#the music makes me think that maybe everything will be okay in the end

[cheftsunoda]

secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

part six

extremely wordy

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

max verstappen x hamilton reader

part one here

part two here

part three here

part four here

part five here

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

fc : tyla

—

It started with my phone vibrating violently on the marble kitchen counter.

Three missed calls from Solana.

One from my publicist.

And a text from Carmen that just read

'Babe- don't look online just yet.'

So, naturally, I did.

I opened Instagram and saw it.

A blurry, long-lens photo of me and Max, not a tabloid rumor or a gossip item this time, but undeniable proof. Me tucked into his chest on a balcony in St. Barts. A kiss at the corner of my jaw. His hand across my belly. The caption didn’t need to say much.

EXCLUSIVE: Max Verstappen’s Secret Wife and Their Baby on the Way — Close Source Confirms It’s Lewis Hamilton’s Sister-- Ayana Hamilton.

Underneath, the watermark: Provided by Jos Verstappen.

My knees buckled. Literally. I had to sit down.

I stared at the screen, heart thudding, the walls of the apartment suddenly feeling like they were pressing in.

Max’s footsteps came from the hallway a second later. “I just got off the sim—what happened?”

I didn’t say anything. I just turned the screen toward him.

His eyes scanned the headline. His jaw locked so tight it looked like it hurt.

He didn’t say “What the fuck?” or “How did they get this?” or even “Are you okay?”

He stood still.

Too still.

He mumbled.

“He crossed the line.”

I’d seen Max angry before. At races, at strategy decisions, in traffic.

But this was different. Quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.

He pulled out his phone, thumb moving fast over the screen.

I stood slowly. “Max. Don’t call him when you’re this mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he said evenly. “I’m done.”

He pressed the call button.

I could hear it ring through the speaker. Once. Twice.

“Max,” Jos answered, tone neutral, like he didn’t just nuke our privacy.

“How could you,” Max said, calm but sharp. “How could you do that to her? To us?”

There was a pause. “You weren’t being honest. I had a right to—”

“You had no right,” Max cut in, voice rising. “You sold your son’s life to a gossip rag for what? Control? To punish me for not dragging Ayana through a public circus like you dragged my mom? Like you dragged me?”

My throat tightened.

“You think leaking our private life would scare her off? Embarrass her?” Max’s voice broke a little. “She’s stronger than you’ll ever understand.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. And then—

“You’re making a mistake.”

“No,” Max said. “I’m protecting my family. And that means keeping them far from you.”

He hung up. Just like that.

He turned toward me, eyes burning — not with rage now, but with something that cracked my heart open.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve cut him out months ago. I thought maybe if we stayed quiet, he'd stay out of it. I was wrong.”

I crossed the space between us and buried myself in his chest. “This isn’t your fault.”

He held me tighter than ever. Then we heard the door. Lewis walked in like a storm — sunglasses still on, hoodie pulled low, phone in his hand. He didn’t say hello. Just marched straight into the kitchen, laid the phone face down, and looked between us.

“He really did it,” he said.

Max nodded once. I watched Lewis carefully. There was something unreadable in his eyes, some quiet calculation. But instead of saying “I told you so,” or unloading his own fury, Lewis stepped forward and looked Max square in the face.

“You’re not walking away from her, right?”

Max blinked. “What? No.”

“She’s pregnant. And I know the last twenty-four hours just exploded, but if you’re in this for real, Max…” Lewis paused. “Then I need to know you’ll fight for her harder than anyone.”

Max didn’t hesitate. “I’d give everything for her. You already know that.”

Lewis looked at me, then back at Max. And finally, finally, he nodded. Not a small one. A full, deliberate tilt — the kind of unspoken approval that meant more than words ever could. Then he pulled me into his chest, and I nearly cried.

“You’re not alone in this, Ayana,” he whispered. “Whatever happens next, I’m here. You’ve got me. And you’ve got him.”

He looked at Max again.

“Just don’t make me regret it.”

Max reached across and gripped Lewis’s hand.

“I won’t. I swear to you."

And in that room, beneath the storm of headlines and betrayal, we found something stronger. Family. Chosen and blood. United. And ready to face whatever came next.

—

It was late — that heavy kind of late where the city outside the windows had gone quiet, and the only sounds inside were the occasional soft clink of a mug or the rustle of fabric as someone shifted on the couch.

I was curled up in my favorite oversized cardigan, knees tucked to my chest, a mug of peppermint tea going cold in my hands. Max sat close beside me, one arm draped across the back of the couch like it belonged there. Solana was perched on the edge of the coffee table, in leggings and a hoodie, eyes wide and thoughtful. Lewis leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed, quiet but present. My phone sat on the coffee table. Still open to the email from Vogue.

‘We’d love to offer Ayana a full cover profile. Her story, in her words. No restrictions. Print and digital. Let us help her take back the narrative.’

It had been sitting there for two days. But now… it was time.

“I think I want to do it,” I said softly, voice steady even though my chest felt like it was caving in a little.

Solana was the first to react — her hand shot up immediately. “YES. Finally. It’s time the world hears your version, not Jos’ nasty leak or the tabloids stitching together guesses.”

Lewis’ eyes didn’t move from me. “You sure?”

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. Every time I see another headline or some tweet with ten thousand likes from someone who thinks they know me… it just—” I sighed. “It’s exhausting. And now that I’m… carrying this baby, it feels bigger than just me. I want to own the story before it owns me.”

Max reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I’ll support you no matter what you decide. But if you do this, I want it to be on your terms. No filters. No fake narratives.”

I squeezed his hand. “Exactly. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to talk about the music, the marriage, the baby. And I want to talk about what it means to love someone in this world who people think I should never have been with.”

Solana let out a soft “mmm” like she was already planning the visuals. “You in a sheer custom gown with your belly barely showing, candles everywhere, soft lighting… You and Max holding hands in one shot, but the focus is on you. Centered. Empowered.”

Lewis finally moved, walking toward us with the kind of calm that always meant he’d been processing something deeply.

“If you do this…” he started, then looked at me with that older-brother stare that never softened, “you need to be ready for every reaction. Good, bad, cruel. Once it’s out there, it’s out there. No take-backs.”

“I know,” I said.

“I’ll stand behind you no matter what,” he said. “But just remember: the world will try to define you the second you give them something to hold.”

I looked at him, at Solana, at Max — at the family I had built and fought for and bled with.

“They’ve already tried,” I said. “But this time? I get to speak.”

Max kissed the back of my hand. “You were born for this.”

Solana reached for her phone like she was already texting a stylist. “We’re manifesting an iconic shoot. Pregnancy power. Music royalty. Married to a four-time world champion? Oh, the girls are going to SCREAM.” I laughed for the first time all night.

The story wasn’t breaking — I was telling it.

—

ayanaaa

liked by sza, lewishamilton, lando & 10,389,480 others.

ayanaaa : gettin lost in u

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

We left before sunrise, the city still asleep beneath the soft amber haze of streetlamps and mist. Max didn’t say much — he just tossed our bags into the back of the convertible, handed me a decaf coffee, and drove.

He always knew when I needed silence more than reassurance. And right now, I didn’t want words. I just wanted air. Stillness. Something that didn’t ask me to explain myself or perform or brace for impact.

We drove for hours along the coast, the ocean to our right turning bluer with every mile, cliffs and wildflower-covered hills rolling past us like scenes from a movie I didn’t want to end. My curls whipped around my face, my hand trailing out the window, catching the breeze like I could bottle it for later.

By the time we pulled into the tucked-away little cove, the sun was high and warm. It was hidden between rocky cliffs and overgrown brush, no signs, no luxury yachts — just sand and water and a peace I hadn’t felt in weeks.

“This used to be my hideout,” Max said, killing the engine. “Before F1 got loud. Before the world started watching.”

I turned to him, raising a brow. “And now you’re sharing it with me?”

He shrugged, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are the world I want to disappear with.”

God, this man.

We kicked off our shoes and walked barefoot down the winding path, bags slung over our shoulders, silence stretching golden between us. The sand was soft and pale, the waves calm and endless, glittering in the sun like someone had poured champagne over the horizon.

Max laid out a blanket and sank onto it, legs stretched, arms propped behind him. I joined him a beat later, leaning back against his chest, his arms wrapping instinctively around my middle. My hands rested over his, just above the place where a new life had quietly started to grow.

It was still surreal sometimes.

Not just the baby but the fact that we’d managed to hold onto this… us.

“I keep thinking about the Vogue interview,” I murmured after a while, watching the clouds drift lazily above us. “How much I should say. How much I want to say.”

Max didn’t respond right away. He just rubbed small, slow circles into the side of my arm, like he was tracing thoughts into my skin before speaking them aloud.

“You don’t owe anyone your full story,” he said softly. “But if it helps you to tell it, if it gives you power back — then do it. But only if it’s for you. Not for the headlines. Not for their forgiveness.”

I turned in his arms, resting my chin on his chest so I could look at him. “A part of me is tired of hiding. I want to say it. All of it. The love, the fear, the mess, the joy. I want them to know it didn’t just happen to me — I chose it.”

He smiled gently. “Then say it. Loudly. Clearly. And know I’ll be right there when you do.”

Later, we walked along the shoreline, waves crashing around our ankles. I let my skirt get soaked, laughing as it clung to my legs, and Max reached for my hand, swinging it playfully between us.

We found a tide pool full of tiny, glinting shells. I crouched down to inspect one, and Max watched me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world — not anyone’s sister or secret. Just… me.

That night, after the sun slipped beneath the horizon and painted the sky in rose and indigo, we lay tangled on the blanket under a thousand stars. No noise. No cameras. Just the ocean breathing steady in the dark and the feel of Max’s heartbeat under my cheek.

“Whatever happens next,” I whispered, “don’t let me forget this. How quiet the world can be. How simple.”

He kissed the top of my head, his hand on my stomach. “This is ours, Ayana. The noise can’t take it.”

—

I woke up before the sun, my body buzzing with nerves long before my feet hit the floor.

Today wasn’t just another shoot. It wasn’t another press obligation or fashion moment or music roll-out. This was it — the day I stopped letting the headlines speak for me. The day I chose to show up in every form I’ve ever been: wife, sister, daughter, artist… and now, quietly, a mother-to-be.

The Vogue team had taken over a private estate in the hills above Cannes — stone walls wrapped in ivy, gardens blooming in wild disobedience, glass-walled rooms washed in soft morning light. The kind of place where stories were meant to be told.

I was already in the makeup chair when Lewis arrived. He slipped through the door in sunglasses and a navy hoodie, greeting the crew with quiet smiles, then came to stand behind me. He didn’t say anything for a while — just looked at me in the mirror.

“You ready?” he asked, voice low.

I looked back at my reflection — skin glowing, curls pinned in soft loops, my cheekbones a little sharper than usual, but my eyes steady.

“I think I’ve never been more ready for anything,” I said, and meant it.

He smiled then — proud, soft. “Let’s make them listen.”

His eyes darted down to my exposed stomach and I watched as his smile grew.

"You're showing." He said and on instinct I reached for my growing bump.

"I guess I am." I said with a small smile.

Solana arrived next, wrapped in a cherry-red trench and a silk headscarf. She immediately took over a corner of the dressing room, talking to the stylist about fabric and lighting and “emotional texture.” Leave it to her to make vibes a tangible art direction.

Then Max.

He slipped in without fanfare, dressed down in a soft sweater and jeans, hair still slightly wet from his morning shower. He caught my eyes from across the room and gave me a look — gentle, grounding, full of the quiet pride only he ever gave me. Just because I was his.

The shoot began with wide garden shots — the kind of romantic, painterly scenes Vogue loved. The gown they put me in was custom: sheer and golden, made of layered silk and hand-sewn crystals that caught the light with every movement. It wasn’t maternity-wear, not exactly.

I stood barefoot in the grass as the photographer adjusted his lens. I could feel Lewis watching me from just off-frame, arms crossed, head tilted. Solana had climbed up onto a stone bench and was directing angles like she was running the set herself. Max stayed back, just behind the cameras, hands in his pockets, eyes never leaving me.

“This is your power pose,” the photographer called. “You’re not looking at us. We’re just lucky to be here.”

I turned my face toward the sun. I let the wind take my dress, the light bathe my skin. And for a moment — I didn’t think about the headlines, the leaked stories, the judgment. I thought about the baby. About Max’s hand on my belly the night before. About my music, my future, my truth. This was my moment. Not stolen. Not handed to me. Claimed.

The interview came later, indoors, where the estate’s library had been transformed into a soft-lit studio with velvet chairs and cameras hidden behind warm lamp glow. The writer, a soft-spoken woman with kind eyes, let me speak freely.

“First of all,” she began, voice warm, “thank you for doing this. We know it’s a rare thing for you to sit down in front of the camera.”

I smiled. “It’s a rare thing for me to stop moving.”

We both laughed, and then she gently leaned in, recorder balanced on her knee.

“Let’s start here,” She said. “You’ve been a successful producer and artist for nearly 6 years. But most of the world only recently started calling you by name. Was that by choice?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. I love being behind the curtain. I always have. When your brother is Lewis Hamilton, you learn early what public life takes from you. I didn’t want the spotlight — I just wanted the music.”

“But now the spotlight is very much on you,” she said. “Is it uncomfortable?”

I thought for a moment. “Sometimes. But I think what’s shifted is... I’m choosing it. And that makes all the difference.”

She flipped a page in her notebook. “Let’s talk about the headlines. The ones about Max. The secret relationship. The secret marriage. And now... a baby on the way.”

My heart fluttered, but I didn’t flinch. Not anymore.

“Yes,” I said simply. “All of that is true.”

“How did it start?”

I smiled to myself, glancing down. “It started quietly. We met at an event in Monaco, and I don’t know what I expected, but... he was calm. Gentle. A little intense, but in a way that felt safe. He didn’t care who my brother was. Or what I did. He just asked me what I loved. And then listened.”

She tilted her head. “When did you know it was real?”

I looked toward the window for a moment, the memory still soft and gold in my mind. “After a long studio session, I was exhausted and stressed, and he just sat on the floor beside me while I mixed a track. Didn’t talk. Just sat there, doing nothing, like being next to me was enough. I think that’s when I knew.”

She smiled. “And marriage? That was in Vegas?”

I laughed lightly. “Yes. After the Grand Prix. It was impulsive, but it didn’t feel reckless. It felt... like we were finally doing something for us. Not the press. Not the teams. Not the families. Just us.”

She hesitated, then asked gently, “Were you scared to tell Lewis?”

I nodded. “More than anything. He’s my best friend. My anchor. And I knew how the optics would look from the outside — Max and Lewis haven’t always been easy to put in the same sentence. But Lewis loves me more than he hates the drama. And he saw the way Max treats me. That was enough.”

A pause between us.

“And Jos?”

I shifted slightly. “I won’t speak much on that. I’ll just say this: not everyone has the emotional capacity to understand a love that doesn’t benefit them. Max has made his choice, and it’s not conditional.”

“Was the pregnancy planned?”

I exhaled, a smile tugging at my lips. “No. But it’s the best surprise I’ve ever received.”

She waited a beat. “And now? What are you most afraid of?”

I blinked at the question. I wasn’t expecting it. But I didn’t shy away.

“Losing myself. Or more honestly — being misrepresented. I’m not some dramatic headline or backroom scandal. I’m a woman in a powerful position, who dared to love someone unexpected, dared to protect that love, and dared to build a life on her own terms. I just don’t want to be flattened.”

“And what are you most proud of?” she asked.

I didn’t even need to think.

“That I kept choosing love. Even when it was hard. Even when it cost me quiet. Even when it wasn’t ‘smart.’ I kept choosing it. And it kept choosing me back.”

Silence followed. Not awkward, but reverent. Like the moment deserved room to echo.

Then she smiled.

“I think the world’s about to meet the real Ayana Hamilton.”

I smiled back, hand drifting gently to my stomach.

“About time.”

—

After the interview, the crew drifted out, the photographer hugging me goodbye, the writer thanking me for my honesty. But I barely heard them. My head was spinning—not with panic, but with clarity. I turned to find Lewis, Max, and Solana waiting across the room. My people.

Lewis stepped forward first. He opened his arms without a word and wrapped me in a hug so fierce and silent I felt tears sting the back of my throat again.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered against my hair. “That was everything.”

Solana pulled me into her arms so tight. “My best friend is Vogue cover material and carrying F1 royalty. I’m sorry, is anyone else doing it like you? I’ll wait.”

She made me chuckle and pressed a kiss lightly to my cheek and twirling me towards Max. He didn’t say much. He just came up behind me, pressed his hand gently to my back, and kissed the top of my head.

“You did it, liefde,” he whispered. “And the world heard you.”

And for the first time since everything exploded — the marriage, the baby, the leaks — I felt… calm. No more hiding. No more waiting to be found out. This was the beginning of the story we were finally writing ourselves.

—

By sunrise, the world knew. The Vogue piece had gone live at midnight sharp. The images, sun-drenched, golden, untouchably soft, flooded every feed. My name, my words, my story. Not speculation. Not rumor. Me. It was everywhere.

On my phone screen, the notifications blurred into a constant vibration. Mentions. Shares. Headlines.

Ayana Hamilton Steps into Her Power.

Secret Wife. Soon-to-Be Mother. Producer Royalty.

I wasn’t hiding anymore. And it seemed… people didn’t want me to. Some posts praised the quiet strength in my words. Others dissected every quote about Max, every emotion on my face, every layered meaning behind lines that had taken me months to live and minutes to say. Most were kind. Some weren’t. But I’d made peace with that.

Lewis sent me a text first.

'You did what only you could do. You told the truth and made it art. Proud of you always. Love you more than words, A.'

Solana called after sunrise, yelling joyfully down the line while her assistant shouted about streaming numbers for the album.

“Girl, you shut the internet DOWN. Like… Vogue.com CRASHED. You made history and looked fine doing it.”

But I didn’t feel chaotic or overwhelmed. I felt… still. The kind of quiet you get when the storm finally passes and you realize you’re still standing. And then I turned — and saw Max in the doorway of our bedroom, barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Morning,” I said softly.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just crossed the room slowly, set the tea on the nightstand, and knelt beside the bed. He placed the phone down and took my hand.

“I read it twice,” he said quietly. “Then again out loud.”

“Too much?”

He shook his head, eyes on mine. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “People are going to have opinions.”

“Let them,” he said without hesitation. “They don’t get to define you. They never did.”

I studied his face — the quiet tension in his jaw, the pride that softened it, the subtle emotion that clouded his eyes.

“You’re crying,” I whispered.

“No,” he said, with the smallest, sheepish smile. “I’m just sweating. From my… eyes.”

I laughed, and he leaned forward, resting his head against my stomach. His palm followed, splayed gently over the small swell.

“You told the world,” he murmured, lips brushing the fabric of my shirt. “And you didn’t hide me.”

“I never wanted to,” I said softly, threading my fingers into his hair. “But I wanted it to be ours first.”

He looked up at me. “Thank you for letting me be yours. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when it got hard.”

I smiled, eyes full. “You always deserved it. We just had to fight for it.”

And then, with the world still spinning loud outside, articles updating by the minute, paparazzi likely camped outside the gates — we stayed there. In the center of our chaos. In the quiet.

—

maxverstappen1 started following ayanaaa.

ayanaaa started following maxverstappen1.

—

ayanaaa and vogue

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, sza and 14,975,467 others.

ayanaaa : the whole story told my way—thank you @/vogue.

maxverstappen1 : The love of my life. I am so fucking proud of you. You will be the best most beautiful mother on the planet. I love you now and forever.

liked by author

lewishamilton : The proudest big brother and future uncle there ever was. Much love for you, Max and the little munchkin.

liked by author and maxverstappen1

danielricciardo : I knew before any of you !!!! but seriously so happy for you both and so excited to be an uncle:)

liked by author and maxverstappen1

username : oh my maxiel heart

sza : actually i knew firsttttt

liked by author and maxverstappen1

lando : oscar owes me 50 buckssss

oscarpiastri : for what??? minding my own business, not snooping and waiting for them to tell me on their own terms?? scuse me.

liked by author and maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri : Huge Congrats to you both!

liked by author and maxverstappen1

lando : YAY BABY VERSTAPPEN-HAMILTON!! hopefully i am retired from the track by the time they make it to f1

liked by author and maxverstappen1

username : this baby is part hamilton, part verstappen- everybody is cooked.

sza : my beautiful angel—i am beyond happy to be on this journey with you. you are already the best wife and i know you will be the best mommy! so excited to be an auntie. love you guys!

liked by author and maxverstappen1

kaliuchis : Congrats on motherhood beautiful!! Much love

liked by author and maxverstappen1

victoriaverstappen : so so excited!! best sister in law ever.

liked by author and maxverstappen1

yukitsunoda0511 : Congratulations Big Daddy!! and Ayana:)))))

liked by author and maxverstappen1

username5 : YUKI

username14 : the fact that she would date and MARRY her brothers rival in secret for so long just does not rub me well

lewishamilton : Good thing she is not your sister and it isn't your life! Leave please.

liked by author and maxverstappen1

redbullracing : Congratulations to you both!!

liked by author and maxverstappen1

scuderiaferrari : Congratulations!! Working on tiny newborn merch rn.

liked by author

ayanaaa : not so sure big daddy will like that

liked by maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511 and redbullracing

maxverstappen1 : big daddy sounds a lot better coming from you than yuki

liked by author and yukitsunoda0511

yukitsunoda0511 : :(((((((((

maxverstappen1 : and baby will support their uncle and their dad

liked by author and lewishamilton

alexandrasaintmleux : you look so stunning—we all started planning the baby shower already!!

liked by author and maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc : Congratulations to Mama, Papa and Uncle Lewis!

liked by author, maxverstappen1 and lewishamilton

—

p6 complete:) next part will be the finaleeee

hope you guys have enjoyed and leave me ideas for next series:)

tag : @klauslovemepls, @omgsuperstarg @msliz @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 @alireads27 , @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog , @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo , @majapapaya4@lina505 , @hc-dutch , @lost4lyrics , @angelluv16 @dilflover44

[eph3merall]

Okay okay hear me out. I soooo badly need a dealer!chris x reader where he gets jealous and/or possessive. It can be smutty if you’d like but I’d think it’s be funny (and hot who said thatttt) to see a reader who doesn’t like parties and she starts talking to some guy, not realizing he’s flirting with her, and Chris is fumingggg (I tried to leave this kinda vague so you could have more creative control, sorry kinda new at the whole tumblr thing too)

anon i love u. i think i maybe wrote something similar to this b4 but i literally dont know

the ice in your cup clinks with each shake of your hand as you laugh at your friends' words. you've abandoned chris for the night to be with your own friends and group of people, and chris had some stuff do with his clients anyways. you'd rather drop dead than sit through more drug deals and boring conversations, so you wandered off to entertain yourself.

the bright, colorful lights are honestly blinding you a little, and you hate the way everything and everyone is so loud—people are yelling and laughing, and the music feels like it's shaking the deepest parts of you inside your body. you have to strain your ears to hear the words people say to you half the time, and the whole party crowd never interested you.

it was always too rowdy, too much. you remember old friends used to coax you to a random house party to try and warm you up to them, only at the end of the night you're found standing anxiously in a corner and said friends are nowhere to be found.

you tolerate these types of environments after meeting the right people and hanging around the right friend group, and after meeting chris it got easier to come to functions like these without groaning or rolling your eyes just at the word 'party'. it doesn't mean you necessarily like them, but it's not like you'd rather burn alive than attend one for the night.

"god, and he was the cutest," your friend is practically gushing, droning on about how her recent hookup was some cute guy interested in photography. he had the "sweetest smile, loudest laugh, and biggest dick ever". you stared blankly at her, because you did not really need to know the last part.

"some things are good to keep to ourselves, y'know?"

"sure.. you just say that cause you dont get dick."

you roll your eyes and punch her arm, feigning offense. really though, a blush creeps up your face and makes you feel hot in the cheeks and all over your body—scorching coals seemingly getting thrown all over you and making you feel burning hot to the touch.

you don't say anything, because you do get dick. just, from the one person she probably wouldn't expect it from.

"okay, sure. you, you know i don't go around... with guys every night like you," what follows is your friends just scoffing and waving her hand at your face.

"oh, please! im not that bad. god, you should see how many men have rochelle hanging off their shoulder in the span of a day."

you don't need to hear it, honestly. rochelle, or, ro, is a frequent buyer from chris as well. you've seen a fair share of her character and personality, and how much cash she carries in her pockets. she's bitchy and rude, but you feel immediately guilty even thinking that way afterwards. using the word 'bitchy' sounds wrong too, she was just.. incredibly confident.

getting pulled from your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder, a cute guy with black curls is grinning at you. your eyebrows raise and confusion overtakes your features, because no one ever really walks up to you like that—no less a guy. if chris isnt scaring them off, there aren't many special, outstanding physical qualities you have.

before you know it, you're roped into a conversation. whether or not you even wanted to talk to this guy in the first place, he didn't give you much of a choice. he insisted on sharing his name, smooth talking his way into your little bubble with a mention of the necklace adorned around your neck, glimmering gently in the lighting.

you don't see your friend eyeing you a little, rolling her eyes around to search out some people to take shots with. and, not long after you start talking, enthusiastic grins are sent the guy's way. you learn that his name is mason, he's studying law and he has great taste in bands and music in general.

you notice the little things immediately, how his hands keep fidgeting, one shoving inside his pocket or scratching at the back of his neck, occasionally running a hand through his long hair—the action subtly reminding you of chris. what you don't notice, is chris eyeing you down like a hawk from across the room. his eyes are peering over the rim of a beer bottle at you, not at you, but at the guy you're talking to.

he knows that social cues aren't exactly your strong suit. it's like if a stranger were to hug you, you would just brush it off and say they were 'being nice'. it's ridiculous, because the guy in front of you was so obviously into you. who wouldn't be? you're a ball of sunshine, sweet and all smiles. hell, he found himself drawn to you the first time he met you. even after repeatedly telling himself he wouldn't be good for you, it was hard to stay away.

your moods were infectious, just like your laughs. sometimes chris doesn't understand why he has the urge to grin at just your giggle. he hates you a little for it, actually.

his fingers tighten around the neck of the glass bottle, rubbing his thumb around the bumps and indents in the glass to try and calm himself down. his jaw was tight, and every loud sound seemed to fade into a calm background hum.

chris knows that going over there wouldn't really be logical. it's not like the guy's doing anything to you worth fighting him for. you two are just talking. you'll lecture him later if he does, all confused and scolding. why'd you do that? are you like, kidding, chris?

he doesn't recognize the surge of possessiveness in him, lighting up his veins and making him feel wound up—like a jack n the box toy ready to burst open. it's not like he had a right to feel this way, because you two weren't anything more than best friends. his eyes scan the two of you up and down, surprisingly finding himself ignoring the bills that are trying to get shoved into his hand.

you're having a good time talking to this guy. mason is nice, and he enjoys the same things you do. he has great arguments, and even better ideas—not afraid to share them with you either. you think he's just being friendly, missing the brief way his eyes looked you up and down for a second and how his fingers twitched to reach out and touch you.

and then he did, a careful graze against your back that had you freezing up, tense. his hand slot behind your back, gentle on your body yet missing the way you seemed uncomfortable.

and, that's when chris was tumbling through people. shoving bodies aside and missing the swears thrown his way, his only goal right now to reach you. make sure you're okay, and then make sure he doesn't ever touch you again—because with the way your body was wound up like a tight coil he was sure you didn't want him to touch you. he felt hot with anger, rage filling him up—practically fuming.

then, chris' knuckles meets the guys face.

—

hai do we like do we hate im trying to write more ( this req was from like. multiple months ago .... )

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis @slut4chris888

©eph3merall 2025

[makeitworse]

BITTER

you thought whatever you and se-mi had going on didn’t need a name. now you wonder why she’s bitter.

contains: f!reader x semi. thanos squad au. drugs & alc. fwb. jealousy. misunderstanding. fluff | angst | smut (oral). 18+

se-mi stood with her back to the bar, her head being among the many that were turned in the direction of the dance floor.

she’d long since forgotten what drink min-su (who was still sat at their booth) had asked her to order. while waiting to be served, her eyes drifted across the club, wondering where you had ended up— and everything else fell away once her gaze found you.

swaying your body under the flashing neon lights, moving with the crowd to the bass of the song pulsing from the speakers. su-bong was beside you with an arm in the air, face beaming as he cheered you on.

he was barely maintaining the thin gap between your bodies��� you could so easily close it, press against him in front of everyone. in front of her.

se-mi sighed, grounding herself back in reality. it’s not like you owe her anything. she’s just a friend to you.

she faces the counter again, deciding that she’ll need a shot.

nam-gyu stumbled besides her, rubbing at his nose with a snort. se-mi scoffed.

“seriously? this isn’t even a club,”

the group had settled for a modest hotel bar with a live band playing. club pentagon was the designated spot for nights-out, where nam-gyu could flaunt his employee privileges— but to entice min-su to come out, downsizing to a less intimidating venue was necessary.

but clearly, time and place was irrelevant to nam-gyu. he’d snort a line during the birth of his child.

nam-gyu rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the bartender. “tequila shot, please.”

“two.” se-mi piped in.

nam-gyu eyed her. “min-su boring you?”

“no, he’s not.” her eyes flickered back to the dance floor— where you were linking arms with su-bong, skipping in a circle.

nam-gyu notices, and cranes his head to stare too.

“twenty bucks they’re fucking.”

“shouldn’t you know?” se-mi turned to him, tone too forced to sound casual.

“nah, he— oh hey, we can ask her now.”

se-mi distantly hears the bartender tap the shot glasses on the counter as she faces you— jogging up to them with a smile blown wide on your face.

she tries (and fails) to still her racing heart. you looked so beautiful, even while panting and with your hair all frizzled. could be a sight mistaken for something else.. but she suppresses the thought.

“are we doing shots?” you say, out of breath.

before nam-gyu can tap his card to pay, you snatch a shot glass and tilt your head, chucking the shot back.

you grimace, then take se-mi by the hand. “okay, come with me!”

nam-gyu’s voice protesting bleeds into the thumping music as you drag se-mi to the dance floor.

“what about su-b—”

“ugh, he left me to shit. come on!”

more like to snort a line in a toilet cubicle, but se-mi thanks him for this opening anyway.

you weave through the crowd before settling on a spot. you turn to her with a playful grin, and she can’t help how her mouth curls at it. you’re too cute.

her breathe hitches when you pull her in close— enough that her nose almost bumps yours. your arms wrap around se-mi’s shoulders, and she could damn near melt at how you’re looking at her.

lashes heavy, lips parted slightly. if she didn’t know any better, she’d think you’d want to kiss her.

but you didn’t swing that way.

you’re swaying your body side to side, and you get se-mi to rock with you. you giggle when she follows your lead. the noise makes her chest warm.

se-mi dares to brush her fingers on your side, and when you don’t protest, both her hands find purchase on your waist.

“you look really pretty tonight,” se-mi breathed. “everyone here’s thinking it.”

you giggled. “i think they’re looking at you.”

se-mi scoffs, glancing away. but you’re not joking.

you lean in, voice low at her ear. “maybe.. it’s ‘cause they’re jealous.”

se-mi composes herself, goosebumps tingling on the back of her neck.

“yeah?” she replies breathlessly. “and what’ve i got over them?”

your hand comes to cup se-mi’s jaw, thumb tracing over her cheek.

“me.”

you’re just drunk. she keeps repeating it in her head like a mantra. this doesn’t mean anything.

her thoughts dissolve as you lean forward on your toes, pressing a placid kiss to se-mi’s lips. she doesn’t move— just stands there, moving her hand to lightly hold the small of your back, while your lips melded against hers.

at her lack of response, you pull away, giggling shyly. you almost look embarrassed. se-mi’s blood was buzzing. okay, i guess this is what we’re doing.

so she kisses you. and there’s no hesitation before you kiss her back harder.

this time, you’re parting your lips, and se-mi responds in kind by sliding her tongue against yours. you couldn’t care less about the people around— you kissed her like she was the air you breathe.

se-mi tries not to get carried away, but you’re not making it any easier. she reminds herself that you’re only into boys. but with the way you’re pressing your body against hers, se-mi could doubt that fact.

her hands come to anchor your hips, since you were damn near grinding on her. a noise escapes your mouth— was that a moan?

se-mi’s last resolve almost snaps at that— until she hears nam-gyu’s voice (insta turn-off).

“alright, get a room.”

you pull away from se-mi’s lips with a wet smack, turning to the boys with a dazed smile.

“let’s do schnapps!” su-bong whooped, already extending a hand for you to take.

se-mi wishes you’d keep your hands on her instead. but of course you take su-bong’s.

“are you coming, se-mi?”

she doesn’t hide how she purses her lips. she nods, because she’ll go with you— but she won’t act glad to see the boys.

nam-gyu squints at her, like he’s gauging something. se-mi just flips him off. probably doesn’t do much to deter what se-mi’s certain he must be thinking.

…fuck, she never got min-su his drink.

se-mi had found herself waking up on su-bong’s couch— squinting to make out the room around her.

“oh, mornin’.”

she rubbed at her eyes, the blur of purple hair coming into focus. su-bong blew out smoke, and offered his vape to se-mi. she shook her head.

se-mi glanced around. “where’s..?”

“you’re up!”

her neck practically snapped in the direction of your voice. you jogged over from the hallway, leaping onto the cushion next to se-mi. you landed unapologetically close— the side of your body pressing into hers.

you’ve always been a touchy person. it’s how you showed love. but it’s not the same, not after last night.

you kissed her. yes, you were drunk, and yes, you don’t see se-mi that way, and yeah you don’t even like girls— but she does. and she can’t just act like it meant nothing.

“how’d you sleep?” you smiled, knee bumping hers.

you’re pretty chirpy for being hungover on the amount of alcohol you tanked last night.

se-mi shrugged. “i miss my own bed.”

“yeah, me too.” su-bong piped up. “i was in between these two fuckers playing tug of war with the blanket all night.”

he jutted a finger at you before turning to nam-gyu, who was shuffling over with a scowl. his comedown isn’t as pretty as yours.

se-mi bit the inside of her cheek. she hadn’t considered where you ended up sleeping last night. she would’ve dragged you to the couch with her, if she knew you’d be sharing a bed with two guys.

se-mi sighs, silencing that thought. they weren’t trouble like that. well, su-bong at least.

nam-gyu pawed at su-bong for his vape. se-mi turns to you, opening her mouth to speak— and you lean closer with a playful grin. are you.. flirting?

“when are you leaving?” she tries to keep her voice from cracking; your breath was fanning her face. she could think you want to kiss her again.

“mm,” you tilted your head to su-bong, who was showing off blowing a smoke ring to nam-gyu. “what’s for breakfast?”

“whatever you can make, mama. mi casa su casa.”

se-mi and nam-gyu rolled their eyes in sync. they both take notice. neither of them mention it.

“i can take you home.” se-mi continued.

she parked her car at the street over from his place before they went out, in preparation to take min-su home early in the morning. but clearly he left before anyone else even woke up.

“okay,” you hum. “but only if you cook with me.”

you clasped your palm over hers with a smile, enticing her to agree. se-mi grins stupidly, nodding. you drive a hard bargain.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

se-mi stood there whisking eggs in a bowl, listening to you whistle as you turned the stove on— pretending like she wouldn’t rather just make out with you here instead.

she could so easily slide her hands around your waist, hike you up onto this counter…

like some damn perv would think. what was she, nam-gyu? she could choke herself out.

“you making meringue or something?”

your voice snaps se-mi back into reality. she glances down— realising that she’d been stirring the eggs like crazy while deep in thought.

“i think they’re whisked, se-mi. thanks.” you chuckle, slipping your hand under hers to take the bowl from her hold. the noise has her eyes falling to your lips.

you linger for a second longer, like you noticed— before you’re gone again, turning to the stovetop with the bowl. if you did notice, you don’t say so.

the eggs sizzle as you pour them into the frypan. se-mi decides she’ll bite.

“sooo, was i your first kiss with a girl?”

her tone’s casual, playful. not strained. it’s just a little joke between friends. she hopes it’s not screaming letskissagainpleaseimsofuckinggay—

“oh, yeah— fuck, i’m so sorry about that.” you’re caught off-guard, covering your face as you cringe. she probably only just reminded you it even happened. funny, since it hasn’t left her mind. “i should not have had that shot—”

“—no, no. it’s okay.” se-mi smiles reassuringly.

“oh. alright.” you straighten up. “well, yes. was i good?”

se-mi scoffs, leaning against the counter. “do you ask the guys that too?”

“i don’t care what they think.”

se-mi nods along, trying to read your face. what’s that supposed to mean? “yes. it was a nice kiss.”

you’re silent for a beat, scraping the pan with a spatula. you look conflicted.

“did you like it?”

se-mi almost chokes. “okay, what are these questions—”

“i’m sorry! i’m just…” you sigh. “i haven’t done that before.”

you glance at se-mi with furrowed brows. you’re speaking to her as a friend still, shy over something you did on impulse— not someone you kissed because you’ve got feelings for them. because it meant something.

se-mi exhales. she knows better than to crush on a straight girl.

“i’m not complaining.” she smirked, placing a reassuring hand on your arm.

for a moment, you smile at her, and se-mi swears your gaze drifts to her mouth. but then you’re gone again— clearing your throat and turning back to the stove.

“hope you’re hungry.”

not for breakfast— but yes, she was.

like promised, you rode passenger in se-mi’s car as she drove you home. you laughed at the irony when chappell roan started playing on the radio.

se-mi smiles as she hears you softly singing along to the lyrics. she resists the urge to ask you if you’re certain you’re straight.

se-mi pulls up to a red light, taking the chance to glance at you: twiddling your thumbs, looking like you’re contemplating something. se-mi opens her mouth, but you speak before she can:

“i’m sorry about being weird,”

“what do you mean?” se-mi cut you off before you could continue that train of thought. “you’re not, you—”

the traffic light flashes green, so se-mi has turn her attention back to the road.

“the kiss.” you continued. “i wasn’t trying to force myself onto you or—”

se-mi states your name sternly, glancing at you briefly. “it wasn’t like that to me.”

you sigh in relief. se-mi almost says more, but she’ll leave it up to you to steer where this conversation goes.

“i just.. had this sudden urge to kiss you. y’know? it felt right.” you giggled, glancing at se-mi for her reaction. “it’s weird to me, ‘cause i don’t even like girls.”

ouch.

“or maybe i do, i don’t know.” you put your head in your hands, flustered.

se-mi could cry tears of joy.

she feels confident enough to tease; “is this you asking me to help?”

you balked at her, mouth open. se-mi laughs it off (just in case you’re not serious). but in her peripheral, she can see you chewing your lip in thought.

“okay. fuck it.”

“huh?” se-mi snaps her head at you, almost missing a turn on the road.

“let’s just do it.” you smile at her, giddy.

“wait, what do you—”

“—but only if this isn’t.. weird for you.”

se-mi would slam on the breaks in the middle of the highway right now if it means you’re letting her hit.

“of course not.” she replies way too quickly.

you play with the hem of your dress in your lap. se-mi sneaks a glance at your thighs— and impulsively slides a hand from the wheel to grab you there. a little gasp slips from you.

“i’ll take us somewhere quiet,” she breathed.

“can’t wait.”

she’ll probably get a ticket for speeding.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

se-mi reroutes to a shopping mall, settling for a dark corner in the underground parking lot. fortunately, it’s not busy this time of day— but she can tell you’re still on edge as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

her hand comes to your knee, thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“we don’t have to,” she starts.

“i want to.” you finish.

se-mi smiles. you smile back. she reaches for your face, cupping your cheek in her palm. you lean in to her touch. her lips part with a shaky exhale. se-mi almost can’t believe this is actually happening— she could pinch herself.

“yeah?” she says breathlessly.

“yes.” you whisper back.

her lips find yours first. soft, pensive. a question. your mouths move together slowly, the kiss gradually deepening— until your tongue pushes past her lips, and you mewl into her mouth when you taste her. a demand.

and se-mi’s here to please. she frees her seatbelt, the buckle banging the car’s wall as she practically tears it off.

you giggle at her haste, the noise blending into a gasp as her other hand trails up your side.

you angle your neck, allowing se-mi to bury her tongue deeper in your mouth. likely sensing her uncertainty, you snatch her hand and press it against your chest. her kisses stammer for a split second— before she starts kneading your breast. you whine as her thumb swipes over your nipple, and she swallows the sound.

reluctantly, she presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away, half an inch from your face. “what’ll you let me do?”

your breath’s hot on her face as you pant. “anything.”

se-mi sits up on her knees, planting her lips on yours as she reaches down the side of the passenger seat. you yelp as your seat slides back suddenly. she chuckles, crawling over the centre console and onto the floor, sitting between your legs.

you’re about to speak when se-mi’s hand reaches out to the side of your seat again, and you fall back as it reclines.

you’re stunned as look down at her. she knows what she’s doing, and she’s damn good at it.

you shift in your seat as her hands come to rest of either of your thighs, pulling them further apart and sliding up— pushing the hem of your dress till her fingers tap your panties.

se-mi glances up, checking. when you respond with a small nod, her fingers curl around the fabric. you hoist yourself up to let her tug your panties down your legs, dropping at your shoes.

se-mi’s agonisingly slow with her movements: creeping her hands up your skin and feeling the goosebumps under her touch, leaning her face in so her breath fans your pussy.

you inch closer, eager— evident by how you’re glistening wet in the low light. she wonders if a man’s ever been able to get you this turned on.

se-mi presses a soft kiss to your clit, and you shudder, eyes falling shut. your back arches when she licks a stripe up over your cunt, tasting you on her tongue.

she starts with small sips, only lightly bobbing her head against you. her teasing doesn’t last long— se-mi was drawing out such pretty sounds from your mouth, and she was greedy for more.

se-mi closes her lips around you, letting her tongue swirl circles around your clit. you cry out, and her hands firmly anchor you in place by the waist.

when you un-tense, she slips a hand under her chin, prodding a finger at your entrance. her brain short circuits when you rock your hips, whining as you slide over the tip of her finger.

you’re hot to the touch, and you’re pleading for more. she’s never needed anything like she needs you right now.

se-mi responds in kind by stretching you open with two fingers. she kept lapping at your clit, fingers thrusting in and out of you— each time hitting the right angle to make you see stars.

you’re blabbering, writhing under her hold on you— helpless to taking what she’s giving you. se-mi feels you pulsing around her fingers, and a noise slips from her throat, rumbling on your clit.

you start moaning in short stutters, until you gasp; hands coming to grab at se-mi’s hair as you cum with a cry.

her tongue flicks fast swipes over your clit through your orgasm— fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, hand rocking to hit you in the g-spot over and over.

when your thighs clamp over her ears, she closes her lips to suck your sensitive clit for a second, making you squeal before she pulls away.

you look down at se-mi like she hung the damn moon in the sky. you mumble c’mere, cupping her under the jaw to pull her up. se-mi lays on top of your body— your juices still splayed across her chin as you kiss her.

se-mi thinks; if you’re still not into girls after that… well, she definitely wouldn’t mind helping you out again.

and she does.

the following week had no end of you and se-mi stealing moments together. her house or yours, or no house at all— it didn’t matter.

bending over the counter with se-mi fingering you from behind in a restaurant bathroom, ditching the boys at the table.

some movie you weren’t even watching playing in the background as se-mi pressed you into the couch, rutting her cunt against yours.

waking up in the sun next to you. kissing each other good morning. shower sex, fixing you a coffee as aftercare. acting like you’re something you hadn’t actually said.

se-mi thought that this meant you were something. maybe it was meant to start as just casual fun— but something shifted after she ate you out in the car.

it was in the way you’d look at her. that was charged with more than just friendship.

you made a playlist for her to share. her name had fucking hearts in your phone.

was she so wrong for assuming what this so clearly was?

one day, se-mi invited you to ‘hang out’ as per usual— but you weren’t responding. she even waited 15 minutes before freaking out. she was almost certain you didn’t have anything on today…

se-mi tries to silence her racing thoughts of this being something else, something that was her fault. but the unread texts and missed calls just kept racking up. se-mi felt like a desperate ex.

reluctantly, she checks life360. and then she’s livid.

your icon, right next to su-bong and nam-gyu’s, all bunched together at his place. instead of launching her phone into the closest wall, she finds su-bong’s contact.

se-mi why are you all at nam-gyu’s???

shitbong 🙀 😻😻

se-mi okay fuck you

she doesn’t care if it’s pathetic or if it makes no sense; she’s driving over and making sure you’re alright, that they’re not up to anything.

that’s what she kept repeating in her head on the way there, at least. like it’ll replace what she’s actually feeling.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

se-mi doesn’t even need to knock, since she turned the knob and the door swung right open.

she’s got a singular foot in the house when the smell hits her.

weed. no wonder they invited you behind her back, she wouldn’t have let you go. you were drunk when you first kissed her— she doesn’t want to imagine what you’d get up to, smoking alone with two boys.

or maybe she’s just projecting.

she finds you all in the living room, limbs sprawled out across the curved couch.

nam-gyu had his lips puckered around a joint, squinting at se-mi. you were laid up close to su-bong— way too fucking close.

you were leaning back, head almost resting on his shoulder. and his arm— it was slung around you on the headboard.

she knew you and su-bong had been friends for years, but this was way closer than that. this looked like she walked in on something else.

you glance up, and your face splits into a smile when you see her.

“oh! se-miiii,” you coo, reaching your arms out for her. you’re excited to see her. normally, she’d find it cute. but she’s pissed.

“i’ve been trying to call you.” she doesn’t try to hide her annoyance. su-bong forehand crinkles as he eyes se-mi. she ignores him. “we were meant to go out for lunch, remember?”

you rubbed at your eyes, hazy. she sighs.

“i’m sorryyy, this guy called me,” you poked su-bong’s cheek. her stomach curled. “and i didn’t think i’d be long…”

se-mi’s arms crossed tight over her chest. “what’ve you been doing.”

nam-gyu groaned. before se-mi opens her mouth to tear him a new one, you move to get up.

“we can go now, se-mi,” your voice is almost pleading.

she wants to believe that you really did just get caught up— wanting to make everyone happy.

but then you stand from the couch, and su-bong— his hand slides down your waist, brushing near your ass. he doesn’t even hide that he’s staring and you? you don’t even flinch.

se-mi knows. she fucking knows.

she’d heard su-bong brag about sleeping with you, always when he was high as a kite and you weren’t in the room.

she never believed him. she didn’t think you would with him. she hasn’t even considered that you still liked boys since you’ve been seeing her.

but he wasn’t lying. you’ve really been with him. and se-mi was an idiot.

she turns her back and walks off without a word, ignoring you calling after her.

she’s fumbling with her keys, about to unlock her car, when she hears nam-gyu’s front door slam shut.

“se-mi, what are you doing?”

“i’m interrupting something, that’s fucking what.” her tone’s cold. colder than she’s ever been with you.

you’re silent for a moment.

“what happened?”

se-mi glares at her reflection in the car window, before her eyes flicker to yours, stood behind her. your face is searching— oblivious. she turns to face you.

“i thought—” she sighed, stilling her voice. “i thought maybe this was real. that you seriously liked girls.”

“it is real, se-mi! fuck, i do like you—”

“—well i’m not being just another su-bong to you. i’m done, yeah?”

you frown, voice coming out soft. “what does that mean?”

“i’m not doing some situationship, friends-with-benefits bullshit. if you want him, then you’re all his. i’m going.”

she pivots to turn back to her car, but you step forward.

“i’m not with him, se-mi. i want you—”

“—so what the fuck was that?? why’d you let him just, touch you like that?”

your gaze faltered from hers, falling to the ground. you’re quiet. she’s sure that’s your answer, so she sighs, ready to leave.

“we’ve been friends for years,” you glance to check that she’s listening. “and i don’t bring it up, because it’s so fucking insignificant to me— but yes, we’ve kissed before. like, drunk make-outs.”

se-mi grimaces. you clear your throat.

“look, i’ve never wanted him that way. yes, we’re close, but i’m certain of it— because it’s nothing compared to what i’ve been feeling for you.”

se-mi bites her lip before it can tremble, shaking her head.

“i didn’t know if you were the same,” you continued. “i’ve only been with guys until you, i’m probably nothing compared to your—”

in a breath, se-mi closes the distance between you two, her lips crashing onto yours.

you stand there, desperately grasping at each other’s bodies, kissing like she’s the air you need to breathe. you’re pressed impossibly closed together. this was all you both needed.

se-mi pulls away suddenly, panting. “let’s do this right, okay? you and i,”

“together.” you add.

you smile. she smiles too. this time, you both lean in, and kiss sweetly— agreeing on this newfound establishment.

you both jolt as nam-gyu’s door slams open, and his head pokes out of it.

“alright, get this gay shit off my lawn!”

notes: i’ve been meaning to write for semi for aaages. and yes this was inspired by ellie n dina okay baii

tags: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @bcfcpsh @avsarchivez @frontwomann

[bloomzone]

sooo y’all, let me tell you… these past 10 days I've been locking in and i reallyyy achieved a lot, and honestly i learned even more. i was still in my lil reflection era overthinking, analyzing, you know the usual but i also caught myself before i made some big mistakes. like i literally saved myself right before things could’ve gone bad and i wanna share this with y’all because i know someone needs to hear it too, especially if you’re stressed about exams right now.

lesson 1: please don’t change your study method last minute.

y’all, please, if you have finals or big exams coming up, do not start experimenting with new study methods. i made that mistake, fr. i saw this "easier" method on YouTube and was like omg this sounds perfect, maybe this is my new main way to study. but nooo, babe. that’s a trap. because when you change things up right before exams, you’re gonna end up confused, stressed, and behind. you'll start thinking like “omg time is running out and i still don’t get this” or “i haven’t memorized anything yet.” and that spiral is so real. so pls, stick to your main method the one that has worked for you so far. yeah, you can try adding small things or testing new tricks lightly on the side, but don’t fully switch everything right before big exams. keep your foundation strong, okay? trust me on this.

lesson 2: take meaningful breaks.

this one hit me hard. so when you’re taking breaks while studying, make them useful breaks, y’all. not the kind where you scroll on your phone for an hour and then feel worse. not the breaks where you just lay there thinking “what if i fail” because omg we’ve all done that and it never helps.

instead, do something that actually resets your brain. like cook yourself a meal, go out for a walk, change your environment, tidy your space a bit, or even journal your thoughts. for me, cooking during my breaks literally saves me i get food and i feel productive cuz like sometimes my brain hurt and when I get up to take a break and eat something THE FIRST BITE and I'm like "damn bro I was hungry" and then I eat and I feel better again but honestly, the best kind of break is stepping outside, grabbing a little snack or coffee, and breathing fresh air. just doing something small but active that makes you feel human again before you go back to your books.

lesson 3: slowly build your study stamina.

i used to be someone who could never study more than 3 hours a day, max. but these past 10 days? i actually pushed myself to study 5 to even 7 hours a day. which is crazy for me, honestly. and no, i’m not saying you have to study for hours nonstop because same, my usual safe goal is 3 hours too. but when you’ve got a pile of exams and subjects waiting, sometimes you really do need to go for those longer sessions.what helped me a lot is the pomodoro technique. and let me say this pomodoro is a technique, not a study method so you can still study your way but use pomodoro to manage your time.there’s this YouTube channel i found that reallyyyy helps. the videos are so cozy and calming they have these little lo-fi vibes with cats moving on the screen, and even tho i don’t really listen to music when i study, i just let those videos play for the background sound aside in my laptop. it kinda makes me feel like i’m studying with someone else and i stay productive for longer. usually it’s like 3-hour study sessions with three 5-minute breaks, and that structure really helped me go from my usual short sessions to longer, more focused study days. and let’s be honest, the cute cats motivate me more than they should lol. [The link of the channel ]

lesson 4: don’t panic (even if everything feels overwhelming).

and this is coming from someone who still panics before every exam lol. but sometimes, you just gotta tell yourself: enough. like, i will study, i will do my part, and the results will come how they come.especially if you’re someone like me who has 8+ subjects to juggle it can feel impossible to manage everything. i even tried that method i saw on YouTube where you study 3 subjects a day. thought it would save me, but honestly it didn’t work. i just ended up feeling like i was tripping around, lost and stressed.so now, i kinda made my own little method. i call it the 80/20 rule where you focus 80% of your day on your main subject, and 20% on a side subject. idk but 80/20 rule exist but I change it lmao like, let’s say you wake up at 8am and study till sunset. you spend the whole day focusing on your main subject (like history or math or whatever’s urgent). then in the evening, maybe from like 6pm to 8pm, you switch and study a different subject for a bit. and the next day, you make that second subject your new main focus. so you’re rotating, but still giving serious time to each one. i don’t even know if this is an actual a method, but it works for me, and that’s what matters.and again, please don’t try completely new study methods when you’re close to exams. you will only stress yourself out more. stick to what you know works, trust the process, and stay consistent. i promise, you got this.

lesson 5: please please please… don’t go on a diet during school season.

like i swear i should’ve put this one first, because it’s that serious. and no i didn’t make this mistake myself (and i never will), but i just need to say this to you right now. like please don’t go on a diet during school or exam season. i beg you.i don’t know who needs to hear this today, but you are a student. your brain, your body, needs food. you need fuel to even survive school days, let alone study and pass exams. so whatever you’re doing right now whether it's weight loss, calorie counting, fasting please, stop and pause . if you wanna follow a diet, i get it, but wait until a time when you’re not under this much stress. because dieting during school will only make things worse. no summer body is worth feeling dizzy, tired, and unfocused during your exams babe. like, i promise you you will literally feel like you’re dying if you try to diet hard right now.

i know some people started their diets months ago and maybe they’re used to it by now, and that’s fine. but please if you’re thinking of starting, or if you’re already cutting down too much don’t be harsh on yourself. like, please don’t fall into that mindset where you think eating one egg and drinking black coffee is enough for the day. bro, that won’t help you focus. food is also focus. food is energy. food is survival.you’re not a robot who can just skip meals and still function at 100%. you’re a human, and your body needs real nutrition to help your brain stay sharp and your body stay strong during this season.especially if you’re in the middle of exams, or have big deadlines coming please don’t starve yourself. eat, babe. and no ofc i’m not saying go eat just anything. like, don’t only munch on junk food either because that won’t make you feel fresh and alive eat meals that actually fuel you something that makes your body feel clean, your mind clear, and your energy steady.

and omg, don’t forget water. like, i’m so serious about this always, always, keep a water bottle next to you while studying. sometimes you think you’re tired, but your body is just dehydrated. water helps your brain focus, helps you avoid headaches, and just keeps everything running smoothly. trust me on this.

so please, please…

don’t go into diet culture mode while you’re in your student grind season. your body and brain are already under enough stress. don’t add more. eat, stay hydrated, fuel yourself right and you’ll actually perform better. save the weight loss plans for days when you can do it gently, without risking your health . i love you and i just wanna see you win not collapse. so please, eat food and drink your water and don't be harsh on yourself

@bloomzone

[ciel-phantomhives-world]

Yeah, I would pretty much say that for Sebastian, it is indeed self assurance whenever he's reaching out to OCiel physically or wrapping him with his coat (him being protective of OCiel is kinda cute, externally). I did notice it was the wrist he was tryna grab in witch arc, but due to some unforeseen short memories, I forgot the word 'wrist' and my lazy ass wrote hand instead (please do excuse me).

Maybe, Sebastian thought that everything would go quite smoothly for him, at the beginning of the contract and that he wouldn't have to worry about a thing (oh boy, he was so wrong, if he really thought that) since the contract would most likely end very quickly and in his favor. But little did he know that it would take years to end and not just that, but there are certain people/things/beings/creatures that are capable of standing up against him and cause him so much chaos, trouble and most obviously STRESS 😭 (poor demon). Even as a demon, it seems like he's capable of feeling certain "human emotions" as well when something valuable of his is in danger ⚡ (also Yana never confirmed if Sebastian is supposed to be completely oblivious to human emotions, maybe, devils also have emotions like humans but they just don't know how to deal with mental health issues of humans, something that many humans don't know as well). He seems so protective of OCiel because he doesn't want to lose all the effort, hardwork he gave in to cultivate OCiel's soul for his own delight.

By this time, he realized that he's not the only supernatural being roaming in earth and that there's those other magical beings that are not only there in earth but are also near him (and even worse, some are tryna snatch his meal). He understands that not everything is under his control and that one slip can ruin everything for him. He also realized that there are times when he's kinda useless when it comes to curing OCiel (which makes him panic). We, humans, deal with stress and panic in various ways. Whenever we are in stress, we might wanna reach out to someone else or grab our favourite plushie or take a walk or listen to music or sleep and so on. But devils don't usually do stuff like that (as much as we know). I guess, Sebastian's way of getting his stress out (even if it's a little bit) is by trying to hold on to OCiel in some way (which at least reassures him that the boy is at least alive and looks okay physically).

Perhaps, he is indeed more understandable and considerate towards OCiel's wishes (he learned his way). I don't think he would have acted the same way if this sort of thing happened right near the beginning of the contract (when they were just learning to get along). After all, currently he's acting much humanely (I feel like Sebastian never spent this much time on earth for some contract and that maybe this is his first time doing such because maybe his previous contracts got over very swiftly and so now, Sebastian's getting the chance to learn more and more about humans, satisfy his curiosity, be fascinated and also learn to adapt human behaviors and emotions). Overall, it is quite interesting and I'm here all for it. (It's nice for Sebastian to discover so much and go through some character development 😁)

I find Sebastian's reaction when Ciel wakes up screaming in GWA to be really interesting.

He reaches out to try and hold his wrist.

But the last time we saw Sebastian comfort Ciel when he woke up screaming, was in the Campania flashbacks, when Ciel had a nightmare. And Ciel explicitly told Sebastian not to touch him:

When Ciel woke up in the Emerald Witch arc, it's pretty likely Sebastian knew, or at least guessed, he was having a nightmare; it's not like he hasn't seen Ciel in that state many times before. So why was his first reaction to reach out and touch him?

This could mean that at some point, Ciel stopped refusing physical comfort after a nightmare, perhaps even seeking it out. Sebastian follows his orders to the letter, so if the protocol was still not to touch Ciel after a nightmare, then Sebastian wouldn't have tried to. Not only that, but he tries to touch him again and looks genuinely shocked when Ciel refuses:

This reaction is fairly reminiscent of that nightmare scene in the Campania, although more extreme. But this time, Sebastian is astonished that Ciel refuses his touch, implying that he expected him to accept it. I wonder at what point Ciel became OK with Sebastian's touch after a nightmare?

[stims-and-resources-ig]

Lain can skate

X X

[pinkboaclub]

Sweet Thing

Summery: You and Harry are best friends, despite your 15 year age gap. One night, when your blind date goes wrong, he wants to make sure your night still ends in pleasure. {Older!Harry}

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (15 years), mention of alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“Oh, what’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry asked, his voice warm with concern as you trudged over to him from the bar, exhaustion written across your face.

The music in the background blared so loudly that it felt like it was vibrating through your bones, drowning out everything else. Every Friday night, Harry rented a private room at the local club for your group of friends to unwind, drink, and let loose.

You collapsed into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’m just so tired…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer with a gentle smile. He knew how alcohol always made you sleepy and affectionate, especially after just a few drinks.

“Poor thing,” Harry teased, his lip sticking out in a mock pout. He was used to giving you the same spiel every Friday—how he knew even a little alcohol would knock you out.

“I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight,” you giggled drunkenly. “But then Eve and Clara dragged me to the bar, and I had one drink… and then two… and then three…it really wasn’t my fault.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something to eat, at least. You need to balance out that alcohol.” He reached across the table to grab a small bowl of pretzels and nuts he had sent to the table the moment he saw you take your first shot, but the thought of eating made your stomach churn.

Despite the 15-year age gap between you—23 and Harry 38—you had always been close. You were just friends, of course, and had made sure to clarify that to everyone around you, but it didn’t stop people from speculating.

But could you blame them? You practically lived at his house, spent most of your free time together, and took care of each other like an old married couple.

You half-heartedly munched on a couple of pretzels, trying to settle your stomach. Just then, a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water, which you drank down in one go, the cold helping to ground you.

As your friends continued their chatter, some heading to the bar, others to the dance floor, you stayed in Harry’s lap, drifting in and out of sleep with your head tucked into his neck.

“We can head home if you want, bunny,” Harry murmured, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back.

“No, I’m okay,” you protested sleepily, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled deeper into him. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

Eve, Clara, and a few others returned, laughing as they took their seats around the table.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen fall asleep in a club with barely any alcohol in their system,” Eve said with a teasing smile.

You managed a sleepy chuckle. “I can’t socialize without a little buzz,” you admitted, blinking your eyes open for the first time in a while as you sat up.

“As long as we get you on the dance floor later, I don’t mind,” Clara said with a wink, sipping on her margarita.

"Speaking of socializing," Eve began, eyeing you playfully, "Do you remember that guy we met at Jolie’s art exhibit? Elijah?" You nodded, though your memory of him was hazy.

"Well," she continued, "he kind of asked if I could set you two up on a date... but I told him I’d check with you first. It’s totally your call."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the idea of finally getting laid after months of dry spells, but before you could think it through, your words came tumbling out.

"Sure, why not? I think I remember him being cute. Is he nice?" You caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as his jaw clenched.

"He’s a friend of Jolie and me from University," Eve said, her voice light. "He was closer to Jolie, but he’s sweet. Really into art and music. I think you’ll like him." Eve’s tone was upbeat, though the surprise among the other girls was palpable. You'd been known to avoid dating for months, and yet here you were, agreeing to a date in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Eve texted Elijah to let him know you'd accepted.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes that were 10 times funnier thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system. After a couple more drinks, you, Eve, and Clara decided to hit the dance floor again.

"You’re coming with me?" you asked Harry, slinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Not really feeling it," he bluntly replied. "But don’t let me stop you."

You pouted, leaning closer to him. "You can go home, if you’re done. We could go home together." Your lips kissed all over his face, guilt creeping in as your drunk brain wondered if you'd done something wrong.

"No, no, sweet thing, I’m good. Just haven’t had enough to drink to feel loose enough to show off my moves," he chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your head. "Go have fun."

With that, you strutted away, immediately getting lost in the rhythm of the music. You couldn’t help but notice each of you was drunkenly dancing to a different beat.

"Hey!! Elijah texted me back!" Eve shouted over the thumping music. "He wants to take you out tomorrow!"

"Sounds good!" you yelled back, not even pausing in your wild dancing. "Any time after five works for me!"

When your legs finally felt like they’d given all they could to the dance floor, the three of you retreated back to your private room.

"I can tell by your face that you’re getting tired again," Harry teased, his voice warm as he glanced over at you. You sat down next to him, leaning into his side. "Time to go home?"

You nodded, already feeling the weight of your headache catching up to you.

"Okay, let’s go, sweet thing." Harry helped you stand, offering you a smile.

As was the usual routine after a night out—one of you sober, the other tipsy—the sober one would drive the drunk one home. When you were both drunk, however, it became a game of scissor -paper-stone to see who’d get the front seat in the Uber.

He gently assisted you into his car, a sleek black Range Rover, securing your seatbelt as you leaned back, closing your eyes in quiet exhaustion.

When you arrived at his house, he was there again, unbuckling your seatbelt and guiding you to the door with steady care.

“I’ll grab you some water and Ibuprofen. Why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed?”

You nodded in gratitude, your body heavy with fatigue as you slowly made your way up the stairs. Once inside his room, you went straight to the dresser, where you always kept a few pairs of pajamas for nights like this.

In his bathroom, your extra face wash, moisturizer, and toothbrush were neatly arranged….maybe people weren’t wrong to wonder if there was something more going on between you two.

Your hangover symptoms the next morning are what woke you up, head pounding and nausea. You opened your eyes, seeing Harry sitting up next to you, reading his book, shirtless.

“What a beautiful site to wake up to.” You groggily joked.

Harry looked up from his book, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he marked his place and set the book aside. His eyes softened as he noticed you, his hand gently your messy hair away from your face.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked, his tone low and soothing.

You let out a groan in response, your mind scrambling for some semblance of clarity. Slowly, fragments of last night came rushing back. The dim, pulsing lights of the club. The laughter. The dancing. You winced at the ache in your feet, a silent reminder of how long you'd been on your feet. And then, a sudden, jarring memory surfaced—one that made your stomach churn in a different way.

“Wait… did I really agree to go on a date today?” You asked, barely believing it yourself.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers still gently massaging your scalp as he looked at you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You did,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. “Jeez, I can’t even remember the last five minutes, let alone a date,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Harry’s chuckle turned into a laugh as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your temple in a comforting rhythm.

"I think you’re going to be just fine," Harry teased, his voice still soft with affection. "But I’m not gonna lie... I am interested to see how this date goes. Since you've been avoiding dating for so long"

"Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m not expecting anything amazing," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror, nervously adjusting your outfit. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the date, but you didn’t want to look like you didn’t care either. You settled on a simple black dress—something that was easy but still flattering.

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if you had something better to do. You could always call Harry afterward to complain about how terrible it went.

You arrived at restaurant where Elijah had suggested you meet. It had that typical artsy vibe—exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and food that probably cost more than it should have. As you walked in, you spotted Elijah immediately.

He looked up as you approached, a confident, almost smug smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you made it,” he said, standing to greet you.

"Of course," you replied, offering a smile.

"So, what do you like to do?" Elijah leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze more smug than ever. "What’s your thing? What are you into?"

The question hung in the air, a little too casually thrown at you. You hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. "Well, I enjoy a bit of everything. Not really an expert in anything, though. I like books, music… anything creative, really."

He waved a hand dismissively, clearly not too interested in your response. “That’s nice. But honestly, I think everyone has their own version of what ‘creativity’ means. I think it’s just one of those things that gets watered down by society’s need to put things in boxes.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking his own thoughts. The guy was talking in circles, as if he had an actual dissertation on his mind.

At some point during the evening, you realized that Elijah wasn’t going to ask about you or show any real interest in anything about your life. He kept dropping vague hints about how "complicated" he was, how misunderstood artists like himself had to suffer for their brilliance, and how he was just waiting for the world to catch up with him.

The only thing that really seemed to get him talking was his apparent admiration for himself.

Eventually, the awkwardness started to wear off, and he invited you to his apartment. Not that you were expecting anything from it—but you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and the loneliness was starting to hit.

The two of you ended up sitting on your couch, sipping wine, your conversation moving toward more personal topics. It felt... comfortable, even though you knew it wasn’t exactly what you'd been hoping for. Still, you found yourself kissing him a little while later, your mind racing with that familiar nervous excitement.

Things moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, both of you tangled up in each other in the dimly lit space of your apartment.

Time passed—minutes, hours, it was hard to tell. Eventually, you found yourself at the door, your dress wrinkled and your head spinning.

"Stay. Please," Elijah urged, his eyes softening slightly as he leaned in closer. “We could talk more. I really want to see you again.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts muddled. But, remembering the hours of excruciating conversation, you knew you needed to leave. "I have work in the morning," you said, even though it wasn’t true. The lie slipped out before you could even think about it.

Elijah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Well, I guess that’s alright. But next time… Let’s make sure we have more time."

You smiled softly, but your mind was already elsewhere, already home and away from him.

You stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your coat tightly around your shoulders, feeling that familiar sense of discomfort slowly sink in. The date had been a total bust, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret.

At home, after a quick shower to wash off the lingering feelings of awkwardness, you picked up your phone and texted Harry, hoping that he’d be up for a late-night rant.

"Can I come over to vent? This date was so annoying."

You didn’t have to wait long before his reply popped up. "Of course, pretty girl."

And so, you drove over, already thinking about how you were going to explain all the cringey moments to Harry, secretly hoping he wouldn’t say, “I told you so."

“You look like you had a blast,” Harry remarked dryly, opening the door for you.

You suppressed the urge to launch into a full rant. “Oh, yeah, great time,” you replied with equal sarcasm.

You both collapsed onto the couch— you sprawled out, Harry sitting up beside you like you were about to start a therapy session. Without missing a beat, you let the floodgates open.

“He literally talked about himself the entire time,” you began, voice dripping with frustration. “He asked me what I like to do, and as soon as I told him, he started lecturing me on his ‘interpretation of creativity.’ And it didn’t stop. For the entire date.”

Harry grinned, clearly entertained, as you continued your rant, eyes narrowing as you remembered every detail.

“And every conversation has to be this deep, philosophical, soul-searching dive— like, ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space,’ you know? The kind of thing you'd hear from the most insufferable kid in a first year psych class.”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair as the memory played in your mind. “Do you want me to continue?” You looked up at Harry. “It gets a little…18+.”

Harry's jaw slightly clenched, but he let out a chuckle. “Oh really? His personality wasn’t enough of a red flag?” He teased you, you burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, you have no right to judge, we’re both victims of making bad decisions when we’re horny.” You joked.

“Mm, I don’t know, I would’ve left after the ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space’ comment.”

“First of all, he didn’t actually say that…..that was just his vibe.” You corrected, both of you continuing to laugh. “And second of all, I KNOW you still would have slept with him, especially if you hadn’t been with anyone in four months.” You reminded him.

“Oh would I? No amount of horniness would have even made me go back to that type of person’s house.”

“You’re a liar. “ you said, dying of laughter. “Do I have to remind you of that girl you slept with, the one who kept saying ‘actually’ in front of very compliment, that you hated? ‘You’re actually funny. You’re actually kind of cute. You’re actually smart. What was her name? Lily? Lucy?”

“It was Laura.” He sheepishly corrected you

“And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t just one night, even after she described your sex as ‘actually good’, so I don’t want any judgment from you.” He surrendered, and let you continue.

“I’ll spare you the intimate details…I’ll just say, I didn’t necessarily leave satisfied.”

“Did you finish?”

“He finished. I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” He titled his head towards you in disbelief.

You stayed silent, almost trying to hide a smile out of embarrassment. He shook his head in disapproval.

“This is why I don’t go on dates. All I got was a shitty dinner and I still haven’t had a non-self inflicted orgasm in 4 months.”

He held his arm out as an invitation to invite you closer to him. Accepting his invitation, you leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Did you go home and…help yourself?” He asked, rubbing your back in consolation.

“No! I went home, took a shower, and then came straight here!” He chuckled, pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him.

“You don’t have to end the night unsatisfied,” he teased, his voice low with a playful edge.

“You promised no judgment,” you laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. His silence, paired with the look in his eyes, made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“I’m just saying... there’s an easy fix,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Both of you laughed, though the underlying seriousness in your tones couldn’t be ignored.

“An easy fix? Like what?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, the flirtation slipping into your words.

“Well, let’s say you wanted to,” He guided you off his lap, sitting you next to him. “You could lay down right here.”

You lowered your back onto the couch, your heart pounding harder than ever.

“Is this okay?” He clarified. You nodded and he continued. “I could come up here, make you feel better.” He crawled up to your neck, laying kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone.

He kneeled down on the ground in front of the couch. His hand shifted down to the button of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them down your leg.

“You're in control here. Anytime you want to stop or do something else, you let me know, I want to make you feel good.” Your chest quickly moved up and down and you hummed in acknowledgment.

He grabbed your leg, placing it on one of his shoulders, kissing the other leg until he got to your inner thigh. Before he could continue you grabbed the ends of your top, quickly pulling it off to reveal your bra. Harry gave you a cheeky smile before he continued.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, sucking the delicate skin until a string of tiny purple bruises dotted your thighs.

“Please, Harry.” You whined in an impatient tone.

His eyes shot up to your face. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please…please Harry.” The eagerness that had been building up in you for the past four months started to come up all at once.

“You need to learn patience, baby.” He teased you, lightly grazing his lips along your inner thigh. Finally, he grabbed your underwear and helped you out of them.

He planted his lips over your clit, expertly curling his tongue around the swollen area and flicking until your hips bucked. His arms curled around your thighs, pulling you to him and splaying a hand over your stomach to keep your hips still. He flattened his tongue against your clit to give you the pressure that you desperately craved.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny. So wet. Is this all for me?”

You hastily nodded, unable to speak.

Your hand tugged hard on his hair as his tongue worked delicately hard across your clit. Harry took one last look at your flushed face before moving his fingers at a punishing pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could tell that you were holding back a bit, since you two had been friends for a while, yet this was your first interaction past a simple cuddle. He lifted his mouth from you.

“It’s alright, sweet thing. I got you, I want to make you feel good.”

He went back to pleasuring you, his ability to make you feel this good felt so natural. You focused on him, trying to push any nerves to the back of your head. His hand that rested on your stomach grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your hand, giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

A shudder rippled through your body and a deep moan erupted from your throat as you came around his fingers. Harry focused on you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

He climbed back up to you, sweeping your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet baby.” He cood, your eyes stayed closed as you catched your breath.

You mindlessly pulled him closer to you, hiding your face in his neck, needing immediate aftercare after your powerful orgasm.

“Wanna go upstairs…an-help you.” You breathlessly begged, kissing his neck and lowering your hand down his abdomen.

“Okay sweet thing, let’s go upstairs.”

[read part two here!] [read a prequel blurb here!]

[somnoir]

As a prompt Danny after he enters Gotham for any suddenly starts growing again for the first time since the portal incident and his body instead of slowly again decides to catch up all the missing years of growing at once so Danny goes from still looking 14 to suddenly having his father's height and looking his actual age.

Growing pains.... Literally

Since his death, Danny hasn't really... Grown. His parents think he's a late bloomer, that he'll grow later in life. But it's been four years since he's died and he hasn't grown a single inch in that time.

Frostbite is kind enough to tell me that... Well... He's stuck.

He's stuck in this form until something affects his physical form. Amity, even though it's considered the most haunted place in earth, doesn't have enough ambient ectoplasm for Danny. There are too many ghosts from the realm that feed of it, too many nevermores that need it to exist. Amity feeds it's ghosts but it doesn't have enough for a halfa like him.

When he moved to Gotham for the aerospace program (plus the scholarship) he doesn't expect much from it. People still question him about his age, it almost ends with him flinging his ID and birth certificate on people and cussing them out on his height.

He had even started exploring the city. There was this one cafe he found and the owner, Lily, was an absolute angel! With a shotgun. And he met a lot of people in Lily's Eden Cafe, like this weird kid that apparently dropped out of high school. Now, Danny ain't one to judge, so he's pretty okay with Tim. Except for the fact that he was so cool and smooth on a skateboard. Danny wanted one too.

Almost a week after moving, he's suffering. His body hurts, everything aches. It's as if something inside of him was trying to break out and it's making his bones strain. Everything about it hurts.

Many days passed of Danny being delirious from the pain, barely able to register what he was doing. A week and it's like he spent a coma walking around while his consciousness was asleep, practically dead by the lack of his memories.

The next time he woke up, it's been a week since he blacked out from the pain.

There's music in the background, almost familiar. The beat is something he heard Ember compose before his eighteenth birthday, then it was practically blasted through our the Ghost Zone when the day actually came.

"Shhh! Turn that racket down!"

"Hell nah! He likes it, see?"

"The little king seems.... To......change... Gotham..."

His eyes snapped open, gasping when he saw multiple pairs of eyes looking down at him.

"He's alive!"

Danny's instincts took over in that second and he's sending a blast of ecto towards the sudden scream. More screaming. Too much screaming. His head hurt.

"Holy shit, baby pop!"

He takes a moment before he's recognizing Ember... And the hole on his wall... And his glowing hand. Shit.

"Woah, woah! Calm down."

In Danny's confused state, he could barely register Kitty and Johnny in the room. Oh, and Shadow too. But still...

"I— What happened?" He groaned, blinking slowly. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His voice... OH MY GOD HIS VOICE! Why was it so deep?! What was wrong with his voice? Did he have a cold or something? Or maybe it's just his morning voice—

"Congrats on your dawning!" Johnny congratulated, grinning like a madman.

"What?" ooh, that was weird, "What the heck is an dawning?"

"Ooh, baby pop!" Ember cooed, "Forgot that our little king is still pretty new to being all ghost. C'mon now, baby. Mama Ember will teach you all about ghost puberty."

"GHOST WHAT?!"

Ghost puberty was a thing apparently. He had hauled himself into the Far Frozen after yelling at the four ghosts to steal him some clothes that would actually fit him. Because his entire body felt wrong... So wrong.

He was taller now. Having shot up from 5'4" to a whopping 6'2". Everything still hurt and now all his clothes didn't even fit! Nothing looked right when he'd looked at the mirror. He was almost as tall a shis dad now—he looked almost exactly like his dad now actually. It was almost terrifying how much he resembled his dad. If he went to visit now, he's sure that his mother would have a heart attack from how quickly he had grown.

"Frostbite!" Danny practically growled and oooh... Yeah, now it sounded differently to whenever he'd end up snarling. The deepness of his voice almost intimidated him.

"Great one!" The yeti greeted, looking utterly ecstatic to see him. "Ah, I see you've finished your dawning. I offer my sincerest congrats, your majesty."

"Yeah, yeah. The fuck is a Dawning?"

Frostbite blinked, before his expression morphed into a grim one. "Oh dear... I had thought that the Observants would have deigned to explain this too you upon your coronation... Well, let us sit then, great one. This will be a long one."

To summarize it all, Ghost puberty.

A Dawning was a time every ghost went through, so long as there was enough ambient ectoplasm around them to help their forms morph into their preferred appearances. Usually, a ghosts appearance to their own mentality. Their maturity.

Apparently, Young Blood already went through a Dawning but remained in his child-like form due to his own mental age. He was a child in heart, mind, soul, and body.

Meanwhile... Danny who was still alive yet also dead, had followed on with his mental maturity. His body morphed, it changed, it adapted to how he saw himself, how he desperately wanted to become deep down in his core.

And this Danny Fenton was a 6'2" giant trying to control all his limbs that were suddenly too long, too heavy. Everything felt strange....

Tim Drake's favorite cafe was known for being neutral ground for both rogues and vigilantes. You don't fuck around Lilian's cafe or else she'll pull out a rifle and shoot you dead. So if course, Tim fucking loved the place.

Actually, many people frequented it.

He's familiarised himself with the faces of a lot of people by then. Even that scrawny new kid that arrived three weeks ago. Tim remembers Danny for how enthusiastic he was about going to collage, not even minding the madness of Gotham itself. It was like he thrived in it.

He waves at Lilian after ordering his usual, taking a seat in the corner before he's whipping out his laptop. Duke and Steph arrive soon after, immediately ordering before going off to join Tim.

Mundane things, something they all seemed to appreciate more.

The bell rings, more customers arrive and—

"Danny! Holy hell, what happened?"

Tim paused, immediately snapping his eyes towards— WHAT THE FUCK?!

Steph whistled, "Hot damn..."

Danny Fenton was a scrawny young man, shorter than Tim. Even more slim.

But whoever the hell entered the cafe was 6'2", almost as muscled as Jason, and slouching like Clark—as if he was in the wrong body. He almost dropped his drink if not for Duke gently guiding his hand down.

"Hey, Lils..."

God, what the fuck was that? What was happening? Who the hell was this awkward adonis with a voice as deep as the fucking ocean?

"Tim?" Duke waved his hand over his eyes, "Timothy? Timbers?"

"Duke, leave him alone. He's gone, never coming back." Steph snickered, shaking her head before her eyes went back to Danny, who was stuttering as he tried to order what he wanted. "But damn if I wouldn't act the same. Shoot your shot—"

Shoot his fucking shot he did.

"Hey Danny..." Tim slid up to him with a smile.

Danny blinked—woah was he tall and practically built like a fucking fridge—before his eyes brightened and a smile joined his expression.

"Hi Tim!"

Was this how Bruce felt like when he saw Clark?

Masterpost

[psychoticfemmm]

drunk on you

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: After a wild night of partying, JJ takes care of his drunk girlfriend, enduring her chaotic antics and relentless demands for kisses while the Pogues tease him endlessly.

The music thumped loudly in the background as JJ Maybank maneuvered his way through the crowded beach party, your drunken laughter echoing in his ears. You were practically draped over his shoulder like a giggling mess, your hand clutching the strap of his shirt while your other hand lazily waved at everyone passing by.

“JJ! I’m having so much fun!” you slurred, your face lighting up as you spotted him glancing down at you. “But I need—wait for it—another kiss!”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need another kiss, princess. You need water. And maybe a nap.”

You pouted dramatically, squirming in his grasp. “Nooo. JJ, you’re being so mean. Just one!”

He stopped for a second, setting you down on your feet so you could look at him with wide, pleading eyes. “What did I just say? Water first, then maybe kisses,” he teased, a crooked grin on his face.

You leaned closer, practically pressing your forehead against his chest as you whined, “But you’re my boyfriend! It’s your job to kiss me whenever I ask.”

“You’re impossible,” JJ said with a sigh, but the fondness in his voice gave him away.

From a few feet away, Sarah, John B, Pope, and Kiara watched the scene unfold, laughing amongst themselves.

“She’s relentless,” Pope said, shaking his head in disbelief. “JJ looks like he’s babysitting.”

“Hey, at least she’s not crying,” Sarah chimed in, smirking. “That’s progress.”

“She’s definitely about to though,” Kiara added, watching as you flung yourself dramatically against JJ’s chest, shouting something about him being “the worst boyfriend ever” for withholding kisses.

“Alright, that’s it,” JJ declared, bending down and effortlessly scooping you into his arms bridal-style, just like in the picture. “I’m cutting you off. You’re done.”

You gasped, throwing your head back in faux outrage as your legs dangled over his arms. “You’re kidnapping me! Someone stop him!”

“No one’s stopping me, sweetheart,” JJ said with a laugh. “You’re out of control.”

The group burst into laughter, John B pulling out his phone to record the whole scene.

“JJ, this is gold,” John B said between laughs. “I can’t wait to show her this tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare!” you shouted, suddenly animated, though your words were slurred. “John B Routledge, I swear, if you—JJ, make him stop!”

JJ rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on you. “You think I can do everything, huh? I’m already carrying your drunk ass.”

“Because you love me,” you replied with a smug grin, poking his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” JJ muttered, though his smile betrayed him.

When you finally made it back to the house, JJ gently set you down on the couch. You flopped over dramatically, your arm draped over your face.

“You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,” he said, handing you a bottle of water.

“I’m going to hate you in the morning,” you quipped, though your smile said otherwise.

JJ rolled his eyes, plopping down beside you. “Fine. One kiss. Just one.”

You immediately perked up, your face lighting up as you crawled onto his lap and kissed him. It was a bit clumsy and overly enthusiastic, but JJ couldn’t help but laugh into it, pulling you closer.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he said, pulling back before you could start again. “We’re in front of the Pogues, for crying out loud.”

Sure enough, Sarah, Kiara, and the rest of the group were standing in the doorway, watching with grins and smug expressions.

“Aw, JJ,” Sarah teased. “You’re such a softie.”

“Shut it, Sarah,” JJ shot back, his cheeks red.

“I think it’s cute,” Kiara said, nudging Pope.

Pope smirked. “You mean hilarious.”

You, however, were too busy giggling in JJ’s arms to care. And despite the teasing and chaos around him, JJ couldn’t help but smile. Because at the end of the day, you were his chaos—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You groaned as sunlight streamed through the window, making you squint against the bright rays. Your head pounded, and your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“What the hell…” you muttered, shielding your eyes as you slowly sat up.

From the doorway, JJ leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed and a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his tone entirely too cheerful.

You glared at him. “Why are you so loud?”

“Not my fault you had a little too much fun last night,” he teased, walking over and plopping down on the bed beside you.

You groaned, dropping back against the pillows. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely reminding you. Do you want to hear about how you demanded ‘one more kiss’ like, a hundred times? Or how you tried to fight John B because he wouldn’t stop filming you?”

Your eyes shot open, and you turned to him with horror. “I did not.”

“Oh, you did,” JJ said with a laugh. “And you called me, and I quote, ‘the worst boyfriend ever’ because I wouldn’t kiss you in the middle of the party.”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “I’m never drinking again.”

JJ leaned down, brushing his lips against your temple. “Don’t worry. I think it was adorable. Drunk you is my favorite.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a grin. “But don’t worry, princess. I’m here to take care of you.”

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Because at the end of the day, JJ always had your back—whether you were sober or not.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

since you guys loved the last JJ fic𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

send requests! ⋆˚✿˖°

[flamingpudding]

(Un)fortunate Courting (Request)

Requested by @silverblueglitter

Original Prompt Post this is based on by @diabolichare

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this will not disappoint. I am slowly getting back into the grove of writing and out of my block. Also on a side note I am not posting / writing as much right now because work is currently keeping me busy.

Danny was very sure he was doing everything right in regards to ghost culture. Clockwork and Pandora had been educating him very well on that. Sure they did it with some ominous explanation in regards to his future but Danny had shrugged that off. Clockwork had always had a way with words that didn't make sense but somehow did too. Now as he had learned if a ghost wants to cross through another ghosts haunt an offering needs to be made. Ideally the offering is in regards to something the other ghosts likes.

So if he would need, for example, cross through Embers haunt, he would offer her something like guitar strings or something other music related stuff that could be useful to her obsession. With that logic, Danny knew that if he wanted to use the short cut to his collage through Red Hoods haunt he would need to offer the other something. Like he had offered something to Lady Gotham for his stay in Gotham for his collage education. The thing was he would have to offer Red Hood something every time he needed to go through the others haunt, unlike with Lady Gotham who had just accepted a single offer since he wasn't constantly going in and out of her haunt.

But that also left him with what to get the other Halfa as offering.

He had contemplated offering something Red Hood might need for his duty. You know? Maybe some self engineered bullets he could use against ghosts, though Danny knew that was probably unnecessary considering Gotham's protector spirit, Lady Gotham, had a pretty good handle on everything here. Which good, because that meant Danny could fully focused on his studies for once.

That was until Danny realized how much the core of that other Halfa was malnourished. Which gave Danny the perfect chance to catch two ghosts with one thermos, okay bad joke. But seriously, that gave Danny an idea of what to offer for his right of passage through the others haunt. So he made simple care packages that would help the other Halfa. He had thought about supplying some Ecto-Dejecto directly but that felt a little to on the nose and someone who didn't know his family would probably think Danny insane, as if there weren't enough people in his collage thinking that already. Besides he was in Gotham and with villains like Scarecrow and Joker he didn't think a syringe with glowing green contents would be a trustworthy offering.

Anyway, Danny decided to be a bit more discreet, infusing ectoplasm into simple foods, that most importantly, COULD NOT COME ALIVE. So Danny's care packaged ended up consisting of chocolates, snacks and other sweets that would NOT start fighting back. He also figured out how to mix ectoplasm into drinks so it wouldn't taste to overwhelming.

Danny did not anticipate the side effect offerings like that would have or realise what his offerings looked like to someone who did not know about ghost culture.

Jason was torn as he found the n-ed little present box during his patrol route with a little card stating it was for him. He eyed the box having gotten familiar with these boxes over the past month. He lifted the lid and yep.... chocolates.

"Again?" his distorted voice came through his voice modulator as he eyed the chocolates suspiciously. Either he had a very insistent admirer or one of his enemies cooked up a new idea to make him paranoid. Not like his brothers didn't joke about him getting Bruce's paranoia when he had run the sixth box of chocolates through the substance tester to figure out if someone was trying to poison him.

Turned out poison was not in the chocolates but something else. An unknown substance but in small dosages. Jason was currently allowing Tim to run wild in figuring out what was mixed into the chocolates. Also the seasoned vigilante had to admit, that there was something tempting about these sweets. Like something inside him really urged him to eat them. It was only his self-restraint and discipline that helped him resist the urge to taste test some of these chocolates.

Also sometimes there were drink in these packages too. Yes, Jason had run them through the tester too and got the same results like with the sweets and chocolates. No poison but that other strange substance. At first Jason didn't really want to bother with it but these boxes appeared every damn night when he was on patrol, but strangle not on weekend or holidays.

"Oh got another little present, Little Wing!" Jason barely turned around as his older brother dropped onto the roof next to him. "Chocolates this time! How cute! They must really love you!"

Sometimes Jason wished his helmet could portray emotions better as he gave Dick a deadpan stare. "More like wanting to poison me." He muttered his voice changer doing nothing to support the sarcasm in his voice.

"You have to admit it is kind of cute! You have a little fan or admirer! And look these chocolates are even heart shaped! Oh and pralines are in there too!" Dick gushed on about Jason's admirer, while Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet. It would be cute if there wasn't an unknown substance mixed into the stuff left for him. Though he had to admit, whoever left that stuff was getting creative. From what Jason saw they rarely used the same brand of chocolates or sweets to give to him twice. Like they were trying to figure out what he liked. For a brief moment that made Jason wonder, if he actually ate one of these for once, would his admirer present him with the same brand again the next night?

He shock that thought off, no way was he going to eat something with an unknown substance in it. So instead he shoved the box at Dick. "Take that to the cave Dickibird. Gives Pretender more materials to test with."

Dick, to his credit stopped gushing for at that and chuckled. "Can do, but seriously though, what did Oracle say. Did she catch your little admirer on the security cameras at least."

Shaking his head Jason let out a sigh. "No, its like these boxes appear out of nowhere."

"Well at least they are harmless."

"For now." He grunted in response. While they didn't pose a danger, Jason didn't like the implications behind their appearances. For one no matter how much he changed up his patrol routes, these boxes would still appear. There is no video proof of someone placing the boxes. They just appear out of thin air or roofs or his path right when he comes by. If he could believe that the videos that Barbara had showed him weren't manipulated then they just appeared like a couple of seconds before he would find them.

It was suspicious and Jason was determined to find out who leaves them.

Danny hummed his latest earworm song, which happed to be Embers newest hit in the Ghost Zone, as he prepared his next offering to Red Hood. He had thought about leaving these boxes by Red Hoods Safe house during the day on his way to collage but he figured with his own history of being a hero. Secret identities were important and should not be revealed against the others wish.

This time he had gotten the expensive brand of pralines. He hoped Hood would actually like them and eat them hopefully. Danny threaded the moment he would have to try infusing ectoplasm into something other than safe sweets, chocolates and snacks that won't come alive if he didn't find something Hood would eat soon.

The Halfa was so focused on his task of infusing the pralines with ectoplasm that he did not notice the arrival of three of his old ghost rogues, until he got grapped by the collar and throw across his own appartment.

"OW! What the...?!"

"Long Time not seen Pelt." Danny blinked as Skulker stood over him, Ember and Wulf a bit further behind. Wulfs presence explained how the other two managed to show up in his place.

"What are you guys doing here?" He was so not up for a round of ghost body that could potentially destroy his flat.

"Fixing your love life." Ember grinned down at him with Wulf nodding.

"My love life...." Something was definitely wrong. Danny does not remember currently dating anyone. He also didn't have crush, well not a obvious one he thought at least. He was distinctively pushing way that fleeting image of Red Hood out of his mind.

"Yeas your love life Baby Boop." Ember reaffirmed. "Didn't the old ghosts teach you anything. You don't use the human of giving presents when you court a ghost!"

"I... what?" Danny's brain currently really had trouble catching up with what was going on.

"Pelt you need to assert yourself, fight your damn object of attention to proof your worth." Skulker added arms crossed.

"Don't worry we will help you! So you wont fail!" Ember added.

Before Danny could answer or ask what the hell they were going on about though Skulker grabbed him by the back of his collar again and promptly dragged Danny long with him flying out of his flat to who knows where. Distinctive Danny swore he heard laughing that sounded suspiciously like Lady Gotham.

"WAIT SKULKER!" The shout escaped him as his brain finally caught up but before he could go ghost and actually do something he was thrown against someone. Whoever he landed on let out a deep 'oof' that sounded distorted and Danny had a sinking feeling as he hurriedly sat up and came face to face with Red Hood.

"Aw shit...." Danny muttered instantly choosing to turn invisible and hoping that Red Hood had nod seen him long enough to get recognised, worst of all Skulker had dragged him all the way to Hoods haunt when Danny didn't even have an offering! Now he owned Hood two offerings!

"What are you doing Pelt! You are supposed to challenge for the right of courtship first! The courtship presents come later!" Skulker shouted at Danny to which while still invisible Danny choose to flip the other ghost off. Something he would have never done as teen but now that he had come to some sort of understanding with his former rogues was not rare happening, as long as Jazz wasn't there to witness it.

Meanwhile Jason was sitting utterly confused on the roof now, just a moment ago a twig of a man had landed on him and he had seen the other guy for a brief moment before he had disappeared out of nowhere again. He grumbled muttered curses and knew he would have to go though the video footage of his helmet to get a clearer picture of what or rather who had knocked him over.

But he had a feeling it was related to the boxes of sweets and chocolates.

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[luvchaew]

unwrapping!

jay has been your best friend for ages, but when touches started to linger and jealousy started to take all over him, you decided to give him a little surprise on his birthday. (feat zb1 hanbin, enhypen sunoo, katseye lara, mentions of riize wonbin)

“you really think i didn't know you had a thing for me all this time?” bestfriend!jay x pervy!reader, f2pl wc𓈒 3k— not proofread! ✴ cursing, making out, unprotected sex (don't ppl), oral (m. receiving), creampie, p in v, praise & degradation kink, breeding kink, jay is a switch, banter, slightly fluffy, pet names (jongseongie, baby, darling, princess..), mdni!

happy birthday jongseong! crazy to think you're already all grown up — he's finally 23 guys, are we gonna be okay?

𝑚. 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

jay had always been there.

if not for you, with you, for sure.

you didn't really remember what it felt like not having him around since you were about 12, except those past weeks; since you showed up with your situationship to a weekend barbecue, at least.

he'd been ignoring you — not really ignoring, but making it clear that something was up.

5 days ago, when you handed him the mayonnaise, his fingers brushed over yours carefully, with so much caution put into it that it was almost deliberate, like he was touching a stranger. a week ago, when you sent him a very funny electric guitar-related meme via dm, he didn't reply. worse, he didn't even react with a laughing emoji or something. things were definitely off, but you couldn't pretend you didn't know, not if you dig deep into your mind.

what you actually didn't know, but got hold of during a phone call with your friend, sunoo, was that jay accidentally overheard your conversation about wonbin — your brand new situationship — and how good he was in bed. that clarified a lot, if you were being honest.

you couldn't deny that he always paid too much attention to you. that his gaze lingered way more than it should. that some of your sleepovers at his house almost turned into something else if it wasn't for the solemn string that still kept you sane. that the silent acknowledgement of his feelings were always there, but you were simply too stubborn to admit it, to say that maybe, just maybe, you also wanted to be more than friends with him.

since there was this possibility that he was jealous, that he didn't want you with anyone else, you got thrilled, perhaps simply carried away, you couldn't tell. this wait has been killing you since you were 18, and if he wasn't brave enough to act, you were.

the idea at first was hanbin's, when he had already had too much beer and his messy hair covered half of his face. your roommate, lara, was there too, and perhaps it was the alcohol you drank while watching that baseball match, but you soon found yourself excited for it, planning everything amusingly fast.

“okay, so you're gonna be dressed in what?” lara pointed out, cleaning her slender fingers — that were full of nacho's orange bran, by the way. — on her pants.

“wait, there's a need for clothing?”

“hanbin! i'm not fully strip teasing in front of my best friend all of sudden, it has to be more subtle. let's focus”

“aren’t you going to do the ’let’s end up waiting’ thing? i was just trying to help, sorry” he pouted, raising his hands in cynical defeat.

“i think a ribbon tied around me would be good. something like ‘come and unwrap your birthday present’. ”

lara exclaimed, visibly pleased, her braided hair moving as she bounced slightly on the couch, she also helped giving more ideas, suggesting some ridiculous stuff like putting some background sexual music to play when jay was supposed to enter the room during his party — she probably meant Chase Atlantic, and it was soon discarded. — by dawn, sunoo also appeared, his eyes swollen from sleep but his mind working fast, brainstorming with you as he giggled playfully.

all of them waited all their life for this, didn't they?

“let's go through the plan once more” you started, biting your lips, “i’m gonna pretend to be nonchalant about his birthday, and at first not show up to his party. around 8pm, sunoo is helping me to sneak into his room and lara is going to tell him to go upstairs and search for something, or someone. when he enters the room, i'm gonna be there,”

“with a ribbon around you, do not forget” hanbin added, resting his chin on his hands as he listened attentively.

“yeah, there's that, too. and navy blue set of lingerie, god—, where was my mind at?”

“no backing out now, misses courage, we're fucking gonna do it and you're in. because there's technically no plan without you and we need that thrill” your roommate encouraged you, and even if there was pressure, you felt way more enthusiastic about it than what you should, hence why you just continued, nodding.

“i know, i know. then you're closing the door and we're gonna, um, have a lil’ fun”

they all excitedly laughed, and for a split up second, you swore sunoo would stand up and start jumping — it was almost his second nature to do so, and it honestly wouldn't be a surprise.

“but what if he refuses? aren't we going too far?” you spoke up, letting your insecurities show for a minute. you would be so embarrassed if he just ran away. if he said he didn't want that. and you knew damn well it would ruin your friendship one way or another.

“oh, stop. i have heard that guy moaning your name while showering more than once. it's gonna be fine” and perhaps it was the worst decision you've ever made, but you chose to believe them. are you this slutty to enjoy dragging your childhood best friend to a hook up on his birthday party knowing that he has no willpower to deny it whatsoever?

apparently yes.

you could blame it on the alcohol, yes you could, but when the days passed and the idea were still standing, your mind flying back to it every time someone mentioned sex?

there was no one to blame anymore. you just had to embrace your natural-pervy self and wait for everything to happen naturally — only with a little helping hand coming from you, of course.

because you wanted that to be the best birthday gift he's received his whole life.

one could call it obsession, concern, anxiety, whatever, but the only thing you knew was that the first thing that came to your mind the moment you woke up on the 20th was: “it’s today”.

throughout breakfast, you overthinked and overthinked about the small birthday text you'd sent him. you honestly couldn't remember when it was the last time you didn't send jay a wholesome message on his anniversary, however today would be different. today would be a new start — or maybe an end, depending on how things would go.

but you were positive.

you ended up deciding on a simple ‘happy 23, jongseongie’ and a white heart right next to it, which he visualized within minutes and didn't reply. you were expecting it, but it hurt either way, and maybe you kept staring at your phone screen for too long waiting for a signal.

despite the tension throughout the day, before you knew you were already barging inside his crowded house, sunoo by your side, lingerie clinging to your skin sinfully as a tight black dress hid it.

as you entered the room, you were quick to get rid off your dress and lay down on his bed, being extra careful to show enough but not too much in the direction of the door. as you did it, you were embarrassed to find yourself already soaked, he shouldn't be affecting you this much, should he?

you soon heard steps approaching and momentarily panicked. the loud conversation of the house and the noise of yells faded away, everything shifting completely in the atmosphere when he entered the bedroom, eyes darkening when his gaze fell on you.

you hadn't seen him in days, and saying he looks good was an understatement. broad shoulders, tight jeans perfectly fitting him, a strand of messy hair falling on his forehead.

jay called your name lowly, looking confused, but stepping forward, closer, dangerously closer.

“come and unwrap your birthday present, won't you?” you tease, voice dripping with honey and fake innocence given the position you were in: legs slightly opened, head tilted, body barely hidden and biting your bottom lip.

for a second, you thought he was going to turn around and run, and you considered apologizing, but then he was on top of you in no time, crawling to the bed and pinning your wrists on the mattress on top of your head.

it was everything he'd ever dreamed of. you on his bed, deprived of clothes, completely on his mercy.

“fuck, y/n— that's what you planned acting all bratty this whole time?” he groaned, sounding devastated.

“um, surprise?” you darkly chuckled, and jay searched for your brown doe-eyes. when he took it all in, he held your waist with his free hand and pulled you in.

it wasn’t a cute, soft kiss, but one that left you breathless as fast as it started. his lips worked fast on yours, the movements of his head leaving you dizzy. he pressed further, opening your mouth and sliding his tongue inside, exploring your warmness as if he had been starved.

you felt every single hidden feeling dissipating, every dangerous gaze making sense, every time he’d called you ‘princess’ — as a joke, as you'd tell yourself — meaning much more than it did before. and now you believed your friends when they insisted that he has been liking you for ages, because the force in which he kissed you was different.

you'd never been kissed like that before.

you ran your hands through his neck, gripping firmly in an attempt to ground yourself. you hummed softly, his grip tightened and suddenly the shortness of breath was present, leaving you separated for a while.

he looked deep into your eyes, breathing heavily, and only then scanned your body, groaning as he saw the navy blue lacy panties and the wet mark there.

“god, you look beautiful—” he hissed, amused. he freed your wrists and messily untied the ribbon, whereas you swore he was trembling slightly. the soft fabric fell down on the floor as he was quick to cup your barely covered tits, admiring them. jay would've been fast to unbutton your bra and give them the respectful attention, but it wasn't what you wanted now, you wanted him to feel good. it was a birthday surprise, after all.

“jongseongie, let me take care of you first,” he looked at you, wide-eyed, as if the idea alone threatened something inside him. you propped yourself on one elbow and sat up, slowly pushing him to lay down on the bed with the tip of your fingers.

he stiffened for a moment, but soon layed down, closing his eyes, trying to find sanity. you position yourself between his legs, spreading it open.

“ngh, too much clothes, take it off” you pleaded, and he obeyed, because who was he to deny you a wish like that?

as he took out his shirt, you almost crawled on top of him to leave lingering kisses everywhere: his jaw, collarbone, neck, shoulders. sometimes you would suck on it slightly just to feel how he shaked when you nibbled a specific spot right between his shoulder and neck. you didn't really overthink it, but jay was overly sensitive, trembling, panting, humming.

your nails scratched his abs, worshipping them. you’d already seen jay shirtless, when he was swimming, or when it was too hot and he sweated heavily so it would be excusable to take it off, but this was different, hotter, better. you earned beautiful noises that sounded more like the choir that opened heaven's gates, and when you settled beneath him, touching his clothed prominent crotch, work had to start.

“be good f‘me, hm jay? let me take you?” you whispered, patting his bulge teasingly, feeling it get harder with each stroke. he squirmed, eyelids fluttering close. “i need words, baby”

he opened his eyes slowly, pupils dilated. when he spoke up, his voice was low, hoarse, strained, “yeah, y/n, fucking gimme the best birthday gift i've ever received”

you smirked, satisfied, and gently lowered his pants and boxer, removing it. his hardened member instantly flew forward when it was released, the tip glistening. you hummed and leaned in, stroking it once, twice, three times, until he began to whimper, impatient.

you chuckled, spitting on it and finally leaving kitten licks on the tip, tasting the precum that coated his dick. his hand came to grip your hair in a lazy ponytail, while the other rested under his head. when he pressed further, leaving you no choice but take him in, you tried your best not to gag at the sudden movement, eyes closing.

he was big, you couldn't deny it whatsoever, but the biggest hardship was that he was thick, and it barely fit inside your mouth, competing for space with your tongue.

you swirled your tongue around it and started to suck slowly, feeling how he hit the roof of your mouth continuously.

you hummed around his dick, sending electric waves through his body and he groaned, wrecked, going rougher now.

“continue like that, shit princess—” he lowly muttered, and you drooled all over his shaft, saliva dripping down from your mouth and covering your face. you were a mess, and you knew that, perhaps was even proud of it, and when tears fell down on your face, the salty liquid combining with saliva and precum, jay was sure he didn't deserve that. you looked so damn pretty.

but he only continued, feeling his climax approaching embarrassingly fast, because you were his gift anyway.

his hands moved faster and his hips bucked forward. you looked at him through eyelashes and the vision you had was a crime to be for free: head fell back, lips slightly parted, messy hair, adam’s apple bobbing.

his thighs trembled next to you, and with a deeper thrust, his hot cum was shot at the back of your mouth, leaving you no option but to swallow it.

his seed spread messily along your mouth, his tip shining red, and as he drove himself through the orgasm, still fucking your glossy lips, you moaned unconsciously — high-pitched, dark.

you swore that the view alone could've finished you, and you were almost coming undone when he sat up, still heavily breathing, and pushed you down on the mattress, flooding you with his scent.

his uneven breath hovered just above your ear as he stared down at you, dark eyes scanning you in a whole. his fingers traveled to your soaking wet core, groaning when he entered in contact with it, “so wet, so gorgeous—” he tossed your lacy panties to the side, sliding a finger and stroking your cunt and bud all together. you moaned at the touch, a shiver running through your spine. he continued teasing, never giving in, breathing heavily, “do you think you deserve being fucked after bringing that boy around, hm princess?”

“he was no good so you had to come to me, isn't that it?” his words made you squirm, clenching around nothing as he continued teasing, fingering but never entering, his still-hard cock hitting your thigh at the proximity.

he was, at the same time, overwhelmingly close, but not close enough, not touching you were you wanted him to, where you needed him to.

you rolled your hips, desperate to create friction, and he only chuckled mockingly, his grin growing wider, darker.

“please— oh my goodness, please”

“please what, darling?” he gripped your inner thighs firmly, spreading yourself open, like you were an open book that only he could read.

“f-fuck me, ruin me, please, jongseongie!”

he let out a sound so lustful you weren't sure what it was, and snapped. he captured your lips in a kiss, now raw, messy, rushed, where he could taste himself on your tongue, and pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open.

you moaned against his mouth, and right when he began to find your g-spot, curling perfectly, he pulled out. you whimpered at the loss, but soon, without any warning, he entered you completely. the stretch was overwhelming, and you felt him deep in your stomach, sitting inside for a while before thrusting fast. your jaw opened in a silent scream, and you held on to his scalp for dear life. it felt so good, your bodies intertwined like a limbo, damp of sweat covering his forehead, his dick hitting you so deep you saw stars. why haven't you done this before?

he hid his head on the crook of your neck, biting and nibbling on the sensitive spot there, the sensation sending butterflies on your stomach.

because it was supposed to be just sex, but his hands on your waist? hickeys left by him appearing on your collarbone? his name being recited as a chant as he was buried deep in you?

it felt more than just hooking up.

and maybe it was, but you were too afraid to admit, or perhaps it simply didn't matter now. you'd always been inconsequential.

as his groans started to get louder, his thrusts faltered, losing its pace and coming out messier, breaking your limits and surpassing where was the max you thought you could handle.

“princess, do you feel me here? going s’ deep”

“taking me in so good. letting me use you just as i want, you're the prettiest gift ever aren't you?”

“do you feel my cock hitting this perfect pussy?”

tears started to fall down your face again, but now they were saltier, the pain growing overwhelming when the knot on your stomach snapped, releasing what felt like a whole bottle of transparent cum.

jay didn't stop for a second even after your liquid was shot on your bodies, only holding your sides harder as he chased his own release. one could say he was possessed, eyebrows furrowing, eyes empty, mouth open.

“damn— t’much, too much, ngh” you cried out, earning a chuckle from him, as he muttered how you should take it because it was his birthday after all.

his thrusts faltered even more, his head falling back, you could feel that he was close. when he did release, his orgasm filling you up perfectly, shooting deep inside you, you were sure that was the best sensation you've ever felt.

“yeah, darling, letting me fill you up so good, hm? look at you, looking so wrecked. did i ruin you completely?”

you couldn't form coherent sentences, your mind occupied by a black cloud, where you wanted him, felt him, thought about him.

he laughed down at you, falling apart, wrapping an arm around your waist lazily. he nuzzled into your hair, feeling grounded on your scent, drunk in your taste. he lifted your chin up to kiss you once more, all those unspoken feelings, unacknowledged promises being transferred from you to him and vice-versa.

“i think you're receiving the first piece of cake this year, you were by far the one who made me happier today, princess.”

[sunsburns]

summer road trip with luke castellan (16+, implied sex)

it starts with a promise.

made late at night, in the kind of hazy space between sleep and dreaming, when the world feels quiet and nothing’s quite real yet. you’re lying side by side on a roof somewhere—one of those abandoned places luke likes to sneak into. the stars are barely visible, city lights bleeding up into the sky, but you’re not really looking at the stars anyway.

“we should do it,” he says, breathless from laughter after a dumb joke he barely managed to get out. “just take off one day. no plans. no schedules. just you, me, and the open road.”

you laugh into the sleeve of your hoodie. “okay, cowboy.”

“i’m serious.” he props himself up on his elbows. “we’ll make playlists. stay in janky motels. get gas station snacks that’ll probably kill us. it’ll be perfect.”

you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “we’re always saying ‘one day.’ you ever think about making it this day?”

he doesn’t say anything for a long second.

then, “i’ll steal a car.”

you snort. “please don’t steal a car.”

“fine. borrow one.” he nudges your arm. “c’mon. you know you want this.”

you do. gods, you really do.

and maybe that’s why two weeks later you’re throwing a duffel bag in the backseat of an old car luke somehow managed to “legally” obtain (you don’t ask too many questions), a worn paper map stuffed into the glove compartment, and three half-charged burner phones just in case.

you don’t even pick a destination. that’s the point.

it’s about the drive.

the first few days are the best kind of disorganized. you get hopelessly turned around trying to get out of the city, miss your turn like, four times, and end up on some weird detour through a town that seems stuck in the 1950s. you eat breakfast-for-dinner at a diner with cracked red booths and a waitress who calls you both “sweethearts.” luke leaves a doodle on a napkin and tucks it into the jukebox.

the road stretches ahead like a ribbon of possibility, glittering under the sun. the heat blurs the horizon, making everything shimmer like a mirage, and the sky is that kind of obnoxiously perfect blue that feels more like a postcard than real life.

the a.c. in the car gave up somewhere around three days ago, so the windows are rolled down, warm air rushing in and tangling your hair, sticking your shirt to your back. it doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.

you've got one foot propped on the dash and a half-melted slushie wedged into the cupholder, condensation dripping down the sides. the map—the one you swore you didn’t need, and luke insisted you bring anyway—flutters against your knee every time the wind hits just right. it’s already creased and stained, with corners starting to curl. neither of you are really using it.

a cd clicks softly in the stereo, and a hazy guitar riff spills out—something easy, something old. the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

you hum to the songs you know, watching the scenery blur past in golden smears of light and heat.

luke’s driving one-handed, the other resting lazily out the window, fingers tapping against the door in time with the beat. sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and there’s a sunburn blooming along the edge of his jaw that he keeps forgetting to take care of. he looks over at you, grinning.

“you’re gonna fly out the window if you lean any further.”

“worth it,” you say, hair whipping across your face. “this breeze is all that’s keeping me alive right now.”

he chuckles, reaching over to tug the map from your lap. “you’re the one who said we didn’t need to stop for sunscreen. or, y’know, ice.”

“and you’re the one who didn’t want to stop for directions,” you shoot back, watching him squint at the map like it personally offended him. “so now we’re two thirsty idiots lost somewhere between nowhere and hell.”

“romantic,” he says, tossing the map into the backseat. “just the way i like it.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s affectionate. always is with him.

the wind smells like dust and wildflowers, and every few miles, you pass a road sign faded by time and sun. one of them promises a lake in twenty minutes which probably is not true. the next, a diner with the “best pie in the state.” you don’t stop for either. maybe the next one.

you were supposed to take turns driving. that was the deal—fifty-fifty, no arguments. but luke, being luke, never sticks to the plan. he always insists he’s fine, even when you catch his eyes fluttering shut at a red light, head tilting slightly like he’s about to nod off right then and there.

“i literally saw you close your eyes for five seconds,” you say when he pulls into a gas station, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he parks.

“it was just five seconds,” he groans.

“five seconds away from crashing,” you mutter, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “move over.”

he sighs, dragging himself out from behind the wheel with all the theatrics of someone who’s definitely not fine, even if he still insists otherwise. he grumbles under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat—and is completely passed out the second his head hits the window. no “i’m not even tired,” no “just resting my eyes.” just out cold. mouth open, snoring, even drooling a little.

you drive comfortably after that. there’s less tension on your shoulders now that you’re the one in control, and luke’s quiet snoring is oddly comforting.

he stirs sometime later, sleep-warm and rumpled, his voice still thick with it when he reaches across the console. his hand finds yours with ease, like it’s muscle memory. his fingers slot between yours and, without a word, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. soft. slow. like a thank-you.

somewhere between a cracked-out diner with the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had and a pit stop at a quiet national park, you start feeling it—that warm, slow burn that only summer with luke castellan can bring.

it’s in the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s in the casual brush of his thumb over the back of your hand. it’s in the way he steals bites of your food, complains about the heat, and still tucks a cold bottle of water into your hands without being asked.

he’s quiet during the hikes, but he always slows down so you don’t fall behind, even when you insist you’re fine. he keeps snacks in his pockets for you, things he knows you like, things you didn’t even notice him buying. and when you sit beside him on the edge of a cliff, watching the sun drip like honey into the horizon, he kisses your shoulder so gently it sends goosebumps across your skin.

he takes so many pictures of you. most of the time you don’t even notice until he shows you later—sun-drenched, wind-tousled, blurry with motion but sharp with love. he says he wants to remember you like this. you laugh and roll your eyes, but still smile a little too hard when you see them.

you two stop at a few motels every now and then. they were nothing special. peeling paint, flickering neon sign half-buzzed out, and a questionable stain or two on the carpet—but it’s cheap, and it’s got just enough charm to feel like part of the story. luke leans against the counter while you check in, tapping the bell repeatedly until you swat at him.

the old woman behind the desk gives you a room key and a knowing smirk like she’s seen a thousand versions of you two before: sunburnt, road-weary, eyes too bright to be anything but in love.

sometimes, impulses get the best of the two of you. like when one day luke spots a faded little hand-painted sign pointing down an overgrown path off the side of the highway. beach access. there’s no one around. no cars. just the sound of cicadas and wind through tall grass.

you both follow it on instinct, barefoot and laughing, racing toward the sound of crashing waves.

and then there it is: a hidden stretch of shoreline tucked between two cliffs, like a secret carved out just for you. no footprints, no noise except for the ocean. the sand’s hot and soft under your feet, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in amber.

you run straight into the water, still half-dressed, splashing and shrieking when luke dunks you under and then pulls you back up, breathless and dripping. he kisses you then, water-slicked and grinning, hands on your waist like he’s never going to let go.

and later, after you’ve both sprinted back to the car, giddy and dripping wet, after the sand’s stuck to every inch of your skin and the sun’s painted you gold, you end up tangled in the back seat. skin sticky with sweat, your bodies pressed close in the heat of the car, breathing in tandem.

the windows fog up, the air thick with salt and sun and something heavier. the radio hums low, some lazy summer song playing beneath the sounds of your bodies shifting, touching, needing. his hands roam like he’s mapping you out all over again, rough in the way he holds you but gentle in the way he touches, like he knows exactly where to press to make you shiver.

he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the taste of salt on your lips, like he wants to bottle this exact moment and keep it somewhere safe. and you, half-laughing between gasps, fingers twisted in his curls, mumble against his mouth, “i told you the backseat would get too hot.”

“guess we’ll have to open the door,” he says, voice low and teasing. “get a breeze in here.”

you roll your eyes, breathless and flushed. “fuck off, if we get caught by some poor park ranger—”

“worth it,” he grins, before kissing you again. deeper, slower this time.

and when you’re breathless and half-dressed, your back pressed to the warm seat and your body aching in all the best ways, you lie there with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is loud in your ear, steady and real.

you tilt your face up toward him, the fading light painting him in gold. “same time next summer?”

his arm tightens around you, his voice soft and full of something you don’t have a name for yet. “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

[alohajix]

𝐒𝐡𝐡𝐡… 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐔𝐬

Description: I wasn’t supposed to be here again. He wasn’t supposed to notice. But when Harry pulls me onto his tour bus after the show, things get filthy fast—and staying quiet is the one thing he can’t do.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, power imbalance, oral (f. & m. receiving), praise kink, spit kink, hair pulling, chocking, dirty talk, slight degradation & risk of being overheard. Readers +18.

Words count: 4.4K

author note: okay so… this wasn’t supposed to be posted until thursday, but i got an unexpected day off today and couldn’t resist finishing it early ♡ this one-shot is based on a request (which was such a fun idea to play with), but i’ll be honest—i definitely struggled trying to make it feel just right ✨ still, i’m really happy with how it turned out and i hope you love it as much as harry loves being loud on that tour bus…

also!! if you ever have a request, don’t be shy—my inbox is always open ♡ i love writing about everything and anything, so hit me up whenever your brain is full of chaos and ideas

enjoy the filth, angels ☆彡

*****

I told myself this was the last one. No more spontaneous flight bookings. No more overpriced tickets. No more chasing cities just to stand front row and pretend it was a coincidence that he always looked my way.

But here I was—again. Pressed against the barricade, surrounded by screaming fans, heart pounding hard enough to shake my ribs. I could already feel the bass thrumming through the floor, could smell the mix of fog and stadium air. And when the lights dropped, my entire body lit up like it knew he was near. The roar was deafening when he walked out. Curls wild. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease. Smile lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He waved to the crowd, took the mic, and scanned the sea of faces with practiced ease.

And then he saw me. I knew the exact second it happened. His eyes found mine and held. Not a quick pass. Not a maybe. A beat. Then two. Long enough to feel the air catch in my lungs. Long enough for my hands to tremble where they gripped the rail. He didn’t smile. Not right away. Just tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to figure me out. Like he remembered. Then, as the intro to Love Of My Life started, he looked away—just barely—and smirked. I felt it in my knees.

The rest of the show blurred, but not the way it usually did. My body moved on instinct—singing, swaying, screaming when everyone else did—but my head? It was back in that moment. That glance. That smirk. That impossible possibility that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t just looking through me like every other night. And by the time the last song faded, my throat was raw and my chest felt like it had been cracked open.

The lights came up. People started to file out. But I stood there, frozen, gripping the barricade like it might disappear. I didn’t even notice the staffer until he was standing beside me, subtle in black with a headset tucked behind his ear.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

My mouth barely moved. “Yeah.”

He glanced around, voice low. “Would you like to come backstage?”

My heart thudded. “Wait—seriously?”

“He asked for you.”

The walk backstage felt unreal. Like I wasn’t in my own body. The halls were dim, the walls pulsing faintly with the echo of music still vibrating through the venue. Other fans walked beside me—maybe ten of us in total—all chatting and laughing and smoothing their hair in their phone cameras. But I couldn’t join in. I couldn’t even think straight. Because if this was what I thought it was… If he really asked for me… Then none of this was just in my head.

He walked into the room like the encore never ended. Still glowing from the stage, hair messier now, shirt hanging open over his chest, towel slung across his shoulders. He looked wrecked in the most beautiful way—like he hadn’t had time to come down from the high of performing, like he’d stepped off stage and walked straight into this moment.

His gaze swept over the group, casual… until he saw me. And then it wasn’t casual at all. He stopped. His smile twitched into something warmer, softer. Something only for me.

“Hi, love,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “You made it.”

Every cell in my body flipped. He moved closer, hugging the fan beside me quickly, then stepped into my space like he belonged there. He didn’t even hesitate. His arms wrapped around my waist—firm, warm, way too sure. And when I hugged him back, my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt without meaning to. His scent hit me hard: sweat, cologne, something faintly sweet. Familiar. Overwhelming.

He didn’t let go right away. I felt his breath against my ear when he leaned in for the photo. Felt the slight press of his chest against mine.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he murmured. “But I’m glad I did.” My heart stuttered.

He pulled back slowly, hand lingering against the small of my back. His eyes flicked down to my lips—so fast I almost missed it—and then met mine again, steady and full of things I couldn’t even begin to name.

“You look good tonight,” he said simply.

I didn’t even remember smiling for the photo. I don’t think I blinked the entire time he stood next to me. And when he moved away, I felt cold.

They ushered us out a few minutes later, gently guiding everyone toward the exit. The group chattered happily, already buzzing about social media captions and edits and which pose Harry used with who. But I wasn’t paying attention. Because just before I reached the hall, a hand caught my wrist.

“Wait.” I turned—and it was the same staffer from earlier. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Don’t leave with the rest.”

My pulse skipped. “What?”

“He said he wanted to see you. Properly.” I blinked. “Come with me.”

I followed him through the back halls like I wasn’t entirely sure I was awake. The venue had mostly emptied. The muffled chatter of crew echoed in the distance, paired with the dull thump of gear being loaded into trucks. But the further we walked, the quieter it got. The kind of quiet that made my pulse echo in my ears.

The staffer didn’t say much—just kept a steady pace and glanced over his shoulder once or twice, like he was making sure I hadn’t run. Believe me, I’d thought about it. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, it couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be him. But I didn’t stop walking. He led me through a gate, past a few trailers, and toward the tour buses parked side by side under flickering lot lights. The biggest one sat tucked behind a row of gear crates, its door slightly open. The inside glowed low and golden through the tinted window. He paused just before it, turned toward me, and gave me a look that made my stomach flip.

“Wait here. He’s just finishing up.” I nodded, unsure my voice would come out right.

He stepped onto the bus and shut the door behind him. The silence that followed was too much. I folded my arms to keep them from shaking, looked down at my shoes, tried to steady my breathing. Every second stretched. I could still feel the way Harry’s hand had pressed against my back. Still hear the rasp of his voice in my ear. Didn’t think I’d see you again. It was on a loop. Every word. Every glance. The way he looked at me like he knew what I’d been thinking from the very first night.

The bus door creaked open again. My head snapped up. He stood there, framed by warm light. Loose sweats low on his hips. White towel draped around his neck. Damp curls sticking to his forehead. His eyes found mine instantly. Something shifted in his expression. Like a string being pulled tight.

“Come in, sweetheart.” His voice was lower than before. Rougher. Not a question.

My legs moved before my brain caught up. I stepped onto the bus, my breath catching the second the door shut behind me. The inside was dim, cozy. Blankets tossed on couches. A few flickering lights running along the ceiling. It smelled like him—clean sweat, something warm and woodsy.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at me. I could feel the air buzz between us. He took one slow step forward.

“You’ve been following the tour,” he said, voice soft.

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t teasing. Just… noticing.

I nodded. “Since Denver.”

He smiled, barely. “I know. I’ve seen you.”

My stomach flipped. “I thought maybe you had.”

He kept moving closer. “You wore that green thing in Nashville.”

My cheeks burned. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything.”

Now he was standing right in front of me. I had to tilt my head back just slightly to meet his eyes. They were darker now. Hungrier. And I swear—swear—he looked at my mouth like he’d already had it.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “Tried to. Told myself it was nothing.” His fingers brushed my wrist. Light. Barely there. “But then you showed up again tonight… and I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to wait.”

I let out the softest breath. He leaned in.

“You want this, don’t you?” he whispered.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

He didn’t hesitate. One hand slid to the back of my neck. The other gripped my waist. And then he kissed me. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was messy and hot and open-mouthed, like he’d been waiting for this since the moment our eyes first met. Like he didn’t have time to be careful. I kissed him back like I’d been aching to. His hands roamed—over my back, my hips, curling into my hair. I gasped when he tugged. He groaned when I bit his lip. It was clumsy in the best way. Urgent. Desperate.

When he pulled back, we were both breathless. He pressed his forehead to mine.

“We’ve got about ten minutes,” he said. “Maybe fifteen.” My heart slammed against my ribs. “That enough?” he asked.

I smiled, breathless. “More than.”

He grinned, wicked and boyish. “Knew I liked you.”

Then he took my hand, pulled me toward the back of the bus—and locked the door behind us. The second the door clicked shut behind us, something in him shifted. His grip tightened. His mouth crashed onto mine again, more urgent this time—less like a kiss and more like a collision. Tongue deep, teeth nipping, hands everywhere. He was all over me. Pushing me back until my knees hit the couch.

“Sit,” he rasped.

I dropped onto the cushions without thinking, my thighs pressed together in anticipation. He stood over me, chest rising and falling. His eyes dragged slowly down my body, so full of heat it made my skin burn.

“You’re real fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”

I swallowed, nodding before I even realized I was doing it. He leaned down and tugged me forward by the hips until I was slotted between his legs. One of his hands slid into my hair—fingers twisting—and the other cupped my jaw.

“Open your mouth for me.” I obeyed instantly. He smirked, then let a string of spit drip from his mouth onto my tongue. “Swallow.” Fuck.

I did, and he groaned under his breath like I’d just touched him.

“Good girl.” I whimpered.

He knelt down, suddenly eye-level with me, and reached under my skirt without warning. His fingers pushed past the waistband of my panties, sliding through the slick mess already there.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

I could barely breathe. “Been like that since the meet and greet.”

He laughed—a soft, breathy sound full of disbelief. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Then his fingers dipped inside me, slow at first, curling just right. My head dropped back with a moan.

He leaned in, lips against my throat. “You gotta be quiet, angel.” I nodded quickly. “You gonna be good for me?”

I nodded again, harder. “Yes. I promise.”

But then he pushed a second finger in, twisting them just right, and my hips bucked.

He groaned into my neck. “You’re already losing it.”

I bit my lip to keep the sound in, whimpering as he fucked me with his fingers, faster now, his thumb circling my clit with practiced ease. My thighs started to shake.

He pulled back to watch me. “Want you to come just like this. Think you can do that for me?” I tried to answer but it came out as a whine. He smirked, breath hot. “C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t make me work for it.”

A few more strokes and I was gone—legs shaking, mouth open in a silent cry, nails digging into his shoulder. He kissed me through it, swallowing the broken sounds, letting me fall apart all over his hand. And then—without warning—he stood up, yanked his sweats down, and wrapped a fist around his cock. I gasped. It was thick. Heavy. Veiny. Red at the tip. And already leaking.

“You wanna be on your knees for this,” he muttered, voice gone rough. I dropped instantly. He let out the filthiest moan I’d ever heard when I wrapped my lips around him. “Fuck, that’s it… just like that.”

His hand tangled in my hair again, gently guiding the pace as I sucked him deep—tongue tracing every ridge, cheeks hollowing. He hissed every time I gagged a little, then praised me like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Fuckin’ mouth on you… god, I’m not gonna last—” But he didn’t pull away.

He grabbed the back of my head and held me there, cock deep, hips jerking forward once—twice—and then he pulled out last second, stroking himself with fast, desperate movements right in front of my face. I looked up, eyes wide, panting, spit smeared across my chin.

He groaned. “Get on the couch. Now. On your back.” I scrambled up, heart racing. He climbed over me, lined himself up, and paused. “Still want this?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Please.”

And he slid in, slow and thick and deep. We both moaned—his low and drawn out, mine high and choked. He started to move, hips snapping hard and fast almost immediately.

I gasped. “Harry—fuck—too loud—”

“I know,” he panted. “I know, I’m sorry. Can’t help it.”

He bent down, buried his face in my neck, and kept fucking me like he didn’t care who heard. But then someone walked past the bus. Footsteps. Close. I tensed. Froze. Covered my mouth with both hands. Harry didn’t stop.

He looked me straight in the eye and whispered, “Stay with me. Ride it out.”

Then he grabbed both of my thighs, shoved them up, and drove into me deeper—hard enough to make the couch creak. I bit back a scream, head thrown back. He watched me come undone again, completely wrecked under him, my body trembling and breath hitched. He didn’t even try to be quiet now.

“Fucking—shit—this pussy’s perfect—fuck—” I reached up, hand over his mouth. He growled behind it. Licked it. Bit my palm.

When he finally came, it was with a broken moan into my neck and a final, hard thrust. His whole body shook. He muttered something I couldn’t understand—just breath and curse words and my name over and over. He collapsed on top of me, still inside, breathing hard. Neither of us spoke for a while. His hand found mine, fingers lacing. Then he laughed, barely.

“I was so loud.”

I nodded, dazed. “You were.”

“I’ll take the blame if anyone says anything.”

I smiled. “Worth it.”

He leaned up just enough to kiss me again—softer this time. Sweeter. Then he grinned.

“Let’s do that again tomorrow.”

*****

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk199o @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @mads3502

[goldfades]

https://www.tumblr.com/goldfades/776149472466141184/could-u-write-joe-burrow-and-a-young-gf-3

AS A YOUNGER JOE GIRLY (‘04 baby 😩), THIS MADE MY ENTIRE WEEK

that being said, WE NEED MOREEEEE 🧎‍♀️‍➡️🙏🏼 so i was wondering if i could request a part 2 to this post?? your writing is literally my comfort reading material <3

OMGG no thats how i feel as an 05 girl LMAO likeeee

The thing about loving Joe Burrow is that it always sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

Like right now.

Because you’re standing in his kitchen—your kitchen too, technically, though you still hesitate calling it that—wearing his old Athens High hoodie that nearly swallows you whole, scrolling through takeout menus while he tries (and fails) to figure out how to fix the Bluetooth speaker.

"It’s literally not that hard, Joe."

"Then you do it," he shoots back, turning the speaker in his hands like it’s a puzzle box. "It worked last time. I don’t know what I did."

"You probably pressed every button at once."

"That’s literally how you fixed the dishwasher last week—don’t start with me."

You hide a smile behind your phone. He’s got that stubborn look again, brows furrowed, jaw set. The same look he gets when the defense drops into a zone he wasn’t expecting. Concentrated. Calm. Competitive over the dumbest things.

You don’t even care about the speaker. You like the quiet. You like this.

Joe, barefoot on the tile, the late afternoon sun catching in his hair. The smell of laundry detergent clinging to his hoodie. The slow realization that this—here—has become your routine.

"Okay, genius," you sigh, setting your phone down. "Move."

He steps aside with exaggerated reluctance, watching as you press a single button. The speaker beeps, the connection light blinking blue. Instantly, music floods the room—some playlist he made that’s a mix of old-school rap and indie tracks he refuses to admit he likes.

"You’re welcome," you say smugly.

Joe stares at you.

"How?"

"I have the touch."

"Nah, that’s witchcraft. You’re a witch."

You grin, settling back against the counter. "Jealous?"

"Terrified," he deadpans, stepping closer. His hands find your hips like they always do—easy, familiar. "You could end me at any moment."

"Maybe I will."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He dips his head so his nose brushes against yours, voice dropping.

"Do it, then."

It’s stupid. It’s playful. But your breath still catches. Because this is how he gets you—soft, steady, sure. Like there’s all the time in the world.

"I’ll spare you," you whisper, pulling back just enough to glance at the phone. "But only if you pick dinner."

Joe groans dramatically, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

"That’s worse."

"Big NFL quarterback can’t handle choosing takeout?"

"Not when you are the pickiest eater on the planet."

"I am not—"

"Babe." He pulls back to look at you, giving you a look. "You cried over soggy fries last week."

"They were ruined, Joe."

"You said it ‘destroyed the entire vibe.’"

"And it did."

Joe laughs—really laughs—and you don’t even care that he’s laughing at you. Because when Joe Burrow laughs like that, everything else fades.

It’s always like this. Light. Easy.

But underneath, there’s something heavier.

You see it in the way he checks his phone when he thinks you’re not looking. The season’s creeping closer, and with it, the pressure. The expectations. The weight of it all.

And you? You’re still figuring things out. Still balancing finishing school, internship applications, trying to find where you fit in his world without getting swallowed by it.

The age gap—people still talk.

They don’t see this, though.

Joe brushing your knee under the table. Joe remembering your coffee order, your weird movie opinions, your fear of thunderstorms. Joe looking at you like you’re the only thing that makes sense when everything else gets too loud.

"You okay?" you ask quietly, catching the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

He looks at you for a long moment, then nods.

"Yeah. I’m good."

But he leans into you a little more than usual. His fingers lace through yours, thumb brushing slow, rhythmic patterns against your skin.

You don’t push. You never do.

Joe will tell you when he’s ready.

He always does.

Later that night, after the food’s been eaten, the music turned down low, and the city hums quietly outside, you find yourselves in that familiar spot again—Joe stretched out on the couch, you tucked against his side, his hand resting lazily on your thigh.

"Hey," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"You ever think about how this all worked out?"

You tilt your head, looking up at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Us," he says, glancing down at you. His eyes are soft in the low light, thoughtful. "You being there that night. Talking to me. Sticking around."

"You act like I did you a favor," you tease, but your voice is quieter now.

"You did," he says simply. "You didn’t have to."

There it is again—that flicker of vulnerability he rarely shows to anyone else.

"You make it sound like you’re hard to stick around for," you say after a moment, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the fabric of his shirt.

"I can be."

"Not to me."

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you for a moment. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls you in closer, his lips brushing your forehead.

"I’m glad you stayed."

"I’m not going anywhere, Joe."

And you mean it.

The thing about loving Joe Burrow is that it sneaks up on you—soft, steady, sure—until one day, you realize it’s the most real thing you’ve ever known.

[jayden-killer]

Don't let me go. ‹𝟹

Eddie pushes away his need of affection. That is, until he meets you.

warnings: ig angst to fluff(?), reader is fem bc yes, al munson mention lmao.

Eddie needed affection.

Having someone cuddling him is what he has always wanted; however, never admitted, especially since his mother passed away. He doesn’t need a maternal figure, far from it. Growing up, this need is repressed over time, inculcating this idea that it is not necessary because he can live without it. Yet this desire resurfaces in front of couples who embrace, holding hands, sharing their personal space. After all, he doesn’t need it.

He’s a freak.

Who would ever want to be next to a freak? A person who will never succeed in life? Who may end up like his father?

He cannot cope with the discomfort in his heart, so he tries to repress it once again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

That was his belief until he met you. It wasn’t a chance meeting at all. One of his teachers had said that he needed a tutor. His school grades were not stable, not to mention the poor attention he paid to almost every class. He would never have expected his tutor to be the most beautiful, kind person in the world.

Date after date, you have opened to each other, sharing a comfortable silence.

Your relationship started after 4 months of seeing each other; everything was going well. One of those days, Eddie thought it would be nice to invite you into his trailer, stating that his uncle would come back late to catch up on some overdue hours.

So you found yourself in the heat, on his poorly groomed sofa, focused on the vision of the musical The Rocky Horror Picture Show. One of Eddie’s favourite movies.

"Love?"

"Mh?"

"Do you really...wanna hold my hand?"

His girlfriend’s eyes were confused. "Why would I be bothered by it, Teddy?"

Teddy. God, he loved her when he called him that.

Eddie met her eyes and thought for a moment to lie, but... did it make sense? Was it really worth lying? What if she knew about it? She knew that her beloved had a good intuition. He also knew that women did not miss anything and would not get away with it easily.

So, with a deep sigh, he played with his girlfriend’s fingers and confessed everything. His feeling of repulsion towards love, of inequality, how he had always tried to fool him and how he was not...worthy.

"Eddie..." The girl’s fingers squeezed more of hers. "I must admit, I suspected it."

Eddie raised his eyebrows. Good sense, indeed. "How?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "You weren’t very convinced when I hugged you in public on certain occasions or when I kissed you on the stairs of the school. You looked... tense. I knew something was wrong."

On Eddie passed a feeling of shame.

What a shithead, he began to think.

"And I understand how you feel. Sometimes it happens to me too, and it will definitely never be the same feeling as yours, but..." The girl caressed his cheek, gently swiping her thumb up and down, "you have to start believing it. Also, you don’t really believe all that crap going around about you? Unsubstantiated bullshit by ignorant people?" They both chuckled.

"Right," said Eddie, still smiling. "Maybe I just have to believe it a little bit more." He paused, this time stroking her cheek. " I have to work on it. It won’t happen immediately, but...with time"

"With time," she repeated. She silently got closer to him, as if she wanted to kiss him, but fearing that she might bother him. Eddie appreciated the gesture.

"You mustn’t think it bothers me. I love it. I love to feel your lips on mine." He gave her a quick kiss and took her cheeks in his hands.

Eddie memorized every detail of her wonderful face, with red cheeks and eyes that conveyed security and love. "Okay?"

She nodded, smiling. "Okay. I’ll be by your side the whole time. If you ever need to talk about it again, you know I’m here for that."

"I know, baby. I know. I don’t know how to thank you yet."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "10 dollars an hour for each psychological counseling."

Eddie threw his hands in the air. "This is a burglary without a gun! I’m already broke, then you go too!"

The two spent the evening laughing, enjoying the movie, and Eddie seemed to have a lighter weight on his shoulders. At least for now.

☆

taglist: @justalotoffanfiction