin leading the way, you slowly navigated through the corridor. every flicker of the lights and creak of the floorboards made you flinch, but seokmin never let go of your hand. he even cracked a few nervous jokes, his awkward attempts at humor earning a weak laugh from you.

"you’re doing great," he said as you reached the final door. "see? not so bad."

"i hate this," you muttered, but you couldn’t deny the comfort of his presence. "but… thanks."

his ears turned pink at your words.

when you finally stepped outside into the cool night air, you let out a relieved sigh. jeonghan and seungkwan immediately started rehashing their favorite moments, laughing at how scared you and seokmin had been.

"you two were so cute in there," seungkwan teased. "holding hands like it was a date or something."

"shut up," seokmin mumbled, his face turning bright red.

"don’t be shy," jeonghan added with a smirk. "you guys make a great team."

"seriously, can we not?" seokmin grumbled, but his hand lingered near yours as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

"you okay?" you asked, ignoring the teasing to focus on him.

he met your gaze, his expression softening. "yeah. im just… i'm just i’m really glad i was with you."

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a small smile. "me too."

jeonghan and seungkwan exchanged knowing looks before walking ahead, leaving you and seokmin behind.

"so," seokmin said after a moment, his voice quieter now. "maybe next time, we can do something less terrifying? just the two of us?"

your heart skipped a beat at the way he looked at you, his shy smile making it impossible to say no. "i’d like that."

his hand brushed against yours as you walked to the car, the warmth of it lingering long after he finally let go.

[ghostgirl-22]

Hi! <3 You’re like my favorite writer for Artrick! I swear you characterize them perfectlyyy

I keep thinking about the idea of Art and Patrick going on a date when he’s at Stanford. Like obviously Art wouldn’t admit it’s a date, but I imagine it’s after Art reluctantly admits that he wants to hang with Patrick alone when he comes to visit and that he’s a bit jealous of Tashi. So they basically have an unofficial date night. How do you think this would go, and how would Art go about initiating something physical between them because he’s obviously not gay right?

Okay but you’re actually such an amazingly talented writer and I love your stuff so much! Thanks so much for this request I honestly don’t think I did this ask justice and I’m sorry it was so long but I hope this attempt brings you some amusement <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! 3.8kish words

—-

It’s not that Art is jealous. He’s not jealous. He’s not. But up until now Patrick’s always called him and stopped by on his little trips to Stanford. It’s not like he expects Patrick to stay long, he knows he’s not the main event… but he at least expects him to come by.

So when Patrick shows up at his door three days later, asking if he can stay in Art’s room, Art tries his best not to express his irritation that he hasn’t once come by his room till now. And it really stings because Art knows the only reason he’s here now is because of the limit on how many days he can consecutively “visit” her dorm.

“You’re saving me man,” Patrick says, patting his arm as he drops his duffle on Art’s designated chair full of stuff.

Art shrugs. “Yeah well. Happy to be an afterthought.” He mumbles.

Patrick raises his eyebrows and then gives him a crooked smile. “You are never an afterthought.”

“It’s fine,” Art says, already embarrassed that he brought it up. “You’re dating Tashi Duncan. It’s totally understandable dude.” He tries to sound nonchalant, hopeful that it’s how he comes across. He feels like he spends so much time these days swallowing down on feelings. Feelings he can’t name, feelings he doesn’t even really understand. None of them jealousy. He’s really not jealous.

He does often wonder what they do alone. He thinks about what they do in bed since the most he really knows is that they’re fucking. He knows Patrick calls her all the time because he doesn’t really call Art that much anymore. They used to sit on the phone for hours, barely talking or talking too much, sometimes till late in the night. The same way they did when they were sharing a room in high school. But gradually it became, Patrick leaving the call earlier and earlier. To Patrick not really calling that often at all.

“You know, you can help me with something actually,” Patrick says, flopping onto Arts bed.

“What?”

“I’m taking her on a date tonight, we’re going to get dinner and see a movie.”

“Oh,” Art says. “What movie?”

“The new Saw movie. What number are they on now? 11?” Patrick laughs.

“Oh I didn’t know she’d like something like that,” Art says carefully.

”Yeah well, she saw the first one and she said liked it. She never got around to the others. I asked her if she’d be scared to see it but she said even if she was… she wouldn’t mind being scared if I was there. Isn’t that kinda… hot?”

Art shrugs again, swallowing it down.

”Sorry, is this hard to hear?” Patrick asks, patting his cheek.

“Fuck off,” Art mutters. “I’m just… I’m thinking about my game on Sunday. I’m not really worried about your relationship actually.” He lies.

“Good cause I was just gonna ask for your advice on what to wear. She tends to dress up for this kinda thing and I don’t want her to be annoyed if I show up in shorts and a t-shirt again.”

“You want me to help you pick out an outfit?”

“Yeah… you’re always put together,” Patrick says.

“All your clothes are tailored. Just pick something.” Art says, dryly.

“Okay but I want to wear something comfortable. Not something that makes me look like I’m about to donate a hefty sum at some stuffy fundraiser.”

Art sighs, “fine what’d you bring? Lay it out.”

Patrick empties his duffle on the bed, everything he has that isn’t training gear, playing gear and t-shirts is all wrinkled but Art has an iron. He helps Patrick pick something out. He’s still irritated, but he thinks he covers it well.

He’s actually stunned by how happy it makes him when Tashi calls and says she has to cancel. She does kids tennis lessons for extra spending money and a client wanted her help to prep for a game in the early morning.

Patrick’s talking to her, his tone understanding making her feel better about canceling last minute and promising to see the movie another time. He’s such a good boyfriend. It’s so weird that he’s not fucked it up by now. Art can’t remember Patrick ever dating anyone this long before.

Art’s sitting on his bed, back up against the wall, kicking his feet over the edge, listening to him.

“Sorry man, you’re stuck with me all night,” Patrick says after he hangs up. He knees the bed and sinks into it, settling down and leaning close to Art, he picks up his half ironed slacks and frowns.

“Mm… why don’t we go out?” Art suggests.

Patrick laughs and so does Art, feeling himself beginning to flush.

“Or… I mean… we could just hang out. Watch Hell’s Kitchen or something,” Art says quickly. He looks up when Patrick doesn't reply and Patrick is staring at him, a peculiar look on his face.

“Fuck it, let’s go out.” Patrick smirks. “You can be my date.”

“Yeah? Why not?” Art smiles. “I mean who says two friends can’t go out for dinner and a movie.”

Patrick laughs a bit, his expression flitting quickly between amusement and something Art can’t recognize. “Mm right. Platonic date night. Here we come. You have something nice right?”

”Yeah,” Art says. “I can wear that one shirt I wore to the awards dinner last year.”

“Oh yeah, you look so hot in blue, wear that,” Patrick teases.

“Shut up,” Art smirks, ignoring the weird feeling that blossoms in his chest after Patrick calls him hot.

They get dressed. Patrick’s clothes fit him so well. He’s in an outfit that might read as casual (fitted t-shirt, slacks, and a blazer) if not for the simple elegance of it all being quietly wealthy.

He’s also got a great body and anything fitted on him is going to bring that out. Art doesn’t think about his body often or anything like that, it’s just something he notices. The sky is blue, water is wet and Patrick Zweig has a great body. It just is.

They go to the movies first. “I prefer that when I go out on a date, so we have something to talk about over dinner or drinks,” Patrick explains as he drives them over to the theater in his jeep. “You know in case the date is boring. Not that that’s ever the case with Tashi. Actually, you know what’s crazy? I feel like she’s as easy for me to talk to as you are.”

“Hm,” Art says, swallowing down on something bitter in his throat. “Well I think you should try to find a balance. Talk to other people. You don’t want to scare her away by only ever talking to her.”

“Oh is that what you think?” Patrick says, smirking. “I don’t only talk to her actually. I’ve just got a lot of pressure on me. The only time I get a chance to rest I’m so exhausted— I got one phone call in me and so you know…”

“Oh,” Art says. “Well yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Patrick asks.

“Mm, I mean… I think I might be interested in this girl on the team. She’s really good.” Art lies. He’s not really interested in anyone and he’s probably wasting his time, thinking more about Patrick and Tashi than he spends thinking about his own social life. He wants her so bad unfortunately every other girl he meets just pales in comparison.

—-

They’re actually on the 4th Saw movie, and it’s as stupid as Art might have expected. They laugh about it over dinner at Applebees. Patrick’s got this pretty realistic looking fake id so he orders a drink and they split it when the waitress isn’t looking. Not that she cares, she’s also a Stanford student. She’s been to a few tennis games to watch Tashi play but she knows Art is the number one singles player on the men’s team.

“You’re really good,” she smiles at him and he can feel his skin flushing as Patrick grins at him from across the table.

”Thanks uh— but Patrick actually plays professionally.” Art says.

“That’s so cool,” she says, she smiles at Patrick and then looks back at Art. “I would love to learn to just hit the ball over the net.” She laughs.

”He can teach you that easy,” Patrick says. Art kicks him under the table and he just grins wider.

“Can you really?” The waitress asks, flipping her pretty blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Yeah I mean… whenever,” Art says, awkwardly.

“Cool, I’ll be back. You guys want anything else?”

Patrick gives Art a meaningful look and then orders a second drink.

“When were you gonna tell me you got number one singles?” Patrick asks, watching her as she walks away.

“I figured Tashi told you,” Art says.

“Yeah but you should have told me,” Patrick says. “She’s hot right?” He adds, gesturing back towards the waitress.

“I mean… I can tell her you think she’s hot,” Art says. “I don’t think she believes you’re actually dating Tashi anyway.”

Patrick laughs, “God you’re such a dick. I meant for you. That would be a fun night.”

“I guess,” Art says, rubbing his palms on his lap. It’s all he has to say for Patrick to keep teasing him throughout the rest of the night, getting her to come back over and flirt with Art. He orders more and more drinks which she happily brings over.

In spite of the teasing, it’s actually really fun. Of course Art has been to movies with Patrick before, even gone out to dinner with him and their friends or family before, but this feels different. Art can’t figure out why… maybe because he gets to be in Tashi’s place. Maybe because it feels like old times.

They probably spend two and half hours in Applebees talking about the movie, high school, tennis, their parents, video games, girls and anything else that pops into their heads. They only leave because its 12 am and the restaurant’s closing. By then they’ve split a total of six cocktails and Art is feeling so tipsy.

“How much is it?” He asks when the waitress brings the bill.

“I’ll take care of it,” Patrick says.

“Dude it’s okay we can split,” Art says.

“No relax, it’s our platonic date night, right?” Patrick pulls out his credit card. “I can give you this though.”

He hands Art the non singable copy of the receipt and on the bottom the waitress left a note: For whenever you decide to teach me how to serve, Jenny. Followed by her phone number and a heart.

“She drew a heart and everything,” Patrick teases.

”It’s for you,” Art says, shyly.

“It’s so clearly for you, Stanford boy,” Patrick smirks.

“We probably have to take a cab home,” Art hiccups. Changing the subject. He does slip the receipt into his jeans pocket though.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick says. “You’re so responsible by the way. I love that about you.”

Art snorts a laugh and Patrick starts laughing too. Patrick leaves a big tip and they call a cab. Art promises to come back with him to pick up his jeep in the morning and they share a cigarette while waiting for the cab. When it arrives they hop in the backseat for the 25 minute ride back to campus.

Art’s feeling sleepy, the combination of food, alcohol and a long car ride is lethal for him. He closes his eyes, head slipping to settle on Patrick’s shoulder. Distantly, he feels Patrick rest a hand on his thigh and he opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake. It should be a nothing feeling but Art goes rigid, he feels it all up and down his spine and even worse, his cock starts to wake up.

“Did you have fun?” Patrick asks, quietly.

“Yeah,” Art says, he stares at the meter on the cab. He feels so dizzy and confused as Patrick’s fingers play a light pitter patter along his thigh.

“I’m sorry I’m not… free all the time. Like in high school, you know?” His voice is soft, Art can almost feel the vibration of it from where he’s leaning. He can feel Patrick’s breath on his cheek. It makes no sense the way his body is reacting. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

“Uh,” Art sits up. “Don’t worry about it. We’re both um— busy.”

“I know,” Patrick says, he’s still playing the pattern on Art’s thigh. “But I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.”

Art feels anxious, he looks up front, he can see the driver glancing back at them in the rear view. “Look… obviously your girlfriend comes first. We can do bro stuff whenever…” Art says as he gently eases Patrick’s hand off his thigh even though it feels nice. His heart is racing like he’s running some kind of marathon he doesn’t know why but it’s probably just the drinks. All the alcohol making his head all fuzzy.

“Yeah,” Patrick sighs. “Bro stuff.” He rests his head against the back of the seat and they’re mostly quiet for the rest of the ride. Arts mind is racing. All he can think about is how close they are but how much it feels like something is slipping away.

The halls are mostly empty as they get back to the dorm. There’s a few students still up. A couple talking softly to each other. One girl on the floor with her headphones plugged in watching something on her laptop. Some guy exits his room, talking on his cellphone as he breezes past them.

“You think I can sneak back to her room or no?” Patrick asks, one arm resting on the door frame as Art leans in to unlock his room.

Art feels his heart still beating oddly fast, probably because Patrick is right behind him. He’s never been able to manage personal space as long as they’ve been friends but right now Art is just so… aware of him. “You can stay here. It’s just one night. I’ll even let you have the bed all to yourself.” Art says.

“It’d be two nights. I leave on Sunday.”

“Okay, two nights then,” Art pushes open the door, breaking the closeness. It feels like a temporary bit of relief.

Patrick follows him in and slips off his shoes. “That’s the one thing I hate about dressing up. Fucking boat shoes.”

Art smiles. “I’m really drunk I think.” He says, kicking off his own shoes.

“Yeah?” Patrick smirks.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’m gonna make it to practice tomorrow.”

“Isn’t it in the afternoon?” Patrick pulls off his jacket and then his t-shirt. He digs through his duffle for something to put on.

“Yeah but still.” Art realizes then he’s been watching Patrick undress, like he hasn’t seen him butt naked before. He shakes his head and goes to change into his own night clothes.

“Don’t be mad,” Patrick says as Art gets his jeans off.

“What?”

“I think I need a session, maybe I found that waitress hotter than I realized,” he’s in his boxers holding himself. His eyes fall over Art’s body.

Art looks down and swallows. He’s seen Patrick erect before… even touched it… But they were a lot younger last time. They’d actually grown out of doing it in front of each other a long time ago.

But ever since Patrick brought it up that night… ever since they kissed… Art’s mind would occasionally wander to what it might be like to see it again. And now there it was… just… right in front of him. Patrick holding it idly like it’s not ridiculous to be carrying all of that around. Art’s fingers twitch, his mouth is suddenly too wet and he swallows again. The worst part… he’s getting hard.

Patrick sighs. “I’ll go in the bathroom.”

“Um…” Art can hear his heartbeat in his ears, he sits on his bed just because his knees are shaky. “I thought… I think she’s hot too.”

Patrick is still for a moment watching him, before he smiles and approaches Art. “Right? I think it was the skirt. I mean those fucking legs.”

Art nods. He reaches for Patrick. His head is all fuzzy, his ears are ringing and Patrick straddles him on the bed. Art touches it through his boxers. It’s heavy and really, really full.

Patrick eases his fingers into Art’s hair. “And she’s blonde….I think I like blondes more than I should.”

Art grips him properly. It’s not just lengthy, it’s thick. The only thing he can think about is what it might feel like in— in— just in.

He rubs it up and down, like it’s his own. He’s never done anything like this before so he’s shocked when Patrick reacts, “Fuck,” he gasps, this quiet sound that makes Art shiver. Art grabs at the front of his boxers and eases them down, revealing a shock of dark hair and Patrick’s cock as it bobs forward. Circumcised, all pink, and all so real. So much bigger than the last time Art saw it like this.

He leans over and licks at the shaft.

“Whoa,” Patrick breathes and then he chuckles.

“I uh—‘m sorry,” Art looks up at him, anxious that maybe this is too much, too far. That he did something wrong.

“God Art. You’re so fucking…” Patrick breathes and settles down on Art’s lap. He takes Art’s face in his hands and kisses him. Art breathes in as their lips touch. It almost feels the way it felt that night. Something warm, almost on fire. Their chemistry overwhelming.

God, is he into this? Is he into Patrick? He thought it was all because of Tashi but this still feels good even when she’s not watching. And right now Art knows he wants to feel more of Patrick’s tongue. He wants to lick his cock again. His mouth hasn’t really stopped feeling wet, but the kiss feels good in spite of it…maybe because of it. He finds himself exploring every inch of Patrick’s mouth. His heart is still racing. He knows Patrick can feel how hard he is. The way he feels Patrick poking against his stomach. He grips it and gets excited when Patrick hums a pretty little moan.

Patrick eases them out of the kiss and looks at Art, fingers tangled in his hair. His cheeks are all flushed and rosey. His freckles are so vivid up close. He’s actually incredible. “You want to taste it again?” He asks, brushing up against Art’s lips.

“Mmhm,” Art nods.

Patrick takes a deep breath and he actually stands up in front of Art, so his cock is just right in front of Arts face. Art stares at him and nibbles on his thumb. Patrick’s got freckles on his tummy, just a couple spattered here and there. Art wants to lick those too.

He sits up and grips Patrick’s cock again. It feels so warm he must run at a thousand degrees. Art licks at him. He can see the way Patrick’s muscles tense. Hear his little breaths. Art starts licking more. Up and down, all over the length of him. He likes how it feels along his tongue. The heat of it, how soft and solid it is at the same time. He likes the taste and the smell, salty and heady. He sees the pearls leaking from the tip and tastes that. He really likes how it tastes so he sucks on the tip a little more. And it’s all punctuated by the way its affecting Patrick.

“Mm, fuck sweetheart, I know you want to explore but this feels insane.” Patrick breathes. “You’re gonna mess around and make me shove it in your mouth.”

Art feels warm at the way he says sweetheart. And the thought that Patrick might lose control over him.

He opens up and takes in more.

“Fuuckk,” Patrick sighs like he’s sinking into a warm bath. Art closes his eyes and runs his tongue over the length. He’s almost sure he can taste Patrick’s heart beating through it. It feels incredible and Patrick starts moaning for him which makes Art begin to lose himself in it. It’s too big to get it all inside at once but he tries to take a little more. His mouth is so wet that when he pulls back spit drips onto his thighs. He licks and then takes it in again, more this time.

“Oh shit,” Patrick gasps. He starts moving his hips like he can’t control himself and Art needs to grab on to keep him from shoving it too deep. But he likes the sliding feeling as it moves back and forth over his tongue. His own cock is aching. He feels like he might start pushing up against the air too. It’s so hot how he’s the one doing this to Patrick. It’s all him. His mouth. His tongue.

“Can you look at me?” Patrick gasps.

Art hums and looks up as it’s sliding out of his mouth, he takes a small breath before taking it back in again but his mouth starts filling immediately. Art feels it hot and thick slipping down his throat and he starts coughing. Which makes it start spilling everywhere, dripping off his lips and Patrick’s still coming so Art licks around the tip to try and taste it.

“No… wait, fuck, fuck… that’s too sensitive just… relax,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. He pulls his shorts back up and stumbles to sit on the bed next to him. He rubs his thumb over Art’s messy lips, Art licks at it and Patrick smiles letting him suck it for a minute before pulling it away and sucking it into own mouth. “Come here.” He rubs his thighs.

Art stares at him for a minute and then moves to straddle him. “Sit,” Patrick says, softly.

Art settles on his lap.

“Have you ever done that before?” Patrick asks, rubbing him over his boxers.

“No, is it okay?” Art asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“So fucking okay,” Patrick says and he starts kissing him immediately. It feels so satisfying, rubbing his tongue along Patricks after having a mouth full of him. He feels Patrick’s fingers ease into his boxers, gripping his cock where Patrick starts jerking him off properly. That combined with the stimulation from the kissing makes Art finish embarrassingly quickly all over Patrick’s fingers and in his shorts.

“Mm I need another cigarette,” Patrick laughs, licking his fingers and gazing at Art.

Art swallows hard, mildly panicked now that he’s back in his right mind. He climbs off of Patrick’s lap.

“What?” Patrick asks. ”And don’t say sorry.”

Art bites his tongue and takes a deep breath. “I think I drank too much.”

Patrick grins. “I don’t know. You kinda spilled some of it,” he gestures to Art’s lap, a bit of pearly liquid settled there.

“That’s not funny,” Art says, biting down on a smile.

“Oh it’s really funny.” Patrick says, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Art asks. Strangely enough he just kinda wants to be near him.

“I’m gonna wash my hands,” he says. “And clean up a bit.”

Art bites his lip.

“You want to come?”

Art nods and gets to his feet. “I’ll just brush my teeth and um… change my…” he gestures vauguely.

Patrick smirks and beckons for Art to lead the way. “So,” Patrick says. “Where do you wanna go tomorrow night?”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

OKAY. HEAR ME OUT.

Justis (Dave’s son) bringing reader home bc they’re together, but Dave thinks she’s hella cute and reader too whatever. And then they end up fucking in like a bathroom or something😻

A/n: I'm feeling Christmassy, hope that's not a problem

Warnings: Smut, cheating, age gap, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

University was hard, you tried to get out when you could but you were always focused on your schoolwork.

Your friends brought you out a few times to bars or whatever but you were more comfortable being the designated driver. Oddly enough it was when you were studying in the library that you met Justis.

You had a class together and he confessed he always caught himself looking at you and wanting to talk to you but just couldn't bring himself to do it until then.

You kept talking with him, he was nice and always brought you snacks when he knew you'd be studying. It was good and you knew, worst comes to worst, University is for experimenting, which you'd be doing a lot of once you met his dad you just didn't know it at the time.

It was Christmas time, the perfect time to meet his family, his dad and sister at least, and you were excited, sure, but as soon as that door opened and you were met with Dave it was like breathing for the first time.

He was different, the way he smiled at you, that look in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking in your appearance.

You had to remind yourself over and over you were here with your boyfriend, Justis, but your eyes kept going back to Dave, always meeting his.

The plan was to stay a week but you felt like you should make up an excuse to leave earlier, not that you wanted to but you saw the way Dave was looking at you, saw the hunger in his eyes.

It was Christmas Eve and you couldn't sleep, couldn't even bring yourself to close your eyes while Justis was out beside you, arm loosely wrapped around your torso.

Someone was moving around downstairs, you knew it was Electra because you would have heard her walking down the hall, it had to be Dave.

You couldn't take it anymore and decided to just go talk to him, it was innocent enough.

You managed to get out of bed without disturbing Justis and made it downstairs to find Dave wrapping a few presents and tucking them under the tree, as you got closer you saw they were marked 'From: Santa'. Neither Justis nor Electra believed in Santa anymore, obviously, but he still liked keeping that there.

He panicked a moment when he finally noticed you but calmed down when he saw it was you. "Jesus, you scared me." He said with a gruff chuckle.

"Sorry." You said, smiling back at him. You moved to sit next to him on the floor, looking over the pile of gifts under the tree.

"I got you some too, don't worry." He said, tucking the present he'd just tagged under the tree, setting it on a bigger one.

"Really?" You asked, tilting your head to him. "I didn't think you would." You said, looking back to the colourful wall of wrapping paper. "I-I didn't get you anything." You admitted, biting your bottom lip as you looked back at him.

He shook his head and placed his hand on your thigh, over your fuzzy Christmas pyjama pants. "You got me enough, sweetheart." He looked straight into your eyes as he said it, his own carrying a much darker gleam in them. He brought his hand back and picked up another gift while you sat and thought about what he really meant.

You sat with him for a while longer, watching his hands as they flipped and folded the paper. You handed him the tape as he worked, it was weird if you didn't help at all so you did the bare minimum, the smile he gave you when you handed him a piece made it worth it every time.

As time bore on you felt yourself finally getting tired, gradually moving closer to Dave until you were fully leaning against him.

He helped you up once you were done and walked with you to the stairs, your room was up them while his was down the hall, still he followed you up the stairs.

He heard someone moving in your room before you did and he pulled you into the bathroom across the hall. He flicked the light on and smashed his lips onto yours, a kiss you immediately reciprocated.

Justis stepped out of the room and saw the lights on in the bathroom, assuming you'd just gone in there and would be out soon he turned and went back to bed, all while his dad was tugging on your clothes.

Your fuzzy pants slid down your legs and he saw you'd gone commando. "Really, sweetheart?"

"Just for you." You gleamed, pulling him back into a kiss.

He lifted you up and set you down on the counter, standing between your legs and pushing his own pants and boxers down, just enough for his dick to spring free.

Your breathing was heavy, as was his. Your cheeks were flushed, your forehead pressed against his as he pushed into you, causing you to moan before he could slap his hand over your mouth.

"I knew it was you the other night." He said with a chuckled. It's true, you'd been thinking about Dave all day and couldn't get him off your mind after you crawled into bed. "Thinking of me, weren't you?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Not my fault when you look at me like that." You said, feeling yourself fluttering around him, eager for him to move. "He almost looks like you, anyway."

Dave snorted at that. "Doesn't feel the same, huh?" He asked, voice low, almost a growl. You shook your head, Dave was bigger in pretty much every way. Girthy and veiny and he smelled divine, you just kept aching for more. "That's what I thought." He mused, kissing you again as he started moving his hips, thrusts quickly picking up pace.

He was eager to please you, but it had been a while since he'd been with someone, he could already feel himself getting close.

He brought a hand to your clit, the sudden friction made you gasp into the kiss. He knew the second he pulled away you'd be moaning out his name like a worship song, he wanted to hear it but he couldn't risk waking up his kids, especially not with one of them dating you.

You mumbled something into the kiss, he didn't quite catch it but didn't think he'd have to. Then you pulled away. "Dave! I-I'm close, fuck!" You called. He rushed to get a hand over your mouth but you just pushed it away. The room filled with your moans, Dave gave up on silencing you and focused on how good you felt around him.

His arms wrapped around you as you came, he followed shortly after, letting himself spill into you.

It wasn't until then that he realized the banging he heard wasn't the two of you.

"What the fuck?!" Justis yelled from the other side of the door.

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement Pt.12

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: just some pg13 making out, nothing else.

WC: 3.3k

A/N: hi, I finally got this chapter finished, it’s been a struggle, like I’ve said I’ve been incredibly busy, I’m hoping to get some short blurbs written for yall so I can get back to consistently posting.

You didn’t hear much from Jessie the next day. A few texts here and there, but nothing like you were used to. You acknowledged each other at training, uncomfortable glances in each other's direction, followed by quick, training related conversations.

You hated it. Feeling like you had messed up, that you were to blame. You had spent the night feeling angry, at Jessie and at yourself. Her words had hurt, the way she nearly dismissed what you had seen as valuable. You loved the safety you felt when it was just the two of you in her apartment. You loved how it felt to finally feel comfortable exploring this side of your life. You loved being able to touch her, hold her hand, kiss her and not feel scared. You loved being able to open talk, no teammates or strangers potentially listening in. You figured she had felt the same, until she had called it all fake.

At the same time you were mad at her, you were mad at yourself. You knew it wasn’t fair to force Jessie into dates at home. She deserved someone who wanted to show her off, someone who was proud to be her girlfriend and showed it. You hadn’t given that to her. The longer you sat in bed thinking, the more you felt torn. You didn’t want to lose her, but you weren’t ready for everyone to know, at least not yet.

“Can I pick you up tonight? 9pm? I’ll have you home by midnight I promise.” Those were the first words you spoke to Jessie this morning that weren’t related to soccer. You had waited around in the locker room after training until all your teammates had left and just the two of you sat side by side in your cubbies.

“Kinda late don’t you think?” She questions quietly.

“Please?” You didn’t want to have to beg her, but you needed to talk, you needed this chance with her.

“Okay, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up.” You say to her as she heads out of the locker room. A little hurt that she hadn’t waited to walk out with you, but you also couldn’t blame her too much. This morning had been tense and awkward, it was fair for her to run off.

“You’re not going to kill me up here are you?” Jessie tries to break the silence in the car. You just glance at her. “Sorry, obviously a joke.”

You and Jessie had been driving for about 25 minutes before you parked the car. You had traveled out of the city of Portland, into the woods, down a gravel road, to a small clearing you found last year. Away from the hussle and bussle of the city, it became a quiet place for you to think. It probably wasn’t at all what she was expecting, but you didn’t mind surprising her.

“9pm picnic?” Jessie says, puzzled look on her face as she followed you out of the car and watched you lay out the blanket you had brought.

“No, stargazing.” You point upward to the clear sky displaying tiny bright dots of light.

“Oh.” Jessie makes her way to the blanket, toeing off her shoes before sitting down. You follow, sitting beside her. Just like the car, the two of you start off in silence, waiting for the other to break it.

“Look, Jessie.” You start, waiting for her to turn to look at you, when her eyes meet yours you continue. “I know this isn’t completely public, but I’m trying. You asked to do something outside of our houses, this is what I’m comfortable with for now. I wanted to show you, I’m in this, I want this.”

“I know, I’m really sorry, for what I said, I should have never said those dates were fake, because they weren’t. Those evenings together meant something to me and they meant something to you. They weren’t fake and I’m so sorry I said they were. I’m in this too, I want this too. I just freaked out, thinking you’d keep me a secret forever, which now that I’ve reflected was stupid and I just panicked.”

“It was never my intention to keep you a secret forever. I just need a little bit more time. I’m still figuring this out.”

“Yeah, I know. You deserve to take the time you need, I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured in any way.” Her hand on your thigh gives you a gentle squeeze, sending tiny feelings of electricity up between your legs.

You respond with silence, not quite knowing where to take the conversation, but also just falling into a comfortable silence with the girl next to you. As you both lay, you lean your head over, resting it on her shoulder. The two of you lay in silence, admiring the display in the sky above you.

“This has been really nice.” Jessie says rolling over on her side to look at you. You keep your eyes trained on the sky, looking at the stars. “Thank you for showing me this.” She puts a kiss on your cheek before shifting to lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming to wrap around your waist.

You feel your face rush with heat at the feeling of her kiss. You couldn’t believe something simple from her, like a peck on the cheek still gave you a tingling feeling in your stomach. “You know it’s been three months technically since our first date, and one month since we agreed to be girlfriends?”

“I did.” Jessie lets out a little sigh. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to make it a big deal or not, people are different, we hadn’t really done anything for month one or two, so I wasn’t sure if you maybe weren’t a monthly anniversary person or not.

“I wasn’t sure if you were, that’s why I haven’t been saying anything.”

“So we’ve just been not acknowledging it.” Jessie laughs softly as she speaks.

“Yeah I guess.” You shrug.

You feel Jessie shift on the blanket, she lifts her head momentarily.“I’ve had a really nice three months with you.”

“Me too babe.” You both share a smile before Jessie leans up toward you, her lips finding yours.

As you kiss you can almost feel a shift. One you can’t quite place but the way she kissed you, felt deeper, more passionate, her tongue running against yours felt dirtier, in a way that made you want more. Before you can get too carried away you find yourself pulling back. You wanted it, but not on a blanket, on a rock, in the middle of somewhat secluded woods.

“Um, so it’s almost eleven, I promised I’d have you home by midnight.”

“Right…” Jessie says. “I mean, we do have film and recovery tomorrow. Should probably get at least some sleep.” Both of you groan as you stand up, not wanting to leave the peaceful night you had created, but you knew you had to.

After the short drive home you found yourself parking your car outside of your own place, instead of Jessie’s. “Sorry, I’ll drop you off in a second, I forgot something for you, I meant to grab it earlier.”

“Of course, no problem.”

“Unless you wanted to come upstairs?” It was an innocent enough question you posed to Jessie, but both of you knew it likely had a less than innocent underlying meaning.

You had been more physical on your date tonight than most. Your hands had constantly been finding ways to touch Jessie. Your hand in hers, your hand on her thigh, hand on her back, your fingers running through her hair, and she was returning the favor, her hands running down your side as she had rested with her head on your chest.

“Yeah, if you want me to?”

“I do.” You nodded. “Plus, tomorrow is just film and recovery, if we’re a little sleepy, it’ll be alright.” You end the sentence with a slight smirk on your face. The two of you made quick work of getting out of your car and she followed you up to your building.

You initiated it. The second the two of you made it through the door, your lips found Jessie’s, kissing her hard, not wasting any time before you let your tongue slide against her lips. Hands on her hips you urge her to move backward in the direction of your bedroom.

You poured years of self hatred and denial into the kiss, you were finally getting what you had always wanted deep down. The feelings you had suppressed for years poured out as the two of you made your way into the bedroom.

You reach the bed, finally breaking your kiss and you climb onto it as Jessie stands at the side, watching you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Not having to think twice you reassure her with an enthusiastic nod, it felt right, tonight was the night. You had no idea what you were doing, but excitement filled your stomach.

“Okay, just tell me if you change your mind.” Jessie says as she climbs onto the bed next to you, situating herself between your thighs.

Leaning down, she covers your body with her own, her lips making their way back to yours and the two of you spend time kissing. You slowly become used to the feeling of her body on yours, it's new, but you liked it, your hands hold her sides as her own hold her above you. Every slight shift of her weight you can feel, the longer you kiss her the more restless you become. You can feel the way her hips softly rock against yours. For a moment you’re in heaven.

You can feel your head start to spin as she kisses the side of your neck. The feeling you're experiencing is one you’re unable to put into words, a mix of uncertainty and excitement fill your system. Feeling bold in your movements you let your hands pick at the edges of Jessie’s shirt, your fingers just barely touching her bare skin underneath. She sits back, breaking away her lips from your skin and you watch as she puts her arms up.

“Go ahead.” She nods with a smile down to you and you slowly pull the shirt up and over her head. You let your eyes trail down her body, pausing a little too long at her chest, still covered in a sports bra. It was a view you had seen hundreds of times in the locker room but this was different. This wasn’t seeing her change into her kit for a game, this wasn’t her changing after practice. She was undressing for you. That made it different.

You’re enjoying the attention she’s giving to your neck and lips, until her hands find their way to the hem of your shirt and you feel her begin to gently pull on it. She doesn’t quite make a move to take it off of you yet, but you know that’s what she’s teasing at, her fingers creeping further under your shirt. That’s when your stomach feels like a sinking rock, it finally sets in what the two of you were doing. She was going to be naked, you were going to be naked. She’d be seeing every inch of you. You hadn’t done anything like this before, before Jessie you’d hardly made out with anyone.

As her fingertips graze the band of your bra the feeling in your stomach grows and for a moment you’re worried you’ll be sick. “Hang on Jess.” You’re able to whisper out and you almost regret it as you feel her lips pull away from your sensitive skin.

“Are you okay?” Jessie pulls back looking at your face, her fingers still touching under your shirt.

“Uh.” You try to find your voice, the words to tell her. Feeling frozen you just look at her. When she moves her fingers slightly you jump under her touch. Jessie now looks concerned as she looks down at you. You feel like you could cry in the moment, the lump in your throat starting to feel impossible to swallow.

“We can stop.” Jessie offers sweetly.

“No Jess, it's fine.” You quickly find the words trying to convince her and yourself that you’re okay. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Jessie stays still, her hands still resting on either side of your abdomen, you hope she can’t feel how uneven your breathing is, or just how hard your heart is beating. “I can tell you’re nervous, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you were. Tucking your head down to avoid her eyes, you can feel them burning into the crown of your head. The heat rising on your cheeks makes this feel even more embarrassing. “I’ve just, I’ve never, and I don’t, I mean, I’m just not sure.” You manage to mumble out.

Jessie doesn’t say anything initially, but you feel her fingers slide out from under your shirt, resting on your thighs that were still wrapped around her waist. “Hey, it’s okay.” She begins rubbing slow strokes up and down your shorts, comforting you. Her right hand leaves your thigh and finds your own hand, gently interlacing your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks slightly and you can feel the tears welling up, blinking hard a couple escape and roll down your cheek. “I thought I was ready.”

“It’s okay, look at me.” Jessie politely requests. You turn your head, giving her a quick glance before shying away again. “Please,” it’s a gentle ask and you do as she says, making eye contact with her for just a moment before your eyes fall to your lap again, “I don't care, I mean, I do obviously, I care about you. I just mean, if you’re ever not ready, not comfortable, we’re not going to do anything.”

“I want to, I promise, I want to have sex with you, just, I don’t know, it’s still all new.” You couldn’t quite put into words the feelings you were having, uneasy, anxious, and yet excited, all flooding your system making you feel unwell.

“That’s okay.” Jessie swings her legs over yours, sitting down on the bed next to you, she reaches for her own previously discarded shirt pulling it over her head quickly before returning her focus to you. “You don't need a reason, and it's also okay to just not be ready.”

You just nod. You stay staring ahead, where Jessie used to sit, now your eyes fell across the room on the empty wall. An unsettling feeling still in your stomach, you just wanted it to go away. Your brain felt like it was ready to explode and yet it was silent at the same time, having no idea how to process the emotions you went through.

You’re not sure how long it’s been when Jessie speaks again. “Do you want me to go? I can leave if you need some space, Or I can stay, it’s your choice, whatever will make you comfortable.”

You hardly had to think before you knew the answer “Stay?”

“Of course.” Jessie says, you can almost feel her relax into the bed slightly. She moves around, covering herself with the throw blanket that rested on your bed.

“You’re not mad?” Finally having the courage to speak, you ask, slightly terrified of what the answer might be.

“Why would I be mad?” She turns looking at you with a hint of sadness in her expression.

“I don’t know. I mean I started it, I made it seem like we were going to, ya know.” Your hands play with the blanket.

“I’ll never be mad at you for saying no, no one should ever get mad at you for that.” Her hand finds yours, encouraging you to stop fidgeting with the blanket. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You turn, swinging your legs off the bed. “I’m going to get ready for bed, I have an extra toothbrush if you still want to spend the night.”

“Yeah, only if you’re sure?”

“I am, feel free to grab clothes from my dresser, if you wanted something besides what you’ve got on.” You point over where your dresser was against the wall. Jessie nods then moves toward the dresser opening a few drawers before finding your t-shirts. She looks through a few and then holds one up. M

“Cool if I take this one?” She holds it up to you. You nod before heading into the bathroom. While you’re rummaging through your closet to find the packaged toothbrush for Jessie she joins you, your shirt now across her chest and one of your favorite pairs of sweats on her legs. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at the sight of her in your clothes.

“Here ya go.” You hand her the toothbrush and she walks to your sink. “I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back.” Quickly throwing on sweatpants and a shirt of your own you return to the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth before heading back toward your bed.

Jessie is standing at the foot of it, looking at you. “Do you have a side preference?” You shake your head before moving to the closest side of the bed, lifting the covers and beginning to climb in, you reach over setting an alarm for the morning. Jessie gets the idea and moves to the other side, putting her phone on the bedside table and climbing in as well.

You’d never slept next to anyone in a romantic way. Sure you’d shared beds with teammates before but never a teammate that you also kissed, and hugged, and lov-, really liked. You feel your face heating up at the near confession that just happened in your brain.

Despite the darkness of your room, Jessie somehow could see right through you. “Just lay how you normally would, pretend I’m not here.” Following her instructions you roll off your back and onto your side, facing away from Jessie. “There ya go.” Staring at the rest of your bedroom you can’t see, but feel the bed shift as Jessie moves around. “Is it okay if I lay behind you?”

“Yeah go ahead.” As you give her permission, Jessie moves and you suddenly feel her legs against yours before her chest is against your back.

“Can I put my arm around you?” Instead of verbally answering, you reach an arm of your own back, finding Jessie’s wrist and pulling her forward so her arm draped across your middle. “You comfortable?” She checked in with you.

“Yeah, I’m good.” That was mostly the truth, you were more comfortable than before, and Jessie’s body against yours was a welcomed warmth, but that didn’t mean it calmed your mind fully. Your mind was still thinking about how it had felt to have Jessie on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist as she ever so slightly had rolled her hips, how it felt for her hands to be under your shirt, how her lips felt on your neck, and while you had loved all those things, you couldn’t stop thinking about how embarrassed you felt.

Here you were, an adult, still terrified of physical intimacy. You wanted it, you just couldn’t. It made it all too real. “I’m sorry.” It’s a weak apology from you that has Jessie immediately shushing in your ear.

She places a kiss to your shoulder and tightens her grip on your waist. “Go to sleep babe, nothing to be sorry for.”

[sturn777]

skater bf matt x rich reader hcs?

skater!bf!matt x rich!reader headcanons . | ( female reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request )

boyfriend!matt who always has calloused hands from skating but keeps yours soft like it’s his job. he’ll carry your prada bag in one hand while holding yours in the other, even if it gets him teased by his friends. “bro, i’m whipped and i don’t care.”

boyfriend!matt who gives you a skateboard just for aesthetic purposes, even though he knows you’ll never use it. he spray paints your initials on the bottom and makes sure it’s the exact same color as the new gucci loafers you just bought. he secretly loves how out of place it looks propped up in your designer-filled bedroom.

boyfriend!matt who takes you to skateparks but never lets you step foot on a board. “you’ll break an ankle in those heels,” he says, but the real reason is that he’s too scared you’ll get hurt. instead, he’ll let you sit on the sidelines while he shows off. every trick is 10x more impressive because he knows you’re watching.

boyfriend!matt who writes your initials on the grip tape of his board like a lowkey claim. his friends notice, of course, but he plays it off like it’s no big deal. “yeah, so what? she’s my girl.”

boyfriend!matt who gets annoyed when you pay for everything, but secretly loves that you insist. you’ll buy him new skate shoes without a second thought, and he’ll grumble, “you didn’t have to do that,” but he’s already lacing them up and showing them off to nick and chris.

boyfriend!matt who loves that you’re completely out of his league but never lets you feel like it. to him, you’re just his girl, the one who keeps his head on straight and his heart soft.

boyfriend!matt who finds your world so overwhelming but can’t imagine not being in it. he’ll sit stiffly on your cloud couch in your marble-lined living room, wearing his scuffed vans, legs spread wide while your dad tries to make polite conversation. he just smirks at you across the room, mouthing, “this is insane,” and you can’t help but laugh because, yeah, it kind of is.

boyfriend!matt who doesn’t get why you insist on coming to his late-night skate sessions, but secretly loves it when you’re there. you’re perched on the edge of an empty fountain in your oversized blazer, legs crossed, scrolling through your phone. he looks up after nailing a trick, and you’re already grinning at him like he hung the moon.

boyfriend!matt who teaches you how to ollie in your pristine backyard. the board wobbles under your feet, and you let out this little shriek that makes him laugh so hard he falls over in the grass. “you’re hopeless,” he says, but his hands are steady as he holds your waist, guiding you step by step until you kind of get it.

boyfriend!matt who knows nothing about fashion but will stand outside a boutique holding all your shopping bags, grinning like he’s won something. you come out looking effortlessly put-together, and he whistles low under his breath. “damn, babe, you really went all out for me, huh?”

boyfriend!matt who presses stickers from his favorite brands onto your hydro flask and luggage because “you need to roughen it up a little.” you roll your eyes, but he catches you tracing the outline of his thrasher sticker later, and it makes him grin.

boyfriend!matt who has zero shame rolling into your country club brunch with a scraped-up knee and a t-shirt that smells like sweat and asphalt. he’ll kiss your cheek in front of all the pearl-wearing moms just to watch you blush. “what? they should know who you belong to.”

boyfriend!matt who says, “don’t touch that,” every time you try to clean one of his skateboards, but secretly loves when you do. you polish the wheels like they’re vintage car parts, and it makes his heart ache a little.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory )

[devotedfem]

«Yoongi Scissorhands»

Synopsis: He was a shy and cute creation, but his inventor died before making him hands, leaving him with scissorhands. He hid in the dark until you met him, giving him a shelter and showing him he was deserving of love.

M. Yoongi x f. Reader

2.8K words.

Genre: Inspired by Edward Scissorhands (1990) | yander-ish.

Tags: Edward scissorhands au, fluff but at the same time dark, cute and sweet Yoongi, but possessive and obsessive Yoongi (don't let him fool you), sweet reader, naive Yoongi, dangerous Yoongi, he's too whipped for reader, insecurities, jealousy, codependency, cuteness, soft Yoongi and reader, very fluffy but very toxic, reader likes her space and Yoongi likes her space too, obsession, murder, smut, rough s3x, cunnilingus, somnophilia, infatuation.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

“… There are all kinds of scissors. And once there was even a man who had scissors for hands.”

You sighed rolling your eyes, you regret telling your mom that you’d help her sell her Avon’s products in the neighborhood. You needed the small sales commission, but no one bought anything from you.

This was frustrating, you already knocked all the doors of your neighborhood.

But then… you watched the gothic mansion on the hill from the side-view mirror of your car. The former owner died months ago of a heart attack, and since then, the castle looked abandoned. People say that the former owner was a creator, an artist that lived like a hermit.

You shrugged at your own thoughts, starting the car in the direction of the mansion. After all, curiosity always get the best of you.

You stood before the huge front door of the mansion castle-like, knocking the door and entering uninvited when you noticed that it was already opened.

“Uhm… hello? Is anyone at home? I don’t want to intrude but I have such good Avon products to show you!” You spoke out loudly, your customer-service smile wavered when the only sound that greet you was the echo of your voice.

You were about to turn around defeated until you heard steps in the second floor, making you grin with hope.

You wanted to at least sell one product today, and you were willing to do anything to achieve that, even if it involves literally intruding a stranger’s house and climbing their stairs.

The second floor looked like a huge studio, without rooms, just an empty and big space with canvas everywhere.

You narrowed your eyes when you saw a figure hiding in a dark corner, almost as if they were scared of you.

Your brows knitted, but that didn’t stop you from trying to charm the stranger with your customer-service smile.

“Oh, hello there! Sorry to intrude in your house, I just want to-“

You stopped mid-sentence by a scream of horror. In front of you stood a man with Scissorhands.

Fucking Scissorhands. You didn’t believe your eyes.

The pale boy flinched at your scream, widening his eyes and taking some steps back. His shoulders were a bit shrugged, and you noticed him hiding his Scissorhands behind his back.

A pang of guilt squeezes your chest, you didn’t mean to make him feel bad about himself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for my reaction, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m y/n, nice to meet you!” You smile wide again, trying not to waver this time.

The boy tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy. If you say you didn’t melt by his cuteness, you’d be a liar.

“But I’m the one who’s scary,” he mutters softly, with his cat eyes looking at you with curiosity.

He was so pretty that it took your breath away. His raven and long hair boost his beautiful pale face. He was all dressed in black, goth alike, but his behavior was like that of a puppy.

And well, his Scissorhands were intimidating, but you stopped feeling scared when you realized he was harmless.

“You’re not scary at all, you look very nice to me. You’re just a little bit different, but there’s nothing wrong with that!” You grinned crinkling your eyes, you were trying your best to make him feel comfortable.

The boy returned your gesture, with a soft smile that bared his gums prettily.

You came here trying to be charming not charmed.

You watched your surroundings again, noticing that this place looked so abandoned and desolated.

“You live here alone?” You asked cautiously, watching his every expression.

He pouted with a sad nod.

“Yes, my creator left me without having finished my hands.” He said with a deep sigh, watching his scissors for hands.

He said left, not died.

You felt that pang of pity again, he looked so alone and hurt. Maybe you could… help him?

“I can… I can take care of you for a couple of weeks, to help you find a job and a place to live in the neighborhood.”

The boy blinked shocked, pointing a finger-blade to himself.

“Me? You’ll help me?”

“Yes,” you said smiling softly. “What’s your name?”

“Yoongi,” the gothic boy smiled with stars in his pitch-black eyes, melting you again.

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“All right,” you whispered, applying softly concealer under his watchful eyes. You felt his gaze heavy on you while you’re applying the Avon products.

He was still under your touch, his face inches from yours. You tried to ignore the hot knot in your belly by the closeness, but he made it difficult with those piercing and gentle eyes fixated on you.

You saw the next product that you haven’t tried on him, a lip balm. The mischievous part of you made you use your finger to apply the product softly on his lips, and you heard him inhale sharp. You tried so hard to hide your smirk. His lips were so soft at the touch, so you pull your finger away quickly to stop your train of thoughts.

“All done!” You singsong, acting like you didn’t see his face falling when you pull yourself away from him.

You two grew closer the last couple of days, your family wasn’t too eager of accommodating him, but when he offered himself to tend the house garden, turning it into a beautiful magazine-like garden, then they started to accept him.

You ignored the gossips of your nosy neighbors, happy to make Yoongi feel at home. Yoongi always did his best effort to please you, working as a hairdresser thanks to his hair cutting skills. You tried to be always around him, making sure that nobody take advantage of him. He was too naïve and well-intentioned for his own good, so you do your best to protect him.

He always follows you like a lost puppy, and you tried to teach him how to be more independent, but even then, he will still follow you everywhere. It’s like he needs to be around you, so you let him be for now.

Every morning he wakes up next to you on your bed even when he has his own bedroom, but again, you let him be. He cooks all of your food, and follows you when you went out to buy more products or sell to your neighbors. The townspeople say between whispers that the strange man was obsessed with you, but you pay them no attention, it was only gossips of ill-intentioned people.

It was so hard not to like him when he gives you one of his gummy smiles, or when he pulls your foot on top of his knee while trying so hard to tie your shoes, making you giggle at his serious and concentrated face. He was adorable, but… he also doesn’t know much about boundaries.

You see, after the second week you stopped feeling comfortable with him waking up beside you on your bed, not when he was getting so close to you. The other day his chest was glued to your back and his face buried into your neck, you wouldn’t bat an eye if it weren’t for his bulge poking your ass. You told him to wake up on his own bed, but he didn’t pay you attention, ignoring your request.

You started to get annoyed when he didn’t stop following you around even when you ordered him to give you some personal space. But he just shrugged, playing dumb as if he didn’t understand you at all.

That’s why you sneak away from him, having some space for yourself for a couple of hours before he caught you, and when he did it, it’s when you realized that something was off.

Yoongi’s eyes were crazed and his raven hair disheveled, he ran to you, wrapping his arms around your body and crying his heart out with relieve and fear. You were frozen, your limbs unmoving by the shock of his state.

“Why did you hide from me! I thought you left me like he did!” He sobbed, his teary eyes broking your heart.

You ignored the pain you felt at his Scissorhands cutting the skin of your arms.

You let him sleep with you that night, and it was your first mistake, because after that he started to sleep with you every night, not taking no for an answer.

You felt trapped.

Your second mistake was to show yourself vulnerable in front of him. You were crying because the man that sells you the Avon products acted rude and cruel towards you, not wanting to sell you or your mom any more products at all.

Your face was buried in Yoongi’s neck, with his arms wrapped around you while you were sitting on his lap. Your eyelids felt heavy when he rocked softly and gently your body, humming a sweet song into your ear. You’ve never felt so cared for, maybe that’s why you let yourself fall asleep into his arms that night, ignoring the feeling of lips brushing and mouthing your skin.

That was a moment of weakness, one that cost the rude man’s life. You screamed at the top of your lungs when you saw stains of blood covering half of Yoongi’s face, and the blood dripping from his Scissorhands were evidence enough of the crime he committed. His brows knitted with worry at your reaction, he wasn’t good at dealing with your rejection.

“I did this for you, because he hurt you, and I love you too much and I don’t want to see you sad.” He burst out with a trembling chin and a watering gaze.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, your blood ran cold, you were just shocked. You ignored him, walking past him, turning a deaf ear to his pleas and his heartbroken cries of your name.

Even though you acted tough, you were very weak for him, that’s why you didn’t tell the police that he murdered someone. You felt so ashamed of yourself, you didn’t even know why you were doing this for literally a stranger that you just met a couple of weeks ago. It was just so stupid, you were stupid.

Since then, Yoongi showed you a side of him that was darker, opposite to his sweet and innocent persona. He was acting more possessive and territorial towards you, threating to kill any man that dares as much as talking to you. He didn’t listen to your angry yells, simply staring at you as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum, pissing you off even more. He was controlling, following you everywhere, you didn’t have space for yourself.

And the worst part was that you were trapped, because you were scared of him hurting more people or your family, and you were worried that he would tell the police that he murdered someone and that you lied for him.

It was a loss-loss situation.

You hide yourself in your bathroom, sitting on the floor and crying your eyes out. The only moment that you have time for yourself, away from him, was in the bathroom. And you needed the space to shed some tears before facing your ugly reality again.

The sobs were getting louder and wrecking, you covered your mouth but your cries could still be heard outside the bathroom. You winced at your own loud outburst.

Yoongi knocked immediately the door.

“Y/n are you okay? Can I come in?” He asked in a rushed tone, you know him well enough to sense his desperation.

You didn’t say anything back, wanting him to suffer.

“Y/n! Please open the door right now!”

This time he yelled at the other side of the door, you listened to his Scissorhands trying to turn the knob but failing, either way the door was locked. He hit the door hard, begging for you to open the door and shouting in anger when you simply ignored him.

Then there was an unsettling and deep silence, way too long for your like.

Until the door burst open, making you startled and scream.

Yoongi’s lips were curled down and his jaw clenched, it was the first time you see him this angry. His gaze was stern and his breath heavy, he walked towards you with long steps, and you flinched away cowering into the bathroom’s corner. His boots stopped before you, you made an effort to not look up and avoid his gaze. He squatted, growling when you still didn’t meet his eyes.

You cried in pain when he used his Scissorhands to grab your chin making you look at him. You felt blood dropping from the wound. His ebony eyes widened, and his brows knitted in worry and anger.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you make it very hard.” He said with a pained grimace, as if the thought of hurting you wounded him more than you.

“Go back to your house Yoongi, I don’t want you near me.” You pressed between teeth, fighting back tears of frustration.

Yoongi inhaled sharply, with hurt flashing his watery eyes. His lips wobbled and the tears stream like cascades to his chin, he didn’t wipe them away, he only stared at you as if you just stabbed him.

You gulped hard at the sight, ignoring your heavy heart and avoiding his eyes, looking at the tiles of the bathroom instead.

“Is it… because of my hands? I know they’re ugly and sharp, but I promise not to hurt you with them.” He urged with a broken voice, coming closer to you, inches from your face and pushing you deeper into the corner. You felt trapped by him. He just didn’t let you breathe, it’s all him, him and him everywhere you take a breath.

“It’s not your hands! I like them! It’s just… you don’t give me space and you go around killing people and that’s not okay! Can you just have some common sense?” You barked against his face, panting with anger.

Yoongi looked like a kicked pup by your scolding.

“Sense? ‘Don’t know ‘bout that, ‘just know that I like your-your space and I don’t like bad people making you sad.” He whispered with a weak and soft voice, looking defeated.

You closed your eyes a second, the pang of guilt was too strong to bear. He didn’t know any better, he was just naïve.

You grabbed his face into your hands, stroking softly his cheeks with your thumbs, wiping the dry tears away. Yoongi sighed into your touch, with his lids heavy, staring piercingly at you.

You two stayed like that for a couple of minutes, until Yoongi pulled your wrists away, getting more closer to your face till your noses brushed.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked with a thin voice, his hot breath caressing your lips. You felt dizzy by his voice, scent and closeness, it felt like he was putting you under a spell.

You just nodded weakly, not wanting to utter a word and break the tension growing between you two.

His lips roamed until your jaw, brushing the skin and smiling against it, that was your only warning before he stands up pulling you with him, making you gasp and wrap your legs around his waist, he tried to not cut you with his Scissorhands.

You liked being carried by him as if you weight nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his raven and soft looks, his scent making you dizzy again.

He took you to his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. He tried to lay you down on his mattress, but you clung yourself around him tighter, not wanting to pull away from his warmth for even a second. Yoongi chuckled at your reaction, trying to lay you down again.

“Let go, pretty girl,” you melted at his words, letting go of him and lying on his bed. Yoongi smirked mischievous at your compliance.

One of his finger-blades caressed your cheek lovingly, your heart beat was wild against your ribcage. Yoongi proved to be very dangerous, but at the same time, very sweet and innocent. You didn’t know what to think of him anymore.

“Let go of your thoughts, focus on me.” He ordered with a deep voice, his heavy gaze was watching your every expression, not missing your doubts.

You blinked surprised at his tone, but you smiled at him anyway.

Your legs were opened widely to make room for him, your toes curled at the feeling of his groin rubbing yours. You whimpered with your back arching at the feeling of his tongue lapping your neck like a starve dog, touching you everywhere like a possessed man. You ignored the pictures of you pinned to his wall, too busy moaning against his ear.

He’s doing what he wanted to do the first time he saw you.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg @acherry04 @lizziekitty @withmuchluv-tannie

[kkayyerr]

Not me checking everyday to see if you posted, im obsessed with your stories!

can i request Reader throwing a tantrum, and lke, i think in the regular being Rafe's girl it's a pretty toxic dynamic, and he is often rough with her, yanks her and stuff, just being not too soft and gentle with his touches when he's in a bad mood, a slight bad mood even.

And you know, childs usually pick up habits from adults, so when she regresses and she throws the tantrum she is like agressive with rafe like trying to push him or hit him and let's say its the first and only time that happens!:3 thats my scenario you can mold it however you want

Tough Love.

Summary: Rafe had always been tough with little!reader, but he got very surprised when he found out that his little girl is just as feisty as he is.

Warnings: Age regression, Dark!Rafe, non-sexual spanking, slight angst, unhealthy relationship. All SFW!!!

Author’s note: Thank you so much for your sweet words, I hope you’ll like this one!🫶🏻🥹

Rafe was very unpredictable the last couple of weeks. One day he could’ve spoil you, and the next day the only emotion that he would show towards you was anger. His touches became rough, somehow violent, even though he didn’t actually hit you or abuse you in any way. It was just who he was. He had never been very gentle. You knew him for a long time now, and you knew what you were getting yourself into by starting the relationship with him. What you didn’t know is that you would feel so small and overpowered by him all the time. Most of the time you felt weak. You knew that being with him was stressful for you because of his establishment. Rafe also seemed very tensed and anxious almost every day.

You started regressing more often, trying to hide from those thoughts and feelings, but they had only grown bigger. 

It was a peaceful evening for you and Rafe, until you felt the urge to throw a tantrum out of nowhere. Of course it wasn’t out of nowhere; you were just tired of everything and severely overwhelmed. You needed to let those feelings out by crying and screaming, but Rafe didn’t know that. Your tantrum was just another irritating thing for him that he needed to stop before it would make him freak out. 

 

„Baby, calm down.”

 

He said, approaching you, when you suddenly did what he wasn’t expecting you to do. 

You hit him. 

You slapped his face with the full force. 

He just wanted to lean closer to you, so you would feel more grounded and comfortable, but you might’ve feel comfortable enough if you decided that you had a right to lay your little hand on him. He was surprised by your audacity. After everything he had put up with, he got a fucking handprint on his face?

Rafe’s eyes immediately darkened, and the loving look disappeared completely. He was pissed. However, he didn’t hit you back. He didn’t shove or push you. He just went straight to the couch and set down, patting his lap and looking at you. 

 

„Over my knee.”

 

Your skin immediately covered in shivers. He had never used psychical punishments before, especially not spanking. The room was silent; you could only hear how fast your own heart beats. You were terrified of Rafe right now. Somehow that empty look on his face was much scarier than the anger that you got used to. You didn’t want him to hurt you, but he would either way, so you just made your way to the couch, carefully laying down on his lap.

You were scared, and the fact that you were regressed right now was only making the whole situation worse. Much worse.

Rafe’s hands landed on your back, and he caressed you a little bit in the soothing manner before giving you the first slap with his other hand.

 

„I hope you understand that Daddy don’t like punishing you, little one.”

 

The second slap was louder than the first one and felt just as painful. But this time pain mixed with the feeling of guilt. It was your fault; you shouldn’t have slapped him and shouldn’t have given him a reason to punish you. You wanted to be his good little girl after all. 

 

„Why did you hit Daddy, hm?”

 

You felt tears falling from your eyes when he hit you once again. You covered your mouth with your little hand to muffle sniffling and crying sounds. Rafe had hold his laughter back, so he won’t be called a „meanie” later. It was cute how hard you were trying to keep on the strong girl act, even though he knew that it was all just a facade. You were way too vulnerable to be called strong. 

 

„C’mon, answer me.”

 

Rafe said, giving you a last slap. He then immediately helped you sit, pulling you closer while you were on his lap, even though he knew that sitting might’ve been a little difficult for you right now. He gently took your hand away from your mouth, and you let out a couple of loud sobs, before finally answering.

 

„Wanted to feel stwong and big like you!”

 

Those words sounded funny because of your high-pitched childish voice, that was also still trembling from the crying. You didn’t sound like someone who is strong and big, especially not after you just got spanked. Rafe smiled softly; he almost felt sorry for you. How could someone be so stupid and so cute at the same time? 

 

„But strong girls don’t need daddies. Do you want me to leave?”

 

Of course you didn’t want him too. You knew that you simply wouldn’t survive without him. You needed your Daddy, no matter how difficult it was to stick around him lately. You remember him also being there when it was hard to stick around you. 

You shook your head, quickly hugging his neck, so that way he wouldn’t leave you or disappear. His calm breathing relaxed you. He was there, close to you, and he wasn’t mad. 

It was strange to admit, but it was the first time in the last couple of weeks when both of you were calm and happy.

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[altcvnningham]

of a demon in my view

william “case” calderon x f!reader

summary: when the team return to the rook after visiting the science facility in kentucky you hear a bump in the night. good thing case is back to protect you, right? (takes place after the 'emergence' mission. inspired by this post. please heed the tags!!) read on ao3

tags/cw: nsfw, dubious consent, f!reader, angst, (case is) under the influence (of the cradle), rough sex, size difference/kink, biting, choking, case is hung, animalistic/primal behaviour?? i guess?? reader is confused but loves case too much, case is obsessed w reader, aftercare (ish), author goes mad with power at the use of italics wc: 4.8k

a/n: umm sorry to case + the case enjoyers, i wish i’d written something softer for him first... trust that my first full nsfw fic on here would be icky nasty dubcon w poor confused reader. promise she likes it. since there’s not a whole lot of case content to base his characterisation on, i hope this suffices!! shoutout to lovely lacie @dearlydevoured, case's actual irl gf who put up w my brainrot while i wrote this <3 title from “alone”, edgar allan poe.

You wake gasping.

The bedroom is pitch black, offering little but a sliver of moonlight to orient yourself, cutting the room split in two as you try to discern what the hell that sound was. A slam, booming like thunder and carried in with the draft and the dust. It takes much to hear it across the old house, the Rook as big as it is barren, and it takes much more again to wake you. But whatever it is, it had, and your body jolts in its instinct to get up and investigate.

But as you do, you stop. You’re half a leg out of bed and a finger upon the nearby flashlight when you catch something in your periphery. You don’t even look at it head on- the figure in the open door. Just stare ahead at the wall and freeze, trying to clock if whatever stands there has spotted you sooner than you’d spotted it.

Any other night, Case would have awoken before you. Hell, he would have dealt with the problem himself before you’d even stirred. But the space in the bed where he usually sleeps is cold, and it had been all night- they’d left for Kentucky a couple days ago now, and you hadn’t received much word in between. Only a call from Marshall on the way back, to keep an eye on Case when he returns. That he wasn’t quite right.

But you know Case better than anyone. You know he already isn’t really quite right as he is; you never minded it, the odd pauses between words and the bitten tongue, like he’s always holding something back, or the distant way he sometimes seems to regard you from across a room, before the colour floods back to his face and he finds the courage to smile. Whatever warmth you possess encourages a similar feeling in himself, and Case had found himself sweet on you quicker than he would most. He sees in you a kindred spirit, maybe. A missing piece. Enough that when he sleeps next to you, the screaming stops. Most nights.

But whatever it is in the door, you’re almost sure it isn’t Case. Almost. Until—

Breathing. Quick, shallow, raspy. For a second it doesn’t even sound human, until you recognise it- the same sound when he wakes from a nightmare, the same panting in your ear when you hold him tight and let him ride it out. The fear, primal, pacified by your patience and care. Your heart tugs- it’s him. You know it’s him.

With that knowledge alone enough to brave your panic, you turn your head to the open door, and regard the figure stood in it with an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh, god, Case. It’s you. Jesus,” you huff, a hand clutched to your chest. “Scared the shit out of me.”

A smile, sheepish, spreads over your lips as he just stands there in the doorway, filling it with his shadow. Tall, stocky, broad-shouldered as he is, arms held stiffly at his sides as he just stands there, shapeless face cast in darkness. His hulking figure eclipsing the moonlight trying to come in from the hallway windows. You can’t see his expression, only the whites of his eyes, and though it’s hard to tell at first, they look to be open wide. And staring at you.

Your smile slowly drops. You sit up.

“Case? What’s wrong?”

But he doesn’t talk. Doesn’t say anything. Just- fucking- just stands there- just you and him, locked eyes, for a fleeting moment feeling like prey and predator at a stand-off in a too-open clearing. Vulnerable, is the feeling that creeps up your spine and staples you there, still and rigid in the bed.

There’s a pause. He blinks. You think he snaps out of whatever daze he’s in, because he comes into the room and kicks the door shut with his heel, but where he’d usually sigh, sit on the bed, and undress, he just moves straight towards you. Unhurried, but urgent. Single-minded in his pursuit.

Case’s knee dips into the mattress, sinking under his weight, and though you aren’t scared you feel the urge to move back into the bed, hitting the headboard in your scuffle.

“Case, you’re still dressed,” you worry, voice lilted like a question. He must suddenly notice, or perhaps hear your concern, because he glances down at himself, though decidedly mustn’t care at all- even as you go for the zipper of his windbreaker yourself, he’s wholly intent instead on closing in on you. Scarred hands curl around the headboard as he leans in to kiss you- no, to- smell you? He noses your hair, behind your ear, licking a greedy stripe up the side of your neck. You do your best to ignore it, focusing your quivering fingers upon the zipper, and somehow you manage to push the jacket off him and onto the floor. His hands are immediately on you then, dug into the back of your hair and cradling your skull as he kisses sharply along your jaw, your cheek, the corners of your babbling mouth.

“H-hey, um,” is all you can manage as you’re jostled by his movements. He isn’t rough, isn’t even hurting you, but his fingers dig into your arms and pull at your hair in a way that’s unfamiliar, uncharacteristically desperate, like you’ll slip into dust any second. It’s enough to make you wince. “Case- Case, c’mon. Talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“Want you.” Is all he says.

“What?”

“Want you,” he repeats, an animal grunt in an octave you’ve never heard before. It thrills you as much as it frightens you, but you steel your focus, more concerned than you are anything else. That excitement that tingles at the base of your spine is unimportant, insignificant in the grand scheme, when he’s acting so strange.

“Case, I think you should sit down a sec,” you say, trying gently to pry his hands off you, but he won’t budge. He’s stronger than you- much stronger- and before you can open your mouth to protest his hands are on your waist, pulling you out of the bed and stringing you out atop the blanket like you weigh nothing. “Wh- oh!”

You land with a hiccup, disoriented as he climbs on top of you, and in your befuddled state you’re half worried about shoes on the bed as he wedges a leg between yours, coarse grey cargo pants chafing your sleep-soft thighs. A tiny yip makes its way out of you as you bear the sudden weight of him- as is always so stifling, yet now seems suffocating- a thick scarred forearm braced in the pillow beside your head as he buries his nose in your neck, not quite kissing but breathing you in, huffing like a dog, something primal, savage.

It’s so unfamiliar, and yet so like Case; never having seen him this way but always sensed, known, that there lingered in him something like this, some growling thing seated deep inside just waiting to get out, biding its time and snarling. It frightens you, but not enough to fight it off. Just enough to lay there and let whatever thing that’s reared its ugly head in him feel you out, get its bearings of the girl trembling beneath him.

You catch a scent on his shirt then, tart as it wrinkles your nose. It’s a strange smell, acrid, not entirely unpleasant but foreign to you- like chemicals or detergent, coppery like blood but lacking its warmth. It clings to Case’s clothes like something parasitic. You breathe it in, and strangely it has a texture, almost like smoke, but whatever it is your body rejects it, tangled in a cough as your vision blurs. It’s enough then to just let him close over you as he likes, pressing your face to his hair instead as he mouths at your neck, starved.

You’re burned by the heat of him. Heavy as he envelopes himself around you, greedy hands moving down your body to touch and grab and grope, undecided whether he wants to be gentle, whether he can be, calloused hands like sandpaper as he slides them under your shirt. Your own hands try to turn his jaw so you might see his face and deduce the expression into an answer, a reasoning for his behaviour. But every touch you give has him shuddering beneath you, near enough purring as he careens his cheek into your hand, lapping up your warmth.

Case feels like he’s on fire. Tunnel-visioned. Drunk, almost. He’d cooled off whatever substance he’d breathed in that facility on the flight back to Bulgaria, but part of it still sticks to him like sap, simmering and seething all red and angry in a place inside he can’t reach. He’d claw it out of himself if he could, if he had the guts, but he swears he could smell you from the fucking front door- and by then it was over, decided for him before he even knew what he was doing. Something else took hold then, brutish and hungry, overcome with the base animal need to stalk, hunt, fuck.

His hands run down your body, kissing wetly into your open palm. You whimper frantic and confused as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down your legs, falling frail as petals somewhere off the bed. You gasp as he pushes himself forward, hips bullying your legs apart, while he peels back your shirt to knead your breasts and latch his mouth upon a perked nipple with a moan.

“Hey, slow- slow down,” you rasp, barely a whisper, dying on an open-mouthed sigh as a spike of pleasure needles you. You can’t help it. It’s him, Case, always so soft with you, so slow and gentle, now pawing at you like he’d sooner die than go without touching you. Your hands knot into his hair as he sucks at your nipple, tangled at the base of his neck, unsure whether you’re trying to push him off or pull him closer. “I think we should- just- calm down and—“

“No,” Case says, a low noise, almost strangled as he unlatches himself from you, shaking his head. He sounds pained, sick, emitting a whine as he unfolds himself, hands wrestling with his belt. In your sudden shyness, feeling all too exposed, you pull your shirt down and make a move to close your legs, but Case’s hand nudges your knee, as thoughtless as if he were swatting a fly as he pries them back open.

“Gotta have you now, baby, I-I gotta,” he mumbles, repeating it under his breath over and over like a mantra. Is it for you to hear? Is it for himself? You don’t know. But even as you try and move his hand away it’s a hopeless thing. He’s firm, resolute. Won’t so much as let you budge. He slides his belt off with one hand, shoving his cargo pants and boxers down his hips, and stamps your arm back at the side of your head with the other, wrenched tight around your wrist.

“O-ow, careful, Case—”

Your words are cut short by a jarring thud. His cock thumps thick and heavy against your tummy, and wide-eyed, you freeze. Oh. Case tugs around the base to give it some hopeless attention, something, anything to take the edge off. The shock of it all pulls out a breathless whine from you. He’s never usually so forward. He rocks himself slow against you, moving his hips down, nudging your clit with the leaking head of his aching dick. It’s- it’s so much that you don’t know whether to stop him or just surrender, craning your neck down to try and catch a glimpse of- of—

Fuck, you forget how big it is. Every time. It always looks so much more intimidating than it feels, but that’s because Case has always been careful with you, patient, always working you up on his fingers first before even attempting to split you open on him, even then only feeding you inch by tentative inch until he’s seated nice and deep inside you. Eager, but takes his time with you, never in any rush to give his sweet girl what she needs.

But you have the feeling that this time is different. Not- not bad, but- different. His hands are hard on you, bruising, kisses impatient and starving, even the way he’s slowly fucking his tip against your clit, hazy-eyed and mindless as he watches himself slide the length of his shaft between your folds, so pink and sweet- it’s maddening. It’s only then that you realise you’re moaning, bleating like cornered prey.

As if suddenly reminded of the fact he ought to prep you, he shoves two fingers unceremoniously into his mouth, sucking them wet before pulling them out with a pop and delving his hand between your legs. It’s done so fast you flinch, a panicked sound pulled out of you. His usual patience is swapped with hurried desperation, a flit of his eyes to yours- your lips, your face, God, the prettiest thing he’s seen in his life- measuring your reaction. Your shock and confusion must be evident in your wilted expression, because he moves his fingers just a little slower, watching with enamoured reverence as your face flushes hot, savouring the way he can see the thoughts just spill out of your head like honey as it empties itself for him. So, so pretty.

“U-um—” you stammer, as dumb as the day you were born. You want to say something, want him to say something, but your mind goes blank. Whatever good sense might linger is gone- there’s only Case, much too broad and much too big in your bed as he looms over you. He slides his fingers against your clit, tender with need; he thumbs at your slick entrance, soaking his knuckle as he teases against it, and moans at how reflexively it clenches around him, begging to be filled. How badly it wants him. He barely humours your poor, needy pussy as he slides his middle finger inside, thick as it stretches you, just about managing the first knuckle before you keen, body bowing into him.

“G-God, Case, please—”

Sobriety spurs vaguely into him then, the light coming back into his eyes as he blinks down at you, strewn like a blushing favour over the pillow. His perfect girl, his. As he looks at you, he slides his finger out of you slowly, relishing with a faraway look on his face the way you crumple and cry, grasping at his wrist to try and pull him back in again. He thinks he’d go mad for it. For you, he thinks he’d die.

“S’okay,” he grumbles under his breath, a click of his tongue as he tuts at you like one might a skittish animal. He pulls back, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, his pupils blown black, drunk. “I’m gonna make it better. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise.”

He has to make it better. Has to. Has to apologise for what he’s doing, how he’s acting- he has to apologise for what he is, the thing growling inside him, tearing, clawing, screaming to get out—

He’s still sucking the syrup of you off his fingers as he pushes himself inside you, eyes rolling into the back of his head with a loud, broken groan. He’s so lost to the white haze of bliss for a second as your slick heat all but swallows him in, pushing only a little resistance at the sudden intrusion and God, he knows you’re not used to it so quick, so soon, but you’re his good girl, his baby, and he knows you can take it.

And you’re not quite used to the stretch even on a good day- feeling it rip into you now is near agony. Your mouth opens wide but not a sound comes out. Useless anyway, given Case bends down and closes his own around it, tongue delving hot inside to seek yours. It’s so fast and so much that you barely find time to adjust, just letting your mouth loll open and surrender itself to him as he tongues you, trying so hard to focus on accommodating to his cock pushing- forcing- its way into you, too much, too much, too big—

The hand around your wrist loosens as though some pliant drug has washed cold over him, and you open your eyes for just a second, enough to catch the way his dilate, black melting into the white before he sinks himself all the way inside you. Filling you to the hilt, suffocating. Bliss is written into every line of his face, softening as he lets out a whine. He bottoms out, and you see it in him- complete and utter relief. Some awful agony in him quelled immediately, his body slack against yours. He feels, in you, complete. Home.

It’s evident enough that it puts you at ease, whatever it is that’s compelled him like this. He’s not trying to hurt you. You don’t think. He’s just rather like a big dog that believes itself to be no larger than a puppy, unaware of its own weight and strength. Case’s body goes almost flat atop yours and the only way he notices at all is how it pushes a wheeze out of you, a silent beg for release.

But just then you feel his hips pulling back, cock sliding out of you inch by agonising inch. A whimpering plea is all you’re given to let out before he slams back into you again and fuck, it’s too much, he’s too big, you’re not used to—

“F-fuck, Case, wait—”

Your legs tremor involuntarily as they part further to let him closer, let him in, his hips welded to yours as he buries himself right to the fucking root of you. Case groans, delirious as his face falls against your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Case- s’too much, you’re—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, an attempt at comfort that leaves you dizzier than it does much else. He licks a wet kiss to your neck, meant to calm you, but only riles himself up more, setting off a dormant bloodthirst in him; he does it again, and this time he- he bites you.

You squeal. “O-ow!”

Like an apology he can’t voice he laps his tongue flat against your skin, mulling hungrily over the bitten flesh like he’s savouring it. It’s only when he’s sated himself on you that his hips start moving, slow, languid thrusts that quicken each time you yelp, hurried pace picking up once he feels you clench reflexively around him.

And he’s usually so gentle when he fucks you, almost hesitant, always like he’s half afraid of breaking you. Not like this. He fucks into you mindlessly, a rabid thing with a single razor sharp splinter of desire- you. Wants you. Has to have you, has to split you open and- take you. Fuck you so there’s nothing left in him to think of or breathe in but you. Every thrust is merciless and messy, Case pounding into you again and again as the sound of him fucking into your wet cunt smacks luridly in the air; loud enough that it makes you wince, cringing to hear yourself so shamelessly, how your body makes itself so slick and malleable just for him. His hips slam into you faster than you can take it- but you can take it, you can, he insists, demands it, grunting it into your ear, baby, please, jus’ take it for me, take it take it take it—

Your orgasm slams into you, a violent punch that singes you hot-white and blind; your thighs clench around his hips of their own accord and pull him in even deeper- as if there’s any more room- unbidden as you cry out, wailing helplessly as he just- keeps- fucking you. Wave after wave of pleasure drowning you over and over and over. It almost terrifies you, how willingly gone your body leaves itself, all sense and reason fleeing you all to make room for this- him.

You babble incomprehensibly as you ride it out, words lost in your throes of euphoria, smothered completely beneath the sweet and tender violence of him, your ravaged cunt milking and just taking him in its refusal to let go.

You don’t know if you’re crying- it all feels so good you can barely make sense of where you are- but through the red haze of it all you feel Case’s hand cup your cheek, caress your face, mumbling choked apologies into your shoulder as he keeps impaling you on his cock, chasing his pleasure into you. It’s the sweetest thing, his voice very almost pathetic, incongruous to the way the rest of him seems dead-set on pummelling you into the mattress as he garbles a knotted string of I’m sorry, baby, can’t help it, s’too good, I’m sorry—

As if you’d even care if he wasn’t. As if you wouldn’t let him break you and cradle the pieces in his mottled hands. As if you wouldn’t let him carve out a home inside of you, broken and bloodied, and nestle himself within. Where no one can hurt him ever again, where nobody could ever find him. Nobody but you.

You’d promise him that much, you think- the times when he wakes up screaming in the night, when he sits up in bed and stares empty at the wall, when mid-conversation he’s just suddenly stunned into white-noise silence, the Case you know, the Case that’s yours, absent for but a moment. Replaced by something else entirely, something you’re not quite sure you recognise. You take him then, like you take him now, your body so dumb and fragile in his big arms as he fucks you hard, cock punching into you so bad you go dizzy.

And isn’t this much like that? Don’t you love him even now, as he is? While he violently breaks you?

“C-Case,” you choke, his chest pressed so tightly to yours you can hardly breathe. His hand snakes up your neck, closing around your throat with a satisfied moan, stars dotted in your view. You feel something cresting again, down your legs, up your spine, the back of your neck— “Oh, god, Case, please, I’m gonna—”

But you don’t know what you’re gonna. It hits you before you can even find out. You come again, you think, some viciously delectable feeling severing you and flinging your body straight up off the mattress, holding him to you, begging him closer, as though he could be any more than he already was. Flesh melting into flesh, sweat sticky and waxen, indistinguishable from his. Inseparable. As you cry out again, he groans, thick and low and not quite human, spilling himself so deep inside you that you feel it pooling hot in your gut, molten sweet; your own climax is slow, tender agony, gorging you open, rippling warm and pink behind closed eyes like the thin warbling of blood in water… and then… and then…

It’s a short moment later, or maybe a few, when the black spots in your vision clear.

You’re staring up at the ceiling, cracked white, a picture much like Case’s eyes had been in the doorway, veins struck blood lightning across marble sclera. He’s there too, you can hear him, his voice a distant echo as you feel large hands cup your face, your whole world oscillating.

It’s bliss. It’s perfect. You lie there, barely coming to, your body sinking into the mattress as though you weren’t even there, floating, feeling so, so nice.

When the shadow pulls over your vision, you smile. Case holds himself over you, his thumb peeling back your eyelid, letting out a choked sound of relief when your eyes, lucid, finally fix on him.

“Oh- oh, thank god- oh- baby, I’m so—”

He scoops you up like a ragdoll in his arms, clutching you so tight to his chest that you can feel the erratic thrumming of his heart, quick as a rabbit’s to the slow drum of yours. A series of strangled noises leave him as he buries his face into your shoulder, wet, whether from kisses or crying, you don’t know- but you know that you love him, and he’s yours. It’s the only thing on your emptied mind as your face burrows against him, breathing him in. That strange chemical smell is long gone now, enveloping you back into the warm embrace of pine and petrichor, the smell of home. Of him. It’s all you can think of, the only thing you can form into words, when you mumble, exhausted, into his chest.

“‘Love you, Case.”

And he must hear it, because his heartbeat slows then, decelerating a steady hum to match your own. His death grip on you loosens, his body going slack as he falls into you. Whatever noise that screams endless in his mind seems to cease, because through it all he hears you, hushing and cooing at him as you pull your fingers softly up his arm, pulling him slowly, slowly, down into bed. You stay still as he sifts frantic hands over you, smoothing you over like he’s trying to keep the shape of you, checking you like he would for bruises. You know this is his way of taking care of you, of fixing you, of making everything right and keeping his precious baby together with all her pieces intact; he kisses you slow but trembling, lips finding every swath of skin he knows he’s bitten, pinched, groped too hard.

“Didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, quiet and worriedly into your hair. He kisses, again and again. “Didn’t mean to be so rough. Didn’t mean—”

“I know,” you whisper, “it’s okay. I’m okay. Look- feel.”

You find his hand in the dark, pulling it around yourself to press it against your chest, your heart beating heavy against his palm. You keep it there, proof of your wellness, showing him you’re unharmed. Where it matters, anyway. You’re so strung out from your orgasm that all you can do, want to do, is just lie there and hold him, body limp and satisfied in spite of it all.

It’s just that, then, quiet, the soft sounds of his breathing slowing in time to yours, a conscious effort to calm himself, to prove to you that he can be, that he isn’t that thing that lingered in the doorway glowering at you- to prove to himself that he isn’t a monster.

He tells you again that he’s sorry, but you just tut your forgiveness and shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. And he tries to tell you why, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. Just the voice in the back of his head again, the knife kept lodged in his throat all this time. We don’t talk about that. His vision warps, chromatic as he blinks away pictures of the lab, the lights, the Cradle. We can’t talk about that.

Case just sighs then, settling into your arms and cocooning himself around you like he’s not the very thing he’s trying to protect you from. He thinks he tells you he loves you too- that, at least, he knows is his- but he isn’t sure if you hear, fallen asleep before you can utter a response.

He just looks at you, and he’s completely besotted. Utterly and madly. He kisses you sweet and gentle, stamping his one last apology as soft fingers thread through your hair. He’ll fix it, he vows, for you, for you. Then he slides in next to you, curling his arms around your tummy to pull you in close, swearing until he falls asleep to make good on that promise. Then, as sleep slowly takes him, there are no more bumps in the night.

[bad268]

ok so Arthur leclerc sad fic. HERE ME OUT. It’s him comparing himself to Ollie and how he got to have everything he ever dreamed of, how he just wanted to be like his brother and make him proud. Like set at the end of 2023 when Ferrari dropped him and he left prema ( crying rn just at the mention of it) and maybe it can fast forward the Ollies first f1 race and Arthur is just on the bed of the hotel watching with teary eyes and the reader comforts him. WOAH THAT WAS ALOT I AM SO SORRY. I feel like I didn’t mention enough almost?!? Idk I feel like u could really add ur touch to it.

HOLD UP I THOUGHT I WAS DONE. What happens if it gets a little angsty like he is watching it with teary eyes and reader is like “Arthur, Arthur?” And he randomly snaps and starts destroying the hotel room and starts saying stuff like “THAT SHOULD BE, I DESERVED IT” then randomly stops and breaks down on the floor saying “I will never ever be enough for anything, I am not good enough, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself”

WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST WRITE I FEEL LIKE I JUST WROTE A WHOLD FIC WOAH IM SO SORRY. If it’s too angsty just make sure to point it out bc if u won’t do it I think I can finally it my non existent writing skills to work ( kidding)

I LOVE UR WORK BTWWWW

That Should Be Me (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/WEC

Requested: Clearly (WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THIS-)

Warnings: Mentions of destroying room (Arthur has a mental breakdown tbh)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1091

Summary: Arthur feels jealous of Ollie, of Charles. He doesn't feel worthy to be in Ferrari, but the reader shows him his worth.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It had been a hectic year for you and Arthur. What started as a good opportunity to test Ferrari later turned sour when Ferrari dropped Arthur from their driver academy. It was hard to get around at first, but you convinced Arthur to take it in strides and take it for what it is. An opportunity to do something better. Sure, he was still a developmental driver for Ferrari, but that left more time to show them what he could do in endurance racing! He’d show them what they lost there!

Just as he was accepting the loss, they threw a fork in the road. He decided that since he didn’t need to be with his endurance team until later in March, he would go to support his brother in Jeddah. You joined him since the timing worked out in your schedule, too.  Just as you two were getting off the plane, the news hit.

Breaking: Oliver Bearman to replace Carlos Sainz this weekend in Jeddah.

You saw it immediately, but Arthur, who had turned off notifications from Instagram, didn’t see it until you both got to the hotel after traveling the entire day. Arthur had pulled out his phone to find the reservation, and that was the first thing he saw.

He turned to you, showing the notification with a small smile, before saying, “Look at that! Ollie’s racing this weekend.”

At the time, you wished you had picked up on the forceness of his smile, or the fact that his jaw was clenched, or even the slightly hurt tone behind his words. Unfortunately, you didn’t, though.

You both started unpacking in silence, but you didn’t think anything of it. It was normal. Then, you realized you had left your hair care products at home, so you mentioned to Arthur that you would be back in about ten minutes. 

It was only ten minutes, but when you came back, everything was destroyed.

Your clothes were thrown around the room, bags upside down and emptied, and Arthur was nowhere to be seen. That caused your stomach to drop.

“Arthur?” You asked cautiously as you stepped into the hotel room, taking care not to step on everything around you. You walk into the bedroom and see him destroying the bed and throwing everything haphazardly around. You were scared to approach him, so you settled for calling out to him. “Arthur?”

“That should have been me!” He cried out in anger as his moves became more erratic and dangerous. “I gave my everything to Ferrari, and they overlooked me. Every. Single. Time. I’m tired of it! I deserved that! Why does Ollie get everything handed to him?”

“You have worked hard, love,” You comforted as you approached him slowly, resting a hand on his forearm to stop him. “You have done everything right, and you’re right. It’s not fair, but it's what happened, and we can’t change it now. All we can do is be supportive of Ollie and show our support. Ferrari will see you, I promise.”

“I will never be enough for anything,” He whispered as he started coming down. His shoulders dropped as the pillow he held fell back onto the bed, and he sank down to the floor. You followed him, quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he cried into your shoulders. “I’m always overlooked in this sport. I’ll always be in Charles’s shadow. I’m never going to be good enough in comparison.”

“You have never been in Charles’s shadow to me,” You whispered back as you put your hands against his cheeks to pull his face off your shoulder. You wiped away his tears like he had done with you on so many occasions and left trails of kisses over the tracks that lined his cheeks. You gave him a minute before leaning your forehead against his. “You have been and always will be enough. You deserve so much. I know it seems like everything is crashing down against you, but your time to shine will come. It’ll just take some time and patience.”

“How do you know that? How do you know they aren’t just going to throw me out after they don’t want me anymore?” He asked. He sounded defeated, and it broke your heart to pieces hearing him doubt himself so much. “What if they’re only keeping me around because of my name? I’ll never live up to Charles.”

“Please stop comparing yourself to your brother,” You pleaded with a groan and a pointed look at Arthur.

“Why? He is better than me in almost every way,” Arthur tried to go on a tangent, but you gently squished his cheeks to stop him.

“I’m dating Arthur Leclerc. I have only dated Arthur Leclerc. I only want to date Arthur Leclerc. I love Arthur Leclerc. I have only loved Arthur Leclerc. And I only want to love Arthur Leclerc. Is that clear enough for you?” You planted kisses around his face with every statement you made before landing with the final one on his lips with a slight chuckle. “You are the love of my life, and I have always believed in you. You will always be enough for me because you are all I could ever want.”

“So you won’t leave if I don’t make it to F1?” He questioned as he leaned more of his weight into your hands. 

“Don’t speak that into existence, love,” You sighed. “But wherever you end up, I will always be beside you for it. I don’t define your success like that. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy to be with you.”

“I’m happy to be with you, too,” He whispered back as he finally smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. He moved his hands to the side of your neck and your cheek before he pulled back slightly and whispered against your lips, “What do we do now?”

“We support the team like we came to do, we cheer our friend Ollie on for this opportunity he got, and we show that you are just as committed to the team as you always have,” You said with a shrug. “There isn’t much we can really do besides that. If there is more, I just don’t know it. We’ll just go with the flow.”

“Can we get dinner and dessert?” Arthur asked with a smirk. “I could use a cheat.”

“I think you deserve a little cheat after today,” You chuckled, leaving a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Anything you want.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[beef-brisket]

Charlie and Vaggie were standing outside Lucifer's door, and neither of them had seen him in over a week, but they've definitely heard him.

Vaggie: How long has he been like that?

Charlie: Being depressed or the crying?

Vaggie: ...uh, the depression?

Charlie: Seven years.

Vaggie: Okay, and the crying?

Charlie: Aldo seven years. Dad!?

Charlie knocks on his door, the crying instantly stops.

Charlie: I've brought you some dinner! Are you okay?

There was silence behind the door until Charlie and Vaggie heard a loud crash, making them jump. Suddenly, the door opened a crack. Both girls were shocked at the state of Lucifer. His hair was in a mess, and he looked like he hasn't slept in weeks.

Charlie: Dad-?

Lucifer: Oh! Charlie! Maggie! Ooh- and food! My three favorite... people... well... three out of my... five favorite people.

Charlie glances at Vaggie as Lucifer hides his face behind the door and blows his nose. When he faces them again, his eyes are even redder.

Lucifer: Sorry for not coming put more often, hun. I've just been really busy... doing important things... like... wallowing in self-pity and cursing my father for letting me be created- but! I'm fine now! What can I do for you?

Charlie blinked: Oh- uh, well-.

Lucifer: Oh, right! Food! Thank you, hun but I'm not hungry.

Charlie: Dad... it's been nearly three months since... look, I just... I really need you.

Lucifer: You... need me? Why?

Charlie: Because-!

Vaggie: Charlie.

Charlie stopped when Vaggie's hand was placed on her shoulder. She hasn't seen her dad in so long because he's locked himself in his room. Again. She's so scared of loosing him for another seven years, or longer.

Charlie breathed: Because... your my dad, too. And I need you. I need you to be there for me. I can't... I can't lose you again.

Lucifer's face softened: Oh- of course, Charlie. I just need a few days, that's all.

Charlie: I know, dad. Just... please try and come out. Even if it's just to see me.

Lucifer smiled: Sure, Charlie. I'm sorry. I'll be there from now on, I promise.

Charlie smiled as he dad opened the door and pulled her in for a hug. Charlie and vaggie got a good look at his room. It's a mess. With unfinished ducks everywhere. Vaggie glanced at Charlie, then at Lucifer who was still hugging her.

Charlie: ...Okay, dad. Have something to eat, yeah?

Lucifer only nodded and grabbed the food. It looked good, but he really didn't feel like eating.

Lucifer: T-Thanks hun. Can I... see you tomorrow?

Charlie smiled: Sure, you can.

Lucifer has been staring at his food for nearly an hour. Charlie and Vaggie left a while ago, so he was alone. Again.

He rubbed his face, and he couldn't do this. He couldn't lose more people. Especially his daughter. He understood why Adam would want nothing to do with him but his baby? She already means more than Heaven and Hell to Lucifer. It wasn't fair. None of this was.

Lucifer jumped when his phone dinged. He didn't feel like picking it up, but after a few minutes of staring at his food, he picked it up.

Lucifer: Unknown number?

He opened the message.

Unknown. "Meet at embassy tomorrow at 2pm. Be on time."

Lucifer blinked. It had to be an angel. He didn't want to get his hopes up that it could be Adam. Why would it be Adam- it could be Sera. Now, that made Lucifer's heart stop.

He really hoped it was Adam and not a higher up angel. But then, why would Sera text him?

Lucifer: It has to be him. It was to be.

Lucifer texted back, confirming tomorrow. He ca t tell if he's excited or nervous. Maybe both.

What about an au where Adam goes to Hell for night trips, wher ehe just parties and fucks. He has a disguise (it's just a slightly different looking helmet).

Lucifer joins his daughter and her friends at a bar, where he sees "Adam". He instantly knows it's him, but he's curious as to what he's doing.

So Lucifer spends hours flitting with him and buying him drinks to get him drunk. But Lucifer actually finds himself having a great time.

Long story short- they fuck, Adam doesn't let Lucifer know he's Adam. He goes back to Heaven and after a few months, he finds out he's pregnant.

Which is fucking weird cause he's definitely a dude, and he's very dead. But Lucifer's the Devil 🤷.

He basically has to play it off as him getting fat. It's working until the next meeting with Lucifer happens during his ninth month, and he's goes into labor right in front of Lucifer.

Lucifer: Why didn't you tell me your were fucking pregnant!?

Adam: Because you didn't know it was me!!

Lucifer: Yes I did! You have the same face!

Adam: ..... Oh..

[slytherinzz]

A special game of truth or dare

Summary: after a thrilling Quidditch victory for your house, a magic form of truth or dare leaves MC and Sebastian in the aftermath of their feelings.

Pairing: F!MC and Sebastian Sallow

a/n: it's been a while since i've been on the fic train. Please let me know if you have requests! I'm a sucker for friends to lovers or enemies to lovers :)

the school was buzzing aftert he aftermath of last night’s Quidditch victory. Sebastian had been at the center of it all, of course—his winning catch as Seeker was the talk of the evening, and he had basked in the attention like a natural performer. MC had been at his side most of the night, sharing jokes, sneaking glances, and engaging in the playful flirtation that had always defined their friendship. But something about his lingering touches, his winks directed only at her, had set her nerves alight.

Did he flirt like this with everyone? Or… was there something more?

As the party wound down, a smaller group—just the closest of friends—had remained in the common room, with Garrett leading them into a mischievous game of Truth or Dare. Imelda rolled her eyes. “We’re not kids, Weasley.”

Garrett shrugged, unbothered. “If you’re too scared, you can sit out. But I’ve got a potion here that guarantees honesty—or bravery.” He waved the bubbling concoction for effect, its sickly green glow lighting up his freckled face.

Poppy giggled nervously, glancing around the room. “This is a terrible idea.”

“That’s why it’s brilliant,” Garrett said, pouring small amounts into each of their cups. “Now, everyone drink, or you’re out!”

It wasn’t until Sebastian asked Ominis whom he fancied that the game turned scandalous. Ominis , ever stoic, had answered bluntly: “Anne.”

The room had fallen silent. Even Sebastian seemed momentarily caught off guard before muttering, “Well, that’s… something to unpack later.”

Then it was MC’s turn. Garrett, ever the troublemaker, grinned wickedly as he asked, “Alright, MC, who’s the most attractive guy here?”

Her cheeks flamed instantly. Every instinct screamed at her to deflect, to choose a safer answer. But the potion forced her honesty, and the words spilled out before she could stop them:

“Sebastian.”

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and awkward coughing. Sebastian’s face turned a deep crimson, his eyes darting to hers before quickly looking away. dormitory, heart pounding and mind racing with what she had just revealed.

“Alright, folks, it’s time to spice things up. Truth or Dare!”

The group exchanged hesitant glances before downing their firewiskey in unison.

“Right,” Garrett said, rubbing his hands together. “Imelda, truth or dare?”

Imelda glared at him but chose dare, of course. Garrett grinned. “I dare you to admit that Gryffindor’s Seeker isn’t half bad.”

“I’d rather hex myself,” she shot back. But the potion compelled her to grumble, “Alright, fine. He’s decent. For a Gryffindor.”

Laughter rippled through the group as the game continued, the dares and truths growing bolder with each round.

When it was Sebastian’s turn, he leaned forward, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Ominis,” he said smoothly, “truth or dare?”

Ominous, ever composed, sighed. “Truth.”

Sebastian didn’t miss a beat. “Who’s your first kiss?”

A rare blush crept up Ominous’s neck as he folded his arms tightly. “That’s none of your—”

“The potion, Ominous,” Garrett reminded him gleefully.

Ominous exhaled sharply. “Fine. Her name was Lydia Travers. It was… underwhelming.”

The group howled with laughter, even Ominischuckling softly.

Then it was MC’s turn, and Garrett was quick to pounce. “MC, truth or dare?”

She hesitated, knowing she was trapped either way. “Dare.”

Garrett’s grin turned wolfish. “I dare you to sit on Sebastian’s lap for the next round.”

MC’s stomach flipped. “Garrett!”

“Hey, it’s a dare,” he said with a shrug, looking far too pleased with himself.

The group’s eyes turned to Sebastian, who simply raised an eyebrow and patted his lap dramatically. “Well, come on then.”

Her face burned, but there was no escaping it. She stood slowly, ignoring the teasing whistles from Garrett and Imelda, and perched awkwardly on Sebastian’s lap. His arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to steady her, sending a jolt through her body.

“Comfortable?” he murmured in her ear, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“Shut up,” she muttered, her cheeks flaming.

The game pressed on, but MC was hyper-aware of Sebastian’s every shift and breath, the warmth of him seeping through her skin. When it was Imelda’s turn, she grinned wickedly at the pair.

“Sebastian,” Imelda said, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said without hesitation, his cocky smirk firmly in place.

Imelda leaned forward. “I dare you to kiss MC.”

MC froze, her heart slamming against her ribs. Sebastian’s smirk faltered for a moment before he chuckled, glancing at her. “Well, a dare’s a dare, isn’t it?”

Before she could protest, he tilted her chin gently, his lips brushing hers in a featherlight kiss. It was brief but electric, leaving her breathless and the room deathly silent.

“Well,” Garrett finally said, breaking the tension, “that’s one way to win a dare.”

Sebastian’s arm tightened slightly around her, but he said nothing, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment too long before he leaned back casually, as if nothing had happened.

By the time the game circled back to MC, her nerves were frayed. Garrett, naturally, took his chance to push further. “Alright, MC. Truth or dare?”

She hesitated, her voice barely steady. “Truth.”

“Who’s the best kisser you’ve ever had?” he asked, clearly aiming to stir the pot.

MC’s mind went blank, her heart pounding as the truth serum worked its magic. Her gaze darted to Sebastian before she could stop herself. “Sebastian.”

The silence was deafening. Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly, but then a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Well,” he drawled, “I’m flattered.”

Mortified, MC pushed off his lap, her face burning as the group erupted into laughter and teasing. She muttered an excuse about needing air and fled to her dormitory, her heart in her throat.

The next morning, the weight of her confession—and that kiss—sat heavily on MC’s chest. As soon as she woke, the memories flooded back, vivid and undeniable. The idea of facing Sebastian in the Great Hall, or worse, in class, was unbearable.

Instead, she found herself retreating to the Undercroft, seeking the solitude and familiarity of their secret space. She had barely settled in when the door creaked open, and Sebastian stepped inside.

For a moment, they stared at each other, the events of the previous night hanging heavily in the air.

“I had a feeling you’d be here,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“I needed to think,” she admitted softly.

“About last night?” he asked, his tone unreadable.

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “Sebastian, I—”

“MC,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “About that kiss… I know it was just a game, but I meant it. And if you felt the same—”

“I did,” she blurted, cutting him off.

His lips parted in surprise before a slow, warm smile spread across his face. “You did?”

“Yes,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Sebastian’s grin turned soft as he reached for her, his hands steady on her arms. “You just did.”

This time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t a dare.

They were so lost in each other that neither heard the door open. Ominous’s voice broke through the haze like a bucket of cold water. “Merlin’s beard, will you two get a room already?”

They sprang apart, both red-faced as Ominous smirked. “Honestly, you’re worse than Garrett’s potion experiments. Keep the Undercroft..uncristened, please.”

Sebastian laughed, pulling MC close despite her protests. “Noted. Now, where were we?”