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fictionalsweethearts · 2 days ago

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THE COMMISSION PT. 3 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

You can find part one here. Part two here.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 4,345

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

After that episode, Sevika stopped your supply of Shimmer and threatened any dealers that she would rip out their tongues and eyes if they dared to sell you, so the following week you found yourself in enforced sobriety.

You were adding the finishing touches to the strap, Sevika wanted it to be comfortable and aesthetically pleasing, so that was what you did. The straps were made of fine leather, secured with adjustable snaps. However, it was the long, veiny phallus that was the star of the piece, provided with texture and a purple color, quite similar to Shimmer. On the back, there was a small compartment with the dose of Shimmer, interconnected with the rest of the piece and the wearer, making the strap a dynamic, vibrant piece and certainly better than any other made of plastic or silicone. This one was “alive” so to speak, and designed so that the thrusts would release small bursts of Shimmer into the wearer’s bloodstream, causing as much pleasure as the one receiving it. One of your best pieces, you put a lot of pride into it and it cost you two sleepless nights and delaying other orders to give this one your full attention.

You made your way through the crowd. For a couple of weeks now, The Last Drop has been more crowded, the good sales of shimmer and the economic bonanza it brought made people look for a place to dance, drink more and bet their money in games that Sevika usually won.

Sevika.

You saw her at the back of the club, just like a few weeks ago when you went to her to check her arm and receive the commission you now had ready and kept in a box. She was focused on her cards, a cigarette between her lips and a couple of opponents with pursed lips sitting before her.

"Am I bothering?" you asked once you approached.

"Silco isn't taking guests." she muttered, without taking her eyes off the cards.

"I'm not here to see Silco." you said with a smirk before Sevika realized it was you.

She looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You looked… good. Rested, healthy, and more beautiful than ever. It was a striking difference from the last time she had seen you, and it made her feel more confident than ever about her decision to take away your Shimmer supply.

"Well, hello yourself." she said, raising a brow. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Merry early Christmas." you teased, placing the box on the table. "Commission done."

She smiled, taking one last glance at her cards before folding and placing them face down. Her opponents grumbled as they laid down their own and counted up their chips, which Sevika quickly started sliding towards her. She picked up the box, feeling the weight of it in her hands. "Finally. Took you long enough."

"Quality takes time." you smirked, leaning to take a sip of Sevika's glass. The woman lifted the lid to peek inside, knowing she had to take a better look of the product in private.

"Continue without me, boys." Sevika said, quitting the game in order to stand up and head to her office with you.

The other players grumbled in annoyance as Sevika stood up, but their protests died out as Sevika glowered at them.

"If I come back and see you've touched my chips, I'll make sure you lose a few fingers." Sevika warned, her voice dripping with malice.

They entered a dimly lit office, the smell of wood and tobacco welcoming you as soon as you set foot inside. There was a coffee table in the center, on it a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses, in front of it a vermilion sofa darkened by age and the ashes of hundreds of cigarettes. The office was undeniably Sevika's, she was a sober woman and the room showed it, however you always liked the small jar painted in gold and blue paint, which used to keep mint candies for the breath. The truth is that you tended to eat them yourself and force Sevika to buy more.

"How is Silas?" you asked as you entered, following Sevika. "Did his dick fall off?"

"No, but it's probably the only thing still functional about him." She replied, shutting the door behind her.

She walked over to the coffee table, dropping the box on it before turning her attention to the bottle of whiskey. She poured two glasses before passing one to you.

"Here." She said. "You look like you could use a drink."

"Indeed." you agreed, taking the glass between your fingers. "Booze seems an alternative, since someone put me on forced sobriety."

“Yeah, I’m not sorry about that.” She muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “You were out of control.”

She walked over to the sofa, taking a seat and gesturing for you to do the same. “Now, though,” she said, her voice a hint softer, “you do look better, I have to admit.”

"I look tired." you grumbled. "You know how hard is to work sober? I can't barely make the half of orders I used to finish in a day."

"You look gorgeous when you're tired." She observed, her voice low and full of innuendo. She took another sip from her drink, leaning back into the sofa. "And as for your orders, I don't care if you have to hire a damn army to finish them. You're not touching Shimmer again until I say so."

Sevika changed the subject so quickly that you couldn't comment on her casual compliment. Her eyes didn't betray the way she looked at you, nor the thoughts that had been running through her mind since she asked you for such a commission. She was sweet on you but her demeanor masked it well. "The workshop's rent is getting higher by the month." you said then. "I cannot afford working any less."

"I'll cover the rent," she offered, her voice gruff. "You just focus on your work."

The speed with which she resolved the issue struck you as comical, Sevika seemed convinced enough of the quality of your work to become your financier. You huffed. "Are you into charity now?"

"Charity? Hardly." She replied, her voice dry. "I prefer to think of it as an investment. You're an investment."

She paused to look at you, the way you traced the rim of the glass with your finger, your exposed shoulders, the softness of your neck, your cheekbones visibly more flushed with sobriety. She let out a sigh. "Besides, you owe me."

"Owe you?" you asked.

She couldn't contain a smirk. "For one," she started. "You're sitting in my office, drinking my booze, and you've still yet to even show me the commission I asked for. That's one reason."

She leaned forward, her gaze steady on you. "Two, you've been sleeping and eating in my club for weeks now. You think those things come free?"

Funny. Nothing's free when it comes to Sevika. She believed in the power of trades, of taking advantage of people’s qualities in an honest and effective way. You couldn’t deny that you’d turned to Sevika more times than you’d care to admit, whether it was to get another dose of Shimmer, sleep somewhere other than the workshop, and even sneak into her office and eat her snacks while she was minding her business at the brothel. Not to mention that she was now offering to pay your rent. You owed Sevika, whether you liked it or not. Your silence was your answer.

She leaned back into the sofa again, her expression smug. "That's what I thought." She muttered, taking another sip from her drink. "You're in my debt, dollface. And sooner or later, I'm going to collect."

She put the glass down, her eyes flickering to the box. "Now, are you gonna show me my commission?"

You sat up on the couch and nodded, Sevika's words not to be ignored. "Sure." you said, leaning over to carefully open the cherry-colored box you had brought for her. You lifted the lid and carefully placed the product on the table, unwrapping it.

Sevika couldn't help the way her eyebrow rose, her eyes studying the piece intently before a grin played on her dark lips. What a piece. "Damn." She muttered, her voice low with appreciation. Her hand hovered over the item, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing the leather straps, the velvety texture of the phallus.

"Is the color alright?"

Sevika took the strap, running her fingers over the texture and feel of its components, her eyes taking in the small Shimmer compartment in the back, the neatness of the finishes, even the light, comfortable weight. "Yeah. This is... better than I imagined." She admitted, her eyes flickering to you.

"Just make sure to not overdo it." you warned her, watching the woman testing the weight, the lightness of the piece and the exceptional quality of the materials. She seemed pleased, even though her face was inaccessible when it came to expressions. "It releases small doses of Shimmer, make sure to not wear it for too long."

"Oh, I'll definitely be testing the limits of this thing." She replied, her voice thick with innuendo. "I know when to stop."

"Just don't overdose." you mumbled, leaning back on the couch as Sevika stored the strap back into the box.

"I'm a big girl. I know how to handle myself." she insisted, taking a sip of the glass as her mind began going to places. The potential was massive.

You let out a sigh, you were sober and tired, the smell of the workshop clinging to your overalls and your hands still stained with oil and ink, which seemed to acquire the status of tattoos since they didn't seem to come off with any washing. You finished the glass, Sevika got up to search through her desk for the second half of your pay. She came back, holding out the the pouch. "Here." She said. "All yours."

You accepted the money willingly, thinking you would spend it on something stupid right away. You weren't good with finances, it's an understatement to say that if Sevika didn't manage your expenses regarding materials, machinery and labor, your business would go to hell overnight. She was always behind, watching over you and your lack of common sense when you had a bag full of coins. "I'll make sure to use them wisely."

"Oh, that's what you always say." She teased in return, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And then what do you do instead? Gamble it all away at the fight pits, I suppose?" She knew better than to trust you with money. You'd always been as reliable as a leaky ship, especially when you were hopped up on Shimmer.

"I make good bets." you replied. "But the fighters are getting lame lately."

She crossed her arms across her chest, her expression mocking. "You always pick the ones who look good but have no chance of winning. You always bet on the long shots, and you always lose."

You laughed, because you did tend to bet on the best looking boxer rather than the most skilled. You were a simple girl, you liked to drink in the sweaty bodies of the fighters in the Pit, men or women, releasing adrenaline charges with every punch, spitting and gasping. You found pleasure in premeditated violence, in the cheers and the boos, in the heat of a crowd committed to the spectacle. And perhaps it was because of that bad habit of yours that you bet on Vi last week, and Sevika didn’t take it well.

She huffed, her voice terse. "You picked Vi because she was hot, didn't you?"

"I picked her cause you despise her."

"Damn right, I do." She muttered through gritted teeth. "And you should too. Do you have any idea how many of my thugs she's beat up? Or the crap she caused Silco when she was in Piltover? That woman's always been a pain in my ass."

"You have a thing for problematic women." you shrugged, leaning to pour yourself more whiskey. "The difference is that some you hate, others you keep close."

Sevika rolled her eyes, craving a cigarette to deal with your tongue and insolent smile. "Causes involve problems." she said.

"And you seem to love both." you said.

"Oh, great." She muttered. "Another smartass back talker in my life... Just what I needed."

"Who's the other?"

"Jinx."

Her sigh said it all, Sevika was tired and her patience threatened to falter. Silco was her leader, she championed the cause, Zaun, yet Jinx figured as the constant component ruining her formula. You can't be a good soldier with a leader who is unable to see the flaws of his daughter, or at least, how he sees Jinx. "Sounds like you need to get something off your chest." you said.

She huffed. "I could write an encyclopaedia about everything wrong with that girl." She paused for a moment, her expression hardening once again. "She's Silco's blind spot. He can't see her for what she really is because he's too damn soft on her. And it's getting to the point where we can't cover for her anymore."

"He loves her." you said. "We all act like fools when it comes to love."

"What a joke. He's blinded by his affection for her. He's been babying her for years, giving her everything she wants and then some. And look where it's gotten us? The entire damn city is on the brink of a war because of her, because Silco can't bring himself to step away from his goddamn daughter and see her for what she really is."

Hell, she was mad. You put the glass on the coffee table, watching Sevika retrieve a cigarette from the pack in her pocket. Before she noticed, you were before her, lighting up with your zippo. "Jinx is a part of the game, want it or not. And it's up to you if you wanna keep up with Silco's whims or give up."

Her grey eyes locked on yours, releasing the smoke to the side.

"I'm loyal to Silco. I always have been, and I always will be. I believe in his cause, in his vision for Zaun." She stated. There was not a single hint of doubt on her words; when Sevika commits with a cause, she carries it to the end, no matter what.

That's what you admired of her.

"Then..." you said, grinning. "You need to let off some steam." your eyes flickering to the box on the coffee table.

Sevika thought you were joking. "You suggest I should take a stroll to the brothel while you stay here alone, a room away from the Shimmer reserves Silco keeps here?"

"I'll behave." you insisted.

"You better." She warned. "I don't know how Silco would feel if he came back to his supplies all gone because you had a goddamn party in his absence."

You smiled. "If I wanted to get high, I'd do it with my own money and merit, trust me." you stepped back, walking over to the couch. "It's up to you, Sev. But if I were you, I would go and try my new toy right away."

Sevika rolled her eyes.

"Dammit," she growled. "I can't believe I'm seriously considering this..."

Seeing you settle down on the couch, half drunk from the whiskey, Sevika actually considered taking a stroll around the brothel. She needed to release a pressure that only increased every time you were in front of her, with your stupid jokes and your arms and chest exposed, with your playful eyes and your insolent smile. You were a limit she forced herself to not cross. The woman grunted, picking up the red cape from the coat rack and putting it on.

"Take a bath while I'm gone, you smell like a workshop." she muttered, taking the box from the table

"Excuse me?" you protested, your expression one of mock-offence. "I smell just fine."

Sevika huffed a laugh at your protest, her eyes flickering over your figure. She had to admit she kind of enjoyed the way you smelt. A subtle yet intense medley of oil, grease and sweat - it was almost seductive.

"Don't pretend like I don't know the last time you took a bath was three days ago." She shot back, her voice full of sarcasm. "You smell like you live at a damn workshop."

Now you were offended. "I do live in a damn workshop."

"Don't make it obvious, then." she said, walking over the door. "I ain't paying your rent for you to smell like that. Bath." she added, leaving the room as she didn't just called you dirty.

At the slam of the door, you couldn't help but bury your nose in your armpit, letting out a groan. "Bath, yeah right," you muttered, getting up to grab one of Sevika's treats. "Next time I'll put less oil on that arm of hers…"

Sevika left the office with heavy steps, riled up by your entire presence. She was playing a dangerous game but she didn't intend to lose, not when you had become her most precious jewel but also the hardest to obtain. She wanted to possess you, in more ways than one, but she knew your limits and your whims, getting involved with you would not only be risky but directly novice to her plans. Letting you slip into her her will would only destroy the mettle she took years to build. She had to control herself.

Several glances fell upon Sevika as she entered The House of Pleasure, she hadn't been seen around these parts for weeks, and more than one of the ladies-in-waiting approached her doors hoping to be chosen by her. She was a client who paid well and made love well, there were no cons on her visits. "With Robin." the woman murmured to the owner, before being led to the largest room in the brothel.

Robin was waiting for her on the couch, wrapped in an olive-colored robe, playing with her black locks and looking as willing as ever. Sevika liked her, she had freckles and fleshy curves, she knew how to combat her bad mood.

"Sevika," the woman purred, standing up. "Long time no see. I missed you around here"

"Missing my attention or my money?" she huffed.

"Money lost importance a long time ago." she smiled, standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on her client’s cheek before carefully removing her cape, revealing her mechanic arm. Sevika liked to be welcomed with a cigarette and Robin’s sweet perfume, to sit on the couch, manspreading, inhaling the smoke with her on her lap, giving her kisses on her neck and jaw.

However, Sevika saw you standing by the curtain, like an insistent ghost, reminding her that the woman on top her was not you. "What's in the box?" asked Robin then, leaving a kiss on the corner of Sevika's lips, her eyes flckering to the box sitting on the coffee table.

"A new toy." She muttered, her voice gruff.

Robin smiled. "You'd like us to try it?" she asked.

Sevika stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray that rested to her right, cupping the back of Robin's neck to begin a kiss that she hoped would erase you from her mind for a while. "Yeah." she said, against her lips, her hand gripping firmly the hooker's butt.

Sevika knew she was being foolish, that she was using Robin as a replacement for you, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The woman's moans, the feel of her body in her lap, it was all so familiar yet so different. She broke the kiss, her breathing ragged as she looked up at Robin with darkened eyes. "Get the toy.

Robin was helpful and elegant, she knew how to deliver an erotic show on each visit and please Sevika. She had already become accustomed to the rhythm and endurance of her client, her firm hands, her obscene kisses and subtle and not so subtle bites. The hooker opened the box, her smile was not faked when she saw the quality of the piece.

"Robe off, doll." said Sevika, her legs spreading with a latent confidence. Robin approached, an arm around her waist as Sevika pulled her closer. "You'll keep up with me, don't you?"

"Always..." whispered Robin, as Sevika watched the woman undress before her, trying to ignore the picture of your smile on the back of her mind.

Third round, Sevika seemed to hate you more and more as she discovered that the piece you had made for her was sensational.

Each thrust released a small charge of Shimmer, taking Sevika on a roller coaster of sensations, a constant upward slope that did nothing but shake her nerve fibers from head to toe. She had Robin on her stomach on the bed, hips and ass up, one hand firmly in her hair, another on her hip, as she thrusted into her relentlesslty, growling against the back of her neck in an obscene and not at all concealable symphony; the entire brothel knew that Sevika was back.

She had you to thank for this, you and your damn ingenuity. She would never admit it aloud, but gods how she hated you for this. For making her feel something, for making her lose control.

She knew she wouldn't survive another round as she leaned down, her breath ragged and hot in Robin's ear. "I might have... to take you home sometime."

"I'll go anywhere, as long as you fuck me this good." Robin purred, her body melting as Sevika leaned down to place kisses and bites on her shoulder. Sevika refused to open her eyes, she wanted to imagine you beneath her, your smell, your moans, your legs shaking with pleasure and begging for more. She held the woman's neck between her fingers, pressing her hips hard as a tickling sensation settled in her lower belly. Fuck, this was so good.

She felt herself melting, her veins burning, her heart pounding. Robin could see the purple glow in her client's eyes, they had grown deeper throughout rounds, and certainly her strength too. "I want you... so bad." She breathed, her voice gruff and breathless as she began speaking out her thoughts. "But I can't... fucking have."

"Shit... I-'m... cumming." whined Robin, which Sevika straightened up and pulled Robin's back against her chest, choking her harder with every deep, nerve-shaking thrust.

"Shut up," Sevika snapped, her voice guttural and her eyes still tightly shut. She didn't want to hear anyone's name but yours, any voice but yours. She wanted you beneath her, begging and pleading for more.

Sevika growled, her forehead suddenly resting against Robin's back, a firm hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as her brain corrected her moans and made them yours.

Gosh, she almost could smell the goddamn oil and ink.

The Shimmer was beginning to take over her wits, her veins heating up, her breath coming out in loud gasps as a second orgasm began to take over her. And Robin wouldn't shut her mouth, goddamn it!

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Sevika growled, covering Robin's mouth with her flesh hand. The woman whined against her palm, panting at the same time Sevika moaned into her neck, enjoying an unprecedented orgasm. "Fuck...! Take it well and nicely." she whispered against Robin's ear.

Robin fell back onto the mattress, her body marked by dozens of bites, a hand on her buttock, a hickey on her neck. Sevika was the only client who could afford to mark her girls, and Robin accepted it willingly. But today she had gone too far.

Sevika let out a pant, sitting up in bed, dizzy and shaky, as if she had run across all of Zaun. Her flesh hand trembled, she was a round away from overdose, she knew it. She took the strap off and tossed it somewhere in the room before searching for a cigarette on the nightstand. Just the bitter taste of the smoke managed to calm her down and return her from that portal she refused to cross.

"Something's up with you." mumbled Robin, barely catching her breath as she reached out to wet her throat with a glass of water.

Sevika sat on the couch, her cinnamon skin lightly beaded with sweat. Her entire body was still alert, sensitive and active, from her erect nipples to the thickened veins on her arm. The Shimmer was not quick to digest. "Nothing's up." she mumbled.

Robin propped on her elbow, reading Sevika's expression. She knew that one, has seen it on other clients, but it was the first time she saw it on Sevika's face; the expression of frustrated passion. "There is someone, isn't there?"

Sevika dragged on the cigarette, her eyes darting around the room before landing on the strap. Damn you. "Yeah, there's someone."

Robin's eyes softened. "Who...?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered quietly, avoiding eye contact. "She's...off-limits."

As Robin was about to ask for details, there was a knock at the door. The hooker put on her robe, taking heavy steps towards the door after having dealt with Sevika's stamina for two hours. Sevika let out a cloud of smoke, pulling her head back as she thought about you, and a bitter sensation pooled on her stomach.

I'm wasting my damn time.

When Sevika had already put on her boxers, Robin turned to look at her, her expression suggesting urgency. She frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a message from the Last Drop," Robin said. "A girl overdosed in your office."

Suddenly the Shimmer effect seemed to be heightened, but it was actually raw, pure adrenaline.

No.

Sevika jumped off the couch, looking for her clothes as Robin stood there. "Sev?" she asked worried.

"Get me my damn cape," she said. "I gotta go."

To be continued...

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#arcane #arcane fanfic #league of legends #arcane s2 #arcane sevika #arcane smut #sevika arcane #sevika x y/n #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika my love #sevika smut #sevika x female reader #sevika x you #sevika fanfic #slow burn baby #PURE DRAMA

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kiss-me-muchoo · 2 days ago

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𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, was like it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”

��I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

#gong yoo x reader #the salesman x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x you #gong yoo

408 notes · View notes

xaiquyn · 24 hours ago

Text

I'm bored, so answering all of them in one right here.

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

The entire cast of the Moomins (but especially Snufkin and Joxter)

lighter or matches?

Matches. I like the smell of them and I weirdly struggle with using a lighter.

do you leave the window open at night?

In summer when it's hot, yes. When it's cold? No.

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

I genuinely believe that ghosts could exist. Not saying they do exist, saying the could.

what color are your eyes?

Blue/green. It's hard to tell and seemingly changes with the lighting.

why did you do that?

What?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

Scrunchies are fun. :)

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

Five. All open, two empty.

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Don't drink coffee. :/

would you slaughter the rich?

Yes. Let me maul the corpses of the rich.

favorite extracurricular activity?

Art of all sorts.

what kind of day is it?

In terms of weather? Cold. To the point where I skipped school to avoid frostbite. In terms of my mood? Weirdly contented. I feel properly at peace for the first time in a while.

when was the last time you ate?

'Bout five hours ago. (It's 20:00 rn)

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

ABSOLUTELY. One of, if not, my favourite smells. I love it with all my heart and I apparently taught my parents the word for that smell. (petrichor)

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

No.

can you drive?

Nope.

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Genuinely don't know. Never cared to figure out what either of those would really entail.

what hair products do you use?

Like I pay attention to that.

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

No. Nail polish is the most vile smell on this horrid Earth filled with horrid smells.

do you say soda or pop?

Depends on which one whoever I'm speaking with says.

something you’ve kept since childhood?

This old plush I've had since I was a baby.

what type of person are you?

Introvert?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

Love it! That's my kind of weather. Even better is when there's a fog covering everything to the point of barely being visible. I like to go out into the woods near my house and pretend I'm a cryptid.

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

Stargazing.

perfume/body spray or lotion?

No?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

Having a girlfriend/boyfriend. Had to replay that one alot to figure out I'm aroace..

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Last night? 'Bout four.

do you wear a mask?

Nope.

how do you like your shower water?

Lukewarm at the hottest. Cold if I'm in the mood for it.

is there dishes in your room?

Yep. There's a bowl I forgot about earlier today.

what type of music keeps you grounded?

Folksy-type music. Especially the type I get wanderlust from.

do you have a favorite towel?

No? Do some people?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Christmas. I had a bit of a breakdown when it was like 19:00 or smth, the day was a bit overwhelming. And my dad noticed, and for the next two hours we drove around the town.

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

A lot! To name a few: Flight of the Crows by Jhariah, Suffering by Amélie Farren, Shut Eye by Stealing Sheep, and Constellations by The Oh Hellos to name a few.

what’s your timezone?

GMT-5 (I think)

how many times have you changed your url?

Once

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Nobody.

a soap bar that smells good?

You think I pay attention to that? When showering, I'm not even mildly present. I am fully dissociating.

do you use lip balm?

Nope.

did you have any snacks today?

Most of the food I had today was snack, minus bacon.

how do you take your coffee?

I don't drink coffee.

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Ao3.

what’s your take on spicy foods?

Love 'em.

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

My mother.

can you remember what happened yesterday?

Not much of it.

favorite holiday film?

Don't really watch Holiday films.

what was the last message you sent?

Me confirming to my overbearing mother that I was still alive at school on Monday.

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Still underage.

can you skip rocks?

Yep.

can i tag you in random stuff?

PLEASE. I LOVE TO BE INCLUDED IN ANYTHING.

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

#reblog #text post #lore drop

79K notes · View notes

withwritersblock · 20 hours ago

Text

Call It What You Want

~Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift~

Author's Note: Requested! I um well here's this um yeah

Summary: Luke's fans find out his girlfriend is a content creator and flood her comments with hate. Luke finds a way to comfort her.

Warnings: some mean language, implied smut like barely

Word Count: 3,440

It was an accident. She was planning on keeping her relationship as secret as possible. Her social media following was incredibly nosy. They would always over analyze every detail of her posts. Especially, her TikToks and her YouTube videos.

She vlogged her life, sometimes it would be barely anything and other times it would be every detail of her life.

When she started dating her boyfriend, she promised that it would not be something she would make content out of. Especially since her boyfriend was Luke Hughes. They started dating after being friends for nearly a year.

Keeping their relationship private was easy since their lives didn’t necessarily change much. Since they were friends before they got together. He was never featured in any of her content since people would instantly make assumptions. Keeping it private became extra easy after he moved to New Jersey for the NHL. Although, it became suspicious after she stopped mentioning her boyfriend.

She had spent several hours editing her most recent YouTube video where she was talking about how she was taking a break since she would be on vacation. Vacation was actually moving to New Jersey to live with Luke. She graduated early, since she spent three years of her life completely focusing on school, her videos, and Luke.

Since her eyes were so exhausted she didn’t notice that Luke was walking in the background completely shirtless.

He was barely in the video, hardly noticeable. But both of their fans were incredible detectives and found it out within the first ten minutes of the video being posted.

“Lukey,” she called out towards him from her bedroom. She was sitting at her desk, starting towards her desk top. She continued to scroll through the five second clip that Luke was barely in.

“Yeah?” he called back as he walked into their newly shared bedroom. He walked towards her as he rested his hand onto the desk as he delicately pressed his lips to the side of her cheek.

“Remember how we were going to keep this secret for as long as possible?” she explained. He hummed as he brushed her hair off of her neck as he tilted her head to the side to kiss her lips delicately. For a moment, she leaned back to deepen the kiss. “Lukey,” she mumbled against his lips. He hummed again as he slowly leaned back. “They found out,” she let out as her eyes widened slightly.

“They—what?” he asked as he shifted his gaze towards her desktop.

“Look,” she let out as she reversed the video slightly. She played the five second sequence and he stared blankly towards the screen.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked as he stared towards the screen, “Besides my beauti—”

“Not the time, baby,” she mumbled as she raised her hand up, gliding it across his cheek. He chuckled as he leaned closer. “Look, here,” she mumbled as she pointed towards the top left of the screen. Where he walked through the hallway, his gaze was on his phone as he was on the screen for a few seconds.

“That’s it?” he let out a soft chuckle leaving his lips, “Come on, I look like every guy ever. There’s no way people know that’s me,” he explained as he watched her scroll down and show the top comment on her video.

Nohughesyno: I know Luke Hughes when I see him!! 3:56!

“Okay that’s one comment—” she interrupted him by scrolling through the rest of the comments. Every single one was mentioning that Luke was in the video. “Okay, that’s fine, we’re fine,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her chair, spinning it so that her body was facing him.

“This could be bad,” she muttered as she looked into his eyes, pouting slightly. He rested his hands onto the desk as he leaned towards her, deliactely taking her lips with his. She hummed against his lips as her hands glided along his neck and into his hair.

“It will be fine, I promise,” he mumbled against her lips, “Now you don’t have to care too much,” he said as he pulled back. He watched as she slowly opened her eyes.

“You’re right,’ she mumbled.

“I’m always right,” he let out teasingly. She pushed him back, chuckling. He smirked as he leaned towards her kissing her urgently.

~~~

She thought Luke was right, convinced herself that everything would be fine. Except, the comments started off sweet. Many of them were happy to find out that they were together. She noticed that comments and views on old videos were sky rocketing as they were trying to find anything that they have missed. It was cute for a few days.

She thought what’s the harm in actually posting a video with purpose of showing Luke off. By showing him off, it was a two second clip of them posing in her floor length mirror.

She was wearing a red sweater with black leather pants. He was wearing one of his all black suits. He was standing beside her, awkwardly holding up two thumbs up as they posed for the small clip.

It was almost instant that the comments were flooded with awful comments. Many of them were calling her a gold digger, calling her ugly, calling her all of the awful inults you could think of. Simply because she was dating Luke.

It wasn’t just his followers that were saying awful things, it was her own. They kept saying that she was shallow for being with a professional athlete. Despite the fact that her and Luke met during their college orientation. She didn’t know that he was even drafted into the NHL since she never paid attention to hockey.

She was sitting on the aisle of the WAG section, unengaged in any conversation. The first period flew by as the score was still 0-0. Her gaze was on her Instagram comments. There was such a flood of mean comments that at this point all she wanted was to find something that was kind. But there was nothing, no matter how much she scrolled.

Being content creator for majority of her teenage years, she was used to ignoring the comments. Not letting any of the awful words get to her. But something about the words saying that she wasn’t good enough for Luke really stabbed her in her chest. He was everything to her, all she wanted was for his fans to see that.

Luke wasn’t active on social media much during the season so he was utterly clueless. Y/N was good at pretending, convinced that Luke had no idea how she was feeling.

The boys were skating back on the ice to start the second when Reanne delicately tapped Y/N’s shoulder. She forced her gaze up to meet Reanne’s gaze. “You’re too quiet, what’s going on?”

Y/N’s eyes widened while she took a deep breath. “Been a long day,” she mumbled as she watched Luke skate in a wide circle on the ice. A soft smile formed to her lips, knowing that he was there.

“Saw that you posted Luke on your TikTok. Huge step right?” she expressed. Y/N hummed as she watched the teams line up for the face off. She watched Luke instantly get in the play, pushing any conversation aside. Reanne’s lips fell into a pout but left her alone.

The rest of the game ended in a tight overtime win with a goal by Jack. It was usually how the games have been going for the last few games.

She waited outside of the locker room, her gaze on her TikTok comments. Every word stabbing her in the chest. There was only so much she could take. Especially about how Luke deserves better. She knew that the fans have no idea who either of them truly were but for them to still say that. It sucked.

She leaned against the wall, blinking away any tears that were fighting to form in her eyes.

Hughesy542: I can’t believe Luke would be with someone who clearly has no personality. She’s probably only with him for his money

The comment continued to cycle through her mind. Her TikTok platform was completely different that how she handled her YouTube videos. Her TikToks, sure she seemed shallow there. Most of the content, the only content that would get views, would be her get ready with me videos. Sure, it probably seemed like that all she cared about is how she looked but she was more than that.

She knew that. Luke knew that. He wouldn’t be with her if that was the case. She was gorgeous but there was so much more to her than that. She hated being called shallow.

“Y/N?” she heard Luke say, she lifted her gaze to see him directly in front of her. She jumped and slammed her hand against her chest.

“Jesus, Luke! You scared the hell out of me,” she said while chuckling. The corner of his lips curled upwards as he looked over her features.

“I said your name like four times, beautiful. You alright?” he asked as he reached towards her. She stepped back, dropping her gaze towards the concrete below her.

“Ready to head home?” she asked softly as she glanced towards him before she started walking away from him.

Luke pursed his lips forward as he took in a long deep breath. She didn’t give him a chance to reply as she began walking towards the car. He nodded as he pressed his lips together as he followed after her. He was practically jogging towards her.

She glanced behind her to see Luke reaching towards her. He took a delicate hold of her waist; forcing her to stop. She lifted her head up meeting his gaze. He scanned her features, taking note in the tears brimming her eyes. Reaching towards her, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

At first she was hesitant has she kept her arms to her side. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his center back. Luke took a hold of the back of her head, holding her tightly to his chest. Her entire body relaxed in his arms. A sob rised in her throat but she tried to keep it inside.

“What’s going on?” he asked softly.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, looking into his gaze. “I’m just tired,” she mumbled. He nodded while looking deeply into her eyes.

“Okay,” he let out softly as she slipped away from his grasp. He held out his hand towards her and she happily took a hold of his hand. Luke watched her lead him towards his car that was parked in the back of the parking garage.

The drive home was quiet. It was usually quiet after losses but Luke and Y/N were always in great moods after a win. But she was so silent, that he knew something was wrong. They were only a few minutes away from their shared apartment.

“Baby,” Luke mumbled as they sat at a red light. She kept her gaze towards her lap, her phone was in her bag. She couldn’t stare at the comments anymore. The words were all jumbled in her head. Every word was intersecting with one another and making it worse. “Can you look at me?” he let out softly.

She clenched her jaw as she slowly lifted her head to look towards him. He scanned her features watching her avoid his eye. “Talk to me,” he let out. Slowly, she pulled her lips between her teeth as she tilted her head back. Luke looked back towards the street in front of him as he drove ahead.

“I–I can’t,” she choked out while she dropped her gaze back down towards her lap. “Not now,” she muttered. Luke’s eyes widened as he shifted his gaze back towards her momentarily as he turned into the parking garage.

“Okay, what can I do?” he asked softly, he took a sudden breath as he slowed down into the parking garage. She shook her head as she continued to avoid his eyes. “Baby,”

“Luke please,” she mumbled as a sob climbed into her throat.

“Okay,” he let out barely above a whisper. He glanced towards her again as he pulled into his parking spot. “Can you tell me when we get upstairs?” he asked softly. She shrugged her shoulders as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Luke reached towards her, resting his hand onto her thigh.

“I will,” she muttered as she met his gaze.

“Okay, my love,” he let out as he dragged his thumb across the fabric for a few seconds. She took a deep breath before she opened the door and climbed out of the car. Luke quickly followed in pursuit.

She was already walking towards the entrance to the apartment from the parking garage. Luke practically jogged towards her to catch up to her speed. Luke reached towards her, taking a hold of her arm for her to slow down. She glanced towards him as she slowed down, letting him take a hold of her hand.

She began to climb up the stairs guiding Luke towards their third floor apartment. His thumb glided along her skin absentmindedly. Despite the stairs being inside, it was incredibly cold and he could feel it against the skin of the top of her hand.

Luke pulled his phone from his pocket and immediately pulled up DoorDash. He decided that she needed her favorite late night dinner. They ordered from the italian restaurant so many times, their order was saved in the app. By the time he ordered it, they were already outside of their apartment door.

She pulled her hand from his as she unlocked the door and immediately stepped inside. “I’m gonna go shower,” she muttered.

“Hey,” Luke mumbled as he took a hold of her waist, spinning her to face him. “I’ve been very patient,” he muttered teasingly. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt a small smile form on her lips. Luke took a hold of her chin as he slowly leaned towards her. He kissed her delicately for a few seconds.

“Better?” she asked softly.

“Better,” he mumbled as he pecked her lips once more. “Do you want me to join you?” he asked sweetly. Her lips fell into a soft pout as he glided his thumb across her bottom lip. “It’s okay baby girl,” he muttered as he leaned towards her and delicately pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she let out softly.

“Don’t be, my love, I’ll be waiting,” he mumbled as she slowly slipped away from his grasp. He took a deep breath as he watched her hang her head low as she rounded the corner towards the bathroom. He kicked his shoes off and started walking deeper into the apartment.

Subconsciously, he pulled his phone back out and pulled out TikTok.

Of course, usually how it went, one of Y/N’s vidoes popped up. It was one of the ones she had posted early today. He watched the twenty-second: spend the morning with me video. Smiling to himself, he watched as the clip of the both of them appeared. In his opinion, he looked awkward.

He sat down on the couch, clicking the comments; out of curiosity. The first comment he read was saying that Y/N was ugly. His mouth practically fell open, offended that anyone could look at her and have that thought cross his mind. She was absolutely stunning.

He shook his head as he continued to read each comment on her post. Every time he read a comment talking about her lack of personality, his mind would instantly think about every moment she made him laugh. How cute she would be every time she would dance while cleaning because she couldn’t sit still.

His heart starting beating rapidly the longer his name was brought up. Every comment with his name in it was saying how he deserved better. He never understood that. If anything, she deserved better than him. She was out of this world stunning and he felt like she deserved better.

He clenched his jaw the more and felt anger send a rush of heat over his body. How can anyone not like the love of his life? How can anyone not look at her and think anything other than how beautiful she is; think about how kind she is; think about how funny and smart she is?

He took a deep breath and tossed his phone beside him on the couch. Tilting his head back against the couch, he squinted his eyes shut. He shook his head side to side as he contemplated what to do. Luke knew that’s what was bothering her. Usually, she was so good at letting it roll off of her back. But it seemed like it was everywhere and all he wanted to do was make it stop for her. All he’s wanted was for her to be happy, he hated seeing how this was affecting her.

He was so consumed with his thoughts that he did not realize how much time had passed. There was a knock on his door and his eyes shot open. He stood up from the couch and took fast steps towards his door.

He took a hold of the door handle and pulled it open to see the person delivering his food. He smiled widely, “Thank you so much,” he expressed as he took the cardboard bag from the DoorDasher. The person quickly darted down the hallway as Luke shut the door, twisting the locks in the process.

Y/N stepped back into the living room, her hair was dripping went as her body was covered by a tank top and a pair of sweatpants. Her lips curled upward into a wide grin, “Is that what I think it is?” she asked as she hopped slightly towards the countertop. He chuckled softly as he nodded dramatically as he instantly started pulling out their dramatically large pasta dishes.

She instantly wrapped her arms around him from his side. He wrapped his arms around her as he turned to hold her to his chest. “You’re the best, you know that?” she mumbled against his chest. He glided his hand up and down her back.

“I love you baby,” he whispered as he delicately pressed his lips to the top of her head. Before she pulled away from him to meet his gaze. His hand slipped beneath her tanktop as he glided his hand across her skin. “I’m sorry about what’s happening on social media,” he mumbled.

Her eyes widened as she tilted her head to the side. “It’s okay, Lu–”

“It’s not,” he let out as he looked over her teary features. “Everything they’re saying isn’t true, you know that right?” he asked softly as he glided his hands over her frame.

“I know, it’s just a lot,” she mumbled.

“And you realize–like–you are so out of my league. I don’t care what my “fans” say,” he mumbled as he slowly guided her backwards.

She chuckled as she rolled her eyes playfully, “Oh my god,” she let out. He smirked as he reached down and took a hold of her thighs. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands ran through his hair, tugging at the curls slightly.

“Not only are you incredibly hot–”

“Luke–”

“Let me finish,” he said with a grin on his face. Slowly, he pushed open the door to their bedroom. “You’re literally fucking hilarious and adorable and sexy–”

“Luke, what are you doing?” she asked softly as he slowly placed her down onto their bed. He stepped back and took a hold of his red Devils jersey and tossed it to the floor. Her eyes widened slightly as she scanned his frame. His body was covered in redden marks from hits he took during the game.

“I’m reminding of who you are,” he began as he climbed on top of her, “You are my favorite person on the planet,” he whispered as he looked deeply into her eyes. She rolled her eyes playfully as she ran her hands from his hair down his neck. “I hate to see you hurting,”

“I’ll get over it eventually,”

“Can I speed up the process?” he asked, a smirk toying to his lips. Her eyes widened slightly while she nodded. Slowly, he began to press delicate wet kisses down her frame.

“I think it’s working already,” she mumbled as she arched her back slightly.

“Perfect,”

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #hockey #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #nj devils #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic

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d-oie · 3 days ago

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Hi guys, it's come to my attention that someone in the moodboard community known as lil-liaa has been copying / taking heavy "inspo" from other creators like @y-unjins and @iluvrei view more for more info + evidence + my opinions on the whole situation

before i start, i'm not trying to run lil-liaa off the platform nor am i trying to stur up drama, this is just to bring light to the situation as not many people know and many people (including myself) defended her when this first happened, i also want liia to realize that what she's doing isn't right and that she shouldn't just brush off "accusations" like these when there is evidence.

proofs

you can see the similarities as lil-liaa used 3 of the exact same pics as iluvrei's including one edited by the original creator without adding credits to the post.

2nd

here you can instantly tell that the moodboard was copied (lil-liaas on the right being an exact replica of y-unjins), only changing 2 pics excluding the idol change and

3rd / last

lastly, you can see how one lia used the exact same divider (+ didnt give creds), two she uses the same images not only in the moodboard but also in her gif (same pics from y-unjins moodboard including the png)

now, lil-liaa was sent multiple anonymous ask from last year and one recently accusing her of stealing moodboards, although a lot of people defended her last year including me due to the ask having no sorts of proof of moodboards being stolen and no one else speaking on it but now the recent ask she has received included proof and her response to it was very (in my opinion) rude and just sounded like she didn't care.

in my opinion, i don't believe this was just a draft she had premade and i don't believe she somehow got the same exact photos from y-unjins moodboard recommended, i believe since this isnt the first accusation and now there's proof of this i believe she has been copying moodboards since last year when she was accused. i don't believe lil-liaa cares about this, the fact she's stealing from other creators and when she gets called out for it she pushes it off with the same excuses

tags

@miujo @rkkuri @lvioung @ciestial @aeraras @sugarish @gyareii @i-kyujin @daddldee @i-mmaculatus @haerinism @chaeryeos @bloomqi @h-yeoni @p-oisn @bitchey @yeritos @yonkiibums @y-vna @y-urios @fairytopea @shuaver @yeoniis

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traveler-at-heart · 2 days ago

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Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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writerdownbookworder · 2 days ago

Text

I stare for a minute. There are...a lot of people standing around my front door.

I shake myself out of my surprise. "Can I...help you? Your Highness," I add hastily, sweeping into a deep curtsy.

The prince takes a small step forward. "We are looking for a Miss Anastasia Ryntz? We were told this is the correct residence."

My brow furrows in confusion. I feel like I'm missing something. I fidget with my threadbare apron as I slip between the guards and start fumbling with my keys to unlock the door.

"Yes, it is," I say slowly, ushering the crowd inside. "I'm Anastasia. I'm sorry, not to be rude, but why are you here?"

The prince looks around, distinctly uncomfortable in my very small house. With all the guards and his advisors, the room is very crowded. I wince as one of the guards tries to turn around and knocks a vase off my lone table.

The prince sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. "Really, Cass? That's it, everyone out." Balancing the cake in one hand, he uses the other to shoo at everyone. They look at each other uncertainly.

"I'm serious!" he yells. "The only people who are staying in this house are the lady, myself, and Grimms." He gestures at his closest advisor.

Slowly, my house empties, and I awkwardly offer the prince the one chair I own. "Would you...like to sit?"

He accepts gratefully, his advisor standing behind me, me across the table. The silence stretches for a few minutes before he jumps a bit in his seat. "Oh! I- We brought you a birthday cake!" He shoves it across the table eagerly.

I stare at it, then at him, confused. "Why?"

The prince frowns. "Well...it's your birthday, isn't it?"

I nod slowly. "22nd birthday. Why do you know that? And why do you know my name?"

The prince fumbles with his words for several seconds before his advisor - Grimms - sighs and speaks up. "Prince Auron is here to speak with you about something of the upmost importance. Are you the only person in residence? This is a private matter."

"Yes, it's just me." Dang it, I know my voice sounded sad there. I don't want them to think I'm a loser! "I live alone. By myself." Yeah, that was so much better. Whatever. "Anyway, what's up?" Facepalm.

Prince Auron clears his throat awkwardly. "You, of course, are aware that I am the youngest of the royal family. As such, on my birthday this year, when I came of age, I was given a prophecy about my future in the kingdom."

I nod. This isn't news to me. The prince's oldest sister will inherit the throne and his older brother will lead the armies and advise the crown. The third child is always a bit of a wild card.

"Does your prophecy have something to do with my business?" I ask. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be." I snort with derision. "You can see how I live."

Prince Auron fidgets. "Ah. Yes. Well, not really."

I wait, then when he doesn't elaborate, I sigh. "Your Highness, I would love to help you, but I can't do that unless you actually tell me what you need."

He blurts out. "I need you to marry me. Please."

I blink. "I'm sorry. What?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing inspiration #writing prompts

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mountainsandmayhem · 3 days ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks. Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club.

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen.

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls.

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away.

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over.

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll. “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke.

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!”

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over.

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her.

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend.

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door.

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his.

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent.

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.”

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots.

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach?

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line.

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next.

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party.

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?”

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words.

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life.

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him.

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start.

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face.

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would.

He showed up.

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours.

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious.

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd.

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends.

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far.

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to.

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout.

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer.

“Six,” you sob.

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.”

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it.

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once.

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

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thebubblesareevil · 2 days ago

Text

Who’s the bad guy here, really?

(This is pretty rushed, but I completely forgot about this and didn't want to abandon it. Hope you like it)

Danny was tired.

It had been 3 months since he ran away from home and joined the league…well technically he joined the JR league. Apparently, once the league realized he was actually a 15 year old, they decided that MAYBE they shouldn't have him fighting Bizarro on his own.

Danny didn’t get it, but they got him enrolled in school and made sure he wouldn’t miss too many classes so that was a bonus.

That was about a month ago and Danny was certain the main team was mad at him for lying about being a half ghost. He thought he made some real friends before they moved him to the Jr squad, but no one was answering him.

Any hero that DID answer him always gave the same excuse.

“I’m sorry Danny, I’d love to hang out but we have to deal with this new villain duo!”

What’s worse is that any enquiry about the so-called villains was greeted with nervous glances and swift retreats.

(Danny was sure there were no new villain, the team would have heard about them by now)

The team did their best to cheer him after every evasion, but it really wasn't helping.

He did this to himself, but that was fine. His family was safe and that's all that mattered.

Three months ago, the GIW launched an all out war against phantom in amity park. Anyone that was suspected of having anything to do with ghosts was taken in for questioning and wouldn't come back for days. They even started to get aggressive towards his parents after they started advocating for Phantom.

So Danny did the only thing he could.

He left, as publicly as possible, Danny ran away from the only home he had ever known to protect his family.

And now his friends had ditched him because he lied.

Danny felt like shit.

---------

"This is the third attack on a League base in 2 weeks." Batman said sternly to the heroes surrounding the table. He pressed a button.

A holograph appeared over the table depicting 2 Villains carrying large weapons, destroying everything in their wake. The 2 were incredibly resilient. The larger of the two was taking hits from wildcat and the smaller tossed canary across the room, completely ignoring her screams.

Both had been stationed at the outpost to guard against these exact 2 villains, and both were still recovering.

Their threat level was raised, now it was their turn to step in.

-------

Danny dragged himself out of bed as he got up early for training. He heard a knock at the door.

"Come in." He shouted as he put on his shirt.

Conner walked in, scowling as he saw some of the scars littering Danny's chest.

"You ready? We're training with Batman today."

Danny scoffed. "Ready? No. No one's ready for Batman, I am excited though.

The two headed towards the dining room to eat before training when suddenly the alarms blared. They rushed to the comm room, meeting up with M'gann on the way.

"What's going on?!" She asked, bracing herself as the base shook.

"No idea, whatever it is its not good."

As they rushed into the comm room they greeted by the sight of a woman fighting hand to hand with Batman. Superman was on the floor covered in green goop while a large man was getting ready to toss Green Arrow across the room.

The teens stood in shock. Though only one spoke.

Well, maybe spoke wasn't the right word.

"MOM?!?!? DAD?!?!" Danny yelled.

The man spun around suddenly, casually tossing green arrow across the room.

"DANNO!!! MADDIE ITS DANNY!!!"

The man raced over, only to be cut off by the Flash blocking his path.

"Danny, run! We'll hold them off, just get out of here!"

Danny stood there dumbfounded.

His dad on the other hand, wasn't.

"You stay away from my son you damn creep!" He shouted as the Flash charged him, somehow not noticing the man pull out...a baseball bat?

Danny winced as flash got hit with the Fenton anti-creep stick.

"Dad! Stop! They're my friends!" He tried to placate his dad.

"Friends don't convince you to run away from home to join a cult!" He then noticed the other two teens. "Holy Fudge! MADDIE THERES MORE KIDS!!!" He shouted as his wife held off the creep from Gotham.

"Dad! The League didn't make me leave! And it isn't a cult!"

This made the man pause.

"I left to protect you guys! The GIW was gonna come for you, so I led them away! I only joined the league so I could keep helping people!" Danny yelled.

The orange-clad man stopped, giving his son a sad look.

"It's not your job to protect us son, it's our job to protect you." He said picking his son up and wrapping him in a bear hug.

Conner just stood there confused as M'gann clapped and grinned out the outcome.

"Now can you tell mom to stop trying to mace Batman?" Danny asked when his dad put him down. The two turned to the fighting duo.

"Let's give them 5 more minutes. Your mom hasn't had this much fun since she ditched that cult in Asia."

(Feel free to take this idea and run with it. I like the idea that the fentons are a force of nature that defies explanation..but Maddie definitely stole their early ecto samples from the lazarus pit)

#dc x dp #good parents jack and maddie #short but sweet #mistaken villains #brain vomit

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ms-demeanor · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, this is maybe a pointless question where the answer is just "that's how life works," but how do you have energy for all the things you do? You seem to be constantly juggling 50 different projects and juggling them well. You create so many community resources, do deep scientific dives on your own time, excel at work, plus maintain social and familial relationships. I was able to maintain good work performance, a hobby, and social life for maybe six months last year before I burned out

The thing is I'm juggling it badly, it's just that you see the curated version here on tumblr! I've got probably five times as many stalled and unfinished resources/projects as I have completed ones, I am in a constant state of numbness/anxiety at work (since the new company bought us I'm really, really overworked and have been putting in 10-12 hour days pretty regularly - it's why my posting and writing here has dropped off and my fiction writing is basically not happening), and I'm actually a pretty shit friend because it's difficult for me to make time to communicate with people and leave the house.

My two tricks to make it seem like I've got it together are:

Just do a lot of shit. Some of it will get finished even if you end up with a ton of abandoned projects and if you do this at a high enough volume you can still get a lot done

Join some kind of club or regular hangout event; once a month I go hang out with the same group of people i've been hanging out with for twenty years and sometimes we'll plan things outside of that group and that's most of my social life.

I am also exhausted at all times but I've got the shark version of ADHD where I feel like if I'm not doing something I'll die.

I am probably deeply in danger of burning out but I've had the same "maybe if I get hit by a car I could take a couple weeks off of school without it destroying my life" feeling since i was 10 so it's hard for me to gauge if there's a collapse of any kind coming.

Have you ever tried to get yourself to sprint by falling forward and just putting your feet in front of yourself? It's like that, but I've managed to keep my feet under me so far. I'd say "if I had to deal with any obstacles it would make me fall flat on my face" but I'm actually more productive in catastrophes so. Who knows!

Mental illness. I think the answer is mental illness. I am not a healthy example to follow and I don't want people to think that the way that I act is A) Normal B) Healthy C) Effortless D) Sustainable.

I am just obsessive and weird and I don't sleep very much and I don't leave the house very frequently. I think things were better before the pandemic, when I was doing things with the band and could go to shows because Large Bastard wasn't immune compromised, but a lot has changed in the last five years.

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dailyrothko · 22 hours ago

Photo

I won't rattle on about every new scan but this one is new and very interesting to me. I used to be unclear on this thinking it was one of the Black Form paintings of 1964. Same year, same format, fits in quite well. I'm still not entirely sure it was not mean to be (who knows really) but it is not numbered as the Tate has catalogued them so we will say it's a stand alone.

Our former scans of this were terrible, a mess of weird looking black and brown and sometimes cropped (it's really confusing when people do that) so now, our new scan here is pretty good and get's the color right, obviously a huge improvement to what I had previously.

This can be kind of typical for paintings in private collections. Museums have reasons to photograph their paintings but individuals don't let these very expensive paintings out much.

This painting appeared at the Paris LVF show and looked beautiful, the scan doesn't capture the gradation and seamlessness of the painting out in the wilds but it's new, good and a representation of how the painting looks now as this is a recent photo.

I'll take it and am glad to have it and I am hoping you guys like it too.

Tumblr seems to be the social media platform that appreciates the dark Rothkos as much as I do, as I have an affinity for his late work when a large number were painted.

The classic Rothko paintings of beautiful colors and great panache have a certain mastery by the mid 50's akin to a a great film director showing what they can do with a camera. I love these too but I feel that the simpler Rothko paintings are refined in a particular way that I find emotionally involving. They are stripped of the lushness he favored and brought to a more austere form. They can be more subtle and certainly they are hard to photograph, but I have a special tenderness for them.

Just a note that you are welcome to reblog this with the credits but without my commentary (Xkit should still do this). However, please don't steal my scans. It's taken me a decade to be in a position to acquire them and people end up stealing them and putting them up without credit and then it's a drag for the everyone involved, including all my followers as it becomes harder to get permission to use them. I do not mean reblogging, of course, that is great and that's what most of you do. Also i absolutely can tell where a scan came from at this point. Me having to track people down to get proper credits on pictures I was allowed to use, is a real drag This may all sound dramatic, but you must remember Rothko's work is still under copyright and must be handled differently than a picture of the Mona Lisa. Thank you

Mark Rothko Untitled, (Plum and Brown) 1964 Oil on canvas 81 X 691/8 inches

donations

#mark rothko #markrothko #rothko #daily rothko #dailyrothko #abstract expressionism #modern art #abstraction #colorfield #ab ex #colorfield painting #mid century

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sunwoniie · 1 day ago

Text

KID

Summary : You discover that you're pregnant while on a mission on a completely different planet in another galaxy, and the father is your captain, Han Yun Jae.

Pairing: Captain!Han Yun Jae x reader

Warnings : suggestive, age gap, pregnancy, enemies to lovers

You placed the blood sample into the self-analysis machine and pressed the button to start the process. Your eyes darted around the room as you anxiously checked for any signs of someone approaching while the machine worked.

It’s been about three months since you left Earth, bound for another planet to explore, test, and determine if it could sustain human life. Every two years, teams like yours are sent on eight-month missions to scout new worlds. The organization dispatches countless teams across the galaxy to increase humanity’s chances of finding a suitable home.

The machine beeped, signaling that the results were ready. It started printing, the faint sound of ink being laid on the paper filling the room. Nervously, you bit your thumbnail, your eyes flickering around as you waited. The moment it finished, you snatched the sheet, your hands trembling as you scanned the results frantically.

beta-hCG hormone: 11,233 mIU/mL.

Fuck.

You see, the beta-hCG hormone determines if a woman is pregnant. Levels below 5 mIU/mL indicate no pregnancy, but anything above that confirms it. Beta-hCG levels double every 48 to 72 hours, which also helps estimate how far along the pregnancy is.

You are roughly three months pregnant.

How had you missed the signs for three whole months? you kept blaming the vomiting, mood swings, headaches, missed periods, and cravings on the stress of being in space. It all seemed so obvious now.

You pulled out your vitals smartwatch to update your status, indicating your pregnancy so it wouldn’t send you period reminders. As you filled out the prompts, answering the usual medical questions, you froze at the final one.

What date do you think you became pregnant?

The words stared back at you, and you stopped breathing. Slowly, you navigated to the calendar and selected the date—the night you made a huge mistake. The night you slept with your captain, Han Yun Jae. The man you couldn’t stand. And who couldn’t stand you.

It happened the night before the mission began. The team had decided to drink together in his office as a farewell to Earth. you had a few drinks, and soon enough, you was blurting out stupid things.

Everyone else had already left. you was the only one still there, struggling to stay upright. you tried to push yourself to your feet but ended up leaning heavily against the wall for support as you made your way to the door. Yun Jae, meanwhile, was tidying up, collecting the empty bottles when he turned and noticed you crash to the floor.

He laughed.

Groaning against the cold, hard surface, you muttered, “Ajhussi, it’s not funny. Why are you laughing?” you tried to push yourself up but barely managed to lift your upper half.

“I give up,” you mumbled, flopping onto your back. “I’m sleeping here.” Covering your eyes with your arm to block the soft ceiling light, you got ready to pass out on the floor.

“No, you’re not,” Yun Jae said, clearly unimpressed as he continued cleaning his desk.

“Pretty sure I am,” you retorted, your words slurring. “Could you pass me a blanket? That would be so sweet of you—for once.”

You heard his footsteps approach and felt his shadow fall over you.

“Y/N, get up,” he ordered, his tone exasperated.

“You had a chance to be sweet, and you blew it,” you said, stubbornly refusing to move.

He crouched down beside you. “Y/N, get up,” he repeated, but you ignored him, lying there defiantly.

“Maybe that’s why you’re still single at fifty,” you muttered, shooting him a smug grin.

“I’m thirty-nine,” he snapped.

“Same thing. You’re old,” you teased, earning a heavy sigh of frustration from him.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice taking on an edge of irritation.

You finally lifted your arm from your eyes and glanced at him with a smirk. “Ajhussi~,” you sang in a playful, whining tone.

“Last warning,” he growled.

“You sound like my dad,” you said with a laugh, enjoying his growing frustration.

“Maybe that’s because you’re acting like a child,” he shot back sharply.

The smile fell from your face, replaced by a frown. “Stop calling me a kid,” you said firmly, your brows furrowing. “I’m almost thirty. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then get up,” he challenged.

You stubbornly turned your head away from him. “I can’t,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with something almost pitiful.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, without warning, you felt his arm slide beneath your knees and another under your back.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he lifted you effortlessly off the floor.

“Taking you to your room,” he replied gruffly.

You didn’t argue. you let him carry you down the hallway, though he nearly dropped you a couple of times—he was drunk too. When you reached your room, he set you down so you could unlock the door. you fumbled for your keys, but your vision blurred. Bending down to meet the lock’s height, you tried again, only for the key to fall from your shaking hand.

“Fuck,” you muttered, straightening up too quickly. The dizziness hit you like a wave, and you swayed, trying to regain your balance.

Yun Jae sighed, picked up the keys, and opened the door himself. He tossed the keys onto the counter inside, then stood there, holding the door open with an irritated expression. He was clearly eager to get this over with and go to bed.

“Thank you very much, ajhussi,” you said sarcastically, bowing in mock gratitude.

As you bent forward, you nearly lost your balance again, pitching toward the floor. Yun Jae caught you at the last second, groaning in frustration.

“What a dumb woman,” he muttered, hauling you upright by my forearm and steadying you with a hand on you waist.

He guided you toward the bed, but just as he was about to set you down, you tripped over an empty sample container. Instinctively, you grabbed onto him for support—and dragged him down with you.

He falls on top of you.

He's heavy, but not unbearable. His face is only inches away from mine, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. For a moment, neither of you moves. It’s like time itself has frozen, holding you in this strange, uncomfortable limbo.

“Y/N,” he mutters, his voice low and strained, though whether it’s from anger or something else, you can’t tell.

“What?” you whispered back, my voice barely audible.

His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and focused despite the haze of alcohol clouding both your senses. you can’t bring yourself to look away, even though your heart is racing, pounding so hard that you are sure he can hear it.

“You… are such a pain in the ass,” he says, his tone half-annoyed, half-something-else.

“And you’re—” My retort dies in my throat as his gaze drops to my lips.

The air between you shifts, suddenly thick with tension. My breathing quickens as you realize he hasn’t moved away yet. Instead, he’s still hovering over you, his weight pressing you slightly into the bed.

“You should get off you,” you manage to say, though my voice lacks conviction.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his lips twitch, almost like he’s fighting some internal battle. “You’re right,” he finally says, but he doesn’t move. His voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I should.”

But he doesn’t.

Instead, his hand, still gripping your arm for balance, softens its hold. His thumb brushes against your skin, sending a jolt through your entire body. you hate the way your stomach flips at the contact, hate the way your heart seems to betray you by beating even faster.

“Yun Jae,” you say, but it comes out weaker than you intend.

And then, before you can say anything else, his lips crash into mine.

It’s not soft or tentative; it’s desperate, rough, and filled with the kind of frustration that’s been building between you for months. you freeze for a second, your brain scrambling to catch up with what’s happening. But then, without thinking, you kiss him back.

The alcohol has dulled your inhibitions, but it’s not just that. There’s something raw and undeniable about this moment, about him. All the bickering, all the glares and sharp words, it all feels like it’s been leading to this.

His hand moves to your waist, gripping tightly as if to ground himself. you find yourself pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his shirt as the kiss deepens. For once, we’re not fighting—at least, not with words.

The night blurs after that. The tension, the anger, the alcohol—it all swirls together, igniting something we’ve both been too stubborn to acknowledge.

You stare at the screen in front of you, your vitals smartwatch blinking its persistent question:

What date do you think you became pregnant?

Your fingers hover over the calendar, hesitating as the memories rush back. That night, so long ago but still so vivid. The way his lips pressed against mine, the heat of his hands against your skin, the way you gave in to something you both swore you hated.

You press the date, and the screen logs it with an impersonal beep. The action feels like a release, but it only brings more questions, more weight.

Do you wish to notify the captain?

You let out a hollow laugh, though there's nothing remotely funny about it. Notify the captain. As if that wouldn’t open a floodgate of complications. How could you possibly tell him that one moment of weakness has brought you to this point?

My hand hovers over the screen, your mind racing with indecision. But before you can decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. My heart lurches, and you quickly shove the device into your pocket, forcing a calm expression as the door slides open.

There he is—Han Yun Jae. Cold, unapproachable, and as sharp as ever. His eyes meet mine, and you wonder, just for a fleeting moment, if he can see it in your face, if he can tell what’s between us.

"Y/N," he says curtly. "We’re heading out for another exploration."

You nod, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest. "Of course."

He steps closer, his presence dominating the room. The tension from that night still hangs thick in the air, unspoken, unresolved. And though he doesn’t know it yet, you can’t shake the fear that everything is about to change.

“We need to leave soon,” he continues, his tone impassive, his eyes scanning the equipment scattered around the room. you envy his ability to keep his composure, his ability to seem unaffected. You feel like you are on the edge of breaking, but you can’t let him see it. Not now.

"Right," you say, trying to steady my voice. "I’ll be ready in a minute."

You grab your gear, moving quickly, gathering the essentials for today’s exploration. We’re on a breathable planet, so you don’t need much—just the basics: a scanner, sample containers, a few tools for analysis. It should be a straightforward mission. But everything feels off today.

As you adjust your pack, you feel the familiar nausea begin to churn in your stomach again. It’s not as intense as it could be, but it’s enough to make your head spin. A wave of dizziness threatens to knock you off balance, but you keep moving. you can’t afford to look weak.

We head out to begin the survey of the planet. The bright sun glints off the barren landscape, but you can barely focus on the view. Yun Jae leads the way, as always, with his confident stride and cold, calculating gaze.

You follow, but every step feels heavier today. My thoughts keep drifting back to the life growing inside you, the life that you still haven’t told him about. you won’t—not like this. Not when the tension between you is still so thick, so unresolved.

The exploration continues, though it’s more difficult than usual. You are exhausted—physically, mentally. My body feels like it’s betraying you. you keep trying to hide it, but the pallor of your skin, the way your movements seem slower, doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Y/N, you’re okay?” Ha-neul, one of the engineers, asks as she glances at you.

You offer another tight smile, masking the fatigue and nausea swirling inside you. “I’m fine.”

But Ha-neul doesn’t buy it. She knows you too well.

We continue, and as you near the edge of a cliff to take a sample from a distant ridge, Yun Jae pauses and turns to you, his eyes glinting with that familiar authoritative gleam.

“We need to get a sample from that ridge,” he says, pointing to the jagged rocky formation.

“Yeah, on it,” you reply, starting to walk toward it. But before you take more than a few steps, you catch him watching me—his gaze lingering on my face, his expression tight with what looks like worry.

He holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait. You stay here and keep an eye on the equipment.”

You clench your teeth, holding back the sharp retort that rises to your lips. “Why do you always assume you can’t handle it?”

He doesn’t look at you but responds in that cold, condescending tone that always sends a rush of heat to your face.

“Because you still act like a kid who doesn’t know how to do anything. You get distracted, and you can’t afford to babysit you.” that was just an excuse covering the fact that he was worry at you state just by one look at your face but you didn’t need to know that.

My heart lurches, and before you can stop myself, the words spill out.

“I’m not a kid!” you snapped, my voice sharper and louder than you intended. The words hung in the air, heavy with frustration and unspoken meaning. “I’m twenty-eight, for God’s sake! Stop treating me like some helpless child.”

You turned to face him fully, your glare unwavering as you continued. “you get that being ancient must make you think everyone younger than you need to be babysat, but guess what? you don’t. I’m capable, and I’ve been handling things on your own for a long time now.”

You noticed the silence that followed your outburst, the kind that was too heavy to ignore. Slowly, your eyes drifted past Han Yun Jae to the rest of the crew standing a few feet away. Their faces were pressed with a mix of concern and curiosity, clearly having heard every word.

Some of them exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to intervene or pretend they hadn’t just witnessed you snap. Others avoided eye contact entirely, their focus suddenly absorbed by the dirt beneath their boots.

Heat rushed to your face as you realized the spectacle I’d just created. My hands clenched at your sides, embarrassment and anger bubbling together. you turned away from Yun Jae and the crew, your voice quieter but no less firm as you muttered, “This conversation is over.”

Without another word, you walked off, ignoring the weight of their stares as you walked to get the samples.

My footsteps crunch over the rocky terrain as you make your way toward the ridge, your breath shallow and uneven. you feel the weight of their eyes on your back—on both Yun Jae and you. But you don’t care. you can’t care anymore.

You are not a kid. You are not the same person you was when you first met him, when you used to argue over everything like it was your only language. He might still see you as that naive child, but you are not. you won’t let him define you anymore.

The harsh wind stings your skin as you reach the base of the ridge, your hands shaking as you adjust the sample container. you glance over your shoulder briefly, your mind still tangled with everything that’s happened. And, of course, Yun Jae is standing there, watching you with that cold, calculating gaze, his posture rigid as if waiting for you to make a mistake.

You can’t stand it.

You remember the first time you met him. you was just a kid—barely out of childhood, if I’m being honest—and he was always there. Always around because of your father. Han Yun Jae wasn’t just your father’s protégé; he was almost like a shadow. Quiet, intense, and seemingly perfect in everything he did.

My father had always insisted that Yun Jae was a brilliant mind, someone who could shape the future of your father’s work, someone who deserved the respect of everyone around him. But you never saw him that way.

To you, he was just your father’s trainee who treated you like you was beneath him. He never smiled, never showed anything that resembled warmth, and he always treated you like an inconvenience. A distraction.

You hated that. you hated the way he looked at you with cold indifference, as if you was just a little girl who didn’t understand the world around you. He’d always brush you off, belittle your attempts to prove myself. At first, it was almost funny—his condescension was so obvious—but as you got older, it started to gnaw at you. you wanted to prove him wrong. you wanted to show him that you was more than just a child, that you could handle things on your own.

But every time you tried, he pushed you further away. His icy demeanor only seemed to grow colder, and his words became sharper.

“Don’t be so naive, Y/N,” he’d say, his voice always so cold and clipped. “You’ll never be able to understand. Stay out of it.”

And you listened to him. you listened because he was older, because he had always been the smart one, the disciplined one. you was just the spoiled little girl of his mentor.

But something changed after you hit your late teens. The more you pushed back, the more things began to shift. What started as petty bickering turned into real animosity. The tension between you grew, and your arguments became sharper, more cutting. There was no longer any pretense of camaraderie between us. you hated him. And somewhere, buried deep within his cold, emotionless exterior, you began to feel like he hated you too.

It wasn’t just the typical friction of youth anymore. It became personal. It was as if he saw you as nothing more than an obstacle—a nuisance to be dealt with, nothing more.

And as you continue collecting the sample, you can feel the weight of his presence behind you, but it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating as before.

A few days later, after hours spent scanning and collecting samples, your head was spinning, and your body felt like it was on the verge of shutting down. Exhaustion and nausea clawed at you, and you wasn’t sure how much longer you could keep pretending you were fine. Because you weren't.

You silently prayed you could hold on until you reached the base. Pressing a hand to your stomach, you tried to steady the roiling turmoil inside you.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” Ha-neul said, her voice cutting through the haze clouding my thoughts. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked as you finally stepped through the base doors.

You waved her off, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired. I’ll rest soon.”

You made your way to your quarters, your stomach churning with every step. As soon as you were inside, you rushed to the small bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you, and you barely had time to close your eyes before the nausea hit full force.

You kneeled in front of the toilet, your body jerking with each wave of sickness. My stomach emptied itself, the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat. you couldn't stop it. It felt like it went on forever.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally pulled yourself together enough to sit back on your heels, your mouth dry and your face pale. you took a few shallow breaths, trying to steady myself. Your mind was spinning—sick, tired, and overwhelmed by the weight of everything that had happened, everything that was happening.

You stood, hands shaking, and rinsed your mouth with water, trying to rid yourself of the horrible taste. Reaching for your toothbrush and toothpaste, you began brushing your teeth automatically, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the racing thoughts in your head.

It was then that you saw him.

He was standing in the doorway behind you, his arms crossed, watching you through the mirror. you froze for a split second, your breath catching in your throat. you hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t noticed him at all. He looked so out of place, his cold stare boring into you even as you tried to keep your composure.

But you couldn’t. Your heart was pounding. Still, you refused to look at him directly. you kept your eyes on the mirror, focusing on the task at hand—brushing your teeth, pretending he wasn’t there.

You felt the pressure of his gaze, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. you just… kept brushing, as if you could make everything go away.

Just as you was about to spit and rinse your mouth, his voice broke the silence.

“Are you pregnant?”

His words hit like a thunderclap, shocking you into stillness. you didn’t respond, not immediately. Your hand froze mid-rinse, and you had to fight to steady myself, your thoughts racing.

He was right. Something was off. But you couldn’t let him know that.

You finished rinsing, washing your mouth quickly as you replaced the toothpaste and toothbrush.

The silence between you thickened. He was still standing there, his posture unchanged, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never wavered, and you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck.

You turned slowly to face him, forcing a neutral expression, but inside, you were panicking. He was so close now. Too close. Your chest tightened with the sudden proximity.

“What makes you think that?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your heart was hammering in your chest.

His eyes flickered with a slight, cold amusement. “You’ve been acting strange lately. More tired, more nauseous. The way you keep your distance when food comes around… You’ve been avoiding things, avoiding people. And the way you pale when you're on your feet too long—it all points in one direction."

you laughed—too sharply, too quickly. “I’m just tired. You know, long missions and all that.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unwavering. “And the fact that your periods haven’t come for 3 months? That’s just… coincidence?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. you couldn’t hide the shock in your eyes fast enough. “How do you know that?” you said, your voice betraying you with a slight quiver.

Yun Jae’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I have your ways.”

You backed away slightly, your heart racing, your mouth suddenly dry. "That's creepy," you muttered, trying to brush past him. you just needed to get out of there, away from his scrutiny.

But before you could even turn the door handle, his voice stopped you in your tracks. “You didn’t respond.” you look at him but you turned back to the door, your hand on the handle, but before you could open it fully, he stepped forward, blocking your way. you didn’t look up at him, but his presence was suffocating.

He leaned in, his voice lower now, the sharp edge gone. “You didn’t answer me.” he repeated in an irritated tone.

You didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore. Your body was exhausted, your mind overwhelmed, and you just wanted to escape—escape this situation, escape him, escape the uncertainty swirling inside you.

You met his eyes, standing tall despite the shakiness you felt inside. “You already know the answer,”the words coming out colder than you intended.

Yun Jae’s gaze softened just a fraction, but the icy wall was still there, still firmly in place. He didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes.

And with that, you pushed past him, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, the cool metal of the ship offering no comfort anymore. you couldn’t let him get to you. Not now. Not when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Days turned into weeks, and you avoided Yun Jae like the plague. you couldn’t face him—not after that conversation. Every meal became a calculated maneuver to dodge him. you either skipped eating entirely, braving the gnawing hunger, or grabbed your plate and retreated to your room or the lab. The smells of food only worsened the nausea, and you didn’t want him—or anyone else—noticing your discomfort.

But no matter how much you tried to act like nothing was wrong, you could feel the truth pressing against you, literally. Your body was changing. Your bump was small but undeniable now, a subtle curve that you could no longer ignore. you started wearing baggier clothes, anything to keep it hidden. Yet you knew this wasn’t a problem you could cover up forever.

Late at night, when you was alone in your quarters, the weight of it all would crush you. You would sit on the edge of your bed, your hands trembling as they rested on your growing belly. A part of you wanted to reject it, deny what was happening. But the fluttering beneath your fingers was impossible to ignore. A tiny life was growing inside you, and it terrified you.

You found yourself crying more often than you cared to admit. Silent, muffled sobs into your pillow as you thought about everything you would imagined for your first child. You'd always pictured being married, having a partner by your side, someone you could lean on when things got tough. you thought about warm nurseries, family gatherings, and laughter. Not this—being stranded on a distant planet, surrounded by cold metal walls, with the father of your child barely able to tolerate you.

The thought of Yun Jae made the tears come harder. you didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you had always cared about his opinion, even when you claimed to hate him. And now, the idea of raising this child alone, of carrying this weight by myself, was unbearable

The days blurred together, and you kept your distance from Yun Jae. you didn’t start conversations—not with him. When he spoke to you, it was only about the mission.

When it came to meals, you continued your routine of avoidance. The smells in the mess hall used to turn your stomach, but now that you was in your second trimester, your nausea had finally eased. you started enjoying food again—more than you ever had before. you were eating everything in sight. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit with the crew. You’d grab your plate and retreat to your room or the lab. It was better than facing Yun Jae’s gaze, which had changed in ways you couldn’t understand.

You’d catch him looking at you, his dark eyes fixed on you from across the room. It wasn’t the usual cold glare. There was something else there—concern, maybe. Worry? you wasn’t sure. All you knew was that it made your skin crawl. It made you feel exposed, like he could see everything you were trying so hard to hide.

The lab was eerily quiet after everyone left. you worked in silence, the hum of machinery and the occasional beep from the scanner your only companions. It was better this way—being alone. you could focus on your work without the weight of their stares or the hushed conversations that sometimes carried your name when they thought you weren't listening.

Before leaving, Ha-neul had paused by your workstation, her gaze lingering with concern.

“Y/N, do you want me to bring you a plate?” she asked, her voice gentle but persistent.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied curtly, not looking up from my work.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, joining the others as they filed out of the lab. The door hissed shut behind them, and you sighed, grateful for the solitude.

Minutes passed, maybe longer. you was deep in analysis, your hands deftly adjusting the settings on the equipment, when the door opened again. you ignored it, assuming someone had forgotten something.

It wasn’t until a plate slid onto the desk beside you that you stopped.

You blinked at it, the steam from the food curling up in delicate tendrils. Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting Yun Jae’s. He stood there, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of worry in his usually sharp features. In his other hand, he held a second plate—his own, you assumed.

“Eat,” he said simply, his tone firm but not unkind.

“I’m not hungry,” you shot back, your voice colder than you intended. You turned my attention back to my work, determined to ignore him.

But then, as if on cue, your stomach betrayed you with a loud, unmistakable growl.

You froze, heat creeping up your neck.

When you glanced back at him, he was smirking faintly, the corner of his mouth tugged up in amusement. Without a word, he sat down beside you, placing his own plate on the desk and beginning to eat, his movements unhurried.

“Eat,” he repeated, pushing your plate closer to you.

You scowled, reluctant but too hungry to argue with your body. Picking up a fork, you took a small bite, chewing slowly as you tried to focus back on your work.

“What are you doing here?” you asked after a moment, your tone flat as you glanced at him.

“I want to talk,” he replied, his focus seemingly on his food.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, taking another small bite, though your eyes never left the screen in front of you.

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a while, the only sound between you was the scrape of utensils against plates. But you could feel his gaze on you, studying you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less direct.

You didn’t answer, refusing to look at him.

“Why do you keep acting like this?” he pressed, his tone teetering between frustration and concern.

“I’m not acting like anything,” you snapped, dropping your fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I’m working, Yun Jae. If you’re done eating, you can leave.”

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but instead, he reached out and pushed his plate closer to mine, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Eat,” he said again, his voice quieter now, almost gentle, as if he knew how close you were to snapping but didn’t want to push you further.

Then, without another word, he stood and left the lab, the door hissing shut behind him. The sound lingered in the air, leaving an emptiness you couldn’t shake.

You stared at the two plates of food in front of you, your appetite wavering despite the persistent gnawing in your stomach. His plate sat there, untouched except for the few bites he’d taken, a silent gesture that felt heavier than it should have.

For a moment, you felt the weight of it all press down on me—the loneliness, the tension between you, the secret you were carrying that was slowly changing everything. My fingers tightened around the fork as you fought back the emotion rising in your chest.

The food blurred in front of you, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe. you hated this—hated how he always seemed to know when to show up, hated the way he lingered in your thoughts even when you wanted to forget him. Most of all, you hated the way his quiet actions, like leaving his plate behind, managed to make you feel so unsteady.

Finally, you forced yourself to take another bite, chewing slowly as you tried to focus on the work in front of you. But no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the two plates beside each other felt like a conversation left unfinished, one that you wasn’t sure you was ready to have.

The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft hum of the ship's systems the only sound in the background. you shuffled quietly, rubbing your eyes and trying not to make too much noise. Hunger clawed at you, relentless and impossible to ignore. Sleep wasn’t going to come until you satisfied it.

After searching through the shelves, you finally found something that looked promising—a container of fruit, sealed tightly with a stubborn lid. you gripped it with both hands, bracing it against your body as you twisted, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustration built with each attempt, the hunger making your movements clumsier.

Unbeknownst to you, Yun Jae had been there the whole time, leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets. He watched silently as you struggled, his cold, observant gaze fixed on you.

“Do you want some help?” his voice cut through the silence suddenly, calm and steady as always.

The sound startled you so badly that the container slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. My heart jumped, and you spun around to glare at him.

“God, Yun Jae!” you hissed, clutching my chest as if that could steady my racing heart.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t apologize for startling you. He just stood there, his expression unreadable as his eyes shifted briefly to the container on the floor.

You stayed quiet, refusing to look at him directly. Instead, you bent down, picking up the container with shaky hands. Your face burned with embarrassment, but you ignored it, turning your back to him and trying once again to open the lid.

It was no use. No matter how hard you tried, the lid wouldn’t move. And then, without realizing it, you felt the tears start to fall.

At first, you didn’t notice them, too focused on your stubborn attempts to twist the lid. But soon, the drops blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Your hands trembled as you tried to compose myself, but the harder you fought, the more the tears came.

It wasn’t the lid. It wasn’t even the hunger. It was everything. The pregnancy, the isolation, the weight of being stranded on this alien planet. The fact that you were carrying this alone, with no one to lean on.

Before you could spiral further, you felt strong arms wrap around you from behind, firm yet gentle.

You froze, your breath hitching as Yun Jae carefully took the container from your hands and placed it on the counter nearby. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his arms circling you in a quiet but steady embrace.

The warmth of his presence broke something in you. you let out a shuddering sob, your body trembling as the floodgates opened completely.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and calm as his hand came up to gently rub your arm. “Let it out.”

His tone wasn’t soft or warm—he wasn’t the type—but there was something in his voice, a quiet steadiness, that made you feel like you didn’t have to hold everything together for once.

He turned you around slowly, guiding you until your forehead was pressed against his chest. His hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close, while his other hand rested lightly on the back of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his words deliberate, almost hesitant.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t. you just stayed there, your face buried in his chest as the tears came harder.

He held you through it all, his hand moving gently along your back in a soothing rhythm. “Calm down,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Minutes passed like this—his steady presence anchoring you as you slowly began to calm down. The tears slowed, your breathing evened out. you realized, almost absently, that your arms had wrapped around his torso, holding onto him without even thinking about it.

When you finally pulled away, he let you go, though his hands lingered for a moment as if making sure you was steady. His eyes met mine, and for the first time, you saw something different in them—something softer, more vulnerable.

“You’ve been holding this in for too long,” he said, his tone still calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You wiped at your face, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t need your pity,” you muttered under your breath.

“Gosh, Y/N, this isn’t pity,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Why do you always have to be in denial?”

Silence stretched between you before he broke it.

“For twenty years, I’ve kept my distance,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Your father—he was the closest thing I had to a hero. He taught me everything, and when you joined the organization, I told myself I’d protect you. For him.”

You glanced up at him, startled by the admission. He looked away briefly, as if uncomfortable with saying it aloud.

“But I didn’t know how,” he continued, his voice steady again. “You were reckless, stubborn—always throwing yourself into danger without thinking.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.

“And I—” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Or you. You weren’t just some kid anymore. Not to me.”

My breath caught, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“You were twenty when I started noticing,” he said, his tone cool but deliberate. “But you were too young, and I couldn’t—” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let myself feel that way. So I kept my distance. I thought it was better that way.”

Confused by his words, you frowned. “Wait, you don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”

He hesitated for a moment, looking away as if gathering his courage. When his eyes finally met yours again, they were filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I have feelings for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You froze, completely shocked by the confession. He continued, his words tumbling out as if they’d been bottled up for too long. “I started falling for you when you joined the organization. At first, it felt wrong—I thought I shouldn’t feel that way. So I tried to keep your distance, to be cold with you. You’re your mentor’s daughter, and you’re so much younger than me. I mean—I'm ancient, as you call me.” He chuckled softly, and despite myself, you found the corners of your mouth twitching upward.

“And it’s true,” he added, his tone gentler now. “At times, I thought of you like a kid. I felt like I owed your father everything, and protecting you was my way of honoring him.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before he continued. “But you’re not a kid anymore.” His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “You’re a woman. And now…” His eyes flickered briefly to your stomach, his expression softening. “Now, you’re carrying a life.”

Before you could respond, he turned, grabbed the container from the counter, and opened it effortlessly. He handed it back to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, your back turning to him as you started eating quietly, savoring the fruit. But then, you felt his arms wrap around you again, this time from behind.

His hand moved to rest gently on your belly, his fingers brushing against the curve. “It’s gotten big,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “How the hell have you been hiding this?”

You laughed softly despite myself, shaking your head. “Baggy clothes.”

His hand moved in slow, soothing circles, and for the first time, you let yourself relax into his touch. You stayed like that for a while, the silence between you comfortable and unspoken. Once you were done eating, and since neither of you could sleep, you wandered to the balcony.

We sat there until sunrise, talking about everything—the baby, potential names, your relationship.

For the first time, you didn’t feel like he was treating you like a kid.

#han yun jae x reader #han yun jae #the silence sea #gong yoo x reader #gong yoo #the salesman #squid game salesman #the recruiter

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meazalykov · 2 days ago

Text

play for the crowd

lauren james x english!influencer!reader : social media + fic

summary: a fake relationship never ends well.. or does it?

warnings: angst, very long chapter

for @pinkyqily + @jackiesunshines

“welcome back to ‘call her daddy,’ babes,” alex starts with her signature grin, leaning closer to the mic.

“today, we’ve got the it-girl of england sitting across from me. she’s hilarious, she’s fashionable, she’s friends with basically everyone worth knowing—please give it up for y/n!!”

you laugh softly, adjusting your seating in the red fancy chair.

“oh, stop it. you’re hyping me up too much.”

“listen, i only speak the truth on this podcast,” alex replies dramatically, hands gesturing like she’s addressing an audience of thousands.

“so, let’s just jump right in. your fashion—people are obsessed. i mean, half the girls listening are probably taking notes on your outfit right now as we speak.”

you smile, settling into your seat.

“i feel like my style is a bit all over the place, to be honest. one day i’ll be in baggy streetwear, the next i’m in a full-on luxury brand look, then i’m in some scandi-inspired minimalism, and before you know it, i’m frolicking in a meadow in a cottagecore dress. i just wear whatever’s cute.”

“so, you’re telling me your closet must look insane.” alex leans forward, clearly intrigued.

“oh, it’s a disaster,” you admit with a laugh.

“you know when people say, ‘if you can’t see it, you won’t wear it’? yeah, my clothes are in piles. i try to organize, but then i get new stuff, and it’s chaos all over again.”

“and yet you always look put together. how does that even work?”

“magic,” you joke, adjusting your oversized blazer.

“or maybe just panic dressing.”

alex grins.

“fair enough. okay, now—this is a call her daddy episode where i am the nosey host, so we have to get into your social life. you’ve got so many famous friends. who’s in your circle? who’s in the inner circle?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re really trying to get the tea, huh?”

“always,” alex says without hesitation.

“give us something.”

you smirk.

“well, i’ve got a mix of people, you know? like, models, footballers, actors... it’s a weird little melting pot. i vibe with people who are chill and don’t take life too seriously.”

“what about jude bellingham?” alex’s grin widens, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“you’ve been seen with him quite a bit. are we finally getting confirmation here?”

your laugh is immediate, and you shake your head as you roll your eyes playfully.

“oh my god, no no no absolutely not. jude is not my type at all.”

alex gasps theatrically.

“wait, hold on. you’re telling me jude bellingham, literal dreamboat that maybe has a million edits of himself, is not your type? do you know how many women would kill for that chance?”

“i’m sure they would,” you reply, still laughing.

“but, yeah, jude and i are just friends. strictly platonic. in fact, he’s hilarious.”

alex’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion.

“so, what is your type, then?”

you pause for a moment, knowing the question is loaded. you take a breath, then grin.

“well, just know that i don’t swing jude’s way.”

alex’s face lights up.

“ohhh, so you’re into women?” her excitement is palpable.

“yeah,” you say, nodding firmly.

“i mean, people have speculated for years, so… there you go. confirmed. i like women.”

“iconic,” alex replies, clapping her hands.

“this is huge!!!! so, do you have a partner? because i feel like everyone’s going to be dying to know now.”

a weight sinks in your chest, but you plaster on a smile. you hate lying, but this is part of the game.

“i do,” you say carefully, keeping your voice light.

“but i’m not spilling anything just yet.”

“oh, come on,” alex pleads.

“not even a little hint?”

you shake your head, laughing softly.

“nope. but trust me, everyone will know who she is eventually.”

alex groans in mock defeat, throwing her head back.

“you’re killing me, y/n. absolutely killing me.”

“i gotta keep some mystery, alex,” you tease.

“otherwise, what’s the fun?”

y/n.l/n

{tagged: yourbsf}

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y/n.l/n hello 2025

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y/nl/nluvr5 SO CUTE

yourbsf ily

ashley_lawrence10 pretty! 🤩

wosofan2719 why are all of the chelsea girls in her likes?? 🫣

user6282 I thought I was the only one who peeped

random12938 after her podcast with alex on friday, I am convinced y/n's girlfriend is known to the public already. you might be onto something since she is already close with english footballers

madelineargy 😍

~view all 2,039 comments~

you’re sitting cross-legged on your plush beige couch, the soft hum of a charli xcx playlist filling the quiet of your london apartment.

a steaming mug of tea sits on the coffee table, untouched, as you absently scroll through your phone. your eyes flick to the clock—just past noon. you’re waiting on lauren to send over the ticket details for tonight’s chelsea vs. arsenal match, the anticipated london derby.

your stomach twists slightly at the thought. not because of the game—you actually enjoy football. it’s the situation you’ve been thrown into that makes you uneasy.

a fake relationship. a pr stunt. your team’s bright idea to boost both your profiles. it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories: influencer friends venting about staged dates, awkward photoshoots, and scripted chemistry with people they couldn’t stand and hated.

you swore you’d never do something so fake, yet here you are.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. it’s a message from lauren.

lauren: hey, just sent your name to the list—tickets will be at will call under 'guest of lj.' fancy title, right?

you smile faintly, typing back.

you: wow, i feel so important.

you joke. a reply comes almost instantly.

lauren: absolutely. “fake girlfriend to chelsea star.” major clout.

you laugh under your breath, appreciating her humor despite the absurdity of the situation.

you: i can’t lie.. this is all so ridiculous. have you done this kind of thing before?

lauren: nope. first time for me too. i feel like i should apologize in advance if i make this awkward.

you: i was just about to say the same to you. we’ll both be awkward… it’ll balance out.

lauren’s next text takes a second longer to come through.

lauren: for what it’s worth, i know this isn’t ideal. but i promise i’m not a complete nightmare in person like the media can paint me out to be.

you pause, rereading her message. there’s something about her tone—genuine, almost reassuring. however, you frown at the last part of her message. you have seen the tweets and post that have villainized her about certain situations that have happened between her and other players. you don’t play football, but you understand how intense things can be.

lauren’s genuine personality makes you think that this won’t be as terrible as you’ve been building it up to be.

you: well, if you’re not a nightmare, i guess i can survive one football match. or how ever many as i will need to go to for us. as long as i don’t get smacked with a football in front of your everyone or something.

lauren: if you do, we’ll just blame it on the opposing team.

you laugh again softly, shaking your head. her dry wit feels disarming, and you find yourself a little more curious about meeting her in person. maybe, just maybe, lauren will surprise you.

the cool london air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, pulling your brown puffer coat tighter around yourself. the excitement hums through the blue and red crowds gathered outside the chelsea stadium.

you glance up at the familiar facade, the blue and white banners waving proudly in the breeze. you’ve been here before, more times than you can count, but tonight feels… different.

you make your way through the gates, clutching the ticket lauren organized for you. your name’s on the guest list, which feels oddly official, even though you know it’s all just for show. navigating the stadium is second nature by now—you’ve been here for england matches, screaming alongside the fans, but you’ve never been here for chelsea.

the thought feels strange, almost disloyal, considering most of your friends are manchester (city and united) fans through and through.

their reactions flash through your mind, the way they nearly lost it when you casually mentioned you were going on a "date" with a chelsea player.

"you’re joking, right? chelsea? you can’t be serious," one had said, barely hiding their disbelief.

"wait, who is it?" another pressed, practically bouncing in their seat.

"don’t tell me it’s lucy bronze—no, wait, she just transferred here so i don’t think it's her."

you’d shrugged them off, offering nothing but a sly smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you’d teased, leaving them to spiral into speculation. you didn’t have the heart—or the nerve—to explain the truth yet.

not until you’d met lauren in person, not until you knew how this whole fake relationship would pan out.

as you approach the friends and family section, a subtle wave of nervousness rolls over you. this is it—the start of whatever chaotic media circus your teams have orchestrated. you take a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on your coat, and step inside.

you wonder if people will question your presence in that section, why you were here by yourself with none of your friends to accompany you. however, you decide to take the next 90 minutes to collect your thoughts while lauren plays her match.

taking your seat, directly where you can see the middle of the pitch, the noise of the crowd fills your ears as you settle. your focus is razor-sharp. your eyes stay locked on lauren as she moves across the pitch with ease, weaving through arsenal's defense like it’s second nature.

the game already started three minutes ago.. and she’s good…really good. you knew that already, of course, seeing her play live is something else entirely.

you shift in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral. the plan is simple: be here, watch the match, and appear supportive. it’s harder than you thought to ignore the weight of the cameras that occasionally pan away from the game and land on you instead.

you know what the headlines will say. you can already picture the tweets that are posting on twitter as your eye move along lauren’s body.

the speculation is what you’re here for. you tap your fingers against the armrest of your seat, trying to drown out the chatter in your head. this is all part of the plan, you remind yourself.

still, the questions buzzing online are ones you’re not ready to answer. not yet. this isn’t even real after all.

your eyes dart back to lauren. she’s on the ball again, making a sharp run from a sharp pass from lucy that sets up a near-perfect chance. the crowd erupts, and you find yourself caught between genuine admiration for her skill and the uncomfortable reality of why you’re here. with the cameras on you, though, you know better than to let anything too much slip.

you lean forward slightly, keeping your attention locked on lauren, as though she’s the only thing that matters in the moment.

the game ends with a 2-1 win for chelsea. you stand awkwardly by the fruit stand in the lounge room area, pretending to be invested in the arrangement of grapes and orange slices. the truth is, you feel out of place.

this isn’t your scene, and it shows. the other friends and family members seem at ease, chatting and laughing like they belong here. you, however, can’t shake the anxiety in your chest. of course, people recognize you—this is england, after all. your face is plastered on magazine covers and social media feeds. here, in this context, you feel more exposed than ever.

you shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing at the clock on the wall. lauren’s team has just wrapped up their post-match debrief, and any minute now, she’ll walk in. the thought doesn’t help your nerves; if anything, it makes them worse.

you haven’t even met her in person before, yet the entire world will soon think that she’s your girlfriend. the absurdity of it all threatens to make you laugh, but the knot in your stomach keeps you grounded.

you’re about to reach for a piece of pineapple when you feel a light touch on your shoulder. the sensation startles you, and you turn around quickly, almost dropping the toothpick you’re holding.

“i didn’t know you could be so shy, y/n,” lauren says, her tone teasing but warm. she’s standing there, freshly showered, her hair damp and swept back. the post-match attitude has faded, leaving her looking relaxed, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she takes you in.

you smile nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blazer.

“well, i’m usually not,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intended.

“but this is… a little out of my comfort zone.”

lauren’s brows raise slightly, and she steps closer, her presence somehow steadying.

“really? you, out of your comfort zone? that’s hard to believe.”

you glance down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“it’s different when it’s not my crowd. football people, you know? i’m more used to influencer events or fashion shows, not… this.”

lauren chuckles softly.

“well, for what it’s worth, you look like you fit right in. maybe too well. people are already whispering about you.”

“great,” you mutter, trying to keep the sarcasm light but unable to mask your discomfort.

“exactly what i wanted.”

she tilts her head, studying you for a moment.

“it’ll die down eventually,” she says, her tone more serious now.

“but i get it. it’s weird, isn’t it? pretending like this? its going to be worse once we have to tell the media.”

you let out a small laugh, more out of relief that she said it than anything else.

“weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you admit.

“i mean, we haven’t even met before today, and now the world will think that we’re madly in love. it’s ridiculous.”

lauren nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“yeah, it is. but hey, we’re in this together, right?.”

you meet her gaze. she’s genuine, at least, and that’s something. “you’re right,” you say softly, your smile more genuine now.

“i guess we’ll figure it out.”

she grins, and the moment feels strangely natural despite the layers of pretense surrounding it. then she gestures toward the lounge area where the other players’ families are gathered.

“come on. let’s get you out of the corner. they’re going to think i’m a terrible girlfriend if i leave you standing here alone.”

you laugh, following her lead, the tension still present but slightly eased by her presence. it’s strange, walking beside her, knowing that the world will see something entirely different from what you feel inside.

for now, you push that thought aside and focus on surviving the night.

lj10

{tagged: y/n.l/n}

liked by y/n.l/n, lucybronze, and 131,216 others

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random28383 IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSS??????

y/nl8vr MY BABY ON THE THIRD SLIDE

chelseafcwfan7 I KNEW IT WAS LAUREN THAT WAS DATING Y/N

❤️ *liked by author*

y/n.l/n 😘😘

user91010 oh that's not..

meazalykov ??

user91010 @/meazalykov i did not expect lauren and y/n no shade..

meazalykov well too bad..

lucybronze hard launch era

catarina_macario 😍😍

~view all 10,378 comments~

the days throughout the next few weeks blur together in a haze of carefully curated social media posts and staged interactions. every picture, every story, every comment feels like a chess move, calculated for the public eye.

by now, the world has accepted the narrative—lauren james and y/n l/n, england’s newest power couple.

behind the scenes, it’s a different story entirely. you and lauren barely talk, only exchanging the occasional text when coordinating your next “public moment.” it’s efficient, professional even, but cold.

you can’t help but feel the growing weight of the disconnect between the facade you show the world and the reality of your relationship. or lack thereof.

yet, something about lauren lingers in your mind. she’s kind in the brief moments you’ve interacted—genuine, with a subtle humor that catches you off guard. you’ve noticed how her quiet demeanor shifts when she’s irritated, her sharp gaze and tense shoulders mirroring your own tells when you’re frustrated.

it’s a trait that feels too familiar, like looking into a mirror.

sitting on your couch late one evening, your phone in hand, you scroll mindlessly through instagram. you pause looking at the instagram story you posted with lauren, staring at the image, at the way lauren’s hand rests casually on your back in the mirror picture. you’d both laughed during that shoot. the memory stirs something in your chest—a quiet ache you can’t quite place.

she’s fascinating in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not just her talent on the pitch or her rising fame; it’s the little things. the way her smile softens when she’s genuinely amused. the thoughtful pauses she takes before she speaks. the way she seems to carry a quiet confidence, even in the chaos of the public’s attention.

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. this is ridiculous, you tell yourself. the truth is, you want to know her… the real her, not the polished version you’ve pieced together through brief interactions and online impressions.

you open your messages, your thumb hovering over her name. for a moment, you consider texting her something—anything—to start a conversation. however, the thought of overstepping, of complicating an already convoluted situation, keeps you frozen.

with a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it onto the couch beside you.

whatever this is, whatever it could be, will have to wait. for now, you’ll stick to the plan, no matter how much your thoughts keep drifting back to lauren.

y/n.l/n

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y/n.l/n good evening

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❤️ *liked by author*

lj10 good evening 😍😍

lucybronze its 11:09am..

y/n.l/n again, good evening lucy bronze

lucybronze good evening ig 😒

catarina_macario 🤩

random2728 lj and y/n having a private but not secret relationship 🥰

user72929 LOVE

random2728 there's something off about this..

random10989 wym?

leahwilliamsonn 😍

~view all 4,290 comments~

the bar is calming, music thrumming in the background as laughter and chatter fill the air. the dim lighting casts a warm glow over the group, everyone mingling and sipping on their drinks.

you’re perched on a stool near the bar, glancing occasionally at lauren, who’s leaning against the counter, chatting easily with one of her teammates, millie. she looks relaxed, her posture casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes flick to you every so often that has your stomach in knots.

“another drink?” her voice cuts through the noise, her tone light but carrying just enough warmth to catch your attention.

you look up at her, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“are you trying to get me drunk, lauren?”

she smirks, handing you the glass.

“maybe. or maybe i just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

you take a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol mixed with something sweeter—the way she’s looking at you.

“thanks,” you murmur.

“but i can return the favor. what are you drinking?”

“water,” she says simply, holding up her glass.

“staying hydrated.”

you tilt your head, studying her.

“water? not even one drink? you’re playing it too safe.”

she shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes.

“someone has to keep an eye on you.”

you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“oh, so now you’re my babysitter?”

“if that’s what you need,” she fires back smoothly, her grin widening.

there’s a moment, a charged pause, where the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background. lauren’s gaze lingers on you, and you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of it.

you lean in slightly, emboldened by the drinks and the energy between you.

“careful,” you tease, your voice dropping just enough to match the tension.

“someone might think you actually care.”

“and what if i do?” she counters, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.

you blink, caught off guard. the banter feels easy, natural, but there’s something underneath it that feels heavier—real. you search her face for a clue, but she keeps her expression steady, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

“then i’d say you’re doing a great job convincing everyone here,” you say finally, trying to match her confidence, even as your heart races.

her lips curve into a smirk.

“convincing you, too?”

your breath catches, and for a split second, you don’t know what to say. she watches you, her expression calm but undeniably smug, as though she knows exactly the effect she’s having on you.

“maybe,” you admit, keeping your voice steady despite the way your pulse thunders in your ears.

she chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and it leaves you feeling both flustered and unmoored. then, as if sensing the moment tipping into something too real, she pulls back slightly, raising her glass of water in a mock toast.

“to good acting,” she says, her voice light but her eyes holding yours a beat too long.

you clink your glass against hers, your stomach twisting as you try to discern whether she’s teasing or deflecting.

as the night wears on, you can’t shake the way her words, her gaze, her presence—all of it—lingers in the back of your mind. was it an act? or was there something more beneath the surface? you don’t know, and the uncertainty gets at you in a way you didn’t expect.

your drink—something sweet and forgettable—sits untouched in front of you, the condensation pooling around the glass on the counter. the room feels alive as you watch your surroundings again, as lauren’s teammates and your friends fill the dance floor, laughing, swaying to the music, completely at ease.

you, however, feel like a misplaced puzzle piece.

you’re here for a purpose, after all—not to let loose, but to be seen. you and lauren were both instructed to attend, to sit in proximity long enough for someone to notice, snap a photo, and post it online. the public needed to see the happy “couple” out and about, living their seemingly charmed lives.

that was the plan. it always is. however, something about tonight feels off.. or maybe it’s you that feels off.

your eyes drift to lauren, who’s sitting a few stools away at this point, talking to sjoeke. lauren’s body language is relaxed, her posture casual, and she exudes that effortless charm you’ve come to associate with her. her laugh carries over the music, soft but genuine, and it’s disarming.

you’ve seen her in a dozen different settings by now—on the pitch, in interviews, even in those staged photoshoots your teams made you do together—but she always carries the same quiet confidence.

“why do i care so much about her flirting earlier?” the thought hits you suddenly, and you blink, startled by your own realization. you know you shouldn’t care. it’s not like there’s anything real between you two. this is business, nothing more.

you’re about to take a sip of your drink when movement catches your eye. a brunette woman, her steps uneven and her smile a little too wide, weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for lauren.

she stops next to her, leaning on the counter for balance before sliding onto the stool beside her.

at first, you think nothing of it. people approach lauren all the time; it comes with the territory of her being a footballer.. then you notice the way the woman leans in, her body language screaming flirtation.

even over the music, you catch snippets of her words.

“i’ve been watching you all night,” the brunette says, her voice slurred but still clear enough to make your chest tighten.

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down your glass. but your attention snaps back when you hear lauren laugh—a soft, polite chuckle that quickly morphs into something warmer. she’s flirting back.

it’s subtle, nothing overt, but it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

you grip the edge of your stool, willing yourself to stay calm. this doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. this isn’t real. lauren is a footballer—a brilliant, talented, and undeniably attractive one. of course people are drawn to her. of course she’s going to flirt back.

you remind yourself that you’re just the one her pr team picked for this charade. nothing more.

the tightness in your chest refuses to go away. watching lauren lean in closer to the brunette, her smile softening, feels like a punch to the gut and worse, it makes you question things you don’t want to question.

like why you even care in the first place.

the noise of the bar feels suffocating, and before you know it, you’re sliding off the stool and heading toward the bathroom. the music dulls as you push through the door, and the quieter space is a welcome reprieve.

then, your eyes land on zion and amber.

your two friends are tucked into a corner of the bathroom, lost in their own world. amber’s hands are tangled in zion’s hair, and zion’s lips are pressed firmly against amber’s. they don’t even notice you until the door clicks shut behind you.

zion pulls back first, her face flushed. “y/n?” she asks, stepping forward.

“you okay?”

you hesitate, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. you don’t want to talk about it, but the lump in your throat makes it clear that you need to.

“not really,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

amber straightens, exchanging a quick glance with zion before walking over to you.

“what’s going on?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

just like that, everything comes pouring out. the fake relationship, the constant public scrutiny, the pressure to perform for an audience you didn’t ask for. you tell them about the brunette at the bar, how lauren flirted back, and how much it hurt even though it shouldn’t have. when you’re done, you feel a little lighter, but the knot in your chest remains.

zion crosses her arms, her brow furrowed in thought.

“y/n,” she says carefully, “are you… catching feelings for lauren?”

the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. your first instinct is to deny it, to brush it off as ridiculous. but the truth gnaws at you, undeniable and unrelenting. you don’t say anything, which is answer enough.

amber steps closer, placing a hand on your arm. “look,” she says gently, “you need to figure this out. either you tell her how you feel and end this whole fake thing, or you set some serious boundaries before you get hurt.”

you nod slowly, the reality of her words settling over you like a weight. “yeah,” you murmur.

“you’re right.”

as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the question lingers in your mind.

how did i even let this happen?

the days pass in a haze of avoidance and overthinking.

you bury yourself in work, content for tiktok, and anything else that keeps you busy enough to ignore the fluttering in your chest every time you think of lauren. it’s not hard to avoid her; after all, your only real interactions have been the orchestrated ones... lunches, coffee dates, the occasional walk in the park, all designed to feed the narrative.

without the need for those, you manage to keep your distance.

your phone buzzes occasionally with texts from lauren. nothing accusatory or probing, just polite questions about when your next outing is or casual jokes about how your pr teams must be getting impatient about when the next outing will be.

each message makes your stomach twist, the guilt poking at you. she doesn’t deserve to be avoided, but you can’t bring yourself to face her right now.

the bathroom conversation at the bar replays in your head on a loop. amber’s words, “set boundaries or tell her how you feel,” echo louder with each passing day. it feels like you’ve done neither, stuck somewhere in limbo, unsure of what to do.

all you know is that seeing lauren flirt with someone else hurt more than it should have. and now, it’s painfully clear why.

you caught feelings.

the realization had hit you like a train that night, leaving you panicked. you’ve spent years building walls around yourself, keeping relationships at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in after your last heartbreak. yet here you are, feelings growing for someone who isn’t even truly yours.

lauren’s face lingers in your mind far more often than you’d like. the chelsea player’s quiet humor, her thoughtfulness, the way her smile lights up when she’s genuinely happy.. it’s all etched into your brain, no matter how much you try to push it away.

the worst part? you know this is going nowhere. fake relationships don’t magically become real, and even if they did, there’s no guarantee lauren feels the same.

you sit on your couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. the notifications pile up—comments on your latest post, messages from friends, an email from your team about your next public appearance.

you can’t bring yourself to focus on any of it. all you can think about is how scared you are that you’ve made a mistake, one that’s far too late to undo.

hours later.. around midnight.. you’re curled up on your couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as you dig into a bowl of rice and chicken. the dim glow of the tv lights up the room, the suspenseful soundtrack of squid game filling the air.

it’s the perfect distraction, engrossing enough to keep your thoughts at bay, even if just for a little while.

then, a faint knock interrupts the quiet. at first, you assume it’s coming from the show, but when it happens again, you freeze. your eyes flick to the door. you weren’t expecting anyone, and frankly, you’ve been avoiding everyone for the last few days.

the knocking persists, steady and deliberate, until you reluctantly pause the show and get up.

your heart races as you peek through the peephole. the sight of lauren standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, sends your mind spiraling.

what is she doing here? how did she get my address?

you open the door slowly, your confusion evident.

“lauren?” you ask, your voice wary.

“what are you doing here? how did you even know where i live?”

she offers a small smile, almost sheepish.

“hey. i asked madeline. hope that’s okay.”

you step aside, letting her in despite your confusion at why she would go so far to ask your mutual friend what your address was. lauren looks around, her eyes landing on the paused screen of squid game.

“season two?” she asks, nodding toward the tv.

“is it any good? haven’t had the chance to watch it yet because of training.”

“so far, yeah,” you reply, your tone cautious.

“like the first season. but… why are you here?”

she turns to face you, her expression soft but serious.

“i came to talk to you. you’ve been avoiding everyone.. me included.. and it’s not like you. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you try to brush it off, waving a hand dismissively.

“i’m fine. just needed some space, that’s all.”

lauren doesn’t budge. she crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly.

“come on, y/n. i know something’s wrong. you can’t just disappear like that and expect no one to notice.”

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head.

“what does it matter? you probably have a real date to get to or something.”

she frowns, her brows knitting together.

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a real date. why would you say that?”

your heart pounds in your chest, but you push forward, your voice tinged with frustration.

“do you have a real partner, lauren? someone you’re seeing while we’re doing this… this fake thing?”

lauren’s confusion deepens.

“what? no. where is this even coming from?”

the tension boils over, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“because it’s driving me insane, lauren! this whole fake relationship thing.. it’s messing with my head. i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s not just for the cameras or the public or whatever. i caught feelings, okay? within these few months of pretending to be your girlfriend, i somehow…. god, i don’t even know. i like you and i know that’s not part of the plan, so if this makes things too complicated, we can stop. i get it.”

the room goes quiet, your words hanging heavily in the air. lauren’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you brace yourself for rejection. but then her expression shifts… softening into something that looks like relief.

“wait,” she says, stepping closer.

“are you serious?”

you nod, your heart in your throat.

“yeah. and if that’s too much, just say the word, and we can call this off. i’ll tell the pr team about the situation myself.”

lauren shakes her head quickly. “no, no. you’re not calling anything off.” her voice is steady, her gaze locked onto yours.

“if we’re going to stop the fake relationship, it’s only because we’re starting a real one.”

your brows knit together, confusion washing over you.

“what are you saying?”

she takes a breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

“i’m saying that i’ve caught feelings too. you’re kind, funny, and beautiful.. completely yourself no matter the situation. you’re the kind of person who i love spending my time with, even for something as ridiculous as a fake relationship, this has been the best part of my year.”

you stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up.

“you… like me?”

“yeah,” she says, her smile widening.

“i like you, y/n. for real, nothing fake.”

the tension in your chest finally loosens, replaced by something warm and overwhelming.

“so, what do we do now?”

lauren grins, her expression brighter than you’ve ever seen it.

“first, i’m calling the pr team and telling them we’re done with this fake stuff. after that, we’ll figure it out. together.”

you let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over you.

“okay. yeah. let’s do that.”

she glances at the tv, her grin turning playful.

“before that, can we watch the rest of this? i’ve been meaning to start season two.”

you laugh, gesturing to the couch.

“sure, but you’re sharing my blanket.”

lauren plops down beside you, pulling the blanket over her legs as the two of you settle in. for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

also real..

masterlist

happy very early birthday aj 😆

#lauren james #lauren james x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #chelsea fcw #engwnt #lucy bronze

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gor3-hound · 3 days ago

Text

KISS AND MAKE UP — NAOYA + TOJI

a/n: another commission for my faveeee @nexysworld. MWAH. just a heads up, naoya is referred to as reader n toji’s cousin just cause second cousin sounded weird in writing idk.

cw: 18+ content. daddy-daughter incest (toji), cousin incest (toji/naoya-ish. naoya/reader). threats + slapping (directed at naoya). misogyny. kinda maybe brief dub-con. p in v. oral (f + m receiving). fem!reader. slapping. hair pulling. creampie.

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Your dad has been gone for the better part of a week when he decides to wander into the house one morning — surprisingly early giving his typical track record of showing up well past midnight. You’re nursing a cup of coffee, nodding in greeting as his gaze lands on you.

“My cousin is coming over later.” Toji huffs as soon as he steps into the kitchen, lazily leaning against the doorway. Irritation is written all over his features. “Play nice, y'hear? I don't need gramps bitchin’ at me. Y'know what Naoya is like with his daddy.”

Naoya. The mention of his name alone is enough to have you scowling, your expression twisting in a similar manner to Toji’s. That only seems to annoy your father further, an exasperated sigh spilling past his lips. “N’ don’t give me that look, kid. Or him, for that matter. I ain’t dealin’ with another one of his rants about how I raised my daughter with a shitty attitude.”

“He thinks any woman who breathes too loud isn’t raised right.” You counter, huffing as you set your coffee down on your counter.

“Ain’t my problem,” your dad replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “You only have to see him once or twice a year. Suck it up.”

“How long is he even staying?”

Toji is an asshole, but he isn’t evil. He feels a little bad, considering how much you and your cousin tend to butt heads. His lips thin at your question, pressing together as he walks over to ruffle your hair and pull you against his side. “Couple ‘a days. Sorry, kid.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Naoya’s gotten at least a hundred times worse since you last saw him. It’d been a year or so since you were forced to be in his presence for more than an hour at a time, and now that he’s hit his twenties and has been getting more duties in the clan, he seems to think he’s God’s greatest gift. He’s not even a full-year older than you, and yet he loves giving you the whole ‘respect your elders, girl’ spiel everytime you so much as frown in his presence.

He’s been here for a day, and you’re already counting down the minutes until he leaves. Your dad said an important job came up — an excuse to escape Naoya, you’re certain — so you don’t even have him to try and attempt to get Naoya to ease up.

You might genuinely go insane before your dad decides to show up again. If you hear him say that you ‘missed a spot’ while making you clean up his mess one more goddamn time, you’re going to end up in a cell.

“If I’m going to cook for you,” you say in a low tone, swallowing thickly to attempt not to snap. If only to save the lecture you’d inevitably get from Naoya, then your father, and then the head of the clan when Naoya eventually went whining to his dad. “You can at least take the plate to the kitchen after.” “And why should I?” He scoffs, that insufferable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he regards you with an icy stare. “You’re here. Isn’t this kind of thing the purpose of your… species?”

The muscle of your jaw ticks at his words. You can’t even muster up the strength to force a polite smile on your face, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. Better to act like a proper lady than retaliate and have him being even more insufferable than usual. Your silence almost seems to piss him off more — you’re starting to think he gets a rise out of seeing you act out.

“You know, the women of this family are disgraceful.” He continues. “Not one of you was raised with proper manners. My father is too soft on all of you. When I am head of this clan, I plan to—”

“Please. Your own dad thinks you’re an asshole. He’s just waiting for an excuse to pass it onto someone else. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” You bite out, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silence fills the room for a few tense seconds. Naoya just… blinks at you, shock written over his features. Shock quickly turns to disbelief, as if the thought of you talking back to him was completely out of his realm of possibility. “Pathetic. You can’t even hear simple facts without growing emotional. The audacity you have to speak to me in such a way is…”

He trails off, lips curling into a sneer as he looks at you. “You should consider yourself lucky I even allow you to speak in my presence, you insolent little—”

“One more fuckin’ word.” The cold voice that cuts through Naoya’s words aren’t your own, but it is a voice you immediately recognise. Your head turns to face your father, the man standing in the doorway with a stony expression.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Naoya replies, though you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.”I was simply correcting the behaviour you refuse to address. My father wouldn’t stand for this treatment of the heir of the—”

“Apologise to my fuckin’ daughter, or I’ll send you back to your daddy in a body bag, kid.” The words aren’t an empty threat — something you and Naoya seem to realise at the exact same time. You watch closely as your cousin swallows his pride, gaze falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, words barely audible. It’s a pathetic attempt, really. One your own father isn’t nearly satisfied with.

“Oh, now you wanna keep quiet, huh? Known you since you were a fuckin’ infant, and I’ve never known you to to know when to shut the fuck up. Say sorry properly.” Toji snaps. Naoya opens his mouth to give another half-hearted apology, but Toji is faster as he speaks up again. “Better be a good one.”

Your dad pauses briefly to think, then he’s stepping closer. “Y’know what? I think you should show you’re really sincere. Get on your knees, and say sorry to my kid.”

Naoya does an exceptionally good impression of a fish — mouth opening and closing multiple times as he stares blankly up at Toji. “You… You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t fuckin’ try me today. I’ve had shitty luck with the races, and I’d love to blow off some steam. I’m sick of you and that old man treatin’ us like shit.”

Naoya swallows hard, slowly rising from your battered sofa. He shifts slightly towards you, refusing to meet your gaze as he sinks down to his knees on the floor. “I apologise.”

“Better,” Toji hums, moving to stand behind you, guiding you to the spot Naoya was just sitting. He’s practically kneeling at your feet now, expression indecipherable. “Sit down, baby. Let’s get him to make it up to you, yeah?”

The tone of voice makes you shiver, eyes flicking up to your dad’s face. Between his soft coo and the way he’s looking at you, you feel your cheeks heat. It’s a familiar expression, but never one you’ve received when in the company of others. “Spread your legs for me, good girl.”

Naoya’s head snaps up then, eyes wide as he looks at Toji. You’re unable to school your own expression as you gaze down at Naoya, taking in the way he’s acting. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, finally having him knocked down a few pegs. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, your heart fluttering nervously as you follow your dad’s command.

“Show her how sorry you really are, hmm?” Toji purrs, all low as he takes a handful of Naoya’s dyed hair, forcing his face against your clothed cunt. He stiffens, but then he’s quickly melting against you, nuzzling closer to your heat.

“Not so talkative now.” Toji scoffs, squatting down as he uses his grip as leverage to make Naoya rub against you more. The action draws a soft whine from the back of your throat, your head falling back against the sofa. “Got you actin’ like a well-trained dog, just from the scent of some pussy? You really have that much trouble gettin’ girls in bed, huh?”

Naoya bristles at his words, but he’s visibly more docile than usual as he allows Toji to guide him against you. You’re getting impatient yourself now, squirming against the cushions.

“You want a taste, cousin?” And Naoya nods within seconds, eagerly opening his mouth and exhaling harshly. The hot air fans against the damp fabric of your panties in a way that instantly has heat shooting to your core. “Always bein’ a fuckin’ brat, think you even deserve it?”

Toji pulls Naoya back, and you find satisfaction in the pathetic little whine he lets out, even if you find yourself immediately missing his presence between your legs.

“Daddy, please.” You breathe, voice a mix of needy and pleading. You instantly see the way he softens — something you only ever really get the luxury of seeing — before he lets go of Naoya’s hair.

“Go on, then.” Toji murmurs, and Naoya doesn’t even blink before his fingers are desperately grasping at your skirt, bunching up the fabric at your waist and tugging your panties to the side before he dives in.

A low, breathless ‘fuck’ spills past his lips as his tongue licks a long, wet stripe along your dripping cunt, collecting the wetness that had gathered there. He groans against you, nose nudging at your clit as he tongue-fucks you in earnest. His lashes flutter as he gazes up at you, the taste of you making him feel a little light-headed.

You’ve never seen him so invested in anything. He has a lazy sort of arrogance that follows his every action, but he looks like nothing more than an over-excited puppy as he laps at you with an almost feverish intensity. His eyes are heavy lidded, fingers gripping onto your legs with a harshness that makes you think you’ll be left with bruises as a reminder of what happened.

“Make her cum, and I might even let you have a treat,” Toji teases. Your peak is rapidly approaching by the time his voice takes your attention away from Naoya. You’d almost forgotten your dad was only feet away, watching the both of you closely. He’s clearly enjoying this — if the tent stretching his pants obscenely was anything to go by.

Naoya is only spurred on by his words, dragging his mouth upwards until his lips suction around your clit. He sucks eagerly, tongue flicking against the swollen bud until you’re writhing and crying out beneath him. The way Toji sees it, the two of you have never gotten on so well.

“Nao, please… need… just a little more.” You babble, hand reaching down to tug at his hair. He moans against you, tongue pressing flat against your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, body tensing as you gush all over his tongue. He keeps licking until he’s tugged away, hazy-eyed and hard as a rock.

“My… treat?” Naoya mutters hoarsely. He’s never one to miss out on… anything that benefits him, really. He’s twitching in his trousers, leaking pre-cum steadily, and he’s just about ready to accept anything that’ll let him get off.

“Always an impatient brat.” Toji says under his breath, large hands coming down to position you on the sofa — hands and knees against the cushions — before stripping off his pants and boxers. “Think Naoya’s sorry, baby. Wanna return the favour while daddy has a turn on your pretty little pussy?”

You’re still panting from your previous orgasm, but the idea of being stuffed from both ends has your cunt pulsing. You flinch a little as your dad slides into you, whimpering softly as your walls flutter around him. You’re still sensitive, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans.

“Aww, cute. Tryna be quiet, baby?” Toji coos, thrusting forward hard, just once, to make you squeal. “Naoya can help with that, yeah? Gonna let him fill that mouth?”

You nod, and Naoya considers that permission. You’ve never seen someone move so fast, his hands hastily pulling at his clothes. He slides onto the couch, kneeling in front of you.

The only issue with his mouth no longer being preoccupied is he’s now capable of speaking again, and he makes that known to the entire room. He slowly slides his length past your lips, head titling back as the tight, wet heat of your mouth engulfs him.

“Fuck, that’s good. I knew there had to be a reason my cousin kept you around, considering how useless you are at everything else.” As soon as the words leave his lips, the sharp, harsh sound of skin of skin fills the room. You don’t realise what happened at first, but Toji hips stutter at the exact moment Naoya lets out a sharp hiss of pain.

Your dad hit him. Hard enough to have his cheek glowing red, his head cocked to the side from the force of the smack. You expect a tantrum, another speech. You get neither.

His hips buck so violently his cock lodges itself deep in your throat, making you gag. Your eyes water at you look up at him, his pupils blown as a smug smile stretches across his face.

“Weird little freak.” Your dad grunts, still fucking into you with further. His hands find your hips, pulling you back against his thrusts as you drool eagerly all over Naoya’s cock.

“Guilty,” Naoya purrs in reply, words cocky and self-assured as he threads his hands in your hair to hold you steady, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck your face.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talkin’ to my daughter, or I’ll make you sit in the corner and watch me play with her instead.” Toji growls.

At least that seems to quieten him down, if only so he doesn’t have to give up the pleasure your mouth is bringing him. Naoya’s thighs begin to twitch at the same time his grip in your hair tightens. You work harder at licking along his length, sucking eagerly as he fucks your throat.

“Come… coming, fuck.” Naoya hisses, forces the entirety of his length down your throat. You choke as his seed fills your throat, unable to do anything but swallow with your nose pressed firmly against his pelvis. You cough and splutter when he finally pulls out, a mix of cum and spit coating your lips and chin as he collapses in the corner of the couch.

He watches lazily as your dad fucks you. Toji takes the opportunity to push your chest into the couch, nuzzling the nape of your neck to let you hear the quiet grunts he lets out against your skin as his chest presses against your back. His grip on your hips is tight, yanking you back to meet each of his thrusts.

His cock hits that spongy spot inside of you that has you positively mewling with each jolt of his hips, his lips hot and hungry as he trails kisses along your skin. “Fuck, baby. So pretty. Such a good girl for me, so good… go on, cum for me, sweetheart. Show Naoya how good you are for daddy.”

His words are your undoing, a broken cry leaving you as you cream around his cock, slick coating his length and dripping down his balls. He thrusts lazily a few more times, biting down on your shoulder as he cums deep inside your trembling cunt.

You flop down almost immediately, falling boneless against the couch. Your head falls against Naoya’s thigh, chest heaving with each panting breath you let out.

“Might as well come up here,” Naoya hums with surprising softness, arm falling away from his side languidly. It’s about as open as an invitation to snuggle as you’re going to get.

You shift up against his body, dropping down against his chest with a tired sigh. Toji just laughs, leaning back in his heels. “Christ. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Naoya glares at him, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes are already shut, and Naoya’s close a moment later. Only moments later, you’re both passed out.

“Brats.” Toji grumbles under his breath as he pulls a throw blanket around your sleeping forms, an unmistakable fondness to his tone.

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