#there's this one friend I could talk to but I already rely on her with so much I dont want to become a bother/burden especially now that

[scattered-winter]

made the mistake of reading through the political discussions on my big family groupchat that I usually keep muted. you must never do such a thing.

[kyoohyeon]

.

[gayerthanevertbh]

good girls have gone… bad?

summary: her sister has been on your thoughts ever since you became friends with yelena. you two exchanged a quick gaze, and you both wondered right away who natasha romanoff was. sleeping with your best friend's sister isn't such a bad idea, considering yelena left you to spend some time alone with natasha, right? you knew she was way older than you, and you loved that.

warnings: smut, age difference (reader is 21; natasha is 37) blowjob, natasha has a penis, dirty talking, and more - 18+ minors dni

note: i'm back! i'm sorry if i haven't been updating, if i have to be honest i lost interest in this account. but now that i'm back, i think i'll be writing here more often! i apologize if there are some errors with this fic

“I have to get my report card at uni today,” While I was engrossed in a vlog on my phone, Yelena let out a sigh as she devoured her bag of chips. “Are you okay being alone here for now? I mean, you’re with Natasha. So you’re in good hands.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Your sister doesn’t talk much.”

“She has a day off from work; give her a break.”

I laughed involuntarily. “Even though she’s not at work, she doesn’t talk much. She’ll talk if we want something for dinner or something.”

"I believe she is simply shy," Yelena kissed me on the forehead and said as she got her bag off the couch. “Listen, call me if you need anything. Just hope that I have a signal.”

I smiled at her as she departed, leaving me in solitude within the living room, embracing the tranquility. Yelena and I have been friends since senior year, which I find amusing considering that I have always seen her at school since I was a freshman. It's etched in my memory how she was the one who reached out to me initially, and from there, we embarked on a whirlwind of parties and adventures. Over the course of the past two years, she became the sole person I could rely on. We were supposedly living together at our university, but she mentioned that I could sleep at her place any time whenever we’re on campus since her place was conveniently located nearby. Then, upon encountering her sister, Natasha Romanoff, my heart seemed to come to a halt.

She was absolutely stunning, without a doubt the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She had a chic, cropped hairstyle, delicate hands, and a radiant smile that seemed to stretch for miles whenever I caught a glimpse. I found everything about her quite appealing, including her tendency to be more reserved in conversation. I often pondered whether or not Yelena had parents, but she remained tight-lipped on the subject. She only shared with me that from a young age, Natasha whisked her away from their parents and they began their life in New York. Her sister has always been the one supporting them financially, which is why she has been consistently absent. However, Yelena's admiration for her sister knows no bounds.

It was sweet, which made me jealous sometimes. 

As I made my way back to Yelena's room, Natasha emerged from her own room, a warm smile gracing her face.

“I assume Yelena’s not at home?”

I shook my head. “No, she’s getting her report card at university today.”

“Oh,” She let out an exasperated sigh and casually leaned against the wall. “And you? You’re not getting your report card?”

“I already got it; my parents weren’t so proud this time.”

“What did you fail?” She let out a soft laugh, fixing her gaze on me intensely, causing a knot to form in my stomach. I'm not sure if it was positive or negative, but her intense gaze made my heart skip a beat.

“Finance,” I murmured. “I didn’t focus with that subject that much, which I completely regret.”

I heard her giggle again, and it made my heart race even faster. When I give it some thought, I realize that Natasha and I are similar in one area: sex. I don't discuss it with Yelena or my other friends, but I don't feel embarrassed talking to Natasha about it. Although we've never actually done it, we were both flirtatious about it. Natasha usually asks me to come to her room while Yelena is sleeping, where she usually spends her time masturbating at the foot of the bed. And when it was my turn, I would smother my fingers when Natasha expressed her wish to touch me. 

In her bed. 

The following day, we just look at each other as if nothing had happened and don't discuss this. Since Yelena didn't seem suspicious, which I was grateful for, I carried on doing this with Natasha until she eventually became tired of me. I was probably just another girl in her view, someone to be used. She was, nevertheless, to me like the book that I couldn't put down. I was drawn to her and wanted to spend time with her.

I could never acknowledge such a thing.

“I was wondering if...” Her mouth became silent as she walked over to me, smirking, and brushed her delicate fingertips over a strand of my hair. “Maybe you’d join me in our secret affair?”

I snorted. “Affair? Natasha, we aren’t in a relationship.”

"Well, it would be impolite to suggest that we watch porn together or something; you are aware of the subject."

I debated whether or not to do it today because Yelena might return at any moment. I sighed heavily and shook my head because she had not told me what time she would be home. It was a bad idea, because if that turned out to be true, we could be caught.

But it wouldn’t hurt to do this... Right?

“Okay,” I whispered to her as she trailed her fingers on my collarbone. “Take me to your bedroom.”

“Shit,”Natasha whispered, holding on to her mattress sheet. “That feels so good, baby. K-Keep going; don’t stop.”

I stared at her face, contoured with lust,  and bobbed my head up and down. Considering that her cock felt erect in my mouth, I find it fascinating how much this makes her want to engage. She lifted her hips a little as I licked and sucked on the tip of her dick.

“Good girl,” She whispers, pressing my head farther down as she runs her fingers through my hair. “You like that? You like my cock in your mouth?”

I let out a quiet affirmation as I sensed a certain anticipation on my tongue, observing her eyebrows furrow each time I took her length into my mouth. “You’re so big,” I withdrew my mouth from her cock and caressed her whole length, filling the room with loud, sloshing sounds. “I’ve never done anything like this, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah?” She gently sat up on the bed and slapped the head of her dick onto my lips by grabbing the base of her length. “Open up, sweetheart. I need to cum in your throat.”

Ideally, I would prefer that not to occur. I had to taste her, though, because it was Natasha. Heck, I didn't even give a damn if Yelena was home right now. All I wanted was for this to occur, for her to require my presence. I bobbed my head angrily and made gag noises as I sucked on her dick once more.  

It turned on Natasha even more as I did so. 

“You’re so warm, fuck...” I knelt on the bed as her words faltered. "You're such a slut for my dick, look at you. Tell me, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

More than you could ever know. 

She was probably amazed at my ability to pull off such a feat as she watched me in disbelief as I placed her genitalia into my mouth. The action caused me to cough a little, and I choked on her genitalia right away. And I pulled my head back. She pouted, her whole length smeared across my face as she gripped the back of my head. "Baby, I thought we were just gon' talk dirty to each other."

I whimpered. “I needed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah? You needed me?”

“So bad,” I whined as I kissed her length. “Please don’t stop.” 

“Open your mouth.”

She fucked her cock by pushing it back down my throat. Hard. I throw my eyes back, and Natasha's hips falter as she strikes the back of my throat. She recoils her head. “I’m going to cum down your throat, and you’re going to swallow it, okay, baby? You are so good for me, so so good...”

If I were the only girl in the world, I would do this every single day. However, I was aware that I was probably not destined for her because she was much older than I was and I was too young. People will make judgments; she wouldn't think that of me.

Natasha remained motionless for a few moment before turning to face me with a broad smile. "You feel like you're wet to me?" I moaned around her cock as she reached for my covered cunt and gripped it. "Oh my god! Fuck, keep doing that, baby girl.”

I kept moaning all over her length as she quickly and forcefully fucked my mouth, causing me to gag every time her tip touched the back of my throat. I was her sex toy, and I never wanted to be anything else once she put both of her hands on the side of my head.

“I want to fuck your pussy,” She continued to fuck my mouth like an animal while whispering in a rough manner. “I want to—ugh—I want to rip your pussy apart, especially that throat of yours. I bet you’re so tight, baby. Fuck, I can imagine myself ripping you open.”

Rip me open, make me fall apart. I’ll be anything to you, anything. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Natasha drew her length a bit and rolled her hips against my face, her cockhead resting on my tongue instead. “I’m going to cum on your tongue and you better swallow it; don’t waste any drop.”

She was hooding her eyes and idly stroking her dick when I parted my lips wide for her. She glanced at the door once, then grabbed my jaw and drew me in. “Here it comes, baby. I-I’m going to cum—fuck almost there just... Argh!”

She stroked her dick widly as she came onto my tongue. She kept stroking her length, and I had to close my eyes because I could feel some of her semen falling on my face. However, she released all of it on my tongue. Slapping her tip on my face and smearing her length all over it, Natasha let out a long, raspy moan. “You look so pretty in my cum.”

“You c-came a lot...”

With a nod, she reclined on the mattress. "Yes, I did. It's been a while since I've truly done that," she says, continuing to stroke her dick, albeit more slowly. I got up and grabbed the closest towel I could find after realizing that I had to go before Yelena could see or smell the sex in this room. "Are you sure you haven't done that with anyone?"

“I never give blowjobs,” I stated with a small voice as I wiped off my face with a clean towel. “When was the last time you had a girl suck on your dick?”

Natasha was standing in front of me as I turned around. As soon as she gripped my waist and drew me even closer to her body, I felt my breath catch. She let out a long breath and muttered, "You were the first person to give me an orgasm in a very long time, darling."

I chuckled lightly. “I thought you’d never do something like that. With me, at least.”

“You’re very pretty,” She pulls down my shorts, gesturing for me to roll my eyes back as she holds her dick in her palm. “Can I feel you? Just a bit? I just... I want to imagine what it’s like to feel your pussy rubbing on me.”

I gazed into her eyes, taking note of the intensity of her desire. So I lowered my panties to my mid thighs and touched her cock, gently stimulating the sensitive area. We both felt a rush of pleasure as Natasha leaned her head against my shoulder, drawing me in closer to her.

“You’re making me hard again,” She whimpered and pressed her cock against me, causing me to scream quietly. “Oh shit, you are tight!”

“Fuck, Nat—Yelena could go home any minute!”

“Just one minute,” she begged as she looked at me in the eye. “Baby, let me fuck you.”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered and felt myself being pushed against the edge of her desk, her hands hoisting my legs up. “Oh god—”

"God, I’m about to rip you open here,” Natasha spoke with such assurance that it began to pique my interest. I bite my bottom lip as she retreats a little and thrusts back into my cunt. “Let it all out, baby girl. Let Daddy hear you—”

“Y/n, I’m back!”

“Shit!” I exclaimed and pushed her away, pulling up my shorts. She immediately grabbed her boxers and wore them before I reached for the door. “Natasha, she can’t see me like this. Or you like this!”

“Just hide here for a moment,” Natasha led me into her bathroom, responding to my request. I widen my eyes in anticipation, waiting for her next words. “Just for this moment, okay? I’ll handle everything.”

I recognized what I had done as soon as she shut the door. I looked so desperate that I should never have given Natasha a blowjob in the first place. I shook my head carefully, running my fingers through my hair. "What did I do?" Sitting on the floor, with more memories of us playing along in my thoughts, I asked myself. Was I a lousy friend? Would Yelena even accept me if I was?

I don’t know. 

hehe let me know if i should make this as a story

[dreamescapeswriting]

Too Far ~ LMH

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Minho x reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

Minho was always the same with you—sharp words, quick jabs, endless teasing, it was just how your relationship had been for as long as you could remember. His playful insults had always been something you could brush off, masking your feelings behind a smile. After all, you were in love with him, and a small part of you liked the attention that would come from him, even if it came in the form of teasing.

But recently, things have changed...a lot. Life was heavier, the weight on your shoulders making it harder to pretend everything was fine and yet you hadn't voiced it to him. You thought maybe he'd sense that you weren't in the mood lately and he would stop but he did.

Minho’s teasing didn’t sting before, but now… now it felt like someone was squeezing a lemon on a wound that was already raw.

Today had been the final straw. You'd finally snapped and had enough of everything.

You sat with the group, the usual chatter filling the room. Minho, as always, was sitting across from you, smirking like he always did when he was about to say something. And he did, some offhanded comment about how you always seemed to be distracted lately, how you weren’t even able to keep up with the conversation anymore.

"Maybe you’re just not smart enough to follow along?" he joked, the words light in his tone but heavy in their impact. It hit deeper than it should have, but being teased for your brain was always something that you'd gotten in school and it made you feel...small. Useless and insignificant to him. That coupled with the stress from everything else, the sleepless nights, the anxiety you hadn’t shared with anyone—not even him—it all bubbled up inside you, and for the first time, you couldn’t laugh it off.

"Maybe you should just stop talking," you snapped, your voice much sharper than you intended. The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at you in surprise. Chan stared at you in shock, he'd always been there telling you to stand your ground against Minho but you'd never do it...until now. Minho blinked, taken aback, scoffing softly as he tried to play everything off as a casual joke.

"Woah, I was just kidding."

"Yeah, well, it’s not funny anymore," you muttered, standing up quickly. You shuffled your stuff around until you gathered it all up, you couldn’t stay there, not with everyone’s eyes on you and Minho’s confused expression making it worse. Without another word, you left the room, your heart pounding as you made your way outside.

You didn’t hear Minho calling your name as you left.

"What the fuck was that about?!" Minho snapped at the others who all looked at him with sheepish looks. It was clear to anyone with a working set of eyes that you weren't in the mood for his games.

"She's had enough, Minho. God, last week I found her crying in her apartment." Felix grumbled and the comment hit him harder than he thought it would have. The idea of you crying because of something he said made his stomach twist and turn.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Hyung...In all due respect, I thought you hated her," Felix mutters a little and it was then that Minho realised just how far he had taken things. That if his own friends couldn't tell where the lines blurred then there was no chance in hell you would have been able to either and he'd fucked up...big time.

"I'll call her...S-She'll answer. She always does." He mutters, dragging his phone out of his pocket and calling you. That was one thing he could always rely on, you always picked up the phone no matter the time, no matter what day you answered him.

Except, this time.

You didn't.

It had been three days since the incident, and you’d been avoiding everyone—especially him. He’d tried to call, text, and even show up at your place, but you didn’t want to talk. You'd sent back all of the presents he'd sent to you and when the florist stated they couldn't take the flowers you donated them to a hosptial and the nursing home down the street.

You couldn't deal with anyone or anything right now. Especially not to him, no one who spoke to him because you knew that they would try and talk to you about it and relax you. Right now, you needed space and time to sort through everything without the added weight of Minho’s teasing hanging over you.

But it didn’t stop the ache in your chest every single time you thought about him. The desperate urge to run back there and forgive him like you always did in the past but this time you wanted to stand your ground. You wanted him to realise that the weight of his words had an effect on you.

But despite everything, you missed him. His stupid jokes, the way he made everyone laugh, the way he made you feel noticed, even if it was in the most frustrating ways. The way he'd always see you even when you thought you were invisible to everyone else around you. But you couldn’t forget the hurt he'd put you through. While he might have made you feel visible he was blind to everything else, he didn’t realize you were struggling and he never saw beyond his teasing to see what you were going through.

Meanwhile, back at the dorms, Minho was losing it. He wasn’t used to this—used to you being upset with him. You were always there, always able to take his jokes, always smiling despite his teasing. But this time… this time he’d messed up. And he had no idea how to fix it. Everything he tried to do failed. The bears were returned to the store, the florist told him you'd donated the flowers and the takeout he sent to you was always given to the homeless. Nothing was working.

The guilt gnawed at him, he found himself unable to sleep or eat. The more time passed, the more he realized how blind to what he was doing to you. He missed you, more than he cared to admit, and with that realization came another...something he hadn’t fully accepted before.

"You're dumb," Felix told him as they sat across from each other in the living room. Minho had just finished confessing all of the conflicting feelings he was feeling,

"How am I dumb?!" he snapped angrily,

"You're in love with her, you dumb bitch." Felix laughed a little and Minho sat there. His mouth open as he tried to deny it but the more he thought about it...the more he realised Felix was right.

He cared about you. More than just as a friend. More than just someone he could joke around with. He was in love with you...head over heels in love and now, he might have lost you because of his own stupidity.

That same night Minho found you at the park, sitting in the same spot you always went to when you needed to clear your head. It was the same park he would go to with you sometimes, you'd taken him one night when he needed to clear his head and he'd followed you blindly.

You didn’t see him at first, too lost in your thoughts about him, but when you did, you immediately stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait, please," Minho’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He'd been tempted to reach his hand out and touch you but he stopped himself, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You turned to look at him, there was something different in his tone—something softer, almost desperate.

You hesitated but sat back down on the bench, your eyes on your hands as he slowly approached, stopping a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets like they always were when he was nervous.

"I messed up," he started, his voice quiet. You scoffed a little,

"Fucked up,"

"Yn," He chuckled softly, he hadn't realised just how much he'd missed your voice, even if it was just scolding him for something.

"I know I did. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know you were going through something." You looked away, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively.

"It’s not just about that, Minho. You always tease me, always make me feel… small. And I never said anything because I didn’t want to make it awkward. But I can’t take it anymore. Not right now." The rawness in your voice hit him hard, and his hands twitched at his sides, he wanted to reach out and comfort you but he forced himself to stay still. He’d never realized the extent of his teasing, how much it might have hurt you. He always thought it was just fun, that you were okay with it because you never said anything.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice cracking. He knew that there was no apology in the world that he could give that would have made all of this better but he wasn't going to stop until you forgave him.

"I should’ve seen it. I should’ve been paying more attention, instead of just thinking I could joke around all the time. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you." You stayed silent, your eyes fixed on the ground. Minho took a step closer, his heart pounding, there was no way he could lose, not like this. Not when he finally understood how much you meant to him.

"I miss you," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He'd been trying to think of what he was going to say to you but the words were lost on him, nothing felt as though it would be good enough to make up for what he'd done.

"I miss being around you, even if all I ever did was make dumb jokes. And… I’ve realized something else." You glanced up at him, and he took a deep breath.

"I’m in love with you...I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I know that’s what this is. And I’m sorry it took me hurting you to figure that out." Your breath hitched, eyes widening in surprise. You'd always dreamt of hearing this from him but this, of all the things you expected him to say,  wasn’t one of them.

"I’ll do anything to make it right," Minho continued, his voice soft and sincere. "I don’t want to lose you. Not like this...Please,"

For a long moment, you just stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you wanted to push him away, to hold onto the hurt and make him pay for hurting you. But the other part of you—the part that still loved him—could see how much he was trying. How much he meant what he was saying.

"I don’t know, Minho. I need time… to figure things out." He nodded, stepping back, respecting the boundaries that you were putting in place for him,

"I get it. Take all the time you need. Just… don’t shut me out forever, okay?" You gave him a small nod, and for the first time in days, a bit of the tension between you eased. It wasn’t fixed yet, but it was a good enough start for him.

After the first few weeks of your time in the park with him, you kept your distance, and Minho respected that, he didn't push you into anything you didn't want to do. There was no pressure, no sudden visits, just the space you asked for. But even though he gave you the time to think, Minho didn’t stop trying.

Day after day, there would be small signs that he hadn’t forgotten and was doing his best to grovel for you.

One day there was a bouquet of your favorite flowers at your doorstep. There was no note, but you knew it was from him, of course it was. It wasn’t grand like the last time. It was a simple bouquet and, just simple daisies, the ones you always loved but rarely treated yourself to.

The next day, there was a text from Minho.

I hope the flowers didn’t freak you out. Just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. I'll wait however long it takes.

You didn’t respond, but something about the gesture warmed your heart, even if you weren’t ready to fully forgive him yet.

He started showing up at your favourite café, but always at a distance.  You’d walk in, spot him sitting at a table across the room, and feel the familiar flutter in your chest. He never approached you, only offering a nod or a small smile if you caught his eye. But he was there. Every day.

Eventually, you texted him.

You don’t have to do this, you know.

His reply was quick.

I know. But I want to. xx

The distance between you began to shrink day after day, week after week and you found yourself lingering at the café, sitting just a few tables away instead of on opposite sides. Neither of you said much, but the quiet presence was enough for now.

He didn’t push, and that’s what made it easier to start letting the walls down with him, slowly letting him into your life again. One day, you finally agreed to sit with him, both of you sipping your drinks in silence for a while before Minho spoke.

“I miss talking to you,” he admitted softly. “Even if it’s just a dumb joke here and there. I miss… us." You didn’t know how to respond, but something in your chest loosened. The pain was still there, but it was obvious to you that it was in fact, fading.

By the time a month had passed, things had started to feel… normal again between the two of you. Minho was still cautious, still careful with his words, but the tension that had once hung between you had started to dissipate. He’d stopped teasing altogether, focusing instead on real conversations—ones where he actually listened.

One afternoon, as you both sat on a bench in the park, you finally brought it up.

“I think I’m ready to forgive you,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. Minho froze, his gaze snapping to yours, the food he was holding nearly fell to the floor and his eyes widened a little.

“Are you sure?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"You gonna try and talk me out of it?" you teased but he quickly shook his head at you, stumbling and stuttering over his words before you touched his hand,

“I’m sure. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying. You didn’t have to, but you did.” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and he smiled at you.

“I don’t want to mess this up again. I’ll do better, I promise.” For the first time in weeks, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"I believe you.” You whispered and he squeezed your hand gently, his heart swelling with relief. He knew there was still work to be done, but for now, this was enough.

Months had passed since that quiet afternoon in the park, where you’d finally forgiven Minho. Things had slowly but surely returned to normal between you two—only, this time, it was better. The teasing that once felt like jabs had softened, and Minho had become more mindful, more attentive.

He still had his moments, of course. That mischievous gleam in his eye would never completely go away, and you wouldn’t want it to. But now, when he joked, it came from a place of warmth, of care. He no longer crossed lines, and when he did slip up, he was quick to apologize. It was a kind of growth you hadn’t expected, but one that made your bond even stronger.

Tonight was special. The two of you were walking through the streets, the cool breeze brushing against your skin as the city lights twinkled above. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a quiet evening after a long day, but there was a peace between you two now that hadn’t been there before.

As you walked side by side, Minho’s hand slipped into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that had become second nature. Neither of you said anything for a while, just enjoying the calm of the night and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, Minho broke the silence, his voice soft but teasing in that familiar way.

“So… you think I’ve been good enough to deserve a reward yet?” You shot him a playful look. A reward? What did he think this was? You couldn't help but giggle a little at him,

“A reward? For what?” He grinned, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“For not being a complete idiot all the time.” You laughed, the sound light and easy, and it felt good. So good. It had been far too long since you'd been like this with him and he was lapping up every single minute of it.

“You’re still an idiot sometimes.” you teased,

“Yeah, but now I’m your idiot,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, making you roll your eyes in amusement.

“I guess that’s true,” you admitted, squeezing his hand, kissing his cheek softly,

“Lucky me.” The banter was light between you both and it was relaxing. You never felt stupid around him anymore, he never made you feel small. As you continued walking, Minho’s gaze softened, his usual teasing expression fading into something more sincere.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’m really glad you forgave me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.” You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“Lucky for us, we'll never have to find out.”

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[verstappenverse]

Lost in the Spin

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: A night of celebration spirals into scandal when compromising photos surface leaving Max trapped in a media storm, battling rumours, and desperately fighting to prove his innocence to the woman he loves.

3.5k words / Masterlist

The hum of engines still echoed in Max’s ears, familiar after years on the track. His adrenaline faded after another win, but today, without you in the paddock, without your smile when he stepped out of the car, it all felt just a little hollow. No number of trophies could quite compare to the warmth of your arms wrapping around him, or the way you’d press a kiss to his sweaty cheek as he grinned ear to ear.

This weekend work had kept you away and the emptiness gnawed at him. The paddock was colder, quieter without your laugh or your teasing smile before the race.

For years, you had been Max's anchor. From the early days when he was still finding his feet in Formula 1, to now, where he was reigning champion, you had always been the one he relied on. You understood him in a way that no one else did, his obsessive drive, his passion for the sport, and his thoughts about what came next.

There were nights when Max would come home from the track, emotionally spent, drained from the pressure and you’d pull him into bed, running your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat until he fell asleep. You never pushed him to talk, never tried to make him explain the unexplainable weight of his career. You just understood.

And now, without you here, he felt the absence keenly. He’d spent the day texting you between sessions, short conversations where you asked how things were going, and he asked about your day, but nothing felt like the real thing.

Most of the other drivers were still buzzing, and the team celebrations were just getting started. The victory champagne had already been sprayed, and the post-race media obligations were done.

“Mate, come on! We’re heading out,” Lando called from across the room, grinning as he waved his arms to grab Max’s attention. “You’re not skipping out on us are you?”

Max groaned inwardly but forced a smile as he pushed himself up from the couch. He didn’t really want to go. You weren’t here, and that always made everything feel... off. But they were his friends, and he didn’t want to bring the mood down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Max muttered, grabbing his jacket. Maybe if he went out for a couple of drinks he could slip out and go back to his hotel early. Maybe then he’d call you, see if you were still awake, and you could talk until you both fell asleep.

The night stretched on longer than Max had anticipated. The first couple of drinks went down easily, and before he knew it he was a few rounds deep.

“Max, man, you’ve gotta lighten up!” One of his engineers grinned, slinging an arm around him. “You won! Let loose!”

Max chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I just... I miss her, you know?”

He gave him a sympathetic look, nodding. “I get it, mate. It’s hard when they’re not here. But hey, she’ll be proud when she sees you killed it today. She always is.”

“Yeah,” Max mumbled, taking another long sip of his drink.

The drinks kept coming, and Max’s thoughts became more and more scattered. The music was loud, the energy electric, he found himself pulled into random conversations, drinking more, and being swept up in the atmosphere. He briefly wondered what you were doing right now, probably getting ready for bed back home, maybe thinking about him, maybe—

“Hey, let’s take a photo!” someone shouted, interrupting his thoughts. Before Max could protest, a group gathered around him, pulling him in. He barely registered what was happening, his mind a swirling mix of booze and thoughts of you.

The next morning hit Max like a sledgehammer. His head pounded, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Groaning, he rolled over in bed squinting at the bright light filtering through the curtains of his hotel room. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, eyes still half-closed.

He had missed calls. Several, in fact. And dozens of unread texts.

The first thing he noticed was that they were almost all from you.

His stomach sank.

He immediately sat up, the haze of last night still fogging his memory. He scrolled through his notifications seeing message after message from you, at first they were light-hearted, asking how his night was going, but then as the hours went on they grew increasingly concerned and then... angry. He hadn’t even heard his phone go off last night. But why would you—?

And then he saw it. The photos.

There he was, in a series of several blurry, cropped photos, originally part of larger group shots that had been edited to focus solely on him and a girl he didn’t even recognise. His arm slung around her, though the angle of the photo made it seem much more intimate than it truly was. She was leaning into him, and in one of the images it appeared as though she was whispering in his ear—his grinning face too close to hers, the proximity creating an illusion of something more. In another her hand rested on his chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt, while his face tilted toward hers, their laughter caught mid-gesture.

And then, the worst of the bunch showed them so close that it looked as if their lips were just inches apart. The angle was impossible to decipher, the blur making everything uncertain, leaving the question of whether they were about to kiss or possibly already had.

“Shit,” Max cursed under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

His mind raced, trying to piece together the events of last night. He barely remembered the girl, didn’t even know her name, but now the entire world had seen them together. And worst of all, you had seen it.

He dialed your number immediately, his heart pounding in his chest. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Then it went to voicemail.

Max swore again, dialing you back right away. He was met with the same result.

“No, no, no... come on, please,” he muttered under his breath, quickly typing out a message.

Max:

Baby please call me. I need to explain. I didn’t do anything I swear. Please talk to me.

He sent it, but the ticks didn’t appear. You didn’t read it.

Frustration bubbled up in his chest, mixing with panic. He tried calling you again. Still nothing.

“Fuck, come on,” Max muttered, pacing the room as he tried again.

Straight to voicemail.

Max was worrying now, the events of the night before replaying in fragments in his mind. He hadn’t cheated. He was sure of it. He would never ever do that to you. But the photos... the way they looked. He couldn’t deny that they looked bad.

He looked to where they’d originally been posted and scrolled through the comments, his stomach turning with each one.

@f1fanatic:

Wow didn’t expect that from Max. Wonder how his girlfriend feels…

@paddockinsider:

This is so disappointing. Max always seemed so loyal. Looks like he couldn’t keep it together for one night.

@grandprixgossip:

Cheating rumors about Max Verstappen? Yikes, thought he was better than that.

The speculation was everywhere, spreading like wildfire. People were jumping to conclusions, dissecting every detail in the photos, claiming to know the truth about what had happened. It didn’t matter that Max knew nothing had happened—perception was everything, and it looked bad. Really bad.

Max's phone buzzed as he scrolled through another post, this one even worse. The headline screamed:

"MAX VERSTAPPEN CAUGHT CHEATING? EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS SHOW FLIRTING WITH MYSTERY WOMAN"

He felt sick.

More comments flooded in, each one more damning than the last.

@motorsportchatter:

Can’t believe Max would do this. Poor girl she doesn’t deserve that.

@f1drivergirls:

They were all over each other last night. Disgusting.

@paddockqueen:

I always thought there was something off about him. Fame’s clearly gone to his head.

Max’s head spun as he read the comments. It was like watching his entire reputation unravel in real time. Fans, media outlets, even people who barely knew anything about him were chiming in with their opinions, their judgments, their assumptions.

@F1Insider:

BREAKING: Max Verstappen seen partying with a mystery woman after race win.

He scrolled through more comments, his hands shaking. The social media storm was relentless. More media outlets were picking up the story, running with it, blowing the situation out of proportion.

@racingnews24:

Max Verstappen's off-track antics are making headlines today. Are the rumors true? Is he the latest F1 driver caught in a cheating scandal?

@f1gossip:

It's always the quiet ones. She’s better off with someone else.

@formulastyles:

Another guy who can’t keep it in his pants. Max seriously? Thought you were different.

Max’s breathing quickened, his chest tightening as he scrolled faster. He’d never cared much about social media. To him, it was just noise—a distraction from the things that really mattered. But right now that noise was deafening, and there was no way to escape it.

He clicked on one of the photos again, staring at the image of himself with the girl. The way her body leaned into his, the way his arm draped casually over her shoulders. The kind of picture that told a story all on its own, regardless of the truth. And in the age of instant judgment, perception was reality.

Max clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He hadn’t even known her. She was just some fan, some random girl who had been part of the celebration, someone he’d barely spoken to. But the photos didn’t care about the truth. They didn’t care that he’d been too drunk to notice how close she was standing, or that he hadn’t been thinking about anyone but you the entire weekend. All they showed was a snapshot—a moment out of context that painted him as the villain.

And now the entire world was running with that narrative.

His phone buzzed again, a new notification lighting up the screen.

@sportscelebgossip:

Max Verstappen seen cozying up to a mystery woman at a bar after his latest race win. Does this spell trouble for his long-term relationship?

Max’s stomach twisted. Cozying up? They made it sound like he’d been on a date, like he’d planned it, like he wanted to be with someone else. It was absurd, infuriating—but most of all, it was terrifying.

Max dropped his phone onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. How had things gotten this bad? He had always been careful, always tried to protect the privacy of your relationship, to keep it out of the public eye as much as possible. He never wanted you to get dragged into the chaos of his life, especially not like this.

He couldn’t stop the comments. He couldn’t erase the photos. And now, he couldn’t reach you.

He wanted to punch something, scream at someone, do anything to make it stop, but nothing would change the fact that you had seen the photos, and you thought he had betrayed you.

Max tossed his phone onto the bed, his frustration boiling over. His heart ached as he thought about what you must be feeling right now. He could picture you scrolling through the photos, reading all the horrible comments people were making online. He knew how it must look to you, like he had broke your trust, like he’d been out celebrating without a care in the world, getting close to someone else.

But that wasn’t what happened. It wasn’t. He had to make you understand. You had to believe him.

He stared at the screen, waiting, hoping to see the dots appear, telling him you were typing back. But nothing came. The dots never showed up.

The hours dragged on, and with each minute that passed, Max felt more and more trapped in his own head. You still weren’t answering his calls or texts. He had sent message after message, each one more desperate than the last, but still you gave him nothing in return.

His team had already started damage control telling him not to say anything publicly yet. “We’ll handle it,” they’d said. But Max didn’t care about the media. He didn’t care what the rest of the world thought of him. All he cared about was you.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and for a split second he thought it was you.

Daniel:

Hey man those photos are all over the place. You good?

Max stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Was he good? No. Not even close.

Max:

No. I’m not good. She won’t talk to me she won’t even answer my calls. I think she believes I cheated.

The response came almost immediately.

Daniel:

She knows you Max, she’s just hurt right now. Give her some time.

Time. That’s all anyone ever said in situations like this. But Max didn’t want to wait. He needed to fix this now.

His phone buzzed again, and his heart jumped when he saw it was you this time, but it wasn’t a call just a single heartbreaking text.

You:

Stop calling. I can’t talk to you right now I’m too upset to even think straight. I never thought you’d put me in this position. Give me some space.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Max stared at the screen, reading them over and over again, disbelief clouding his mind.

“No, no, no... fuck…this can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself.

He dialed your number again, it went straight to voicemail this time like you had turned your phone off, or worse blocked his number.

His throat tightened, a sense of helplessness washing over him. For the first time in years Max didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make this right, how to fix the mess he was in.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the same spot where you’d been for hours, your phone clutched in your hand. You wanted to believe Max. You really did. But the photos...they looked so convincing. The way he had held her, the way she leaned into him, it made your stomach churn.

Max had never given you a reason to doubt him before, but seeing those images had stirred up insecurities you didn’t even know you had.

You wanted to talk to him. A part of you needed to hear his voice, to hear him explain what had happened. But you were afraid. Afraid that if you did, if he told you some half-hearted excuse or tried to brush it off, you’d believe him because you loved him too much to let him go.

The worst part was, you knew Max. You knew him better than anyone. And deep down, some part of you didn’t believe he’d cheat on you. Not Max. But doubt had crept in, planting seeds that grew with every hour.

Your phone buzzed again lighting up with another message from him. You glanced at it your heart aching as you saw his name. Part of you wanted to open it, but the pain was still too fresh.

You tossed the phone onto the cushion next to you, pulling your knees up to your chest as tears stung the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had built something with Max, something solid, something real. And now it felt like it was slipping through your fingers because of one stupid night.

You grabbed your phone back to scroll through the photos again, your stomach twisting with every swipe. The comments were brutal, and while you knew better than to believe everything you read online, the pictures... they weren’t so easy to ignore. The images of Max and that girl were burned into your mind, replaying over and over until you felt physically ill.

You’d trusted him. For years, you had stood by his side, believing in him, loving him through everything. You had always known the kind of world he lived in—the parties, the media attention, the constant pressure to perform both on and off the track. But you had never questioned him. Not once. Until now.

You blinked back tears still scrolling mindlessly through social media, reading the comments from people who didn’t even know you. Strangers who were dissecting your relationship like it was some sort of spectacle, something to be debated and analysed.

@gossipgirls:

I feel so bad for his girlfriend. She seems so sweet, and now this? Max really messed up.

@racingqueen:

Cheating rumors about Max? Saw it coming tbh. Athletes, any of them can’t be trusted.

@formulamak:

I don't know why anyone shocked, let's be real these wags know what they sign up for

@fanofthewheel:

Honestly she should leave him.

Everyone seemed so sure of what had happened, so sure that Max had betrayed you. And as much as you didn’t want to believe it, the photos were right there, clear as day.

You wiped away a tear, feeling the pain of it all settle deep in your chest. You had loved him so fiercely, so completely. You had built your life around him, supported him through the highs and lows of his career, always believing in the man he was off the track. But now, it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

Max spent the entire day spiralling. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t even explain what had really happened. Every missed call felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, every unanswered text another punch to the gut.

He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like this. But you weren’t answering, and the fear that you might actually believe the worst was starting to consume him.

By the time night fell, Max was a wreck. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed staring at his phone, willing it to light up with your name.

Daniel:

How are you holding up?

Max hesitated for a moment before responding.

Max:

Not great. She still won’t answer my calls. I think she believes it.

Daniel:

Have you tried showing her everything? Like, explain it step by step?

Max clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Max:

I’ve tried. She probably thinks I’m lying. What if she really leaves?

Daniel:

It won’t come to that. She knows who you really are. It’ll be alright.

Max stared at Daniel’s words, wishing he could believe them. But the fear that you might not forgive him gnawed at his insides.

You had been there through it all—through the wins, the losses, the injuries, the late-night flights, and the endless media scrutiny. You had seen him at his worst and still loved him anyway.

Max swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let this be the end of everything.

Later that night as you lay in bed the quiet of your apartment was deafening. Your phone buzzed again, and this time, you couldn’t help it—you reached for it, your heart in your throat.

Another message from Max.

Max:

Please, baby. I need you to listen I need you to believe me. I love you so much I would never, ever do this to you. You’re my world. Please, talk to me.

You stared at the message, the sincerity in his words was unmistakable. You typed a response, your fingers trembling as you hesitated over the words.

You:

Max, I don’t know what to believe right now. Those pictures…

The dots appeared almost immediately, and then his reply came through.

Max:

I know they look bad but I swear to you nothing happened. I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even talk to her for more than a few minutes. I was drunk and I didn’t even realise how close she was. But you have to believe me I would never do that to you. You know me. I love you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you read his words. Part of you wanted to believe him so badly, but the doubt still lingered. Was he using the trust and love you had for him to get away with something? The thought made your stomach churn, but you didn’t believe he would be capable of that.

Your phone buzzed again.

Max:

Please. Just give me a chance to explain. We can talk in person. I can fly to you right now. Just... don’t walk away from this. Don’t walk away from us.

Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to lose him. You didn’t want to throw away everything the two of you had. But you were scared—scared of being hurt, scared of trusting and finding out you were wrong. The thought of more photos or videos coming out, exposing more of what you didn’t want to see terrified you.

Finally you typed back a single word.

You:

Okay.

Max saw your message and felt like he could finally breathe again. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. You were willing to listen, willing to let him explain, and that was all he needed. He quickly typed a response.

Max:

I’ll be there soon. I love you.

[wearysparrows]

The D Word

ao3/masterlist

Summary: At Tara's suggestion, you try something different on the phone with Sylus. Things quickly escalate.

CW(18+): daddy kink, phone sex (kind of), masturbation, dirty talk, fem (afab) reader, female terms of endearment are used, cringe pet names, porn with feelings, reader is MC, sylus is not a booktok daddy dom, he's so much more than that to me 3.4k

“Why don’t you just try it? He seems to dote on you so much already. It doesn’t seem like a stretch.”

Tara, your best friend and semi-frequent interloper into your personal relationships, was attempting to convince you to get under Sylus’s skin. “Skye,” as she knew him. Your boyfriend in every sense of the word – except that you had never made it official. Tara was especially privy to this fact – it had become nearly impossible to hide all of the time you spent with Sylus from her, nevermind the constant influx of gifts and attention from him. He had never broached the subject of putting a name on your current relationship, and you had been too nervous to ask for fear of scaring him off, or being rejected. As things stood now, you were soaking up what he was willing to give you – which, to be fair, was quite a bit. 

Tara wasn’t wrong, though. Despite your lack of a label, you had begun to rely on Sylus in a way that differed from anyone else in your life. While your relationship had started on a purely professional level, it had quickly evolved into something much more personal. As it stood now, you even relied on him for assistance with mundane tasks – like helping you build furniture, or heavy lifting that you could definitely do but didn’t want to if there was a big, strong Sylus around instead. He came at your beck and call without much complaint, and often initiated spending time with you on his own accord.

Still, there was one aspect that was missing. Despite your continually growing affection and reliance on him, you and Sylus had never been truly intimate with each other. You had definitely sexted him more than a few times – and he had happily reciprocated. You weren’t an idiot, either. You were certain you had felt him hard against you more times than you could count while settling down to a movie, or while lazing around in bed. This was another thing that he had never broached of his own volition – which made you reluctant to try Tara’s line of encouragement to tease him. You weren’t sure if he was being respectful, just wasn’t that into you, or if it was something else entirely.

“I don’t know, Tara. What if he like, gets grossed out and completely drops me?”

Tara, who was sitting across from you on the couch in your apartment, wrapped up like a burrito with a cup of tea in her hands, raised a quizzical eyebrow in your general direction.

“Are you kidding me? The man looks at you like he’s liable to eat you at any moment. You could probably ask him to take the moon down for you, and he’d find a way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her turn of phrase. Her encouragement was wearing away at your reservations. If he hated it, maybe he’d just brush it off and pretend it never happened. Best case scenario, you figured. You didn’t even want to consider the worst case scenario. You sighed, relenting to her devious plans for your situationship. She had yet to steer you wrong when you had come to her for advice in the Sylus department.

“Fine, fine. I’ll try it. If it all comes crashing down, I’m blaming you, though.”

Tara grinned, looking extremely pleased with herself. She sipped her tea innocuously, hiding her smile behind the drink as if you hadn’t already seen its evil intent.

“You have to let me know how it goes.”

This was how you had ended up pacing around your house that night, unable to bear executing your plan from the safety of your bed. You had too much nervous energy, even after completing your nighttime routine. It was late – around 11PM. Just around the time you knew that Sylus had finally begun to start his “day.” You had locked and unlocked your phone to send him a text more times than you could count, now. You stared at the irritatingly blank message box under Sylus’s contact. It really wasn’t helpful that the last set of messages between you two was about something incredibly innocuous – something about going to the shooting range to blow off some steam. The friendly nature of the messages did nothing to bolster your confidence on this matter. You made your way to the couch, finally forcing yourself to stop screwing around. You put a blanket over your bare legs, which had taken on a bit of a chill from the night air in the apartment. You opened the message thread between you and Sylus. You took a breath. Your heart thudded around, and threatened to take up residence next to your intestines as you typed out a message.

Me:

Hi. Whatcha doing?

11:03PM

You eyeballed your own text. Innocent enough. You weren’t sure if Sylus would even respond – sometimes the two of you were both so busy that you went days without contact. It wasn’t ideal, but to be expected considering the nature of your lives. You, a Deepspace Hunter, and him, the enigmatic leader of Onychinus. Despite earlier anxieties, you knew now that Sylus would always get back to you eventually. You couldn’t help your surprise, though, when his response came within the same minute of your original message.

Sylus:

In a meeting. grueling. Everything OK?

11:03PM

You stared at his response. This was the one thing that was difficult about texting Sylus – he wasn’t one for casual conversation over text, unless it was about making plans, or very brief. He seemed to be under the assumption that you texting him, especially at night, was because you needed something from him. He technically wasn’t wrong in this case, you mused, though you weren’t sure it was a need he was even willing to fulfill. Or cared to. You worried your lip between your teeth, trying not to doubt yourself now. Tara’s words about Sylus wanting to eat you came back into your mind, and you stifled a laugh in the silence of your empty apartment. You imagined him sitting in on his meeting, bored out of his mind. The image made you want to see him all the more.

Me:

Everything’s fine. Couldn’t sleep and I was just thinking about you

11:04PM

You had to force yourself to hit send, squeezing your eyes shut as you did so. It wasn’t as if you had never told Sylus something like this before (though not enormously often), but your trepidation about your plans was combined with the fact that he was currently in a meeting, and therefore liable to ignore your texts entirely (for good reason). Being rejected in an indirect way was somehow worse than if he had just outright said he wasn’t interested. Despite your reservations, the reply came quickly.

Sylus:

Funny, I was thinking about you too. want to tell me exactly what it is you’ve been thinking about me?

11:04PM

You felt your face heat up into a hot crimson at his response. It wasn’t overt at all – and you couldn’t even be quite sure that he had meant it like that . It was sometimes impossible to tell with Sylus, especially over text. He often said things that could be taken many ways. You were certain that you could be inconveniencing him in whatever extremely-serious-Sylus-business meeting he was engaged with. But it was too late to back out now. Your mind was made up. You took a breath, steadying yourself.

Me:

Was thinking about what we’d do if you were here. It’s pretty cold tonight.

11:04PM

You opened your camera app. The room was somewhat dark, so your form was a bit obscured, but just visible enough in the low light to take a photo. You turned over to lay on your stomach, and kicked your feet leisurely into the air. You were wearing one of Sylus’s big sweaters, which he had loaned out to you in the name of the recently dropping temperatures. Other than that, you had elected only to wear your panties underneath it. You snapped a picture, not including your face. You squinted at it. It showed the slope of your back, and the swell of your ass, just barely peeking out to show your panties from under his sweater. The bare soles of your feet and the backs of your bare legs were visible, too. You quickly righted yourself onto your back, pulling the blanket back over your form. You attached the photo to the message and hit send before you could change your mind. You buried your face in the blanket. You weren’t sure about the logistics of him opening the photo in his meeting – but considering it was Sylus, the leader of Onychinus, Relentless Conqueror ,  you doubted it was that much of a problem. 

There was a space of about two minutes before Sylus’s reply, and you had already begun to worry that you had somehow managed to push it too far this time. Maybe he just wasn’t that into you. But the reply came just as you had begun debating apologizing for overstepping.

Sylus:

Do you think it’s fun to get me all riled up while there’s other men in the room? If I was there, I’d already have two fingers inside of you.

11:06PM

Attached was a photo of Sylus from the waist down. He was seated with his legs open in a relaxed position. You recognized the black slacks he was wearing – some of his favorites. You even recognized his shoes. The carpet you didn’t recognize. Clearly in an establishment belonging to someone else. But none of this was important, because you could clearly see the outline of his erection straining against his pants. And it was big . You knew Sylus was big – of course you did. There was never any doubt. You had felt it before. You tried to imagine what it would feel like to take him all in when he was fully aroused. You were already feeling slick between your thighs. He had casually taken a photo of his hardon during a meeting. He was hard because of you.

Shit.

You had never even gone so far as to feel each other up (short of fleeting touches), but he was already talking about fingering you over text after just one slightly risque photo. You would have to unpack that another time. Right now, there were more pressing matters. You figured now was as good a time as any to try it out – Tara’s idea. Your mouth suddenly felt very dry. You forced your fingers to swipe across the keyboard. Your anxiety and arousal had combined into a feeling like that of nearly being outside of your body as you typed, and you hardly recognized your own words on the screen before you sent them.

Me:

I’d rather have your cock inside me, daddy

11:06PM

You flung your phone to the end of the couch, where it landed with a soft thud . You could hardly send the message, let alone read it back more than once. You put your face in your hands, wondering if you had just screwed up all of the time you had spent cultivating your current relationship – whatever it was – with Sylus. While you had nothing for contempt for him when you had first encountered him, he had slowly wormed his way into your mind until he began to consume your every waking thought. You were always wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking. If he was thinking about you. If he was wondering about you, too.

There was a lull of time, and Sylus still hadn’t responded. One minute passed, then two, then three, then four. You felt yourself begin to sweat with the anxiety of it, and kicked the blanket from your body once again. Maybe you really had fucked up. You reached for your phone, intending to check the time. As soon as you touched it, it began to ring. You nearly dropped it again in your shock, but managed to right it in your hands. It was Sylus calling. Your palms were slick with sweat.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 His name and contact photo stared you squarely in the face from your phone screen. You gawked at it while it rang. You had never expected him to call you in response to your teasing – nevermind the fact that he had been in a meeting only minutes prior. Maybe he even intended to admonish you. Your heart had begun to beat erratically. In your anxiety and excitement, you even had begun to feel a bit nauseous. You took a great intake of breath, steadying yourself. You hit the answer button with a shaky thumb.

“Hello?” You answered. Your voice sounded much calmer than you felt. As if you hadn’t just been asking your not-boyfriend to put his dick inside you over text. As if you hadn’t just referred to him as daddy. Your knee bounced up and down involuntarily, your nervous energy having nowhere else to direct itself. It felt like ages before he responded on the other end of the line.

“Tell me what you just told me over text.” 

You felt your ears grow even hotter at his command. His tone was raspy and hushed. He sounded needy . You had never heard his voice like this before. The sound of it only made you feel even more aroused than you already were, combined with his commanding timbre. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was trying not to be discovered, somewhere. Had he stepped out of the meeting just to call you for this? You twisted your thighs together, squirming.

The thought of following through with his command flooded you with even more embarrassment than you already felt. Over text was one thing, but over the phone? You had hardly had the guts to send it, let alone say it out loud. Your mouth suddenly felt even more dry. Your tongue flicked out in an attempt to wet your lips, with little success.

“I..”

You attempted to start, but you lost steam. You took a shaky breath. Sylus was quiet on the other end of the line. Clearly waiting for you to continue. It was if you could feel his gaze on you, without even being with you here. If Sylus wanted something, he wouldn’t stop until he got it. You began again.

“I said I…that I’d rather have your cock inside me, daddy.” You couldn’t help but emphasize the last word, just a little. He seemed like he was into it, after all. Your own voice sounded foreign to your ears. 

“Fuck. ” Came the growl of a response. It was rare to hear Sylus curse – and something about you eliciting that response from him was incredibly sexy. You felt your core pulse in response to just one word from him. You heard the sound of metal jingling –  what you thought sounded like him struggling with his belt. 

Did he go to the bathroom or something to get himself off on the phone with you?

You swallowed dryly. Sylus’s voice came to you again. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, princess. My pretty girl. If I was there right now, I’d be fucking you so hard that you’d forget your own name.” 

You heard fabric rustling, and the sound of wet skin on skin. He was definitely jerking off to this. He had referred to you as his . You desperately resisted the urge to get yourself off at the same time – you wanted to enjoy him losing his composure over you, just this once. It was rare for him to lose face in front of you – let alone show you a side of him like this. You pressed your ear against the speaker harder, trying to catch more of his noises. He continued speaking. 

“And you’re wearing my shirt. I just know you’d feel so fucking tight around my cock. I’ve wanted to take you for so long, baby. But I’ve held back. Fuck .”

Your panties were completely soaked, now. You opted to remove them entirely, discarding them thoughtlessly over the edge of the couch, exposing yourself to the cool night air. You thought about Sylus touching himself to the thought of you. To the thought of being inside of you. How he might feel inside of you. Stretching you to your very limits. You suddenly felt very, very empty without him filling you up.

“You can fuck me the next time you come over. I want you to. Really badly.” You blurted, voice barely above a whisper. It sounded incredibly loud to you in the stillness of your apartment. It hadn’t been at all what you intended to say – despite the insanity of the situation, you were worried offering yourself up to him so soon would somehow still put him off of it. But it was what you wanted. You couldn’t help but be honest when he was like this.

“Shi–iit,” He breathed.

“I’m gonna fill you up, sweetheart. And you’re gonna take all of my cum inside, do you understand? You’re going to be so good and take it all for me.” 

You could tell he was already getting close. The wet, lewd sound on the other end of the line had increased its tempo, and he was breathing so hard you swore you could almost feel his hot breath in your ear as if he were already on top of you, inside of you. You clenched around nothing for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. You had no idea you could want someone this much.

“You can cum inside me, daddy. I’ll take it all, okay? As...as many times as you want.” You had begun to feel more confident now, emboldened by Sylus’s response to your words. You didn’t know you could have such a strong effect on him. Despite your nervousness, you began to feel the beginnings of anticipation for when he would actually fuck you.

“Fuck. Fu-uuck . Gonna cum, baby. Holy shit. ” His orgasm was nearly silent except for his words and the intensity of his breath. You wondered if he was always quiet, or if it was just because he was getting off to the sound of your voice in a public place that he shouldn’t be. You squirmed, your own unresolved arousal now leaking onto your thighs. You wiped at it half heartedly. You could hear Sylus panting, trying to collect himself. Righting his pants and belt after cleaning himself off quickly. You listened intently to these sounds. He had cum so quickly to you that you almost couldn’t believe what had just happened.

His voice came to you again, still sounding a bit wrecked.

“If I could, I’d come there right now and take care of you. I’m going to come and see you tomorrow. As soon as I can. Wait for me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his insistence. He was trying to reassure you, you realized. He wouldn’t just disappear back into his world like nothing had just happened between you. Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird that longed to go to him from its cage. 

“Okay. I’ll be waiting. Sorry for interrupting your meeting.” Not that you were actually sorry. Still, it was only right to apologize.

Sylus snorted in response.

“You’re much more important than these fools. But I do have to get back to them eventually, unfortunately. I’m sure they’re wondering where I’ve gone. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.” 

Butterflies flitted about in your stomach. Sylus referring to your importance in his life always made your insides twist up in all different directions. You wanted to be filled up with him in more ways than one.

“Okay. Talk to you soon. Bye, Sylus.” 

“Goodnight, little dove.”

You hung up the line. The air suddenly felt very empty without the sound of Sylus panting in your ear, and the cold began to creep back into your bones. Despite him never having actually been with you physically during the call, he had certainly managed to warm you up. You padded quickly back into your bedroom and buried yourself into the plush blankets of your bed. You thought about getting off – but Sylus’s words came to you.

Wait for me.

You knew that Sylus was a man of his word. He had never fallen back on a promise to you, and you knew tomorrow would be no different. It would be better if you held off. The anticipation made it that much more intense. You elected to finally find your way to sleep, your last thoughts conjuring images of all the ways Sylus would find to bend and fold you over for his own pleasure.

[kerink]

the thing that's been most surprising to me with mouthwashing so far is how little empathy people are willing to extend to curly. and i don't mean this in a piss on the poor way, i'm deeply saddened and genuinely confused by it.

when i first played the game i was at one of the lowest points i've been at in a really long time. my mental health is bad my physical health is bad. i experienced SA a year ago and was recently diagnosed with cancer. i have 2-5 doctors appointments every week with various specialists.

all the while me and two of my doctors are talking about if i need to make a career change that's going to best support my poor health and improve my overall well being. and my family and friends struggle to understand, because i have a doctorate and a good job and live on my own. everyone looks at my life in awe, and they don't understand why i'm unhappy. they tell me so every time i try to explain it.

so when i played i immediately identified with curly. here is a man who's deeply depressed, having hallucinations, trying to reach out to his best friend for support but just has his words thrown back in his face, doesn't want to burden anya with his stuff because she has her own stuff and he wants her to lean on him, he has all these responsibilities and people look up to him and rely on him and have these ideas about him. the highest wrung of their ladder is the lowest of his, and they have no way of conceptualizing why or how he's unhappy and dissatisfied. before the reveal that he's innocent, i completely understood why he attempted suicide.

and then he develops a new disability.

when jimmy goes to crash the ship, he uses curly's unhappiness to try to convince him a murder-suicide is a good idea, and it works. it buys jimmy enough time to get to the cockpit and crash the ship. curly's too in his own head to realize what jimmy meant because jimmy distracted him with how bad his life is. it isn't until the sirens start that curly snaps out of it and it clicks for him what jimmy's done.

i'm not going to re-litigate the issue about if curly could have done more for anya because i've said pretty much all i have to say on it already.

but we really need to highlight that in addition to his lack of tangible choices, he's sleep deprived, deeply depressed, and hallucinating. this is not a man in his right mind making his best choices.

and over and over again i see people refusing to extend him any empathy, to call him a bystander. does a man who says he'll do anything to help and who wanted to be there when anya broke the news and who does his best to play liaison between anya and jimmy sound like a bystander? he let anya keep the gun case! he knew having it would help her feel better!

how good of a friend have you been when you were in your pit of despair? how much were you able to pour into others when your glass was empty?

anya wanted her and curly's support to be reciprocal. if she has enough psych training to do the evals, and having been thru nursing school, she's probably well aware that she and curly need to both be pouring into each other if either of them are going to be any good to anyone. but curly is so determined to defend and protect anya he won't confide in her, despite the fact it's running him so thin that he almost takes jimmy's bait that suicide is a good idea.

i don't think we need to absolve curly of his responsibility. i don't think we should over look his role as an enabler. i don't think we should discredit or discount analyses of his failures. but i'm so tired of people actively avoiding getting in his shoes, getting in his head, reflecting on how they've acted in the past when thinking and feeling similar ways. our worst moments don't make us monsters.

it makes me so sad. and frankly it makes me feel like all the times my family hasn't understood when i've tried to reach out. curly is screaming in agony and just like jimmy we're just trying to keep him quiet because it's too complicated to deal with.

[deliciousangelfestival]

He's A Killer

Summary: She’s known among her family and friends for being single, and everyone worries about her. Determined to prove them wrong, she finally makes her first move, only to discover that the person she likes is dangerous.

The second part : He's The Sweetest

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The emergency room of St. Grace Medical Center buzzes with activity. Doctors and nurses move swiftly, handling patients with precision. Voices blur together in the chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic fills the air.

You're inside the medical storage room, scanning shelves for the supplies the doctor requested: syringes, tubes, and medication vials. Besides, you is Clara, your co-worker and friend, busy sorting through trays.

"I told you I had that family dinner, right?" you say, picking up a pack of syringes.

"Yeah, how was it?" Clara asks, not looking up from the tray she's organizing.

“Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful,” you reply, shaking your head in exasperation.

Clara glances at you, a smirk forming. "Wow, three times? That bad, huh?"

The memory flashes through your mind: Sunday, family dinner. You sit across from your aunts, who seem more interested in your love life than the meal.

"Your mom’s worried about you, you know," one of your aunts says between bites. "She didn't tell you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings," another aunt adds. "You’re already over 30; the clock is ticking." "My friend’s son works at the oil company. I could get his contact if you want. He’s a good catch."

Back in the storage room, Clara's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Well, you probably won’t like this, but your aunt’s kinda right. I mean, bestie, I’m only saying this because I care about you."

You hum, trying to keep your focus on entering patient data into the system. Clara means well, but the topic is starting to get old.

“Honey, you’re a great friend and an amazing co-worker. Everyone here relies on you because you’re so reliable. You know why?” Clara’s voice softens as she leans in. “Because you’re single. You don’t have someone waiting for you, or someone to hang out with on Saturdays and Sundays.”

You freeze for a moment, glancing up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Please, go out and talk to someone," she continues. "You've been single for way too long. You deserve some love, girl. It’s not like you need to get married right away.”

Clara shudders, as if the thought gives her chills. “No, not at all! Just, you know, make friends first?” She winks playfully before gathering a tray of supplies and heading out to assist the doctor.

Alone in the storage room, you sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment. Clara means well, but every time someone offers to introduce you to someone, it irks you. You know you’ve been single for a long time—your whole life, really—but it’s not that you don’t want a relationship.

It’s complicated.

You've seen too many relationships fall apart. Your parents, your aunts, your cousins—all their stories weigh on you. The cheating, the abuse, the constant reminders from your cousins: “Don’t get married.” It’s no wonder you’re hesitant.

But what stings the most is finding out your father, who you always thought was a devoted husband, had cheated on your mom. That betrayal shaped your fears. You don’t want to end up like her—trapped in a painful, one-sided marriage.

Part of you is scared of commitment, scared of getting hurt. But another part of you craves it—a real connection. The irony of it all is that the same aunts pushing you to settle down are stuck in abusive marriages themselves. It’s almost comedic, in a sad, twisted way.

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside as you gather the last of the supplies.

🐼🐼🐼🐼🐼

Working at ER felt like living in a whirlwind. You rarely went home, often staying for almost 24 hours at a time. The chaos of patients coming in with life-threatening injuries, doctors shouting orders, and the constant rush to save lives left you drained but fulfilled. When you finally had a day off, there was only one thing you looked forward to—visiting the zoo to see your favorite animal: the panda. 🐼

You’ve always had a soft spot for pandas. Something about their calm, slow movements and gentle nature soothed you. The baby panda, in particular, had become your little escape. Watching it tumble around, clumsily explore, or nibble on bamboo always brought you a sense of peace. You had its appearances memorized on your schedule since it wasn’t allowed out every day.

Today was one of those rare days off, and you made your way to the zoo, excited to see the baby panda. But when you arrived, the mood shifted. A zoo employee stood in front of the panda enclosure, addressing the crowd of disappointed families.

“Sorry folks, the panda viewing has been rescheduled. We have made an announcement on our social media last week—we worked on it all night, without sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Without sleep? Try handling an ER at peak hours. Annoyed but resigned, you sighed and checked the next available viewing time. As the crowd started dispersing, one person caught your attention.

A tall man stood at the panda window, his broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. He sighed deeply before turning around. That’s when your eyes met. It wasn’t intentional, but the sudden connection caught you off guard. Quickly, you bowed your head and hurried away, feeling your cheeks warm from the brief moment.

The next day, you returned to the zoo, and this time, the baby panda was out. You joined the crowd, eager to see your favorite animal. The baby panda was as adorable as ever, tumbling clumsily around its habitat. You found yourself smiling, the sight of it immediately calming your busy mind. But as you glanced around, you saw him again—the tall man from yesterday. He was also watching the panda, just as captivated as the rest of the crowd.

The panda display ended too soon, and just as you were about to leave, the sky opened up and rain started pouring. The panda enclosure was far from the main entrance, and there was no shelter nearby. Luckily, you always carried an umbrella. As you received a message from the hospital calling you in for an emergency, you saw other visitors quickly opening their umbrellas and leaving one by one.

Soon, it was just you and the tall man left in the rain.

You noticed him glancing at his watch, pacing back and forth like he was debating whether to make a run for it. His indecision made you smile. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the weather. Without thinking much of it, you walked up to him, holding out your umbrella.

“Ehm,” you said, voice slightly raised over the sound of the rain. “Want to walk to the gate together?”

His eyes flicked to the umbrella in your hand before he gave you a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, stepping under it with you.

The walk was quiet, the sound of the rain drumming on the umbrella louder than any conversation you might have had. It should have felt awkward—after all, you were strangers—but the rain filled the silence. He stayed close to your side, even leaning a little toward you to make sure you weren’t getting wet. You noticed his left side was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. Is he a gentleman? you wondered as you both continued walking.

When you finally reached the entrance, you closed your umbrella. The man pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s pretty far,” he said, glancing toward the rain-soaked lot.

“I’ve got to go too,” you replied, showing him your phone. “I booked a car from the app. It should be here soon.”

He nodded, still standing close. You hesitated for a moment, then held out the umbrella to him. “Here. Take this. It’s better than running through the rain.”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the umbrella. “How do I return this to you?”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It’s alright. I have more. But… if you really want to return it, you can find me at the hospital E.R. St. Grace Medical Center.”

His lips curled into a small smile, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Alright then, the hospital. I’ll remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, your car pulled up. You gave him one last smile, ducking into the back seat, and as you drove off, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see him again.

🐼🐼🐼🐼

The night shift at St. Grace Medical Center had just begun, but unlike most nights, the ER was unusually quiet. A handful of patients sat in the waiting area, the usual chaos replaced by a lull. The soft beeping of monitors filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of paperwork or a distant cough.

Clara, your ever-observant co-worker, stood beside you, arms crossed, her brow raised in curiosity. "You look different tonight. What’s going on?" She tilted her head, smirking slightly.

You paused, your lips twitching into a small smile. "Well… I met this guy when I went to see my favorite panda."

Clara’s smirk grew wide. “Ah, the fluffy black and white mammals. So, what makes this guy more special than your favorite animal?”

You were about to answer when a loud commotion broke out near the entrance. A drunk patient stumbled through the doors, yelling incoherently, bumping into chairs, and causing a scene.

“Perfect timing,” you muttered under your breath.

Clara groaned. "Here we go."

You both rushed over to try and calm him down. He was clearly in no state to be reasoned with, slurring his words and swaying dangerously as he tried to grab hold of another patient’s wheelchair.

“Sir, you need to sit down,” you said, holding up your hands in a calming gesture.

The man blinked at you, confused, then suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab your arm. Panic surged through you, but before he could make contact, a firm hand caught the drunk man's wrist.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind you.

You turned around, startled to see him—the man from the zoo. The one who borrowed your umbrella. He stood tall, his grip firm but not aggressive as he guided the drunk man back into a chair. The drunk patient, surprised by the sudden interference, mumbled something incoherent but didn’t resist.

Relief washed over you, and you let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten ugly.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s quiet here,” he said casually.

You quickly shook your head, eyes widening. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it.”

He chuckled at your reaction, then glanced down at your name tag. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his smile seep into you. "Nice to meet you too… Bucky."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar item—your umbrella. “Sorry I’m late returning this. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of your usual humor return. “Hey, as panda lovers, we have to help each other out, right?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, Bucky laughed—a genuine, warm sound. “You’re right. We do.” Then, as if to return the favor for your kindness, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Actually, I have something for you.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, until you unfolded the paper. Your eyes widened in disbelief—it was a VIP ticket for a face-to-face panda experience, something you had only dreamed about.

“What? How did you get this?” you asked, astonished.

Bucky smiled, a little mischievously. “I’ve got some connections.”

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Bucky waved and left the hospital. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara whistled softly behind you.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is someone making panda dates now?”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. "It’s not like that, Clara."

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it’s all innocent.”

The next day, you found yourself back at the zoo, clutching your VIP ticket nervously. And there he was again—Bucky, standing near the entrance, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that same easy smile.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. The two of you walked together into the building, and soon, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived: you were face to face with the baby panda.

Both of you were silent as the tiny creature waddled toward you. The panda was as adorable as you had imagined, its soft fur and curious little eyes making your heart melt. Bucky stood next to you, just as captivated. When the panda let out a small squeak, you both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, before grinning like kids.

As you held the baby panda for a brief moment, you felt all the exhaustion from your long shifts melt away. It was like a small pocket of happiness you hadn’t realized you needed. You could hear Bucky chuckling softly beside you, clearly sharing the same sentiment.

“Why pandas?” he asked softly after a while, turning to look at you.

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re just… calming. Whenever I’m tired from the hospital or life, looking at them helps. It’s like all the stress just melts away.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still on the baby panda. “I get it. My job is… well, it’s tiring. Dangerous too. But seeing animals like this, being cuddled, living peacefully—it helps. Makes me feel like there’s still good out there.”

You glanced at him curiously, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Sounds like a tough job,” you said carefully.

Bucky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah… it can be.”

It's his turn to hold and cuddle the baby panda, and the sight is nothing short of heartwarming. The little creature, with its round face and soft, fuzzy coat, snuggles into his arms as he cradles it gently. Bucky’s eyes light up with a mix of joy and awe, his broad smile breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth, as the panda nuzzles against his chest, completely at ease.

There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels heavy with something unsaid, as he shifts his gaze from the panda to you. The moment stretches out, filled with unspoken tension.

Then, suddenly, he turns toward you, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his expression. “You know… if you’re not busy sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?” His cheeks flush slightly, as if he’s unsure how his invitation will be received, but the sincerity in his eyes reveals his hopefulness.

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it, which made it all the more endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His face lit up, the awkward tension lifting. “Great,” he said, looking almost relieved. “I’ll, uh, message you then?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the beginnings of a connection you hadn’t expected. “I’d like that a lot.”

🐼🐼🐼🐼

Your relationship with Bucky started innocently enough, bonding over your shared love for pandas and animals. What began as casual conversations about your common interests slowly grew deeper. The two of you spent more time together, texting throughout the day, meeting for coffee, or watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t long before you started spending nights at each other’s places. The closeness felt natural, and his easygoing demeanor made you feel safe.

Clara, of course, couldn’t resist teasing you about it. One evening during a shift, she shot you a knowing look. “You know,” she began with a smirk, “you should introduce him to your family. I bet his shadow alone could shut them up.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "One step at a time, Clara. I don't want him to run away after meeting my family."

Over time, your relationship with Bucky deepened, and intimacy followed. You spent nights at his apartment, and he did the same at yours. The affection between you two was comfortable and warm. Bucky worked as a contractor, which sometimes took him out of town for a while. That’s why, one day, he handed you the key to his apartment with a smile.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case you need to check on Alpine.”

Alpine was his cat, a fluffy white ball of fur who quickly won your heart. You adored her, and it was easy to see why Bucky did too.

One day, on your day off, you decided to spend the afternoon at Bucky’s place. It was quiet and cozy, perfect for unwinding after a long week. His salary as a contractor must be high enough that he can afford this house.

Alpine was curled up on your lap as you sat on the couch, absentmindedly stroking her soft fur. The gentle purrs coming from her were soothing.

Suddenly, Alpine’s ears perked up, and before you knew it, she jumped from your lap and padded over to the bookshelf. You watched curiously as she stretched her paws toward one of the shelves.

“What are you up to, little one?” you murmured, getting up to see what had caught her attention. As you reached out to move a book, you heard a soft click. Before you could react, the bookshelf started to shift, revealing a hidden door.

Your heart raced as you hesitated for a moment, but when Alpine darted through the opening, you knew you couldn’t just leave her. Steeling your nerves, you stepped inside.

The room you entered was nothing like the cozy, homey apartment you knew. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene before you. Guns lined the walls, various types of explosives were neatly arranged on shelves, and papers filled with detailed information were pinned to a whiteboard. It looked like something straight out of a spy movie—except it wasn’t a movie. It was real.

“When I finally make a move, turns out the man I like is a killer,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you picked up Alpine and quickly backed out of the room. You closed the secret door, your mind racing.

What do I do now?

You paced back and forth in the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts spiraled as you tried to process what you had just seen. Finally, in a panic, you grabbed your phone and dialed Clara.

After a couple of rings, her voice came through, light and cheery. “Yo, girls, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, still clutching Alpine close to you. “Clara…”

“Yeah?” Her tone shifted slightly, sensing something was off.

You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky as you held Alpine close to your chest, “I think my boyfriend is a hitman."

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff

Extras:

[signedkoko]

HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???

Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

-🐚

Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.

When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed

You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face

It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow

You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way

He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord

Truly a shame

You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged

Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort

But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you

You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice

The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you

Something about it was so familiar

J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R

When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing

Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device

Unless you did it just for him?

R-K-J-E-R-K-J

" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "

Y-O-U

Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk

And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method

One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display

Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw

" COMATOSE. "

You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious

Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!

But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel

He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that

Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them

Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before

But he'd never heard of something like yours

Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle

You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved

Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures

After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!

While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you

From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction

Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled

He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear

But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with

Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to

Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of

Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites

The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you

But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats

" Silence. "

From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking

The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left

Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!

Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?

YOUR POWERS DID THAT???

He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too

Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!

[mv1simp]

Just Hold On, We’re Going Home ♥️

Max Verstappen x Fiancé! Reader

I got my eye on you, you’re everything that I see (I want your hot love and emotion, endlessly)

After a particularly bad argument with his father, Max is mentally checked out and needs to be pulled out of the dark place his mind has gone too. As his fiancé, you know just what to say to make him feel your love and bring him safely home.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, orgasm denial, I know I said I would never write subby max and that was apparently a LIE, but he’s more of a soft pure loverboy who needs you ok, you both have daddy issues, mild angst and childhood trauma, 3.1k WC

You can tell your fiancé’s mind is somewhere else right now, instead of at the intimate dinner you’re sharing at a cosy restaurant. You know this because you know Max well, having been friends before you two started dating, meeting as mutuals within the same extended group, and then online where you would both take a break from your demanding careers to enjoy a friendly grand theft auto competition.

Your friendship had gotten closer when you’d proved to be someone he could trust and always rely on. Especially when it came to talking about his father - a very multi layered relationship given that Max owed a large part of his F1 success to Jos’s discipline and the fact that, well, said discipline had involved emotional abuse on a good day and physical abuse on a bad one. It was a complex dynamic to unpack, and one that he didn’t really do with anyone - because he couldn’t trust anyone outside his family to not leak it to the media somehow. And within his family, the only one who came close to understanding was his little sister Victoria - who wanted to talk about it just as little as Max did.

However, you knew a thing or two about complex relationships with parents, growing up in a household with a luxury property developer tyrant of a father, and a homemaker mother who would never dare come between her husband and his demands for absolute perfection from his children, especially from you - the eldest. Similarly to Max, you owed a large part of your highly successful investment company and Oxford financial degree to your father’s attitude, which had been so sweet on days you performed, and then like a dark thunderstorm on the days you didn’t.

So you’d been the only one to see the look in Max’s eye one night when he’d had one too many to drink at a house party, and had wandered out into the garden by himself. You’d spotted him leaving, already having a growing soft spot for your friend at that stage, and had followed him out. It had taken you a while to find him amongst the dark sprawling bushes, but when you did, you promptly sat down next to the much taller Dutchman and didn’t ask him anything. Instead, you told him about the time you’d scored 99.9 on a notoriously difficult advanced calculus exam, and you’d proudly told your father about the result of your months of study, top in your class - and he’d responded by coldly demanding why you didn’t get the 100. What’d you say to him? Max slurred, morbidly intrigued by the story.

Nothing, I was way too upset I'd disappointed him. But I did go fight the Mathematics head professor about giving me the extra 0.1. You shrugged, telling him you probably should’ve just gone to frickin family therapy instead and saved yourself arguing for 45 minutes only to find out 99.9 was the highest possible mark anyways.

Max looked at you, blue eyes intense in the moonlight. You in turn looked back at him with nervous doe eyes, and when he didn’t say anything, anxiously started apologising. Perhaps you’d read his emotions wrong, you didn’t mean to overstep and relate to his own relationship with his father-

Max cuts you off to explain what had been on his mind. I’m sorry, you - you argued for 45 minutes with the department head for an extra 0.1? On top of 99.9? This time, when your gazes meet, you both burst into drunk giggles at the sheer absurdity of a five foot nothing, 15 year old schoolgirl going toe to toe with a grumpy old professor for such a thing.

He’d started opening up to you after that, bit by bit peeling back the onion layers, because you always met his confessions with no judgement because this was his narrative, and helped him reflect on his emotions and understand why, 20 years on, he still couldn't accept a compliment but easily responded to insults. And when you two finally became a couple after a very convoluted weekend in Ibiza - involving multiple schemes from both parties, various slutty outfit choices from Max that showed off his abs, and your use of one (1) Charles Leclerc to make his Dutch childhood karting rival jealous (a story for another time) - you’d heard the full tale of what Max’s upbringing had been like.

And now, 5 years on from the infamous Ibiza weekend, and sitting across from him at dinner as his fiancée, you know instantly from the look in his eyes what's troubling him. You touch his large hand gently to draw him back in, and with a startle he comes back to you, apologising. It’s been a shit last few races, yeah? You start, going straight to the source of his worries. And now a big one this weekend, Zandvoort, your home race.

Max sighs, nodding, grateful for your ability to pick up on what's on his mind without him needing to say it. On your drive home he rants passionately about all the bullshit decisions his team has been making and the problems with the car he's asked to get fix for months. You soothe him reassuringly, rubbing his hand where it rests firmly on your thigh as his other drives, chiming in to agree with his critiques and make him laugh with jokes to diffuse his tension.

And that night he shows you just how thankful he is for all your understanding, picking you up in a display of strength that always has you needy and dripping for him. He smirks as you beg him to take you to bed and fuck me, please Maxie, after he has you breathlessly stretched out on his large, thick fingers. Like the good fiance he is he gives you what you want, all his stress melting away with each strong thrust into your small frame underneath him, your tiny hands clinging desperately to his broad shoulders.

You're furious the next morning when you wake up to multiple calls that there'd been a massive PR scandal within one of your principal investing companies, sending your high profile clients into panic - including your father, who demanded you fly out to London right now to sort this out. You'd been ready to send your executive manager out instead, not wanting to miss this important race for Max - but he'd chuckled and reassured you he was sure he could handle it - having done some odd 200 races or another. So after giving him a guilty kiss, you two fly off in opposite directions. You'd meant to have arrived to the paddock by Saturday noon at the latest, in time for qualifying at least, but London takes longer than expected. You don't come until halfway through the race on Sunday, and see him take P2 after multiple mistakes on the track - both from him and his team. Despite the objectively good result, you know Max would not be pleased. Seeing the stormy expression on his face on the podium after he'd tersely greeted you post-race, you give him his space to cool off, knowing it's not personal. Instead you catch up with the other WAGs and laugh at Charles who still faintly blushes at the sight of you, thinking about Ibiza. But later, when you head to the Redbull garage, you hear raised voices arguing in Dutch - before Jos emerges from Max's room and storms away. You pause before deciding to go in, gently asking how he's doing.

Max, as you expected, scoffs and sarcastically asks how do you think he's doing. You continue reassuring him, being used to seeing him like this after a bad race, and place a soft hand on his shoulder to soothe him - only for him to rip it off you almost violently, making you flinch in surprise. He yells at you to stop pretending like you understood a damn thing, as if you'd have any idea what kind of high pressure he has to deal with compared to your comfortable office job.

You manage to hold it together as you tell him you're going to leave, you'll be flying back to Monaco and will talk to him there once he's calmed down. He rolls his eyes, telling you to get out, then and you make sure you're well away from the paddock and in the privacy of a car before you left yourself cry. Max had definitely been angry around you before, even enraged - but you'd never felt the full brunt of it come out and attack you so directly. Taking a deep breath, you focus on calming yourself down, as the argument brings up your anxieties from your own father - who had no problem raising his voice when he was angry. By the time you land in Monaco, you're ready to head back to the office, where you end up accidentally sleeping on your couch after tidying up the rest of your PR scandal.

The next day as you're coming home from work, unlocking the door to your shared apartment with Max, you stumble forward when the door is yanked open. On the other side is your rather panicked looking fiancee, who says that he'd thought that you- he swallows, looking like he was about to be sick -that you'd left. Forever. Perplexed, you tell him that you’d never do that, not without talking to him, and he launches into a frantic apology, saying that he regretted his words so much, that you didn't deserve to have him take his anger out onto you. Grateful for the sincere apology, you let him know with a genuine smile, saying that you're completely okay now, you had understood he’d been frustrated in the heat of the moment.

But Max's worried looks at you don't stop as you wander off to take a shower and then continue over your favourite dinner that he'd cooked, uncomfortable with the compliments you gave him about it - as per usual, still struggling to accept a kind word about anything he did. When you feel his upset gaze on you again when you're cuddled against his shirtless chest, watching a movie, you decide enough is enough and pressed pause to gently ask him what was on his mind.

That I just let all my anger out onto you like that without any hesitation. And the things I said about your job not being important - God, it’s something my dad would have said. His guilt at having hurt you with his cruel words make his blue eyes bright with the threat of tears. He says he couldn't just accept that you'd let it go because you thought it was fine, because it wasn't, not really, don't ever let me speak to you like that again, schat.

Bringing yourself up to straddle your fiance's wide lap, you settle in comfortably and closely examine the helpless look in his pretty eyes. It's rare for Max to get so worked about something like this, being the rather laid back guy he is off the track. But when he does get like this, all pent up from stress, his father’s expectations heavy on one shoulder and the fear of turning out like him on the other, there’s very few ways to pull him out of his head. Gun to your head, you’ll admit, you had your own personal favourite method for helping Max unwind. Because on nights like these, it's the the only time he'll hand the control over to you in the bedroom and the only place where he'll accept your compliments. With a teasing smile, you pepper him with gentle kisses, erasing away every tense line on his face.

Sure, Max you whisper breathily into his ear, biting the edge of it, I guess I did forgive you too easily. Maybe I should make you work for it, hmm? A delicious pink flush spreads across Max's cheeks, making you grin wickedly and press deep kisses into his soft mouth. He breathlessly whines when you pull away to tease your hand down his muscles chest, stopping just above his low waisted sweats. You can already feel how hard he is underneath you with the impressive semi he’s sporting. Choosing to ignore it, you climb off him and pull him along with you too. He follows you like a lost dog to where you walk over to the kitchen, dropping your hoodie as you went, to reveal a cute La Perla pink set underneath that he'd given you for an anniversary.

When you stop to lean against the counter, eyeing him coyly, he tilts his head down curiously - only to have you tangle your small hands through his messy, long locks and guide him all the way down, until he's on his knees below you. He looks positively delicious, all soft and flushed, as you coo that he needs to prove just how sorry he is, by putting that mean mouth of his to work and eating you out, yeah?

He nods eagerly, burying his large nose right into your core and breathing in, licking furiously through your thin panties and when he tries to yank the lacy garment out of the way, you swat his hand back, telling him no, not yet, he didn’t deserve it.

He whines openly then, teary and breathless against you as he kisses along your thighs, the swell of your ass, and then to your delicate ankle as you teasingly stop him coming any closer with a foot to his toned chest, your gold anklet dangling. Running a hand through his hair again, you tug on it firmly so you can smirk down at him when he begs you please, schat, I promise I’ll be s'good for you-

Your resolve is crumbling at seeing your normally in control fiancé reduced to putty in your small hands. Trying to maintain your willpower, you teasingly pull your pink bralette off first, enjoying the way Max's breath hitches, eyes wide with pure need, as he follows your hands ever so slowly slide your panties down your legs. But he still doesn't move, fists clenched into his thighs, desperate blue eyes looking up at you, waiting for your approval to touch you. You throw him a bone and slide one soft thigh over his broad shoulder, your other leg still leaning against the counter, giving him irresistible access to your dripping pussy. Go on then, baby, you tease, here's your reward.

He buries his tongue into you in half a millisecond, eating you out like he's kneeling at your altar and worshipping your thighs. His large hands squeeze your curvy ass, pulling you even closer onto his tongue as he hungrily eats you out like a starved man. You're moaning sweetly, telling him he's doing so good for you, it feels amazing, that you wonder how the world would react if they knew their favourite F1 champion was as good at eating pussy as he was at driving racecars.

Your praise has him keening, now desperately kissing and sucking your core, and somehow both your thighs have ended up draped across his strong shoulders, his large palms still squeezing your ass. This angle lets him slide in deeper than you’ve ever felt his mouth reach, face completely buried between your thick thighs, and with a few more talented flicks you’re lean back against the counter and squirting right onto his waiting tongue.

Dazed from the intensity of your orgasm, it takes you a few minutes to come down from your high, and Max slowly licks your clit in the meantime, toeing the line to overstimulation. Standing back up shakily from potentially the most mind blowing oral you've ever had in your life, you tilt his chin up to look at you with a gentle hand, giving him a kiss because he was such a good boy, all for me, yeah baby?

He nods furiously, almost looking like a cute Labrador with his blonde hair and blue eyes and you giggle at the mental image, telling him he’s earned his next treat. Max practically stumbles after you as you gently tug him up by his jaw and back over to the comfortable sofa, where he sits down after you playfully shove his chest. His muscular thighs spread wide to make a perfect throne for you to climb onto. He's still in his boxers, his bulge straining against the damp material, and you tease him with a smug smirk, asking if he'd already cum in his pants just from eating you out, like a dirty little perv?

He desperately moans out his No, no, promise I didn’t, held it all back to fill inside you, please- He becomes breathless from your mean hands that tease his cock further through his boxers. When he tried to redirect you, guiding your hand under his boxers to where he really needs it, you shove him away and tell him to keep his hands to himself. You demand to know why he thinks he deserves to put his gross, sticky cum anywhere near your sweet, precious hole, is he at least going to use some manners and ask politely?

Max pants, face flushed and blonde strands attractively stuck to his forehead as he feverishly begs you, please, schat, he needed to be inside of you so bad, he couldn't take it, hadn't he been so good for you already? You can tell your fiance is close to his tipping point, and you almost send him over the edge with a smooth motion as you slip his fully erect, huge cock out of his boxers and start lazily jerking him off. Sliding your fingers into his mouth for him to lick, you smirk as he does exactly that. Using his spit on your hands to give him a couple good pumps - making his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back his orgasm - you guide his throbbing length to your dripping pussy, which is so ready for a second round.

Max screws his eyes shut, head thrown back, as you wickedly torment him some more, dragging his tip teasingly along your puffy lips, drenching him with your slick. His hands dig into the sofa, desperately trying to resist the urge to touch you like you'd ordered him to earlier. And when you finally sink down on him, all the way to his base, he's moaning and begging again, tears in the corner of his eyes as you slowly ride him - edging his poor cock with the relief of your tight, warm cunny but not giving it quite enough pressure. And when your thighs are starting to get tired from the effort, and Max has ripped holes on your sofa while gripping the fabric, you know it's time to let him take control again.

Guiding his hands gently to your waist, you lean forward into his firm chest to whisper Maxie, baby, it's too much for you, can he please help you out and make you cum again-

His eyes snap open, wide blue eyes coming to stare into your pleading doe ones as you hand the power over to him, all dished up on a silver platter with a pretty please. He brings his forehead forward to lean against yours, your ragged breaths meeting as you feel shivers run up your spine in anticipation of what’s coming. Then, with an all too familiar smirk returning to his face, he tightens his hands into a bruising grip on your waist and easily begins bouncing you up and down on his fat cock. His wide thighs, which had been straining in an effort to hold back, now flex as he thrusts deeply into you from below, making you wail at the furious change in pace and you're screaming his name, proving once again just how good he makes you feel. You two barely last another few seconds before you're cumming, your name on his lips as he pumps an obscenely thick creampie into you.

You stay like that for a while, sweaty and tangled in each others arms, exchanging gentle kisses and loving affirmations with him still deep inside you, until sleep starts to take over. Later, after you'd showered because wow, that had been a particularly filthy session, you find yourself stroking his damp hair as he lies against your chest, the rest of his body on the bed to keep the weight off you. Thank you, liefje, he murmurs sleepily against you. At your inquisitive hmm? he presses a loving kiss to your skin, telling you his thanks was for always knowing how to calm me down. For always bringing me back home. I love you.

You smile in the dark, warmth blooming across your chest as you press a kiss to his head. Always, Max, just like you do for me. I love you too.

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

A/N: SOO i never thought i'd write this but after zandervoot im manifesting the return of max supremacy with this. had to rewrite a bunch of times cause genuinly couldn’t picture max as sub instead of dom so lmk what u guys think!! Also… should i do a part 2 where its the reader with daddy issues instead hehehe 😼😼😮‍💨

[circeyoru]

Future Power Couple = Requested

The Request

[Sung Jinwoo x S-Rank Player!Reader]

! ALERT

- A new Player has joined the System.

That was months ago. You have received noticed on how well this new Player did from time to time, sounded like the System was mighty happy with this Player’s progress. Well, it wasn’t like you could do anything when you knew this person was in the same situation as yourself. While it was good that the System helped you level up to be the strongest S-Rank Hunter, you were sort of a test run for the real Player. You didn’t like being used as a trial run. 

You returned back to Korea after your exchange a bit too late. By the time you returned, the Jeju Raid ended in success with a major lost. Had you known he joined the raid, you would have joined too. Min Byung-Gyu and you were close but different, while he was the only Healer class S-Rank, you were his opposite as you were the only Assassin class S-Rank in Korea. Still, the uniqueness of your singular class among the fighter and mage class made the two of you bond like siblings with him being the other one.

So, without question, you attended his funeral. That’s when you caught a glimpse of the new S-Rank Hunter the Chairman was talking about. Sung Jinwoo, a mage class, former E-Rank and the Weakest Hunter of All Mankind. It was clear as day that he was the new Player the System noticed you all those months ago, and continuously praised. But that was all that happened, you didn’t stray away from the main objective that day and it was to honour your brother-like friend’s sacrifice and work.

“Can you join Hunter Sung to deal with a gate that appeared in the middle of the road?”

“Ha?” You side eyed the phone next to your ear. Just your luck that you were immediately given a dungeon to clear, and with Jinwoo no less. “He can handle it himself, right?” After all, he was raised by the System and leveled up to the point of gaining S-Rank. “There’s no need for me to join him.”

“You could see him in action.”

It was an enticing offer. You’ve only heard of Jinwoo’s powers and abilities, never did you see him fight or what he actually did during the Jeju Raid, since you were distraught about your friend’s death. You hummed and tapped your feet repeatedly, you want to go and don’t want to go. “Fine! Send me the location!”

Chuckles could be heard on the other side. “Haha, thank you for your work.”

Clearing a dungeon with a lack of teammates was nothing compared to what you usually do. You were the Association’s exclusive S-Rank Hunter, also known as The Underworld Assassin, due to your class and the fact that you do the Association’s dirty work. You were a feared Hunter unlike those that were treated as celebrities. 

While Jinwoo seemed to be stopped by an officer in charge of the gate, you came up behind her. “Hey, let him pass, he has permission from the Chairman.”

It was obvious that she flinched from your sudden appearance, “Huh?! Oh, yes! Please!”

“Let’s go.” You told Jinwoo without sparing him another glance. All the better if he didn’t follow behind you and you had to deal with this situation alone. Just ilke always.

To your surprise, he followed. The two of you eyed each other when you got a good look at your surrounding. No doubt thinking of the same thing. This was definitely a Red Gate. It felt like a scam and it is one.

“I can handle it on my own.” Jinwoo proudly stated while his Shadows appeared behind him.

“Yeah? Well, I was sent to clear this dungeon by the Chairman too.” You glared at him, taking out your weapons from your inventory. 

“You’ll be in my way. I have an army to help me.” Jinwoo gestured to his Shadows. 

“Relying on your soldiers to do your work?” You teased with a smirk. “Some Hunter you are. I can manage all on my own.”

In the end, admist your argument with Jinwoo on who would clear the dungeon, the two of you had already destroyed the surrounding forest, weaker monsters and boss while Jinwoo’s Shadows tried to calm the two of you down. The argument only ended when you accidentally slipped and fell through the reopened gate, while pulling Jinwoo with you of course. 

(It was Tusk that used his gravitational ability, Beru’s idea, and Igris’ agreement that made the two of you fall for each other. Literally.)

After your first raid with the Hunter, your System gave you stupid quests to meet with Jinwoo outside of work. Ridiculous missions like <Meet Your Partner!> or <Have A Meal> and Jinwoo got the same. The two of you worked out your little secret to growing strong. Turns out he was approached by Norma Selner as well, an offer to join their country’s ranks. Similarly, both of you declined. 

“You’re too slow.”

“You’re too stiff.”

“Your form is weird.”

“You’re not acting like a mage.”

“An assassin doesn’t use bow and arrow.”

“A mage doesn’t use daggers.”

“Want to get punched?”

“Want to get stabbed?”

It was decided that once in a while, S-Rank Hunters would gather at the training grounds to train together and even have mock battles. Whenever you and Jinwoo were in the same hall, the two of you would immediately get into a spat then a mock battle. Because the two of you had the System and quicker recovery, you two would let loose. No unique skills and back-up (Jinwoo’s Shadows), just pure physical talent. Which always result in childish bantering back and forth between blows. 

Your mock battles with Jinwoo always have to be timed else it could and would go on for hours. Cha Hae-In would rush to drag you away while Jinwoo had to be held off by Baek Yoonho and Ma Dongwook. Then the two of you would be sitting in the dialogically opposite spot glaring at each other, even resulting to making weird faces and hand gestures. The other Hunters could only sigh, unable to bear with the consequence if they stepped between you two.

Look at his silly face… Definitely not a better S-Rank Hunter than me. You looked away while drinking your water for a moment. But his speed is impressive… It’s been a while since I could let loose.

Being feisty again. Isn’t an assassin purposed to be quick with their target? Jinwoo would sneak glances at you while Hae-In requested to train with you and compete with a mock battle. Holding back? Guess mock battles with me is more fun. Ah, that form really brings out all the right qualities…

“They’re at it again.” Woo Jinchul sighed, calculating the damage cost that was done during the mock battle you had with Jinwoo. 

“Young love is wonderful isn’t it?” Chairman Go Gunhee chuckled, watching the two of you look at each other when the other’s attention was elsewhere. Of course, noticing the facial expression change and the faint blush on your faces. 

Jinchul groaned at the numbers, “We might as well have an entire island as their battle grounds.”

“That would give them the privacy needed.”

“Yes, that would help with the cost—” Jinchul did a double take to what the Chairman said, “Pardon sir?”

Gunhee only smiled and turned to his trusted aid, “If the two most powerful Hunters in our country were officially a couple, don’t you think they’d be a power couple?”

“...I suppose…”

Note: Yay! This is my first request for Solo Leveling! Hope it's done as you expected or wanted, Anon! Feels like everything's all over the place, but it's what it is. Enjoy!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (none)

[girlgenius1111]

i always know what you need

Alexia x R [soft and sweet] smut 18+ after a rough game, and a result you blamed on yourself, you ask Alexia to punish you. she has other ideas.

huge thank you to @occasionallyaurora for the inspiration 🙃

------

If there was one thing Alexia wished she could change about you, it would be your insistence to blame every bad result for the team on yourself. Granted, you did miss the penalty that would have won the game. And the goal scored by the other team had kind of been your fault. But it was an off day for you, and everyone had them. The rest of the team had every opportunity to push ahead, and they hadn’t been able to either. Would Alexia have blamed herself, if the roles were reversed? Most definitely. But as she watched you fight off tears while walking towards the tunnel after the game, Alexia could only think that she didn’t really care that you’d played poorly. All she cared about was making you smile again. 

Her hope that it would only take a few encouraging words from her to make you feel better faded quickly when you pulled away from her in the tunnel, heading right for the showers. You were able to avoid her through the rest of your post match routine, and when Alexia escaped media duties, it was to find that you’d already gotten on the bus. Of course, this match couldn’t have been in Barcelona, and Alexia couldn’t bring you back to her house and keep an eye on you. No, she had to rely instead on Mapi to console you, who you were rooming with. Speaking of the defender, she pulled Alexia to the side as the captain headed to the bus, a solemn expression on her face. 

“Switch with me tonight?” She asked. Alexia rolled her eyes; she was rooming with Ingrid. Of course Mapi wanted to switch. 

“María, are you really taking advantage of my girlfriend being upset so you and your girlfriend can break the rules in the hotel?” Alexia asked, tone biting and filled with annoyance. 

Mapi frowned at her friend. “No. Ingrid has a migraine and I want to stay with her. And I heard your girl crying in the shower. I was trying to be helpful.” 

Alexia sighed. Today was really not her day. “Sorry, amiga. Yeah, let’s switch, thank you.” It wasn’t taking you home, but it was better than lying awake in her hotel room, worried about you when you were just right down the hall. 

------

You were lost in your thoughts when Alexia sat next to you on the bus. She instantly wrapped her arm around your shoulder and pulled you into her, which surprised you a bit. Alexia liked to keep things professional, often going so far as to avoid touching you when you were all around the team. It seemed as though your need for her superseded her need to be perfectly professional at all times, though, because the way she kissed your forehead was far from friendly. 

“Mapi and I are switching rooms, vale? I stay with you tonight.” She murmured, her words heavily accented, as they always were when she tried to whisper. 

You wanted to deny her, rid her of the burden that you knew you would be this evening, but you couldn’t manage it, not when she was holding you so tightly, and when she smelled so comfortingly familiar. 

“Thank you.” You replied, well aware of how uncommon it was for Alexia to break the rules, even for you. 

Your girlfriend shook her head. “Do not thank me. I will always give you what you need.” 

It was with that thought that you began to think about what it was that you needed. By the time you reached the hotel, you were absolutely convinced you had the answer. 

------

Alexia was expecting you to cry upon return to your hotel room. Or, at least, pull Alexia into bed, bury your face in her chest, and try to go to sleep. Anything to avoid talking about it, and anything to avoid thinking about it. She was not expecting you to pounce on her the minute the door shut, her bag in hand, having just switched with Mapi. 

Regardless, she met your kiss eagerly, reaching down to lift you easily into her arms. You wrapped your legs around her waist, and wound your arms around your neck, completely intending to lose yourself in the feeling of her. She seemed to come to her senses after a few minutes though, pulling away somewhat breathlessly and settling you on the bed. 

“Let’s slow down, sí? You just played a full 90, we have to fly tomorrow…” she trailed off as you shook your head, pulling on her shirt to get her to climb on top of you. Alexia was a willful person, normally, but the one place that this was not the case was with you. Almost involuntarily, she leaned back down, allowing you to guide her lips towards yours. 

This time, when you broke the kiss, Alexia looked much more convinced to give in to what you clearly wanted, and what she wanted too, rules and logic be damned. 

That is, until you spoke, grabbing her hand and pulling it towards your throat. “Punish me.” You whispered, a desperate look on your face. 

Alexia instantly withdrew her hand, cupping your cheek instead, a very sad look on her face. “Mi amor, I do not know if that is a good idea.” 

“Please, Ale, I need you so bad. I can’t feel like this, I need you to punish me, please.” You begged, gripping her wrist and pulling it back towards your neck. 

She still didn’t look sure, so it surprised you when she nodded her head slowly. “What my girl needs, she gets.” She murmured, pressing her lips to yours once more. 

Alexia had no intention to punish you. She knew that wasn’t really what you needed, and she was determined to give you what you needed. So she let herself kiss you, for a while, until you began to get impatient and squirmy under her. She kept her kisses sweet and slow, withdrawing slightly every time you tried to get her to be a bit harsher.

“You aren’t being rough” You huffed impatiently, glaring up at Alexia’s face above you. She just hummed in response, returning her lips to your neck and suckling softly at the skin. “Ale,” you complained again. This time, she did respond, leaning up off you to look sternly into your eyes. 

“Who decides what I do? Is it you? Or is it me?” 

“You,” you replied softly. “But, Ale, I need-”

“Who decides what you need, amor? You? Or me?” You didn’t reply, only glaring up at her halfheartedly. She answered her own question when it became clear that you weren’t going to. “I do. And you are not being very nice to yourself today. So I will do that for you.” 

“Alexia I don’t deserve-” 

“Shh, amor. I know what you deserve. Now relax, and let me make you feel good, vale?” 

“Okay.” You replied softly, almost in a trance. Alexia could get you like that fairly easily, she just needed to say the right thing and pair her words with some intense eye contact, and you were ready to do whatever she asked of you. 

“Buena niña,” she breathed into your ear, her hand beginning to trail down your body. You didn’t acknowledge what she said, stiffening slightly at her words. You didn’t feel like her good girl, not right now. Alexia knew this, and she also knew that by the time she was done with you, you would feel like her good girl. 

Alexia sat up off you, pulling at your shirt. You stripped it off, your bra quickly following. 

“You are so beautiful.” Alexia said softly, her finger tracing a line down your abdomen, her eyes fixed on yours. 

You squirmed uncomfortably at her words, and Alexia tilted her head just slightly. “You are, amor. The most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” She reiterated, this time not waiting for a response before she began to kiss at your bare chest, working her way down your abdomen, and pausing at your shorts. 

“Do you want me?” She husked. As if you would ever say no to that question from her. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Then tell me that you are good.” Alexia said, resting her cheek on your lower abdomen, as if she knew it would take you a minute to get the words out. Looking at her from where you were propped up on your elbows, it was hard not to feel good, to feel beautiful. Alexia looked at you like you imagined people looked upon the Ark of the Covenant; like they knew they’d only have a short time to enjoy something so divine, and they weren’t planning on wasting a second. 

 You knew she wouldn’t move until you’d said what she wanted you to, and you decided to say it, even if it felt like a lie. 

“I am good.” You mumbled, so quietly Alexia almost didn’t hear you. 

“Perfecta,” Alexia smiled, finally sliding her fingers under the waistband of your shorts, and pulling them down. She pulled your underwear off, too, smiling to herself at the wet patch already on them; she’d never get over the effect she had on you. If it made her cocky, then it made her cocky; was she supposed to be humble when the most beautiful person she’d ever met always wanted her so desperately?

Much to your annoyance, Alexia didn’t immediately put her mouth on you. Instead, she switched her focus to your inner thighs, leaving light kisses up one, ghosting over where you really wanted her, and down the other leg. After her 2nd lap of this, you grew frustrated. 

“Please,” you whined, hoping that asking for what you wanted would get it.

“You said you wanted to be punished. This is your punishment, I am going to go slow until you are dripping for me.” Alexia replied, one finger teasing over your clit rather lightly, yet you still shuddered. 

“Am- am I not dripping for you already?” You grumbled, your words losing some edge to them when Alexia pressed down just barely, before retracting her hand. She grinned up at you rather smugly, finally pushing your legs further apart, and spreading you open. 

“Mmm, you are.” Alexia allowed. 

“Well then what- oh fuck,” you cut yourself off when Alexia buried her face in your pussy, lapping and licking at your folds like it was the last thing she’d ever do. The blonde’s tongue was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, and you were quickly arching your back, and grinding yourself up into her face.

You were used to not being able to touch. To being tied up, or told to keep your hands off when Alexia got working on her favorite activity. You were used to having to tug at the restraints, or pull at the bedsheets, until the urge to grab Alexia’s head and pull her even closer eventually floated away, like everything always did when she fucked you. 

This time, though, Alexia grabbed your hands in hers, humming against you with pleasure at the sounds you were letting out, and placed them on her head, encouraging you to lace your fingers into her soft blonde hair. 

Once Alexia had done that, allowing you to set a rhythm of fucking yourself down against her tongue, holding her face where you wanted it, it was just a matter of minutes before your hands were tightening and you were getting louder and louder. 

Alexia knew she should care, your teammates were right next door, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind, not when you threw your head back against the bed, writhed underneath her, repeated her name over and over like it was the only word you remembered. 

“Ale, Ale, please, I’m so close,” you chanted, words broken up by breathy moans sliding easily out of your lips. 

“Let go, amor,” she said, barely withdrawing her mouth to speak, and the vibrations of her voice against your pussy did it, along with her lips attaching themselves to your clit and sucking, hard. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, jesus Alexia,” you cried, eventually pushing her head away when it became too much. You’d always been loud, and it never ceased to amaze Alexia how easily you let go when you came.  

Your girlfriend slid back up your body, hand settling over your core as you grinded softly down into it, still working through the aftershocks. Alexia kept her face close to yours, wanting to hear the desperate little whines and breaths that you always made after you came. 

“You sound so pretty when you come for me, do you know that? I love hearing you say my name.” Alexia told you. All you could do was wrap your arms tighter around her, and haul her in even closer as you came back into yourself. 

You whimpered slightly when Alexia’s fingers abruptly dragged through your core, your mouth falling open almost on instinct when she raised her hand up to your mouth. 

“Taste yourself.” She instructed, pushing her 2 large fingers right past your parted lips. You sucked on them eagerly, more interested in having something of Alexia’s inside your mouth than you were with tasting yourself. 

“Buena, tómelo todo,” she hummed, not embarrassed in the slightest at how good it felt to have you suck eagerly on her fingers. “Tan buena, mi niña, la niña mas perfecta del mundo,” 

The whine you let out at that let Alexia know just how desperately you needed to hear her praise you. She didn’t have much time to think on that, though, before your hand was pulling hers away from your face, and directing it back between your legs. 

“More,” you said softly, blushing when you felt Alexia smirk into your neck.

“You want more? You want my fingers in that perfect pussy?” She teased, loving the way your whole chest and neck turned red at her words. 

“Sí, I need your fingers.” You told her, tilting your neck to the side when she nibbled slightly on the skin there. 

“Anything for you,” Alexia mumbled, pulling both her hand and mouth away from you in a way that felt rather contradictory to her statements. When she flipped you around, though, and pulled you up the bed to settle in between her legs, your back to her chest, you realized why. If you were blushing before, you weren’t sure what you were doing now could be described as. Maybe turning permanently red. 

On the wall just across from you was a full length mirror, rather obscenely placed so that most of the first bed was visible in it. Alexia wanted you to watch. You didn’t want to watch, at least not watch yourself. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” the blonde whispered, frowning slightly when you shut your eyes and turned your head slightly to hide your face against her neck. “No, amor, you are going to watch.” 

“Alexia,” 

“You are going to watch.” She insisted. “You are beautiful, and perfect, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I want you to see yourself like I do. Falling apart on my fingers, and screaming my name.” 

You felt like you were getting whiplash with how quickly she was switching between being almost painfully sweet, and being painfully filthy. 

“Can you do that, mi niña bonita? Can you watch yourself take my fingers?” 

“I can.” You muttered, feeling Alexia grab your chin and turn your head back towards the mirror. You were spread open wide, your cunt glistening in the dim lighting of the room, one of Alexia’s large hand holding your leg back.

A soft “good” was all you got before Alexia was sliding her hand down your stomach, right down to your entrance, tracing two fingers over it before easily sliding them in. Her fingers were absurdly large, and it was a bit of a stretch, even with how wet you were, and she kept them still for almost a full minute, before your body was very unsuccessfully trying to grind down on them. 

“Look at you,” Alexia cooed, beginning to pump her fingers in and out. She filled you so perfectly, it was almost mesmerizing to see, if not slightly embarrassing to see yourself drip all over the sheets. “Taking me so well. You are so wet. Do you want another finger, bonita?” 

You could only nod frantically, all your energy focused on not looking away. 

When Alexia slipped her third finger in, you grabbed on to her forearm tightly, breaths leaving your mouth rapidly. 

“Look at your tight pussy, taking 3 fingers.” 

“Ale,” you mumbled, the only coherent thought you were able to form at this point. Alexia was making you feel good, and Alexia was all you wanted; what else was there to say?

“Sí, tell me how good you feel,” she encouraged. 

You took a few stuttering deep breaths, trying not to let the wet sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of your cunt to distract you. 

“S-so good, baby, you make me feel so fucking good,” you managed, feeling Alexia speed up at your words. You realized your eyes had shut, and you forced them back open, not wanting your girlfriend to stop, not when you were so close. 

Alexia fucked you harder, her hand making a loud smack when it connecting with your body, her fingers sounding almost pornographic as the moved inside of you. The blonde began to curl her fingers, which were long enough to brush perfectly over the spot deep inside of you that made your toes curl. 

“Ale, your fingers- on my, shit,” you tried, unable to get the words out. Luckily, your girlfriend knew just what you were asking for. 

“So good, asking for what you need.” She praised, moving her other hand from your leg over to your core, instantly circling your clit, rubbing eagerly against it with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Ale, coming,” you managed, your back arching up off Alexia’s chest, thighs clenching around her hand. Your walls tightened so much that Alexia could barely move inside of you, and the volume at which you screamed her name was sure to bring a lot of teasing both of your ways tomorrow, but Alexia didn’t care. Not when she made you feel good. Not when she made you come so hard, all you could do afterward was flop back down onto her body, panting heavily. 

Her fingers eventually removed themselves from deep inside of you, and Alexia quietly shushed the whimper you let out at the sensation. Her less messy hand rubbed comforting circles over your stomach, and her lips pressed kiss after kiss to your cheek. You didn’t really notice any of this. You felt it all happen, but you were much to content to remain completely fucked out for the time being. 

Though one thought did break through the haze, and you tried to move your hands down Alexia’s body, muttering something about her not having a turn yet. 

“No, tonight is for you. You are all done, amor, it is okay.” She encouraged, feeling you relax back into her. You laid there for a few more minutes, feeling every inch of your skin pressed up against Alexia’s, and thinking somewhere in your brain that there was no better sensation. 

Eventually, Alexia very carefully slid out from under you, promising that she’d be right back, before she disappeared briefly into the bathroom. You could only groan in response, already wishing that she was back in contact with you. 

When she did return, it was to delicately pick you up, cradle you close to her chest, and carry you into the bathroom. She tried to lower you into the bath she’d drawn, but you wouldn’t let go of her. 

“Don’t let go, please.” You requested, and Alexia smiled softly, stepping into the tub with you. She laid you carefully on her chest, hoping the warm water would revive you some. 

It did, and only a few minutes later, you turned your head, resting your chin on your girlfriend’s chest, looking up at her with an adoring expression on your face. 

“Hi you,” she whispered, the English phrase she’d picked up from you making you smile yourself. 

“Hola,” you replied, and she laughed quietly. 

“Thank you. For knowing what I needed. And knowing what I didn’t.” You said, the mood suddenly a lot more serious. 

“Always.” She promised. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really. I just want to be here with you.” You stated carefully, cheeks flushing at the way Alexia’s entire face seemed to soften and melt at your words. 

“Okay, amor. It is important to me that you know, though. I always love you. You are always good. Even if you have a bad match. Even if you have 100 bad matches. I love you the same. Forever, I love you the same. Okay?” 

There were tears falling down your face when you responded, tears that Alexia easily wiped away. 

“I love you.” 

“Te amo mucho mucho mucho,” she promised, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

You’d never get over this intimacy. The ease with which you let Alexia see every ugly part of you. And the ease with which she met everything you hated about yourself with overflowing amounts of love. Alexia loved you more than you could ever hate yourself. 

-------

this entered my brain and refused to leave :)

[earth4angels]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

modern!jacaerys x f!reader

── semi angst? jacaerys is super in love, gets teased about it! one sided?? has an open ending, open for interpretation, not edited.

summary: over the course of an year, he watches her from afar, admiring the small details, falling in love with a stranger that does not know he exists. and as the final year of school almost at its end, he questions whether he wasted time or if it’s the perfect time to recover lost time.

a/n: short drabble and very rushed bc i just needed to post this before my idea died, and it’s a little sad with some fluff sorry jace nation, listen to beautiful stranger by laufey

jace tag list: @jacaerysgf @star611 @jules420 @gracexthoughts @astrxq @reyndaisy @hxtd @smurfelle @nanaldy @valdezthg @littleblackcatinwonderland @nixtape-foryou @starrgurl46 @ethereal-athalia @stelleduarte @canyonmoon-2 @ambrosia-v-black @ilovequeen978 @melsunshine

The wind blew through his face hard enough for his long trences of hair to fall into his mouth and his eyes. He sighed irritably, his hands pushing his hair back while he took the strands that ended in his mouth away.

He checked his watch, biting his lip when he realized he was running late to school - his mother would surely kill him if she found out. He always rejected their personal driver to take him to school as he did not like bragging about his status so he relied on public transportation to blend in with his classmates.

He never whined about it either, he loved the scenery, but most especially he loved to watch you.

You were beautiful, your hair always styled in bows, clips, your ears were always covered by your headphones blocking the noise of the outside as he would always see you reading. He studied every single detail of yours, the slight crinkle of your eyes when you read something interesting, the way you constantly licked your lips as your eyes darted through the pages of your book. He saw you always with pens as you highlighted or wrote in your journal pieces he would figure grabbed your attention.

Jacaerys admired you from afar, and often found himself dreaming about you when the day ended.

“I don’t know why you haven’t talked to her. You’re Jacaerys Velaryon, heir of your family’s business after your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Cregan nudged him as the said heir only shook his head, his curls bouncing, he looked away to the window to watch you cross the street, your long hair blowing delicately against the wind.

“It’s not like it matters, school ends in two weeks. We will all graduate, and I will be moving miles away to attend law school. It wouldn’t work,” Jace muttered, his hands rubbing against each other, a nervous tic of his.

Cregan groaned childishly, “You depress me Velaryon. The gods made you with such looks you could pull anyone and you’re wasting it on a complete stranger? Someone you haven’t even made moves on for an entire year?!”

Jace glared at him before muttering again, “A year and a half… actually.”

“Seven hells mate. You have gone absolutely mad,” Cregan shook his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at his idiotic lovesick best friend who hung his head.

Jacaerys did want to speak to you, maybe he could’ve asked what book you read or make a random question about what train stop took him to the academy. He didn’t know, but maybe he just could’ve just said something to get you to look at him. Time was clicking and he didn’t know how much longer he should wait.

He saw you enter the train again, this time a fluffy hat sat on your head, your cheeks a rosy pink from the wind outside, in your hands held a book. He smiled knowing you were going to spend another ride with your nose deep in the pages. You were so delicate with every move you made, and he felt like you lit the entire room with your presence.

He already knew your routine for how much he had seen you, but this time it was different. You turned your head looking around finding him sitting by the window, your eyes met his fiery brown ones. It was then he felt like he was going to faint, his heart beating rapidly - you smiled.

You smiled and he felt like the world vanished, leaving him breathless. It was only you, a ray of light caressing your shoulders illuminating you like a goddess. It was his chance… this was the chance he could’ve said anything. Yet he did something so idiotic that he went home that day slamming his head into the pillow cursing himself for being so stupid.

He looked away, his cheeks turning red. He did not smile or said anything but rather fixated on the blurs of the streets that passed by.

As the last week of school came, and his friends teased him about a crush on the beautiful stranger he was infuriated with - he found himself sitting the train ride again.

The familiar stop came, and he listened to the doors slide open, his hands shaking from the nervousness. The seat next to him suddenly became occupied, he did not look thinking it was a stranger that sat next to him.

A soft chuckle was heard and it made his heart flutter crazily, he peeked beside him slowly finding the beautiful stranger next to him.

You smiled at him, for you were waiting for him to speak first.

You did notice him a lot, and you knew about him, the famous Jacaerys Velaryon, first born son of the famous businesswoman Rhaenyra Targaryen.

You saw him in every train ride, but you also saw him on campus, laughing with his friends, often throwing a football as he played during lunch breaks. He was popular, maybe for his name or his money, but he walked around campus with such grace - his aura leaving many boys with envy and girls wanting him.

Your smile never left your lips as he stared at you in disbelief that you actually sat next to him.

From up close, you were much more beautiful, your scent overwhelming him as you smelled like he thought you would, a mix of floral and vanilla, you smelled like home.

Graduation was two days away. And he was set to leave the week after to start summer camp.

Perhaps, it was too late to start anything but his chance came to finally hear your voice, to at least know your name, the girl, the beautiful stranger that made his dreams sweet and made him smile when he sat to think of you.

Jace finally smiled back, and his soft voice made your insides warm, “Hello.”

[jaythes1mp]

4826 words, 27475 characters, 269 sentences, 122 paragraphs, 19.3 pages

All done in one night🙏 it’s 7:50 am and I haven’t slept, so if you don’t like this I might cry bro

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You quietly opened the classroom door, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible as you creep inside. You scanned the room, holding your laptop close to your side as your eyes darting around the space with slight panic. Your heart racing from the exertion of running from across campus to get here. Thankfully the professor hadn't started yet and your friend, who already sat near the back of the room, gives you a knowing glance. You give him a sheepish smile as you make your way through the rows of desks to him.

"You cut it a bit close this time." He gives you a cheeky grin. "I made it here though, didn't I?" You retort.

He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the professor clearing her throat at the front of the room, signalling class is about to begin. “Mister Wayne.” She warns, her calculating eyes boring into Tim’s frame. He sits up straight and gives her a sheepish smile.

You have to bring a hand up to muffle your laughter. “Mister Wayne.” You mock quietly, whispering so no one other than the boy next to you could hear.

He felt the eyes of the other students on him like burning hot plates, the majority of them were either envious of him or thought he was an entitled prick.

Of course the professor would call him out for talking when you were the one who ran in late.

Tim couldn't help but smile sheepishly as he was chastised, he had heard your quiet snickering behind. There was this fuzzy feeling in the back of his head at the thought that you were laughing because of him. He had made you happy. He could rub this in Damian’s face later.

The longer class went on the further and further consumed into your little project you got. You had finished the assignment for your criminology course a few days ago, not that Jason was aware. Instead occupying your time with your side hobby. You had over four thousand people following your reporters blog online and it earned you some decent cash. Now far too invested in the lives of the vigilantes of Gotham to really think about anything else. It didn’t help that the people you surrounded yourself with were all geniuses, so you couldn’t rely on them for help even with vague questions as they’d figure out that you’re the author for Blüdhaven’s top trending reporting blog. Maybe Dick could help you, he doesn’t portray himself as the smartest tool in the box when it comes to these things and he won’t ask too many questions.

Your train of thought is cut off as you feel the end of a pen dig into your side, glaring over at Tim.

He kept the pen pressed to your side, not at all being gentle about the small jabs as he tried to get your attention, silently gesturing to you to pay attention to the damn class, not whatever you were doing on your laptop. He’ll have to bug it, seeing as you’re not using your phone as much anymore.

You grimaced when you felt the pen being jabbed into your side again, a silent command to pay attention to the class and stop messing around on your laptop. You rolled your eyes and shot a glare at your friend, who was giving you a pointed look.

You begrudgingly closed the device, knowing that Tim would find other ways to get your attention if you didn’t stop being distracted. You sigh and silently resign yourself to actually paying attention to the class, although you made sure to shoot another glare at Tim for good measure.

Drake follows along quietly as you rush to pack up your belongings. The class seems to end faster than usual, and the moment the teacher releases you from the period, you grab Tim's sleeve and pull him along behind you, quickly making your way out the door with him in tow.

The hallway outside is filled with a mix of noise and chaos. Laughing groups of students chatter away amongst themselves, while others race through, late for their next class. The sound of sneakers scraping against the college’s floors loud and prominent. You push your way through the crowd, guiding him along as you make a beeline for the on-campus cafe.

As you enter the cafe, the atmosphere shifts to a more relaxed vibe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods waft through the air, filling the space with a comforting scent. The cafe is moderately crowded, with students occupying the various tables and booths scattered throughout. Some chat amongst themselves while sipping on their drinks, while others are engrossed in their studies, textbooks spread out before them. There's a gentle hum of conversation that fills the cafe, blending with the soft music playing in the background.

As you scan the cafe for an available booth, your eyes roam over the cozy ambiance, taking in the various students enjoying their time. However, your search comes to an abrupt halt when your gaze falls on Dick Grayson, the young professor, sitting alone in the corner. You discreetly tug on Tim's sleeve and subtly gesture in Grayson's direction with a nudge of your shoulder.

You notice a subtle change in Tim's expression as his lips curve into a knowing grin. He doesn't seem all that fazed by Dick’s presence, almost as if he was expecting it. As if he was already aware that he’d be here. However, what you been blissfully unaware of was Dick’s impatiently bouncing leg, and the checking of his phone every few seconds.

You pull Tim along to the man’s booth, standing opposite him with a grin. Grayson’s face lights up at the sight of you, and he quickly places his phone face down on the table before standing up to greet you. Without hesitation, he spreads his arms wide, opening them in invitation for a welcoming embrace.

You eagerly accept Dick’s open arms, wrapping your own around his sides without a second thought. Seeking out the familiar comfort of his embrace. Your head fits perfectly against his chest, and you relish the feel of his warmth and the comforting familiarity of this act. Settling snugly against him like a younger sibling would to an older brother.

With your head snuggled against his chest, you're not able to spot the dark grins that spread across the brothers' faces as they exchange knowing looks, their gazes fixed on you.

You gradually untangle yourself from Dick’s embrace and slide into the booth, settling comfortably between the two brothers. Chuckling softly when the oldest Wayne seemed reluctant to let go of you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He chirps, resting his head in his palm and idly tracing around the carved lines of the table.

You nod, settling back into the booth and intending to let the two brothers continue their discussion without interruption. However, you quickly realize that their intense stares are focused solely on you, their gazes unwavering and intense. The intensity in their gazes prompt you to discreetly clear your throat in an attempt to break the silence.

"You both are staring at me like you have something to say," you comment. Fiddling with a loose strand at the end of your sweater.

The brothers exchange a glance, seemingly communicating silently between them with subtle nods and raised eyebrows. Eventually, Dick clears his throat and turns his gaze back to you, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, sorry about that. Got a bit lost in thought." Dick says, his voice tinged with a hint of humor.

Tim, on the other hand, remains silent, his steady gaze not leaving you. His expression is unreadable, though a small quirk of his lips suggests a hint of amusement.

“Right...” You look down towards the table, noticing it empty of any beverages nor sweets. Had Dick not ordered before we got here?

You blink, realising your mistake and sitting up. “Oh, sorry. You guys know each other right? I’m sure Timmy-boy has at least one of your classes?”

Dick snorts, but quickly quietens down by a sharp look thrown from Tim. “Yeah, we’re... aquatinted.”

Tim subtly kicks Dick’s leg under the table before turning back to you. “Are you hungry?” His blue eyes analysing you.

You shrug, leaning back and drumming your fingers against the table. “I could eat.”

Dick taps the table, leaning forward to get a better look at you. His eyes flicker with curiosity as his gaze roams over your form, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What do you feel like eating?" he asks, watching you drumming your fingers against the surface of the table. Tim's expression changes to one of interest as he observes you as well.

The waiter, ever observant, takes this as a cue to approach the table. "What can I get you guys?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

Dick cocks his head, still watching you closely. "We'll have some coffee and some pastries to start," he replies, his gaze flickering back to your fingers tapping against the table.

Tim adds, "Make that two coffees and a basket of assorted pastries."

You nod in agreement with their exchange, letting your hands fall to your lap as you continue to follow the conversation. "Ah, I think I'll go for the milkshake of the day," you add, addressing the waiter who's been patiently waiting for your order. "And I'll take the café's specialty coffee as well, please." Dick almost coos at your manors.

The waiter smiles politely and nods, taking note of your order before hurriedly walking away to place the order. Meanwhile, Dick props his chin on his hand, a sly grin on his face. "Aren't you a polite one?" he teases you, eyes glinting with playful challenge.

Tim watches the interaction, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Have you had breakfast?” The question is thrown with an air of casualness, but you know he’ll give you that sad puppy face if you say no.

You sigh, nodding. “Yeah, my roommates big on the whole taking care of myself or whatever. He’s a hypocrite I tell you.” You cross your arms, leaning back.

Dick snickers at your comment about your roommate. "Sounds like a character," he remarks, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. A fond smile at the thought of Jason.

Tim, on the other hand, looks sympathetic. "I can relate," he says, shaking his head. "I've got a brother who's always nagging me about eating healthy and getting enough sleep."

A small huff escapes Dick's lips in response to Tim's words, though it's not loud enough for you to hear. His expression momentarily shifts, a pout crossing his features.

After a few minutes of quiet banter The waiter returns promptly with a serving plate stacked with various pastries. He places it on the table and then sets the drinks down in front of each of you. As the waiter walks away, Tim quickly grabs two of the pastries and places them on a plate in front of you. Pushing the white porcelain closer to you with his pointer and middle fingers.

Dick, meanwhile, takes a sip of his coffee, a pleasant hum leaving his lips. Watching the interaction fondly.

"Go on," Tim encourages, nudging the plate slightly towards you. "Make sure to eat." His gaze is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

You glance down at the pastry, a feeling of warmth spreading through you at Tim's thoughtfulness. Before you can thank him, Dick interjects, a playful smirk on his face.

"Aww, look at that. Timbo's acting all chivalrous, ain't he?" he teases, elbowing Tim lightly in the side. Tim rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Can it, Dickhead," Tim mutters with no real heat behind his words, shoving Dick's hand off his shoulder. But it's hard to stay mad at Dick, especially when he has that charming smirk plastered on his face. He playfully ruffles Tim's hair, earning him a glare in return.

Dick just laughs, unfazed by Tim's retort. "Oh, don't be like that," he replies, a teasing grin plastered across his face.

Sensing the brewing banter, you take a sip of your milkshake, your attention flickering between the two.

Tim attempts to smooth his hair back into place, his gaze shifting to you. "Don't mind him," he says with another eye roll. "Dick's sense of humor never matured past the age of twelve."

Dick feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Hey, I'll have you know my sense of humor is top-notch," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tim snorts, taking another sip of his coffee to suppress a laugh. "Sure it is," he says dryly. "If by top-notch you mean 'borderline obnoxious.'"

You can't help but chuckle at their banter, hiding your smile behind your milkshake.

The sound drawing the attention of the Wayne brothers as they turn their gazes to you. They watch you for a moment, their expressions softening at the sound of your laughter.

Dick's smirk widens as he observes your reaction, his gaze fixated on you. "Ah, there it is," he murmurs, his voice low and soft.

Tim, too, can't help but smile quietly as he watches you, his expression warm. There's an almost admiring look in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side, studying you closely.

You pick up the chocolate croissant, bringing it to your lips the pausing mid-bite as they’ve turned their attention to you.

Dick's eyes remain locked on you, watching as you pause in mid-bite. He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand once more, a playful glint in his eyes. Something dark hidden beneath the ocean swirls of his irises.

Tim, too, observes you closely, his gaze lingering on your face. There's an intensity in his gaze that was absent earlier; it's calculating, almost. A subtle hint of possessiveness in the depth of his eyes. He seems to be analyzing your every expression with a keen interest, as if trying to uncover some hidden secret. He lifts the coffee to his lips, taking a long sip and averting his attention elsewhere.

"You gonna eat that or just stare at it?" Dick teases, gesturing towards the croissant you hold in your hand. His tone is light, but the intensity in his gaze belies the lightheartedness of his words. It’s a subtle warning to eat.

You roll your eyes at the gesture, taking a bite into the pastry. It’s warm, freshly baked. The chocolate drizzled over the top as well as placed inside. It practically melts into your mouth. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth as you eat, hiding the grin. “It’s alright.” You lie through your teeth. It’s amazing. But you wouldn’t give the overprotective guys the satisfaction.

Dick snickers, seeing right through your lie. "Just alright, huh?" he says, feigning disbelief. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tim, a knowing glint in his eyes, takes another sip of his coffee. He can tell you're enjoying the croissant, as evidenced by the gleam of chocolate around your lips. But he decides to play along, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe you're just too picky," he comments. They’ll get you a life time supply of these once the plan succeeds.

You hiss, putting the half eaten pastry down onto the plate and elbowing his side. Unaware of the chocolate on your face which makes it hard for them to take you seriously. “I am not picky.” You huff, crossing your arms.

Dick suppresses a laugh as he watches you pout, unable to resist teasing you further. He reaches forward, swiping a finger across your cheek to collect a bit of chocolate that's been left behind.

"Oh really?" he says, a smirk on his face. He uses a napkin to wipe off his finger. His eyes never leave your face as he does so.

Tim, sitting to your side, watches the exchange. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes, but he keeps his composure.

You pause, an embarrassed flush coming over your face. How long had that been there?

"You've got a little something right here," Dick says, tapping the corner of his own mouth, indicating where the chocolate is located.

Tim can't help but smirk at Dick's comment, his eyes flickering to your mouth and then back up to your eyes again. He takes another sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat.

You brush a hand over your face, wiping away the excess chocolate. Though the movement only seems to smear it further.

Dick chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. His eyes roam over your face, taking immense pleasure in the flustered state you're in.

"Here, let me help," he offers, grabbing a napkin from the table. He reaches out, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head towards him. With a gentle touch, he slowly wipes away the residual chocolate with the napkin.

You felt more embarrassed than anything, resting your head against the table afterwards. Feeling like you just wanted to evaporate into the air.

Dick laughs, his amusement clearly evident as you hide your face against the table. He pats your head affectionately, his touch gentle.

Tim watches you, his expression more subdued than Dick's. However, there's a hint of a smile on his lips, a gleam in his eyes that betrays his amusement.

Dick relaxes in the cafe’s empty booth, leaning back slightly as he glances around the room with a touch of impatience. His foot taps rhythmically against the floor, a subtle sign of his restless energy. His grip on his phone tightens as his eyes remain fixed on the screen, watching the blinking red dot on the small map come closer and closer. His fingers tense around the phone's edges, his impatience growing with every passing moment.

As the blinking red dot reaches its destination within the bakery, Dick places his phone face down on the table and casually pretends to check over the menu’s items, feigning indifference despite his growing restlessness. He tries to act nonchalant, as if his mind isn’t anxiously anticipating your arrival.

Dick senses the familiar presence approaching, the shadows in the cafe becoming longer and stretching over his table. He manages to hide his growing excitement, attempting to feign nonchalance, but his giddiness is almost palpable. He looks up from the menu he was pretending to study, his smile betraying him.

He quickly rises from his seat, his body brimming with anticipation. Without hesitation, he opens his arms wide, the eagerness evident on his face as he waits for their baby birds embrace. Practically preening when you bury your face in his chest. He’s sure you can hear his heart going a mile a minute. You fit so snugly in his arms, like you were made to be there. His baby sibling.

He meets Tim’s crazed eyes, a dark grin crossing both of their features. He mouths slowly. ‘All good?’

His younger brother nods, fishing out his phone from his pocket to display the vitals silently. You were good, healthy. He hastily hides his phone once you pull away.

Dick almost lets out a whine. Why don’t you want to stay in his arms, baby bird? Can’t you tell you’re made to be there? Dick struggles to release you from his embrace, his arms reluctantly letting go as he allows you to squeeze yourself into the booth beside him. He manages to put some distance between you and himself begrudgingly, his eyes flickering to your face for a brief moment before shifting his attention to Tim.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He gazes at you with a soft smile on his face, resting his head on his palm as his thumb absently runs over the carved lines on the tabletop. Although he tries to hide it, there's a hint of a pout forming on his lips, clearly displeased by the fact that you've moved away from him. However, he brightens when you don't pull away and instead lean into him when his knee pushes gently against yours in a silent display of affection. Enjoying the proximity.

A comfortable silence runs over the table, a possessive smile on the brother’s faces as they watch you intently. Sitting there so perfectly, your nails picking at a screw on the bottom of your laptop. He shifts closer once you clear your throat, his baby blue eyes honing in on your form. His pupils dilated.

He lets out a content sigh at the sound of your voice. So melodic, it reels him in.

"You both are staring at me like you have something to say," Dick observes you intently, noticing the way you begin to pick at your sweater instead. He can see the anxious habit forming, and silently wishes he could reach out and gently grab your hands to stop you. However, he resists the impulse and simply watches you, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection. He’ll help you with that destructive habit once you’re home, he promises, little bird.

Dick's gaze turns to Tim, a silent silent exchange taking place between the brothers. Dick raises a questioning eyebrow, his grin widening when Tim responds with a subtle nod. Their expressions betraying their shared excitement.

"Ah, sorry about that. Got a bit lost in thoughts." Dick speaks, his voice tinged with a hint of humor. Fondness evident.

“Right...”

Dick's eyes narrow as you sit up, shifting your position and inadvertently pulling your knee away from him. A wave of disappointment washes over him, and he has to bite back the urge to command you to put your knee back where it was. He tries to mask his frustration, his expression remaining neutral, but a subtle tension is evident in his body language. “Oh, sorry. You guys know each other right? I’m sure Timmy-boy has at least one of your classes?”

Dick relaxes a little at the sound of your voice, he grins at Tim's nickname, clearly amused by it. However, his laughter is abruptly cut off as he catches the disapproving look his brother gives him. Immediately sensing the tension, he composes himself, his grin quickly turning into a more subdued smirk. “Yeah,” Dick looks you over calculatingly for a moment, his eyes studying you intently as he tries to choose his words carefully. He pauses for a moment before speaking up, his voice measured and deliberate. “We’re acquainted.”

Dick's attempts to maintain a serious expression falter as Tim shoots him another pointed look and kicks his shin. He can't help but grin, finding his brother's disapproving glances more amusing than anything. He rubs his leg, the younger vigilante having not held back.

“Are you hungry?” His brother questioned, his gaze shifting back to you. You have to be hungry, Dick thought. Jason said you had eaten nearly five hours ago. They can’t let their little bird starve!

When you shrug their eyes narrow, the drumming of your fingers catching their attention. “I could eat.” Your voice broke the silence.

Dick coos. It’s okay, you don’t have to downplay how much you need food. We’ll look after you.

"What do you feel like eating?" Dick's voice comes out slightly breathless as he speaks, his words spoken with conviction. He knows your power over them, and he would do just about anything for you within reason. The cafe is no exception, and he knows that they would probably buy the place in a heartbeat if you so much as hinted at wanting it.

Dick glances at you as you silently scan the menu, his eyes locking onto Tim's right after. A silent conversation takes place between the brothers, their expressions communicating silently what their words can't. Tim then shifts his attention towards the waiter, gesturing for them to come over, while you remain focused on the menu options in front of you.

The waiter, ever observant, takes this as a cue to approach the table. "What can I get you guys?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

They wanted to cut the waiters throat out for the way you flinch at his unexpected presence. Too engrossed in the pictures on the menu to notice the world around you. Snapped out of it by his feigned cheerfulness. You probably hadn’t even noticed your own reaction, seeing how you instantly smiled up at him after.

You needed their protection, that was abundantly clear.

He clocks his head, not sparing the waiter a second glance. "We'll have some coffee and pastries to start," his gaze flickers back to your fingers tapping against the table.

"Make that two coffees and a basket of assorted pastries." Tim adds.

"Ah, I think I'll go for the milkshake of the day," you add, addressing the waiter. "And I'll take the café's specialty coffee as well, please." Dick has to hold back his coos at your manors. So polite.

He faintly hears the waiter’s descending steps. Dick props his chin back on his hand, a sly grin on his face. "Aren't you a polite one?" he teases you, eyes glinting. He’ll reward you for that later.

Tim watches the interaction, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Have you had breakfast?” The question is thrown with an air of casualness. As if the brothers weren’t already informed.

“Yeah, my roommates big on the whole taking care of myself or whatever. He’s a hypocrite I tell you.” You cross your arms, the childish action making Grayson want to squish your cheeks and hold you close. His baby bird is so cute, complaining about big brother. Not that you were aware that they were yet.

"Sounds like a character," He grins sharply, his eyes softened at the thought of Jason.

"I can relate," Dick’s attention is drawn to Tim as he speaks, the other boy shaking his head. "I've got a brother who's always nagging me about eating healthy and getting enough sleep."

He nearly squabbles. He does not nag. He huffs, crossing his arms at Tim’s words. A pout tugging at his bottom lip.

The rest of the conversation goes like a blur to Dick, coming so naturally to him, as if he was simply bantering with his family. Which he was. No one could tell him otherwise.

His attention is suddenly pulled back to reality as he notices the chocolate smeared across your face childishly, like a fussy child. You feel Dick's thumb gently wipe at your face, clearing away the smeared chocolate. There's something almost instinctual about his gesture, as if it comes naturally to him, like he's done it countless times before.

Dick chuckles as he responds to your surprise, a smirk dancing on his lips. He dabs at his finger with a napkin, his eyes fixed intently on your face as he cleans off the chocolate smudges. There's a hint of playfulness in his gaze.

Dick leans forward slightly, his gaze still fixated intently on your face. He notices the way your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and his eyes gleam with amusement. A delighted smirk spreads across his face, his eyes never leaving yours as he observes your flustered state. There's no denying it - you were the epitome of cuteness as a younger sibling. Your chaotic charm and antics had Dick and Tim wrapped around your little finger, and the two brothers couldn't help but adore every single moment.

"You've got a little something right here," Dick says, tapping the corner of his own mouth.

Tim couldn’t help but smirk at Dick's comment, his eyes flickering to your mouth and then back up to your eyes again. He takes another sip of his coffee, leaning back in his seat.

Their gazes softening further as you attempt to rid your face of the chocolate only to smudge it further.

"Here, let me help," he offers, grabbing a napkin from the table. He reaches out, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your up head towards him. It’s hard to think straight with you looking up at him with that pout and flushed cheeks. Like a little kid clinging to their old brother after having a nightmare. How he wishes he had met you as a kid. He slowly wipes away the residual chocolate with the napkin. Hesitantly to let go.

The brothers let out hearty laughter at the sight of you burrowing your head into the table. They could practically see you trying to will yourself to disappear. Tim grins fondly, shuffling closer. Dicks own hand moving out to pay your head softly. Their touch affectionate and gentle. They wanted to see you like this all the time.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

I tried to make the POV’s show the difference in how they interpret things. For example, where you may perceive Tim’s expression as a smile, Dick sees it as something dark. You pay more attention to Tim so he’s mentioned more, Dick pays more attention to you so you’re mentioned more.

Tim Drake is mentioned as ‘Mr Wayne’ because I’d assume that he’d be judged based on his family rather than his actual name.

Should I make a tag list? Would anyone even want to be put on a tag list for this?

Comments and questions are really appreciated!

[percabethsong]

Ok, I wanted to talk about Annabeth being the reincarnation of Odysseus.

First of all, yes, Annabeth and not Percy. Here's why: they have the same fatal flaw (hubris), fight in similar ways (relying heavily in words and tricks), as well as this comparison being made in the Sea of Monsters itself several times, in which Annabeth (Odysseus) calls herself Nobody (again) to the Cyclops, is the one that wanted to tied herself to listen to the sirens (I know that part was changed in Epic, but let's pretend not for the sake of the intention of the comparison in the book), etcetera. In addition, I know Percy going insane when someone hurts Annabeth is something the whole fandom agrees, which is something he and Odysseus share, but let's be honest, Annabeth does not play about him neither. I would say she went even more nuts about him missing in HOO than he did when she went missing in Titan Curse. Percy could also totally be Penelope, considering their loyalty.

That being said, what I wanted to focus on this post is Athena, and how she made the same mistake again with another version of her protégée, this time her daughter. If we consider that the events of Epic are what happened in PJO, not only Athena (or Minerva, so close enough) abandoned Odysseus again in The Mark of Athena, but she said to Annabeth that she wished Odysseus was there because he would understand the map (that's a line about that in the book). She compared Annabeth to Odysseus, not realising they are the same soul.

Also, if the events of Epic happened in PJO, then it means Athena gave up of creating a world where people held each other with a little more empathy, like she said she wished to do in "I can't help but wonder". She had probably tried for a few centuries, became kinder. I even think that might be why she started to have demigods children: to a child of Athena to be born she needs a real connection with a mortal, which she didn't allow herself before Odysseus. However, with the pass of time (my personal belief is that the Romans treatment towards her would be a main factor in that), she went back to be colder. She has a ruthless father who didn't support her mission to be kinder and told her to be away from her kids, as well as humans who didn't pay her the same respect as they used to.

Then it came Annabeth, this child, her child, who is her favourite, and part of that it's because she reminds her of her favourite champion, her first friend, even if she doesn't acknowledge that. Unaware to her, they are the same person, and this time she's his mother. This version of Odysseus looks up to her so much because her mortal family couldn't understand her and she still carries the admiration Odysseus felt towards her, but without any of the bad memories.

And yet.

Yet Athena breaks her (his) trust again. Yet Athena disapproves Percy (Penelope), who in any life, Odysseus (Annabeth) would do anything for. More than that, Athena is one of the main reasons that Annabeth took so long to accept Percy as the love of her life.

So Annabeth (Odysseus) resents her again, and when Athena realises who her daughter is (because I am sure she would eventually) it's already too late. She made the same mistake, and she can hear a voice in her head calling her "Selfish and prideful and vain", but this time, this voice sounds like Annabeth's.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Did Laios have a plan

... when he made his deal with the Lion? How much of it was intentional and how much of it was out of his control?

Well. If I'm being honest I don't really want to try and provide a definitive answer to that question, because I think the ambiguity is, itself, part of the story. I've gone back and forth a few times myself, and I don't think either category - "fully intentional" or "fully coincidence" - is entirely true.

That being said, I would like to point out a few things that I've seen taken for granted as true. Things that, imo, are much more about the character's perspective, or about what the character WANTS people to think (well, that's really just the Winged Lion).

Consider this not exactly an argument for "Laios masterminded everything from the start and saved the world with his cunning," but more... "Laios considered what he was doing more than people give him credit for." Make sense?

Alright then, let's go:

So to start with, I want to show every time (that I could find, at least) that the question of 'does Laios have a plan' gets brought up. This is specifically after his Ultimate Monster Form is revealed, to be clear - the question isn't about if he has a plan in general, it is if he has/had a plan when he made this specific deal with the Lion.

Here they are:

-

-

You'll notice, in all of these instances, there never really is an answer given to the question. Either because there is no way to get one, or, with Kabru at the end there, because he explicitly doesn't let Laios answer. There's even a bit of an arc here: we start with a sort of desperate 'I've mostly given up but maybe this isn't as bad as it looks,' then get a more optimistic 'maybe we really are saved,' and finally end on 'it all worked out in the end, so we maybe don't need to know.'

But, as much as there is some genuine growth in Kabru's 'accept the outcome, rather than dissecting the truth,' I also think it says a lot more about him than about Laios. Kabru is the one trying to handle his questions and his uncertainty - as he said, he wants to confirm his judgement of character. He wants to feel like he had control over things.

And he lets that go! But he also doesn't actually get the truth, either, and his implied assumption here (that Laios, the wide-eyed monster-lover, probably just followed his desires), still relies on his judgements and assumptions about Laios.

But okay, these bits are all focused on the characters theorizing about Laios. How about we look at the character who actually tells us the facts ("facts"): the Winged Lion.

The Winged Lion has quite a bit to say about Laios and his monster form.

He says that Laios hates humanity, and would rather be a monster

I've talked about this a bit already, but the Lion makes a lot of claims and assumptions about Laios that aren't necessarily true.

First of all, let's just make sure we clearly establish that the Lion is being manipulative here. That may seem obvious, but it's important to understand that there is a difference between 'the truth' and 'a version of the truth specifically framed to prey upon your deepest shame and insecurities about what you really want.'

To point out a few quick-and-dirty contradictions here:

If Laios really hated all other humans, then the Lion wouldn't hinge so many of his other arguments on Laios' love for Falin and his friends.

the Lion claims that Laios "[doesn't] even care enough about the future of [the] world to express an opinion about it," even though Laios has literally expressed opinions on what he wants for the world, to the Lion's face.

In general, the Lion does not make a distinction between urges and choices (see, for instance: him using Marcille's subconscious fear of the canaries as a way to keep her from stopping the monsters from attacking in chapter 86).

I'm not saying there is not a piece of truth here, but also... we are not our darkest thoughts, and we especially are not those thoughts as defined by someone who wants to hurt and control us.

But let’s move on to the stuff the Lion claims about Laios once he has been turned into his monster form.

2. He says that (or rather, acts like) Laios is under his control

The Lion really enjoys grandstanding about how Monster Laios is an ultimate tool he has control over. He gloats about making Laios fight the others, and has him smash through the magical barrier.

But smashing the barrier is kinda the only thing that Monster Laios actually does for the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone. He doesn't hurt his friends, despite Chilchuck thinking that Laios has "turned completely into a monster." And he certainly doesn't simply let the Lion go through with his plan to eat everyone.

This barrier smashing is actually an interesting and odd thing for Laios to have done specifically, so remember that one. I'll come back to it later.

But, yeah, to the original point... despite the Lion's dramatics, all that Monster Laios does is pose, smash up a magic barrier, and then eat him. Not exactly under his control.

AND SPEAKING OF EATING THE DEMON...

3. He frames Laios attacking and eating him as thoughtlessly violent

This one is pretty funny to me, and the Lion keeps it up for the whole scene. I'm not sure how much of this is his genuine understanding of the situation, and how much is him intentionally framing things in the most insulting manner, but like... truly. The ego involved in this. To see someone who has, multiple times, tried to stand against you - someone who has literally wished for your non-existence, to your face - to see this person attack you, specifically, and have your first reaction be 'huh, I guess he's a reckless weirdo to the core???'

Incredible stuff.

And this part, too:

He claims that Laios can't recognize anyone, that he's out of control. And yet, the Lion is the only person that gets eaten here. He is Laios' singular target.

Hell, Laios even specifically attacks one of the bodies that is actively hurting Chilchuck. I don't know if that was entirely intentional on Laios' part, but I do think it's notable.

The Lion torments Laios' friend, and when Laios does something that interrupts that action, the Lion reframes it as unhinged violence. I don't know, there's something here about the way that cruel people only talk about the things people do to resist them as violent, and ignore the violence that causes such resistance in the first place.

In any case, the main point is that the Lion insists on treating Laios like an unthinking animal during this fight, despite the fact that Laios is clearly trying to accomplish something here.

And what exactly is Laios trying to accomplish? Well, the Lion isn't entirely wrong. Laios is trying to eat something. He tells us as much.

And truly, everything Laios does as a monster points to this. He had a goal. And he accomplished it.

Let me back up a moment. I need to explain smashing the barrier.

So, Laios first starts considering how to kill the Lion when he is confronted with the fact that his only other choice would be to kill Marcille. Immediately and entirely discarding that solution, because of course he does, he tries to wrap his head around what defeating the Lion would even look like.

He clearly continues thinking about this, as a nearly identical conversation happens a few chapters later, when Laios is once again told that killing Marcille is the only way forward.

Only, this time, he's started to come up with an idea for how to do this impossible thing.

Harkening all the way back to the Living Armor chapter, Laios draws on the same lesson - if the Lion has made itself part of the world, if it has made itself into something alive, that means he can kill it. And eat it.

But there's an important extra detail to this. If he's going to try and kill (and eat) the Lion, he needs to strike when it’s vulnerable. He needs to strike when it's eating.

This is why he smashes through the barrier. Again, nothing else he does as a monster really benefits the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone else. The only command he obeys is to smash the barrier. Because the Lion has to think he has won for Laios to be able to eat him.

Beat him. For Laios to be able to beat him.

The question of why Monster Laios wanted to eat the Lion is, I think, the most ambiguous part. Was he curious? Hungry? Did he fight for his own life, for his friends, or for all of humanity? Did he know how to win because he had planned everything from the start, or because he was driven by an unquenchable instinct to do whatever it took to survive?

I don't know that it is possible to say for sure. But I do know that the Lion underestimates Laios, through it all. He underestimates Laios as a human, and he underestimates Laios as a monster.

And in the end, after he is bested, even then I don't think the Lion ever gets Laios. I don't think he understands how much Laios means his words about the Lion being burdened by hunger...

or what Laios cares about most...

or what meaning there is in life, for him.

So I don't buy what the Lion is selling about Laios, generally speaking. I don't buy that Laios didn't ever know what he was doing, and I don't buy that he was nothing more than a hungry beast.

Well. I mean. He was a hungry beast. But he was a more than that too. He was the Devourer of All Things Horrible. And he didn't just happen into that title by chance.