#while you at least get a good laugh now and then

[endahouselikecarpet]

Date Everything x Reader

Jokes about getting married

[Scenario is a friend who doesn’t know about the whole Dateviators thing jokes about you liking an object too much.]

[Slight CW- Sex joke in Daisuke’s section, but nothing explicit, and Kristof being a bit overprotective, but nothing unhealthy]

Betty- You had just lied down for the night when you got a call from a friend in a different time zone. “Sorry for calling! I just remembered how late it is for you there.” They apologized as soon as you answered.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! I’m always happy to talk to you.” You laughed.

“Still, being that late- and I’m sure you had a busy day- I bet you’re wanting to marry your bed right now.”

“I’ll be honest, I’ve thought about that more than once recently.” You laughed, your friend not knowing the truth behind your joke.

The two of you talked for a little while more with no major things coming up. Poor Betty though, was a flustered mess. She knew you were both close, but this was surprising for her. She knew you said it as a joke about the actual bed, and not her, but still she couldn’t get the thought out of her head.

Once you were done talking to your friend, you made sure to ask where she could hear, “Hey, um, maybe would could talk in the morning?” To be honest you wanted to talk to her about it tonight, but the Dateviators needed to be charged for the night. You wanted to be sure you could talk to her about it in person. As it was right now, you wouldn’t be able to hear her, and you certainly didn’t want this conversation to be one sided.

Hector- Your friend and you decided to go for a walk. It seemed like a nice enough day when you both started out, but soon enough it got pretty hot. By the time you both had gotten back to your house, you felt like you were going to melt. Hector, of course came to the rescue. Your friend flopped onto the couch while you went to get you both some fresh water from the kitchen.

“Man, your air conditioner is great!” Your friend sighed.

“Don’t I know it.” You agreed.

“I mean, with how hot I am right now, I feel like I could marry it!” They laughed then added, “I’m already taken though, so maybe you get that honor.” You both laughed at the joke.

Meanwhile, Hector was listening from the nearby vent thinking, “PLEASE, marry the air conditioner! Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please-“

Daisuke- You were washing the dishes from breakfast and lunch at the kitchen sink. He appreciated this as you were always more careful and attentive to the dishes than Dishy was. While you were working, your phone rang. After drying your hands off your answered the phone and put it on speaker so you could still finish up.

“Hey, sorry if it’s loud. I’m doing the dishes.” You told them.

“You’re doing the dishes?!” The gave a fake gasp, “Shouldn’t you at least get them dinner first?”

“Yeah, yeah. Real mature.” You snorted before you both started talking about what they had called you for.

Daisuke was so confused. Why did you have to have dinner first? Wasn’t better to clean things sooner rather than later? Was your friend encouraging you to be less cleanly? That didn’t seem like it was a very good attitude to have!

Luke was the one that had to break it to him that it was a sex joke.

He is mortified. He cares for the human and would never assume that they would want to do something so personally intrusive as intercourse! Unless…

Mac - You were just messing around on your computer when you got a message.

“Are you still awake right now???”

“Yeah. Not ready to done for the day.” You replied.

“If you love your computer so much, then why don’t you marry it? xD” the sent back.

“That with the xD and everything? Are we 12 again???” You shook your head at the situation.

When you brought it up with Mac when you talk to them next, they tell you they saw it and they get a good laugh at it. In fact, it seems they’re laughing a bit too much at it.

That’s funny because it’s not like that would EVER happen, right? Like there’s no way that they’ve been thinking about that for a while or something. They haven’t been looking ring prices or anything. Don’t look at the internet search history real fast while they, uh, make sure there’s no extra cookies. Definitely, not taking online store visits off the list or something.

Kristof- He wasn’t a very jealous person. There was no need for him to be. He was very assured of himself and how much you care for him. However, there was something about the friend you were showing around the house that didn’t sit well with him. They seemed like they were getting a bit too close with you. Now, they weren’t, and he knew that. But, he still couldn’t help being suspicious and overprotective.

While you were showing them the workout room, they noticed your ring. “That’s a pretty ring.” They complimented.

“Thanks!” You beamed as you showed it to them.

“What’s with the decoration on the top though? Are you engaged to a treadmill or something?” They teased.

“As a matter of fact, they are!!” Kristof bellowed, not that either of you could hear him.

The rest of the room can, however, and they will not let him live it down. “Oooooooo, Kristof’s gonna get married!” Telly teased in a fake kid voice.

“Stop it," Fanita would scold, “That’s so cute!”

“Looks like the big guy has a soft spot after all.” Duncan chuckled.

“Speak of this, and I promise I will break you.” Kristof glared at all of them.

Shelly- Your friend had come over to help you reorganize a few things. While you were working sorting a box of old, family stuff, you started hanging stuff from an old, jewelry box on a few, little hooks that were on a nearby shelf. When you put a ring on one of the hooks, your friend jokingly said, “I now pronounce you person and shelf.”

You both laughed at the lame attempt at a joke and moved on. That’s all you thought about it…that is until you talked to Shelly later. She would be so serious, take you by the hand, and say, “I promise I will be the best partner ever. I won’t let you down.”

Doesn’t get that it was a joke, but doesn’t seem to mind. Of course, you two are married! You were pronounced and everything!

Have a good sit down talk with her and tell her that if she does really want to be married, the two of you should probably take a few steps back and handle things properly. She’ll certainly agree, but still isn’t totally sold on the fact that you weren’t married to begin with.

[sunsetmade]

The Last Slice

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky saves his girlfriend the last slice of pie after the whole team devoured it.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t good at a lot of modern things.

Phones still confused him—he couldn’t figure out where the messages went half the time. Social media made his skin crawl, all those curated lives and loud opinions. And microwaves? Don’t even get him started. The first time one beeped at him for no reason, he nearly ripped it off the wall.

But there was one thing he’d picked up on effortlessly in this strange, fast-moving world: her.

He always knew when something was off. She didn’t need to say a word.

That evening, she stepped into the communal kitchen like she was carrying the weight of it all. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her shoulders were tight with something she hadn’t shaken off. Her steps, normally light and purposeful, felt hesitant. Heavy. Bucky noticed it immediately.

He was already there, sat in his usual spot near the window, nursing a mug of tea between both hands, the steam curling around his face. He didn’t say anything at first—just watched her with those sharp, observant eyes of his as she opened the fridge and stood there a beat too long, motionless, like she’d forgotten what she came for.

That was enough.

“You looking for something?” he asked, voice low and careful, like he didn’t want to startle her.

She glanced over her shoulder, tired. Her hand ran through her hair like it might help. “Yeah… that pie I made last night. I wanted some.”

Bucky winced the moment the words left her mouth.

That pie—God, that pie—had been some cinnamon-apple creation from heaven. She’d spent the entire evening working on it, the kitchen filled with the smell of brown sugar and spiced fruit, jazz humming low in the background while she danced barefoot between the oven and counter. It had wrapped around the compound like warmth itself.

And the team? Absolute savages. Steve had gone back for thirds. Sam snuck in after lights out and ate straight from the pan. Wanda swore she only took one slice, but the evidence said otherwise. By this morning, it had been all but obliterated.

Except—it wasn’t entirely gone.

“I, uh… I saved you the last piece,” Bucky said, setting his tea down with a quiet clink.

She turned to face him fully now. “What?”

“I figured it’d be gone by morning,” he said, clearing his throat, suddenly unsure. “So I, uh… hid it. Behind the oat milk. Nobody touches that stuff but Bruce.”

Her brows lifted, just a little, but her expression was soft with something he couldn’t quite name yet. “You hid pie for me?”

He scratched at the back of his neck, gaze briefly flickering down. “Well… you made it. Thought you should actually get to eat it.”

She stared at him for a second longer, then let out a slow exhale that seemed to ease some of the tension in her spine. Her lips twitched into something like a smile.

He moved to the fridge and reached past the oat milk with practiced ease, pulling out a small plate covered in foil. He slid it across the counter like it was something precious.

She took the plate gently, peeled back the foil, and let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “You really did save it.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

She grabbed a fork from the drawer and moved to sit beside him. Without thinking, his vibranium arm slid across the top of her chair, like his body simply knew she belonged close. She tucked one leg beneath her and took a bite.

The sound she made—a little hum of delight—was barely audible, but Bucky heard it like a song. She always made that sound when something made her happy. Fresh-brewed coffee. Clean sheets. A line in a book that hit her in the heart. And lately… when he kissed her.

“You wanna share?” she asked after another bite, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

He frowned. “Wasn’t that your slice?”

“Yeah,” she said simply. “But you saved it. That earns you at least a bite.”

She held out the fork and he leaned in without hesitation, eyes never leaving hers. The taste was warm and sweet, just like she’d promised the night before. Cinnamon and comfort.

“That’s good, doll,” he said, licking a bit of filling off his thumb.

She tilted her head as she looked at him, her smile softer now, like it had finally settled into place. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard.

“You’re the one who made a pie on your only day off,” he said softly, shrugging. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“You did,” she replied, quieter now. “You noticed. You paid attention. You knew I’d want a slice, even if I didn’t say it. That’s not nothing, Bucky.”

His jaw tightened slightly, like he wasn’t used to hearing it put that way. Maybe he didn’t realize how much the small things mattered—how much they meant coming from him.

“I just wanted you to have something good today,” he admitted, voice lower. “You looked tired. Still do.”

“I am tired,” she said honestly, resting the fork on the plate. “But you… you make it better.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. And there it was again—that gentle light in his eyes that only ever seemed to appear when she was around, like her presence softened something in him no one else could reach.

Without a word, she reached across the table, her fingers brushing over his knuckles in a slow, thankful sweep. He turned his hand palm-up immediately, letting her lace hers with his.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For seeing me. For knowing.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “For hiding pie like a criminal?”

She laughed, the sound bubbling up like warmth in his chest. “Exactly. My sweet, sneaky criminal.”

He chuckled and leaned in, brushing his shoulder against hers.

“I’d rob a bakery for you, doll.”

She turned her head toward him, grinning, eyes bright. “You kinda already did.”

⸻

Later that evening, the world outside had gone quiet, the kind of hush that only came with late hours and soft lamps. She curled up on the couch in her favorite corner, legs tucked beneath a thick knitted blanket, a half-read book resting idly in her lap. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, casting flickers of gold across the room.

From the kitchen, the sound of water running and dishes clinking drifted in, steady and familiar. Bucky was humming under his breath—low, tuneful, nostalgic. She didn’t recognize the melody, but something about it felt old and warm, like a memory too distant to place. It made her smile without thinking.

The faucet clicked off. A few moments later, he padded into the living room, drying his hands on a dish towel. He’d changed into a soft charcoal Henley that clung gently to his frame and a worn pair of gray sweatpants, drawstring loose at the waist. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends and falling lazily onto his forehead. He looked comfortable, unguarded—more James than Bucky.

And he looked like home.

“You ever gonna let me read that book, or are you just pretending?” he teased, easing down beside her with a little bounce that made the blanket shift.

She clutched the book dramatically to her chest, eyes gleaming. “Not until you say it.”

His brows drew together, amused. “Say what?”

“That you liked the pie.”

Bucky gave an incredulous scoff. “Doll, I did say I liked it. You literally stood there and watched me eat half of it like it was the last damn pie on Earth.”

“Still want to hear it again,” she said sweetly, leaning into him with a stubborn little grin.

He tilted his head at her, all mock resistance, then sighed as if giving in to something impossible. “Fine. The pie was amazing. Life-changing. Best thing I’ve eaten in months. I’d fight Steve for the last bite.”

Her smile stretched wide and bright. “That’s more like it.”

He grinned back, eyes soft as he reached around her to drape his arm over the back of the couch, fingers brushing her shoulder lightly. “Maybe I should put you in charge of all dessert-related Avengers missions.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “You just want more pie.”

“I want you,” he said quietly, without teasing this time, his words thick with sincerity.

She froze for half a second, the shift in his tone catching her off guard. But then her heart bloomed with warmth, and she turned to meet his eyes, every line in her face softening. “You have me,” she whispered, voice barely above the quiet crackle of the fire.

His hand found her thigh beneath the blanket, his thumb tracing slow, calming circles through the fabric like he needed the reassurance of her being there, real and warm and his.

“Still feels unreal sometimes,” he admitted. His voice was low, raw in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. “That I get to come home to this. To you.”

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “You make it easy,” she said, voice thick with affection. “Loving you, I mean.”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head like he still didn’t quite know how to believe it—but he didn’t look away. No, he looked at her like she’d handed him something sacred. And maybe, in a way, she had.

She closed the book carefully and set it aside, turning her full attention to him. Her palm found his chest, resting over the steady beat of his heart like it was the most natural thing in the world. She felt its rhythm beneath her fingers, strong and sure.

“Why’d you save the last piece, really?” she asked quietly, searching his face.

Bucky held her gaze for a moment before answering, his expression softening into something almost shy. “Because you worked hard to make it,” he said honestly. “And I wanted to make sure you got to have a piece too.”

Her chest ached, the kind of ache that came with being seen and loved in the smallest, gentlest ways.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said with a watery laugh, blinking away the sting in her eyes.

“I’m in love,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “Makes a guy do stupid things. Like stash dessert behind oat milk where no one’ll think to look.”

That made her laugh for real, bright and breathless, before he leaned in and kissed her—slow and unhurried. The kind of kiss that felt like a sigh, like home, like a promise in the quiet.

And just like that, everything else fell away—the buzz in her bones from a long day, the dull ache in her shoulders, the white noise of the world beyond their walls. All that remained was him. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his love.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together in the space between breaths, she let her eyes flutter shut.

“Next time,” she whispered against his lips, “we’ll make two pies.”

He grinned, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. “One for me. One for you.”

She nodded. “And we hide them both. Separately. Strategically.”

He nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”

[hoonstrology]

i saw you were looking for asks!! how would error 404 sunghoon react to sleeping with reader for the first time? i don't mean sleeping as in sex but like he's over at her place or vice versa and they sleep in the same bed. or what if one of them struggles to sleep and is constantly moving too in the bed lol

＃ surprise sleepover .ᐟ

   ⤷  ꒰ an e404-boyfriend!sunghoon drabble. ꒱

⤷  can be read as a stand-alone. ┆ for context, read e404 here! ⤷  contains — 1.4k words. suggestive content. (mdni.) est. relationship. loser bf!sunghoon. (we cheered!) kind-of-perv!hoon comeback. fluff. not proofread. ⤷ main masterlist.  ┆ series masterlist.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs and replies are highly appreciated! 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

the most you two have done was kiss.

sure, sunghoon's hands wandered to the curve of your ass or to your inner thigh during especially steamy make-out sessions, but you've never actually done the deed. 

not yet, at least.

so when you told him to stay over for the night for the first time ever, he froze in the middle of packing his bag.

eyes wide, half bent down, hand clutching on a book to ground himself.

he'd like to think that he's been a respectful boyfriend. though your friendship has lasted for more than a year, your relationship was still fragile. young. barely 3 months old. 

you've never asked for anything more than a kiss, and he never crossed that line despite dreaming of what it would be like on the other side. 

maybe tonight would change that.

"so is that a yes?" you half-shout from your bedroom, footsteps pattering on the wooden floor and your bare face peeking out from behind the door frame.

"huh?" 

"i said you should just stay over tonight." you spoke like it was just a casual offer. like it wasn't making sunghoon's heart rattle inside his ribs. 

because at the end of the day, he's just a man. one full of hormones— of need. 

"w-why?" his voice came out like that of a kid who doesn't know whether he's getting rewarded or punished. and that's pretty much how it is right now. 

"are you crazy? i'm not going to make you drive through the storm. auntie would kill me." you laughed, sauntering over to gently lay a stack of clothes on the coffee table.

oh. 

oh, okay. 

you didn't want sex, you were just making sure your boyfriend stayed safe. 

right. 

"my brother left some of his clothes here. i'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind if you borrowed it for a night." 

you stepped out of your bathroom door in an adorable pajama set to see sunghoon running his fingers through his freshly dried hair. you didn't even notice he was wearing jeonghan's clothes because they look so different on him. 

the gray wife-beater was a tighter fit, making his muscular arms look even bigger than how they feel whenever you held them. and the gray sweatpants were hung low on his hips, showing you just a sliver of his smooth and fair skin.

good lord did he look like sin personified.

if only he didn't look so goofy with his back practically pressed against the wall.

"what are you doing?" you asked.

"i... uh— i was waiting.. i was— w-where's the spare blanket?" he stammered, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

"what for?" 

"for the couch?" 

"why would you put a blanket on a couch?" 

“angel, it’s for me.”

"i thought it was for the couch?” 

"no, i mean— i’m gonna use it when i sleep there."

no one spoke while you two exchanged befuddled looks. 

"you have to be insane." you finally scoffed, pulling him towards your bed and grunting out his name when you felt him resisting. eventually, you managed to push him to lie down on your bed, throwing the duvet over his body and pointing a finger.

"you'll sleep here. with me. understood?"

he meekly nodded, flashing you those damn puppy eyes that you know could guarantee him a way out of any crime— and you almost gave in. but you turned around to dry your hair, replacing the silence with the loud wheeze of your blower. 

he's been in your bedroom. he ate chinese takeouts with you on the floor, has sat on this same vanity seat, and napped on the same damn bed stomach down on multiple occasions. 

for him to even imply that you'll let him sleep on your cheap couch was a blow to your sunghoon-loving ego. 

the linen-colored walls turned a shade warmer from the soft glow of your lamp after you turned off the big lights. you head to bed and closed your eyes, letting the song of rain and rumbling thunder lull you to sleep. 

but you're only afforded a few minutes of true rest when you feel your body dip from your boyfriend shifting. 

a few more minutes and then another one. 

again.

you heard another squeak and you’ve had enough.

you sat up and sighed, arms crossed over your chest. "have you never slept over a girl's house before?" 

"what? of course i have!" he's laid on your sheets, blanket covering his lower half, brows furrowing at your words like you've accused him of murder. “i don’t mean to brag but i’ve slept in a lot of girl’s houses.”

you snort. "okay, mister popular. why are you so antsy then?" 

"'m not." 

"sunghoon." you flashed him a look and he sighs, pulling the blanket up higher to cover half his face, grumbling. "i don't know. it's my first time sharing a bed with you... it feels weird. in a good way. but also in a weird way." 

how your boyfriend can switch from looking like an irritated sex god to an absolute cute fluff ball within a second is beyond you.

you wanted to snap back but he’s always been a very sentimental person, always caring for the firsts he shared with you, always cooing when you let him in on new information about yourself. 

it does nothing but make your voice soften.

"baby, it's fine. you don’t have to be nervous. it's not like we're gonna fuck."

he’s quiet but you felt the bed dip when he squirmed, and suddenly, it all made sense. 

"oh my god. you thought we were going to fuck when i asked you to sleep over, didn't you?" you say with a wicked smirk tugging on a corner of your lips. 

"n-no!" 

"you totally did!" 

he narrowed his eyes at you and clicked his tongue, his body bouncing a little as he turns around to face the wall with a huff. you can’t help but chuckle at his childishness. you laid down again, wrapping your arms around him from behind, chin hooked on his shoulder before pressing a kiss on the soft skin of his neck.

“you've been thinking about that all night, huh?”

"angel, ask any man my age what 'stay over for the night' means and they'll all say the same shit i would." he sighed. 

you let out a loud laugh, your hand resting over his abdomen to give it a pat. "i'm sorry if i gave you that impression, my love." you muttered, tracing shapes on the thinly clothed skin before hugging him tighter.

he relished the feeling of being the little spoon— a first, among the many firsts you’ve taken from him. the warm lamps you had adorning your room was no match for the naturality of the one he gets from your touch. but your apology made the loving hold you had on him feel a little too suffocating. 

sunghoon turned around to look at you with an expression you’ve grown familiar with: guilt. 

he wrapped you around his arms, bringing your head to his chest so he could press a kiss on your hair. “don’t be sorry, angel. i should be the one apologizing. you don’t owe me anything, mm? if you want to take your time before wanting to do… it with me,—” he clears his throat. “then i’ll be fine waiting.”

you leaned back and stretched just enough for you to place a peck on the corner of his lips. “i’m not opposed to doing it right now," you mock. "but it’s so cozy and warm like this. i like being held by you. makes me feel fuzzy.” 

you giggled and did a little restrained dance in his hold. you let your head rest on his bicep, letting out a soft sigh as you snuggled against him further, tangling your legs with his and whispered a soft ‘i love you’ before closing your eyes.

the words, no matter how much time has passed or how much they’ve been repeated, still made his cheeks warm.

sunghoon softened, squeezing you in his hold and returned the same words to you, sealing it with a kiss on your forehead.

"good night, pengoo."

"good night, my angel."

he decided, at this very moment, that no amount of mind-blowing sex, no amount of intimacy, could make him feel as fulfilled as he does being the one to hold you and keep you safe as you drifted to sleep.

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀ eep !!! still very new to writing so i'm sorry if this isn't as good. i also dunno if this is what anon meant, but i hope it's good enough. sigh. as much as i love perv!hoon, my heart just beats a little stronger for wholesome loser bf!hoon. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) send your drabble requests in my ask! i'm accepting e404!hoon ideas or just general ideas for any enha members. ♡

⌗ taglist (open) — @zerocoded

© hoonstrology 2025. please don't translate, plagiarize, steal, or repost any of my works.

[ambernotember]

Different First Kiss

@bucktommysummerfest, week 3 prompt "different first kiss", 1k.

read below the cut or on ao3

“That was a nice ceremony,” someone said as they took the Hen’s empty seat.

“Tommy!” Buck said, turning to see who had joined him. “I thought I saw you in the — would you call it an audience? How are you?”

Tommy smiled. “I’m good, thanks.”

“No more hurricanes to fly through?”

“Thankfully no.” Tommy leaned closer and draped his arm across the back of Buck’s chair. “I heard a rumour we’re getting medals for that little stunt.”

“Oh — oh yeah?” Buck stammered.

“Yeah. Chief’ll be there and everything. You’ll probably get the news next shift. I had to work last night and heard then.”

“You had a shift last night? How are you even here?” Buck asked.

“It was just an on call. Shower at the station, a couple extra cups of coffee, I’m good to go. Might even sneak in a couple of dances.” Tommy winked at him.

Buck sighed. “I just have to dance with Maddie and Jee and I’m good.”

“Tired?”

“Um, I might have partied a little too hard at the bachelor party last night,” Buck admitted. “We got here about fifteen minutes before the ceremony and I thought Maddie was going to kill us.”

“Well, you’re still standing,” Tommy pointed out. “She must have gotten over it.”

“Hen pointed out Maddie would hate it if she ruined her dress with my blood,” Buck said. “So Maddie decided she’d just focus on the wedding.”

“That sounds very Hen,” Tommy said. “Speaking of, I think she wants you for a dance.”

Buck looked at the dance floor and saw Hen and Karen waving him over.

“Only if you come with me,” he said.

Tommy stood and held his hand out for Buck. “It would be rude to keep them waiting.”

Hen swung Buck into her arms as soon as he got close enough. “Buck! Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Oh, I danced too hard last night,” he laughed.

“Too bad, dance with me!” she demanded.

Buck looked at Karen. “Tequila?”

“Me too!” Karen giggled. “Tommy! Long time no see! Hey, don’t ever fly my wife into a hurricane again, okay?” She leaned up a little so she could poke his chest. “Now twirl me around the floor.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tommy said, sweeping Karen away and doing exactly that.

Hen kept hugging Buck while she swayed in place. “Why weren’t you dancing?”

“Because I’m dying,” Buck chuckled. “And one of us had to stay sober tonight. After this morning, it was the least I could do.”

“Oh, Maddie was gonna kill youuu,” Hen said.

“And I thank you for saving my life,” Buck said.

She patted his cheek. “I kinda like you Buckley, I’d miss you.”

“So, you guys are close with Tommy?” Buck asked, watching Karen and Tommy as he danced slowly with Hen.

“Used to be, haven’t seen him much since he moved,” she admitted. “We should keep in better contact. He’s fun now that he doesn’t have a stick up his ass.”

Buck choked back a laugh.

“Seriously, Tommy was such a dick but then we finally got rid of Gerrard, and it took a while but Tommy became an actual nice person when he wasn’t surrounded by the evil.”

“Dramatic.”

Karen and Tommy swung by.

“Who’s dramatic?” Karen asked.

“Your wife,” Buck told her.

“I was telling him Tommy used to be a dick,” Hen said. Tommy laughed.

“Oh, totally,” Karen nodded.

“Hey drunkies, he’s right here,” Buck pointed out.

“No, they’re right,” Tommy said. “Can’t be offended by the truth.”

“You sucked,” Hen said emphatically.

“Still do,” Tommy said with a grin.

“Booo,” Hen and Karen chorused good naturedly.

“Uncle Buck,” Jee interrupted, pulling at Buck’s jacket. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry folks, duty calls,” Buck said.

“One down, one to go,” Tommy said quietly as Buck and Jee moved past him. Buck smiled in return.

“Water and coffee,” Tommy said as he set two drinks down on the table.

“Huh?” Buck picked his head up from his hand.

“You looked like you were fading,” Tommy said. “I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

“Thanks,” Buck said. “What’s in the coffee?”

“A little bit of cream, and,” Tommy reached into his pocket and took out some sugar packets, “as much sugar as you want.”

Buck ripped three open and poured them in, gratefully taking the stir stick Tommy offered him.

“This is the last time I ever do a bachelor party the night before the wedding,” Buck grumbled.

“Why did you?” Tommy asked curiously.

“Just a run of shifts not lining up,” Buck said. “Oh shoot, I didn’t even think to invite you. Sorry.”

“You didn’t even know I was coming to the wedding,” Tommy said. “And I was on call anyways.”

“True.” Buck gulped down half the coffee. “Oh, that’s better. Thank you.”

“No problem. Do you have to stay until the end?”

“Have to? No, but I probably will. My parents are taking Jee for the night, but I’ll just, you know, make sure everyone gets home.”

“Maybe I should have brought you two coffees,” Tommy mused, draping his arm over Buck’s chair again.

Buck laughed. “I’ll get a second wind. Seriously though, thank you, it didn’t even occur to me.”

“You can always return the favour at the medal ceremony.” Tommy offered.

“Ye— yeah,” Buck said, suddenly realizing how close the two of them were. The party was winding down, just the wedding party and a couple other first responders left.

“Yeah?” Tommy leaned in closer.

“Definitely,” Buck said, mirroring him. His eyes slipped closed, and he could feel Tommy’s breath on his mouth before he leaned in and gently kissed him. He realized one of Tommy’s hands was cradling his face as they pulled away from each other.

“Was that okay?” Tommy asked softly.

“Yeah, that was — that was great.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Tommy asked.

“I’m free. Totally and completely free.”

“Maybe I could take up some of that free time?” Tommy suggested.

“As much as you want,” Buck said.

tags: @chimneyz @desert--moonchild @bandluvr97 @letsdosciencetoit @chemistry66 @swagmaster9k @geekwarrior107 @racerchix21 @fan-of-a-lot @bybobbysbeard @adhd-dean @styxhuntress @owlgirl495 @setmeatopthepyre @a-simple-space-bi @fuselsstuff @joyousmistake @tommysparkles @leashybebes @geddyqueer

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[neoslice]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆.

a.) featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento & geto suguru

b.) warnings. none, just daddy jjk men (literally fathers).

note. oh em gee, it's honestly been such a long time since i've written on tumblr (kinda nervous). been in a slump lately, i self-published my first book a couple of weeks ago (yay), wanna check it out? my ig's always available @/jomathilda (self-promo sesh). anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this one >__<

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

in all honesty, gojo satoru has never dreamt of forming a little family of his own, given the fact that he's the strongest sorcerer. pshh, who's got time for families and serious relationships?

and then you came. every resolve of him came crashing down. gojo would say that it's 'love at first sight', but you never really did fall in love with him until two years later — when he decided to swoon you with his very ugly singing skills, but that was the reason why you fell anyways (and you fell hard) — which led to marriage.

that wasn't all it to his relationship. one thing led to another; it started out as a small talk with you about babies, and then things led for the better. and then, bam. you guys were blessed with a little baby boy named kikoru, initially gojo had told you all about being the best girl dad ever, but when the gender of your baby was revealed, gojo was the most elevated one in the room. honestly, he didn't even care, he just wanted a baby.

and best believe that he's the best boy dad ever.

gojo had decided that his son will love dinosaurs, hence the dinosaur themed nursery, food platter, fork, toys, onesies. and hell, the baby isn't even born yet.

when kikoru was born, gojo cried a lot. three days, maybe. specifically, 72 hours, 30 minutes, and 48 seconds. you counted. he couldn't stop staring at your little one — gojo even set up a small baby cam by the crib (which is in the same room as his, he said in case he needed a boost during his missions).

during day offs, which were pretty much rare to none. gojo spends his days at home, as much as he could.

"look at those strong little legs of yours," gojo coos out softly to kikoru, who kicked his little legs in reply, beaming out a toothless smile and soft giggles, "think you can do a few steps for daddy? just a couple before daddy goes out for his mission."

as if he understood, kikoru planted his little feet on top of the rugged floor, and slowly gojo steadied his body; while keeping his hands by kikoru's sides in case he took a fall. as happy as he is, gojo (tried to) stay calm, gushing out internally as he scoots back to make room, "yes, yes, just like that, one two step, baby."

with wobbly legs, kikoru took two small steps before stumbling into gojo's arms. and gojo bursted out laughing happily, his contagious laughter sending kikoru into fits of giggles, "you walked, you walked to daddy!" he yells out happily, throwing kikoru in the air before catching his small body back.

kikoru squeals out happily, kicking his legs.

"babe, he just walked, he just walked two steps!"

and best believe me that he told ever single one of his students about the two steps kikoru did. very proud boy dad.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

retiring from the jujutsu world was one of the best choice he has ever made besides marrying you. it's always a dream of his to form a little family far away from danger, and so he did.

"good morning, daddy," you raise your little daughter up as she yawns softly.

your nine month old daughter, akari giggled her heart out at the sight of nanami; her little arms all stretched out towards him. both nanami and you have been trying to get her to take a few steps with baby walkers, at least to stimulate her legs at first.

but akari had shown signs of her beginning steps a couple of times in the past week — so, you've always tried to help her walk when there's a chance to. now, perhaps is the right time.

you gently lowered her to the ground, steadying her on her feet, "okay, baby go on. daddy's just there," you whisper to her ear, letting her take the first step forward; although her body wobbled to the side, you were ready to catch her. flinching slightly with every step she took.

nanami slowly lowered himself to her height, slowly and quietly to avoid surprising his baby girl. with his arms outstretched to her, he sat on the floor, crossing his legs, "just a little more, sweetheart," he encouraged her.

the encouragement made akari grin happily, her arms continuously aiming for him as she took another wobbly step. a proud smile appeared on nanami's face as she stumbled towards him in a rush during the last couple of steps, eventually falling into his lap, thankfully.

he caught her little body, carrying her up to his chest. like a proud father, he smothered her in sloppy kisses all over her little face, muttering out soft praises, "good job, baby. daddy's very proud of you," he whispers, brushing her thin layer of hair back.

all you could do was smile. akari's always been such a daddy's girl anyways (not that you're complaining, they were unseparable).

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

once in a blue moon, geto wished that things could have gone differently. and when the said blue moon came lingering over his mind, he just had to form a little family of his own — it was fleeting, but his love for you was real, and it stayed real until now.

no, he never expected it. and yes, he is also surprised with the turn of events. you were an anchor to him, and he's very thankful with the appearance of you and your little baby girl, asuka.

geto tries his best to be a present father for asuka — which went shit the first few months she was born, geto was barely present. spiraling into negative thoughts on how his baby girl was going to grow up in such a bad environment, especially the things that haven't dawned upon him. he was terribly worried. and so he decided to detach himself from both you and asuka.

he slips inside her nursery every night, taking a look at how his own flesh and blood grew. every day for eight months, she grew without him present most of the time and guilt gnawed inside out. he didn't have the face to show up in front of you, not after the couple of months he decided to disappear off into nothingness.

so, when asuka was awake late at night during one of his drop ins. he was a bit surprised, her doe eyes staring right into his despite the darkness of the room. her lips formed into a big smile at the sight of him, balled fists flailing around.

"you've grown so much," he whispers, taking her into his arms.

geto convinced himself that he shouldn't, he'd only get attached and that would be the worst thing to happen. but, seeing his daughter, he crumbled, looking down into her eyes as she flailed her small little arms around him, gurgling incoherently.

he sat on the floor of the nursery, holding onto the sights of her body. his lips pursed into a thin line as he watches her suckle on her little fists, "no, baby. that's dirty," geto reprimanded her, gently pulling away her hand from her mouth, but asuka whined and he lets out a small chuckle, "alright. just a couple more seconds."

he lets her down gently on the floor and walked to a nearby toy box, rummaging through it to find something for asuka to chew on. it was a yellow colored toy ring that he decided to choose for her, and the moment he turned around, asuka was both on her feet, arms stretched out to him, her little feet wobbling — but her strong resolve to get to him beats her continuous wobbling.

asuka's little gurgles continued as she stumbled to him a couple of times before tumbling onto her face. the toy now long forgotten by him, geto rushed to her, cradling her close to him, "you just walked, you just walked, baby," he repeatedly said to her, his fingertips brushing over her little nose.

asuka's bottom lip juts out as the pain from the fall finally kicks in and a loud sob emits from her throat. geto panics, bouncing her in his arms, "no, no. i'm sorry, baby, i didn't mean to let you fall... daddy's so sorry, pretty girl," he shushed her.

your motherly instincts kicked in the moment her sob reached your ear, even in your sleep, you stumbled up running to the nursery, ready to pound on whatever the hell kept your daughter awake.

"you let go of my daug — suguru?!"

geto looks up, his brows drooping low in worry, "it's me. i didn't mean to — she walked and fell, how do i make her stop crying?" he babbles out almost too quickly for you to comprehend.

"she what?" you mumble out, snatching her from his arms; and asuka calmed down almost immediately.

a lot of explaining happened that night (and apologies). oh, and a lot of baby cam footage replays too... since you missed everything, and were really upset about it.

© neoslice 2025. do not copy, modify, or post anywhere else!

[writerjayne]

It started with sarcasm. Andrew had been in a mood and had not been patient with the team. His comments made Kevin storm out, with Aaron and Nicky going after the striker.

"Good job," Neil said dryly.

"It's not my fault he's so sensitive," Andrew snapped.

"If you say so," Neil shrugged. "Gold star for not being as much of an ass as you could have been."

Andrew huffed, and Neil left it alone.

A few days later, when Andrew stormed off the court mid-practice, Matt had sworn that it wasn't his fault. 

"I didn't even talk to him!" 

"Good job," Neil's tone matched his blank expression before going after Andrew. "You get a gold star for not making it worse." 

Matt had pouted a little, but it ultimately blew over without much effort. Andrew was just having a bad day.

The next time it happened, Nicky was helping Seth with an assignment, and Seth managed to get through the whole interaction without a single derogatory comment to Nicky. 

"See? You are capable of being a semi-decent human!" Neil grinned at the scowl that earned him before adding: "You get a gold star!"

"That's not fair!" Matt protested. "I never got mine!" 

"What?" Neil looked over, confused. 

"You're giving him a gold star when you still owe me one!" Matt reminded a still confused Neil. 

"I never got one either," Andrew crossed his arms, and Neil stared at the two of them.

"I'm not actually giving him a star," Neil pointed out, realizing now what they were talking about. 

"Well, that's just mean," Nicky was clearly trying not to laugh. "Promising them gold stars and not delivering." 

"It was sarcastic! I don't even have any gold stars!" 

"There are stickers at the bookstore," Dan offered helpfully, though her grin said she was enjoying this too much.

"I am not buying stickers to hand out like you're children!"

Neil went that night to buy the stickers. He had Renee take him, since she was the least likely to make fun while still being helpful. They found a decent-sized packet of reflective gold stars, and after Neil had paid for them, Renee got the first one. She smiled sweetly in thanks and carefully stuck it inside her wallet.

When they got back to the dorm that night Neil gave one to Andrew (who didn't say a word but also didn't reject the sticker), Matt (who enthusiastically stuck it to his shirt), and Seth (who very loudly declared this was stupid, Neil was stupid, why would he need a sticker?). But as Neil left, he noticed Seth had carefully stuck the sticker to the front of his notebook.

And so the sticker competition began.

The Foxes quickly learned that Neil did not seem to have the same sticker-gifting qualifications for all of them. Apart from the first couple of sarcastically awarded stickers, Neil did not hand them out for just anything. It took a couple of weeks, but the team gradually figured it out.

Andrew got gold stars for making an effort with team bonding and participating fully in practices. (Though he also seemed to have stickers that no one else remembered him getting.) Kevin got them for correcting the team more kindly and for drinking less, as well as for showing almost any self-restraint, really. Seth got them whenever he stopped mid-insult or fully kept his comments to himself. Renee got them for vocalizing her opinions (as well as any time she supported Andrew). Allison got them when she stood up to the press or backed up any of the Foxes, and Dan got them after almost every press interview Neil had to do (as well as after any practice that Kevin took over). Nicky got them for respecting boundaries, and Aaron got them for not antagonizing his brother and for spending time with the team for more than a few minutes (without complaint). The cousins also got stickers for family bonding. Matt got stickers the most often, and they seemed to be any time he treated Neil like a friend.

Then there were the miscellaneous gold stars. Catching yourself before saying words that Andrew didn't like. Volunteering to clean up the court without Coach having to ask or assign the task. Any voluntary visits with Bee or Abby were automatic gold stars. Making Andrew genuinely laugh (only Renee had gotten one of those). And sometimes, Neil simply said "Good job," and someone got a star. Those were harder to figure out. Aaron and Andrew also got them after therapy.

The Foxes had a running tally of who had how many gold stars. Matt and Andrew were usually tied for first (Nicky loudly claimed favoritism). Usually, Aaron or Renee held the next two slots, but after that, it was anyone's game. If there were any kind of obvious criteria, the Foxes probably would have bets, but for now, they just kept a leaderboard. The team coveted the shiny stars.

Everyone kept them in different spots. Matt usually wore his after getting one, but a line of them was growing on his desk. The front of Seth's notebook had a few neat lines of stars. Nicky's were everywhere: his notebooks, his phone, the dorm. The girls also each had at least a star or two on the back of their phones. There were stars in wallets, lockers, and cars, yet despite the competitiveness over the shiny stickers, only the players knew about them.

It was during one of the Foxes' away games that it finally happened.

It was half time and the team had regrouped in the guest team lounge. Neil and Andrew were leaning against each other, each with a waterbottle, the rest of the Foxes spread out around them and Coach was lecturing.

"I know you're all tired but what is happening out there? Every other play it seems like there's a fight. Seth you're close to a red card!"

The striker shrugged.

"Asshole keeps talking shit," Seth said it in an almost offhand way.

"Since when is that an issue?" Wymack demanded. "You all shit talk!"

"About Kevin," Seth said as if that elaboration was helpful. When no one seemed to get it, Seth continued: "He's our freak to shit talk. Not theirs!"

Wymack looked gobsmacked as the team burst into laughter. Abby hid a smile behind her hand, and Kevin looked confused.

"Well," Wymack began, but then stopped when Neil held something out to Seth. "What is that?"

"He earned it," Neil said as if it was obvious, and Seth looked pleased with himself, sticking the gold star to his helmet.

Wymack watched as the team burst into protests.

"Seth always fights, that's not fair-!"

"If I had known that-"

"We can get them during games?"

"I haven't gotten one in ages!"

"Hey!" Wymack shouted over the babble, and everyone quieted. "What is going on?"

"Neil gives them stickers for being good," Andrew explained, his regular bored expression in place. "His version of good, anyway."

"Don't act like you don't get any!" Nicky immediately protested. "You're at the head of the leaderboard this week!"

"Leaderboard?" Wymack asked, looking bewildered, before waving his hand. "Okay, we'll discuss this later. You all need to get your heads back in the game! Seth... try not to get a red card."

It was not lost on the team that Wymack hadn't actually told Seth to stop fighting. The team headed back out to the court and Neil took his spot on the bench beside coach.

"So stickers huh?" Wymack asked as the whistle blew and the game began again.

Neil shrugged.

"Honsestly coach I don't get it either," Neil wasn't even sure how to explain. "I was being sarcastic. Then they actually wanted the stickers so I got some."

"And now instead of fighting with Kevin, Seth is fighting with the other team?"

"He's also stopped insulting Nicky. Mostly."

"Hn," Wymack didn't say more, letting the subject drop.

Neil didn't think any more about it that day, focused on the game and the team. It wasn't until the next practice that it came up again.

Kind of.

Neil was in the locker room, lacing up his shoes when Wymack came by and silently handed Neil two new packs of shiny gold stickers. Neil accepted them, confused as Coach then walked away. Neil looked down at the stickers and smiled to himself with sudden understanding.

From then on Neil never ran out of stickers.

[sinfordykes]

Me & You | Part 1

Jinx x Fem!Reader

Category: 18+

Synopsis: Jinx, the daughter of a well known kingpin and the amazing girlfriend known by you, comes across something… peculiar while thieving.

Tags/Warnings: pet names, a lot of them, soft jinx, smoking, inappropriate use of experimental drugs, strap-on referred to as cock/dick, clit referred to as cock (once), big clit jinx, oral, ass eating, ass play, degradation, praise, puppy!jinx(reader just calls jinx puppy, no pet play!), MOMMY KINK, BREEDING KINK!!!

this contains filthy smut if you cannot tell by the tags, you have been warned! do not complain in my inbox!!

WC: 7,373

Jinx hadn't planned on building what she’s now named the ‘Shimmer Strap’, she’d found the partially scribbled ‘Hex-Strap’ blueprints tucked away inside of the notes she’d snatched from Professor Viktors home in search of the next exams answer sheet. The answers themselves weren't for herself, but for you, the only person besides her sister, that she’d stick her neck out like that for.

If you let her tell it it wasn’t her fault, you were just the hottest thing to ever walk the planet. Just the thought of you makes her cunt drool.

The adorable little pout that sits on your face when you get frustrated, or the way you roll your eyes but can’t help but laugh when she dramatizes her boredom in the middle of lectures.

The way you tease her cunt and call her your good puppy when she succeeds in holding back yet another orgasm. And the way your eyes go watery when she calls you a needy bitch as she destroys your sloppy pussy. She just had to have you any time she wanted you, regardless of the situation or the location.

Most study sessions had ended with both of you higher than the clouds and taking turns tonguing each other's throats and shoving your heads between each other's thighs, desperate for a taste.

Regardless, you hadn't gotten a true chance to study for the exam, so she did you a huge favor like the amazing girlfriend she is, and got the answers for you.

She thought it’d be a great surprise, the answers of course. But this way better in her (very correct) opinion. She’d spent the entire night locked away in her room working on the thing, leg bouncing with excitement as her head rocked along to her music that played from her speakers.

Though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t stop a few times to stuff her fingers in her dirty cunt. But that’s where the best part came.

She was tinkering away at the thing a few hours ago, ideas floating through her head, each one filthier than the last. Eventually, her pussy started thinking for her, and a new idea came just after the one for the shimmer reservoirs.

She’s a squirter, she’s come to find out. A story for a different day.

Her own cum is what she’s getting at, mixed in with the Shimmer.

She’d chugged a few waters and got to work, dropping her pants and teasing her pussy until her clit pulsed. She’d grab a wide lipped beaker when she knew she was about to squirt and filled the glass with her hot cum, and she’d repeated the cycle around four times. Enough for two batches of the cum-shimmer elixir.

The idea was so genius that she couldn’t resist. Or at least that’s what the ache between her legs was telling her. Whether it was actually genius remains to be seen. Then, once you’re really nice and full, it’d feel like she actually pumped you full. Claimed you.

It was an alien looking thing. A translucent, veiny, fuchsia dildo attached to a leather harness, thicker and longer than anything she’s ever used on you before, almost the length of her forearm and thicker than so.

She can feel herself aching just imagining the way it’d stretch your cute little pussy out. They way the hairs on you juicy cunt would be soaked with her shimmery cum after she was done fucking you over, and over, and over again.

She gets lost in the scenes of you playing in her head, rocking her hips back and forth softly against the stool she’s sitting in as her bottom lip catches between her teeth. She can hear the squelch of her needy hole everytime she does it and she knows her pants are ruined, again.

She won’t change before she visits you, either. She never does. She likes to make it known what you do to her. Likes when you see how filthy her cunt is by the time she gets to have you. At times, she’ll rub her cloth covered cunt right over your nose and lips. She’ll force you to taste and smell her musk and arousal, and call you her “slutty mommy” as she does it. She’ll tell you that your pretty pussy and mouth drive her insane before grinding herself to completion on the tip of your nose before taking care of your needs.

Jinx flinches, a loud bang from an outside source, probably construction, or another science student, bringing her out of her head.

The project. Right.

Her favorite part was the Shimmer enhancement, rigged to cum when she’d wrap her hand around the base and squeeze. To fill you up like she’d fantasized about a billion times before. She could see the shimmer-cum concoction inside as it flowed through the reservoir of the toy, waiting to be released.

She wasn’t sure if the Shimmer would have any effect on you the way it’s goin’ in, it should in theory. But, y’know, she’s jinx so anything could happen.

With the last few adjustments in place, she haphazardly shoves the notes along with some pre-rolled joints into her bag, throwing on a hoodie (your hoodie) and shooting you a text telling you that she’s on her way over after she brushes her teeth and splashes her face with some water.

‘omw with a surprise!’

Your face lights up when your phone comes to life and the contact name “cookie<3’” flashes across the screen. You text back the second you see the message, excited to see your girlfriend for the first time in what feels like years, really it's only been a day and some hours, but it felt like years, and oh, Janna did you miss her, so, so, badly.

And judging by the mess in your panties, so did your cunt.

You send off your own text, telling her “I miss you too.” and to hurry, your thumbs moving at lightning speed across the keyboard of your phone.

The ride to your apartment was a quick one, a few missed stoplights and a suspiciously soft speedbump and she was parking in front of the multi-story building, with the front tire partially sitting on the curb due to her worse than bad parking skills.

She preferred staying over at your place ever since you met, a cozy little one bedroom apartment in the heart of Zaun. She’d gotten a private dorm room as part of her full ride scholarship to The Piltover Academy and transformed into a just workshop with a bed shoved in the corner for the rare occasion that she needed a nap but wasn’t at yours, but the space went unused otherwise

She opens the door to the building and the guy sitting at the front desk grumbles something that she ignores as she walks past him to the elevator. The only sound coming from her heavy boots on the floor.

It was an old thing with an iron gate to close it off, rickety enough to have her tapping her foot the whole way up. Why you were given a unit on the top floor is beyond her. What if there was a fire? Or you got hurt, what if no one could get to you in time to save you? Those thoughts have her grumbling to herself and tapping her finger against the strap on her bag as the elevator comes to a shaky stop.

She pulls the gate open, cringing at the screech of the metal as she steps out and makes her way to your door, ignoring the puddles of mystery liquid on the tiled floor.

She doesn't bother knocking, knowing that you likely haven’t locked the door, much to her own disapproval, this place is so shady -and she’s right- she realizes as she turns the knob, the door opening with little difficulty.

You’re tucked away in the kitchen when she enters, a small room just to the left of the entrance to your apartment and she can smell the sweetness in whatever you're baking in the just too small oven.

It’s dark inside so to your blackout curtains, and the rest of your apartment is lit in a soft, blue glow. The television is on in the living room, The Legend of Korra playing on the screen.

She almost whines when she sees that you’re in nothing but a pair of grey cotton panties and an old, oversized band t-shirt.

“Cookie, what have I told you about locking the door?” She whines as she approaches you from behind, not bothering to set her things down just yet. Instead she wraps her arms around your center, nuzzling her face into your neck as you turn in her arms and smile fondly at the worry in her voice. “I knew you were on your way, ‘sides- i don't think anyone’s comin’ in here.” You laugh, breath fanning over the pale woman's cheek. “You hang around so often, everyone’s too scared of your pops to try anything.”

Jinx kisses your neck one, two, three- times before —leaving a small trail of drool behind— before detaching herself and squeezing her arms around your waist, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Whatever,” she groans, but her eyes widen as she remembers what’s in her bag, momentarily too hypnotized by you and your sugar sweet scent to recall the reason she’d come over in the first place. “‘Said I have a surprise for you, didn't I?” she says suddenly, perking up, “What’re we still standing around for?!”

You laugh lightly as you’re dragged to the living area and shoved, ungracefully, onto the couch. “Okay, what is it?!” You ask excitedly.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, Cookie!” She says as she drops the bag onto the coffee table and sits down next to you. She rummages through and pulls out a notebook, setting it in your lap.

You stare, confused for only a moment before realizing what she’s given you, then your eyes widen and you look at her in shock. “How the hell did you get this?!” You shout, trying your best not to smile because —of fucking course— Jinx has a salition to your problems. She always does.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!” you squeal, bouncing on your toes as you wrap your arms around her neck and squeeze affectionately. Janna, you’ve got to give this girl some amazing head.

“And that's not even the real surprise,” She purrs, pulling out a thick, long dildo from the bag, her smile widening as your eyes do. “This is.”

It looks like something straight out of a sci-fi film, practically glowing with tubes and liquid flowing through the inside. “‘An I’m gonna fuck you with it, Mommy.” Jinx whispers in your ear as she leans closer. Your eyes are still fixated on the cock in her hand, even as she inches it closer to your lips.

Your mouth waters and you stick your tongue out, ready to take it down your throat, and just before you think she’s about to push the toy past the barrier of your lips she pulls her arm away, taking the delicious thing with it. She giggles and plops the toy right on the table like that’s where it’s meant to be.

You groan, pouting as she pulls a joint from her bag instead. “You’re such a tease, Jj.” You huff, your thighs clenching together as you watch her take a long drag from the joint.

Jinx’s heart flutters at the nickname. Something you called her when you were feeling extra needy (or sleepy, or so so sad). Because yes, mommy can get needy for her puppy too.

It’s something she’ll never get over, how easy it is for you to be soft on her, how easy it is for her to be soft on you.

Even so, she notices your clenched thighs, ever the observer, and she smiles as she takes another drag. “Spread your legs, please?” She rasps. Your cunt leaks at the question, growing wetter than it was only seconds ago. “Let me see.”

She takes one hand and gently shoves your shoulder, guiding you to lay back against the arm of the worn loveseat . Once you’re fully lying back she grabs your legs and pushes them open and up. Far enough to where you can hook your arms underneath your knees.

Jinx could spend years just staring at the outline of your chubby pussy lips and the way your juicy clit peeks out from between them, even when you have panties on. Your own clit is a bit bigger than average, though still not as big as hers.

She runs a slender finger through your slit, watching your clit jump beneath the fabric of your panties and repeats the action a torturous amount of times. Watching as you grow wetter and your clit gets more defined between the wet outline in your underwear.

She presses her thumb right against your hole, stretching and pushing the fabric of your panties inside. She moves in circular motions, the shlick squelching of your slutty hole shooting straight to her core and, god, she needs you so bad.

Your head rolls back into the couch, your toes curling and uncurling as she plays with your needy hole. You’re drooling now, your hole pulsing around nothing as it leaks cream into the already darkened and drenched fabric.

She gets lost in it, leaning back into the couch cushions and taking drag after drag as she toys with you. Pinching and prodding at your poor, swollen bud, running her finger nails over the insides of your thighs just to hear your pathetic whines.

She puts the joint in your mouth, effectively shutting up your moans as she runs her hot tongue over the red marks her nails left behind. She begins sucksjng dark marks into your supple skin. So soft, she thinks to herself as she lavs her tongue over the fresh bruises.

She’s already on cloud nine, but the smell of your arousal hitting her nose is almost enough to drive her mad. She peels your panties away from your wet heat, just barely, and blows cool air right onto your exposed cunt, giggling when your achy and engorged clit twitches with need.

You inhale the smoke from the joint, the color of it making the air in the room purple and hazy. It fills your lungs, burning on the way in and soothing you on the way out. The effect is immediate, eyes swirling pink on top of their natural color as your senses are heightened. You can feel every nerve ending pulsing, a feral, animalistic wash over you. You can feel it deep in the pit of you’re stomach, the one that aches for her constantly. You can feel it in your womb.

You hold the smoke in your chest for a few seconds and whine on the exhale.

You need more. Moremoremoremoremore.

“Please… Please! I need you!” You moan whorishly after she plucks the joint from between your lips. Why did she have to tease you? Why couldn’t she just give you what you wanted?

“I know, Cookie,” she coos but doesn’t acknowledge you otherwise and instead crawls over you, her hips settling right between your legs and her lips hovering right over yours. She rests one arm on the couch right beside your head and uses her other hand, the one holding the joint, to guide your leg over her hip.

“Open your mouth.” She says, her raspy voice sending a tingling sensation down your spine, and you obey. She takes a hit, lets the plumes of smoke fall from her mouth to yours. You let it fill your lungs, once again taken over by the sensation of it running through your body. Your eyes lock with Jinx’s and you grind your hips, letting go of your other leg and grabbing her ass with both hands. It gives you more leverage to grind your pussy into the hard metal of her belt buckle.

It’s hard for her to not to lose her composure as you knead the firm globes of her ass. Every squeeze of your palms go straight to her cunt, and she aches.

But she does it, staring hazy eyed at your desperate form, watching as your tummy spasms from the labors of your horny state. A lazy smile on her face as she takes one last drag and tosses the used up joint into the ashtray on your glass coffee table.

You’re so fucking perfect, she thinks as she collects a good amount of spit in her mouth and grabs your jaw, forcing your lips to pucker outward and your eyes to widen at the sudden force. A wad of warm, sticky spit drips to your mouth, finally rolling down your tongue as she lets go of your cheeks. There’s a soft ache where her fingers were, one you love, one you crave as she pulls away.

“Don’t swallow it, slut. Stick your tongue out.” She demands, pulling herself away from you suddenly and yanks her hoodie off over her head.

You obey immediately, sticking your tongue out watching her expression change to one of intense need once you can see her face again. Her breath becomes shaky as she watches it dribble off your tongue and drip down your chin and neck.

Disappearing beneath your shirt, and right between the valley of your breasts.

“Shirt off.” She rasps desperately , eyes flashing pink just as she watches you sit up and pull off the offending fabric, tongue still hanging out because you want your puppy to have her fun.

Your tits bounce when you lie back against the couch, and she presses the tip of her prosthetic finger against her clit for barely a second. Hardly enough for any kind of relief. But it’ll do.

“Good girl, cookie.” She praises, a small smile flashing in her pale face at the simple act. She wouldn’t have batted an eye if your mouth had shut for the moments you were taking your shirt off, but it hadn’t.

You made the conscious effort to leave your wet, dripping tongue sticking out because she told you to. She can tell by the sultry look in your eye that she’s not in complete control. That you could flip this any moment you wanted, but you choose not to.

Unfortunately, the shirt had taken some of your girlfriends sweet, delicious, spit with it in the process. You both noticed, your own eyebrows furrowing in displeasure as you silently plea for more with just a look in her direction.

She hums. She’ll definitely have to fix that. Her Mommy looks so sad at the loss.

“Tongue out, sweets.” She soothes, a faux pour in her face as she hooks her hands into the crook of your knees and presses your legs back, your feet dangling by her ears as she leans her weight into you. “Puppy’s gonna fix it.”

“And remember, Mommy.” She whispers haughtily into your waiting mouth. “No swallowing.”

She begins sucking on your tongue. Slowly at first, letting you get used to the sensation of her lips wrapped around your wet, slippery muscle. Every minute or so she’ll stop, pull back, and deliver a hot, heavy glob of spit into your wet cavern and swirl her tongue around yours. She slurps on your tongue and spits some more, not caring that it’s spilling out from the corners of your mouth and down your chest.

“Such a messy bitch, Cookie.” She whispers, letting go of your legs to run her fingers through the mess of saliva soaking your chest. Your neglected cunt pulses and your hips stutter against hers.

She spreads the spit over your tits and tummy, making sure to circle your sensitive nipples with the tips of her finger.

You could cum from this alone. You have cum from just this alone. Many times. There’s just something about the messiness of being covered in her frothy spit and drool that makes it easy to nut in minutes. Seems she is not so keen on letting you cum too fast today, though. You wonder why to yourself. Usually she’s happy to let you cum as many times as you want, as quickly as you want, your puppys always eager to bring you to completion.

All the while, she’s grinding down into the wet heat between your legs, studded and spiked belts jingling as your thighs shake around her. She keeps you on the edge, slowing down and at certain times, and completely stopping if you begin to move too much.

She can’t get the image of her shimmer cock splitting you open out of her head, and she gives both your ankles sweet little kisses as she runs her spit drenched hand up your body, leading to your mouth.

“‘M gonna fuck this pretty throat with my fingers.” She mumbles to herself. You grin, nodding your, you don’t verbalize, but instead nod and stick your tongue out further, welcoming her middle and ring finger into your mouth. The blue haired woman moans, the soft, wet heat of your mouth sheltering her fingers in a way that makes her feel reckless. She doesn’t care to go slow, immediately shoving her lithe fingers down your throat.

“So warm.” She whispers as you gag around them, eyes tearing up when she begins an unrelenting pace against your throat. “ That’s right Mommy, gag on my fingers.”

Your hands grip at the couch cushions, you need something to do with your hands. Anything. It feels like you're going to explode the way she’s been ignoring your puffy clit and crying, leaking hole.

You keep your eyes locked on hers as you sneak one of your hands between your legs, fucked up makeup running down your cheeks and teary eyes pleading for mercy on your poor throat. It’s an awkward angle, a tight one, with the way she’s got you all bent up, but it’ll work. You reach between your bodies to fumble with her belt, and you’ve got both of them unbuckled in record time, same with her button and zipper.

“Huh—?” Her brows furrowing and she looks down, her movements stuttering for a moment before she smirks and continues fingering your throat messily. Drool and spit cover her hand and your torso, and you’ve never felt sexier. You’ve never looked sexier. Tits squished together, face crumpled in pleasure, and shiny with her DNA.

The type of beauty she’d go to war for.

“Oh— Fuck yeah! Go ahead, Cookie. Play with my cunt.” She sighs happily, a dumb smile spreading across her face. Your hand dips into her pants, fingers quickly finding her swollen clit easily.

Her bud is so twitchy as it unashamedly sticks out from under its fleshy hood. Past her filthy, cream covered pussy lips.

Dirty girl, you think, she definitely played with herself before she came to see you, but you don’t call her out on it.

You love when her clit gets like this. Swollen so big it looks painful, twitching and desperate. You pinch it between your knuckles, really hard, and giggle when she whines and flinches away from your hand only to settle again barely a second later.

She loves having her stupid, juicy, clit tortured. Loves when you pinch it like you just did. Loves when you bite down and pull on it with your teeth until she’s crying out in pleasure and pain. She especially loves when you tie her up, spread her legs wide, and suck it like it’s a cock, until she’s crying and gasping for air. You love sucking it until it’s so engorged it hurts, pulsing painfully with its own heartbeat from overstimulation and many, many ruined orgasms.

You flick the tip of your middle finger over her clit quickly, feeling a small squirt hit your fingers. You giggle a bit when you notice her eyes flutter shut.

“Stop it, Mommy.” She whines, breathless. “‘S not fair. You know I don’t last long when you play with her like that”

Some nerve she has after toying with your cunt. A damn hypocrite, your puppy is.

You roll your eyes as you gag on her fingers, continuing your assault on her clit. “Mommy just wants to make you feel good, Jj.” You gasp when her fingers retreat from your throat.

Something snaps in her and she pulls her fingers completely from your mouth. “Wanna make me feel good?” She questions, her voice edging on bratty, yanking off her top and standing up from the couch, your hand still shoved in her pants at an awkward angle. “Then suck my clit!” She demands, but it comes off as a needy, bitchy little whine. “Suck my clit, and I’ll fuck you real good. I promise!” She holds out her pinky.

You sit up from your disheveled state, ignoring her outstretched pinky. “You’re gonna fuck me real good regardless, Jinx.” You say huskily, throat raw from her abuse.

It’s true. She lives to serve you. It doesn’t matter if you sucked her clit or not, you were getting your pussy stuffed tonight. That’s what she came here to do in the first place.

You pinch her clit one last time before you spin her around and yank her pants down, catching her off guard. She would’ve fallen had you not caught her by the hips. “I’m gonna eat this cute little ass.” You whisper against her left cheek, giving it a few kisses before continuing. “Might even get that clit of yours toyed with if you behave.”

It’s dizzying, how fast the dynamic between you two switches. She just had your ankles up by your ears while she finger fucked your throat, and now, minutes later, you’re bending her over as you get ready to lick out her tight asshole.

She smiles, wiggling her butt in your face as you press a hand to the center of her back, guiding her to a bent over position. Her hands land softly on the coffee table, and her perfect, delicious looking ass and cunt are on full display. A full course meal right in front of you.

The long, thick, hairs of her cunt are blue, the same shade as her shoulder length hair, and they’re covered in her creamy, sticky juices. Her musky scent is strong and it draws you in, your tongue swiping through her labia, and the unexpected sensation makes another small amount of juices squirt out of her cunt.

“Such an easy pussy, squirting over some light licking.” You giggle against her lips. Her head falls between her shoulders, hanging low as she agrees.

“Yeah, Cookie.” She pants, shivering when you run the tip of your nose through her folds. “So easy for you.”

You scoop up what remains from the spit and drool covering your body into your hand and aim it over her holes. It dribbles down the slit of her ass and drips all the way down to her overly swollen clit. “Want me to jerk you off while I eat your ass, baby?” You ask sincerely.

The first time you jerked her clit off it was so good she cried.

It was the first hookup you’d had with her after becoming official. You two were cuddled up on your bed one moment and the next you were lying between her spread legs, two of your fingers wrapped around her clit as you tugged it in a way she’s never been able to replicate.

“Yesyesyes,” she mewls loudly. “Please. My pussy hurts so bad, I need to cum.”

“Hold your ass open for me, Jj.” You hum, and she complies, her hands coming up to spread her asscheeks open, keeping her cute, fluttering hole exposed. This knocks her off slightly off balance and she stumbles face first into the coffee table, cheek and tits squished into the glass.

“Mama’s got you, puppy.” You coo sweetly, wrapping the tips of your thumb and forefinger around her clit and began to tug.

“Gonna stroke and suck this stupid little clit ‘til you cum on my face.” You sigh happily as you take the first lick of her asshole. And the second. And the third. “You’re so sweet, Puppy.” You announce, panting like a dog as your flattened tongue swipes up and down rapidly.

Her clit pulses between your fingers as you jerk her off at a painfully fast pace. Every few minutes her hole oozes out more cream that you happily scoop up with your tongue and swallow. You slurp at her spit and cream covered hole, then run your tongue slowly over the puckered flesh before inserting just the tip of your tongue, earning sharp cries of pleasure from the blue haired girl. You tongue the tight ring of muscle, wiggling it around and spitting inside when she uses her hands to stretch herself even wider.

It takes a few tries, but when you finally fully insert your tongue in her ass and you begin thrusting your head, fucking her sloppy, creamy, spit drenched hole.

“A-ahh. Fuck!— fuckfuckfuck.” She yelps as her knees quiver. “Your tongue is fucking amazing —Ugh” She grits though her teeth, hissing when you squeeze her clit particularly hard.

“Gonna cum, Mommy!” She wails, cunt clenching around nothing. “Please let me cum, I was so good!”

You pull out your tongue and drop to your knees behind her. A light, airy moan slips past your lips when you spread her hairy pussy wide with just your thumbs. You dive in, wrapping your lips around her erect clit, sucking her into your mouth as hard as you can and begin bobbing your head.

She preens at this, drooling and whining as her back arches and her small tits press into the cold glass of the table.

She’d be humiliated if anyone knew what a whore she becomes once she has a pair of pretty lips wrapped around her clit.

The lewd shlurpsuckshlurp sounds fill the room as you abuse her poor clit with your mouth and only takes a few minutes of this torture before she’s screaming and squirting all over your face and tits White hot pleasure courses through the petite woman, the space between her legs buzzing with satisfaction as your lips still suction harshly up around her bud.

Her legs shake as when you swirl your tongue around it in fast circles and tears spring to her eyes, the overstimulation setting in. You suck again, one last time before letting go and flicking the wet nub with the tip of your tongue.

A string of saliva connects your tongue to her as you pull away, her pert ass jiggling as her hips twitch. You’re entranced by the way her beating clit goes soft right in front of your eyes, retreating underneath its fleshy hood.

Your head perks up when you hear a ding from the kitchen, and you smell the sweet aroma of fresh baked brownies coming from the oven.

“We needed a break anyway.” You whisper against her cunt. Jinx whines. She hadn’t even got the chance to make you cum yet! “And you need some water.” You say softly, smiling as the sheer amount of liquid you’re both covered in.

You nor the blue haired mance are high any longer, bodies slowly sobering up as you fucked nasty on your second hand couch.

Helping her up from her bent over position on your coffee table to standing upright, you assist her in taking off her pants and shoes. You’re both naked, save for the one sock jinx still has on and your soaked panties, as you make your way to the kitchen.

You and Jinx both look soft as you feed her pieces of a warm, fudgey chocolate brownie and she wipes her cum and spit off of your face with a steaming hot washcloth. The afterglow doesn’t last long, though, as Jinx’s insatiable need for more takes over “Y’know, sweets,” Jinx starts off, her finger teasing just above the waistline of your ruined panties. “You never got to cum.” She says, dipping her finger so just, her fingers playing in the hair on your mound.

“Mhm.” You hum, knowingly. You hadn’t. But only because the brownies were going to burn! And kind of because she wanted to be a tease and prod at your unexposed hole instead of fuck you like you’d wanted. Annnd you got slightly distracted. The need to pleasure her, to see the chaotic whirlwind of a woman become meek and red in the face while having her pretty hole and clit played with, is a need you must satisfy.

But you know how important making you cum is to the tattooed brainiac. There’s no way you’re coming out of this with less than four orgasms. If there’s one thing she’s going to accomplish in a day, it’s making you nut so hard you see stars.

You feed her the last piece of her brownie and walk over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water for the freckle cheeked woman to sip on.

The second Jinx’s brain was back to fully functioning; she was on you again.

She watches your ass jiggles as you make your way over to the fridge and the sight goes straight to her clit. She can already feel her body getting ready for a second round, her clit pumping full of blood as you bend at the waist.

The urge to hump you like a dumb, desperate puppy takes over and in seconds she’s standing behind you. “Need to be inside you,” she whines, working her fingers over her own clit. “Need your warm pussy wrapped around my clit, baby.”

Before you can object she peels your filthy panties off your body and lets them drop to the floor around your ankles.

“Jinx?! Oh my—” your breath catches and you have to brace yourself when one of her hands grips your hip tightly, one of your own hands on a cold, rickety shelf and the other gripping the door.

She stands on her tippy toes to get that perfect angle. You’re both left speechless as she dips into your waiting hole. She fucks the two and a half inches of her fully erect and slippery clit inside. Cursing as her bud is instantly covered in your thick cream before pressing her hips flush to yours, effectively burying herself against you.

The tip of her clit barely brushes your g-spot, but it’s just enough to make you gush.

You hold back your impending orgasm, deciding she needs a bit of humbling. She always gets so cocky about how she’s able to make you cum with no effort at all. “That’s it, puppy. Make me take it.” You praise and beg her still, filling her head with sweet words while she moans like she’s the one being fucked.

“Please,” She whimpers, barely loud enough for you to hear as her head tilts back and she picks up the pace. “Take it, take it, take it.”

“R-Right there, Baby!” You whimper loudly, gulping when she begins pounding even harder, “Ngghh— please. Squirt in my pussy, baby.” Her hips begin to stutter, her clit beating wildly inside you.

You gasp when she slaps your ass, hard. “Need you to fill me up. Claim me.”

She can’t control it, your dirty words getting the better of her. Her clit beats faster and harder as she unexpectedly rolls towards her second orgasm. Jinx’s cries are loud as her hot cum squirts out, a never ending stream of her nut spraying over your pussy.

She’s panting heavily as she falls forward, her front pressing into your back as she humps softly against you. “Mommy,” She whines against your shoulder, crying “You were ‘posed to cum too!”

“Aww.” You exaggerate a pout, feigning sympathetically. “You know that dumb little clit’s only good for getting played with.” You whisper, mocking her before attacking her lips again, swallowing her pathetic whimpers and cries as she continues to grind against your ass.

You stand, turning your head to catch her lips over your shoulder in a wet, sloppy kiss. Your tongues dance together as you swap spit. “So mean, Mommy.” She murmurs against your lips, bringing one hand to your front to spread your pussy and expose your throbbing clitoris.

You gasp against her mouth when the cold metal of her prosthetic finger rubs your clit in harsh, circular motions. She doesn’t give you a choice as she brings you to orgasm, swirling her fingers over your twitching bud until you actually cum like she wanted you to the first time.

Eventually she detaches herself from you and lets you finish grabbing the waters you were looking for to begin with.

“Drink.” You order, opening her water and guiding it toward her lips. You both let out a satisfied sigh as she gulps it down slowly. She finishes her water slowly, drinking down the clear cool liquid as you hold her quivering body up by her waist.

—

An hour later she’s sitting on the couch with you kneeling between her thighs, both high as hell with her new strap sliding down your throat as you get it ready for your pussy. You’re sucking fast, the rapid, wet gluckgluckgluck sounds coming from your throat send tingles up Jinx’s spine as you’re now, bright purplish-pink eyes bore into her own.

Her hand occasionally presses down on the back of your head, holding you there until you’re slapping her thighs and begging for air.

You finally pull off completely. Frothy strings of spit still connect your lips and the strap as you stand to climb on top of her. You put your hands on her shoulders and plant your feet on either side of her thighs.

“Careful, she’s big.” Jinx warns, watching with unbridled lust in her eyes as you reach one hand down and between your legs to line it up with your pussy, swirling the tip around your clit before guiding the strap into your sloppy hole before gripping her shoulder again.

You only make it halfway down before you have to take a pause. The stretch is harsh, the mushroom head tip is swallowed by your wet sex and you stay there as you prepare to be the fullest you’ve ever been. You begin to move slowly, sinking on her cock with a wet squelch, just deep enough until it’s too much, and then pulling back off.

That's how you continue for the next several minutes. Bouncing halfway on her cock until you’re fully capable of taking her all the way in.

Eventually you’re both messes, your arms wrapped around her shoulders now. You’re kissing and crying in pleasure as your ass makes harsh contact with her hips. She’s fully sheathed inside you, whimpering as the force of your hips makes the base of the strap pound right against her clit.

It feels like she’s being edged. And you know exactly what you’re doing, every time you slow down or swirl your hips in a way that draws attention away from her clit and something in her snaps.

Her eyes flash brightly as she flips you onto your back. Your tummy does a little flip and you yelp, giggling when she buries her face in your neck. Your eyes flutter shut and your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of her neck when she grinds down into you. Desperate for even a small amount of friction on her poor, achy clit.

“Fuckin’ hell, puppy,” You groan softly, whimpering out a quiet, “you’re so big.”

The feeling of her thick, veiny strap rubbing against your sensitive, gummy walls has you dancing just on the edge of euphoria. Her shimmer-cum mixture is leaking from the strap with how hard you’re squeezing around her and it’s hard to tell how long you’ll last like this.

Your beautiful blue haired girlfriend on top of you, kissing your neck and burying herself inside of your sopping wet heat like it’s the only place she ever wants to be. Bringing both of you to orgasm like it’s her job. It’s hard not to become emotional, as silly as it sounds. But the love you and Jinx have for one another is a one in a lifetime experience, she was your fucking soulmate.

“Fuck, love you so much baby.” Jinx moans against your neck, as if sensing your emotional state. Because of-fucking-course she did. She was yours and you were hers. “Wish I could keep you here forever.”

Your legs are sweet squeezed around her waist, trembling as her thrusts become deeper, harder, as she rolls violently towards her release. The base of rubbing deliciously against her clit.

“Love you too, Jj. ” you whimper as you pussy squirts a little and fuck, you’re gonna have to clean the couch cushions again. “So fucking much.”

“Keep going, just like that.”

“Please don’t stop.”

You’re panting, so close you can damn near taste it. She’s so deep you can feel her in your throat.

“Wish you could get me pregnant an- oh fuuuckk” You’ve gone delirious at this point, full on horny rambling as your girlfriend claims your cunt. “ n’ fuck me full like I need you to.”

That’s what gets her, her need to claim you like she wants to, the thought of fucking a baby into you has her biting the junction between your shoulder and neck as muffling her loud cries and cums. She hurriedly reaches one hand between your bodies and squeezes the base of the strap, shimmer and cum fill your pussy full, leaking out around her strap and dripping down the crevice of your ass and making a mess of the couch beneath you.

Your own orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave as she paints your walls sticky with her cum and shimmer. The sudden surge of unexpected shimmer in your system and your own orgasm reeling through your body make her sharp teeth breaking your skin ten times more intense. Your back arches off the couch as you scratch hers, causing the pale woman to shiver as she calms down from her own nut.

Red lines that she’ll admire later are left in the wake of your pleasure. She’ll probably take pictures of them to look at when she’s alone and needy.

Jinx pulls out with a wet squelch, sitting back on her haunches and taking note of the almost feral look in your eyes as she grabs the backs of your thighs and pushes your legs out and up toward your chest, watching her sparkling cum drip from your sloppy, used hole.

“Puppy. Need more” You pant, sitting up on your elbows, clit still pulsing as your gaping hole clenches around nothing. “Just one more. Please”

Without question she quickly stuffs the strap back inside, whimpering when the base catches her sensitive clit. She watches your tits jiggle as she fucks into you hard and fast. You’re panting, writhing on your back as you quickly approach your third orgasm of the day.

It’s not that much later that you’re showered and rubbing antibacterial cream onto the deep scratches on her back. Dinner’s cooking on the stove and she’s got her arms warped around your middle where she sits, her head tucked into your tummy and her hands tucked underneath your shirt as she rubs gentle circles on your lower back.

It’s warm. It’s home for her. Stable, as many wouldn’t believe.

But those pale don’t know you, and they don’t know Jinx. Your Jinx. The Jinx who drops what sides doing the second you even hint that you’re not feeling well.

The Jinx who buries herself in blankets with you during cold winter nights, scared that she’ll come home and you’ll be “frozen into a literal popsicle” (her words). Who snores loud as fuck and loves animals, and not just the fluffy ones.

Who stole a professor's goddamn notebook just so studying for your finals would be easier.

An action that there would surely be consequences for.

But she doesn’t care. Not if it means making you happy.

[zstartrixxx]

How do you think Jack O’Connell’s characters would react to seeing their ex after a nasty breakup being with their new husband/wife. Especially if their ex had told them that they’d only ever love him and no one else. The betrayal the characters must feel.

looveee this concepts, fr <3 i think it would go something like this:

He’d feel like the most despised and wretched man in the world—because, well, you swore to him after coming undone together that you’d never leave him. And now suddenly, there you are, in the arms of another man (or woman)!? What kind of person is he to you, then? After all the vows of love, the overwhelming passion, the intimate moments you shared… by the gods…

Oliver Mellors:

It’d be hard to resist him again… Sometimes you might not even hold back and let yourself fall into it, becoming lovers once more. Or you’d leave your current partner to return to him—to the arms you never should’ve left. Or maybe you’d just ignore him, swallow your pride along with the desire, say goodbye, and move on. Your choice.

Oliver would rot inside with jealousy. He might even stare at you for a long time, jaw clenched, a bitter taste in his mouth from all the hatred. But he probably wouldn’t react—at least not in front of you and your new partner. No, he’d corner you in some hallway, just the two of you, provoking you, wanting to kiss you, threatening to do it as he whispers:

“You promised you’d be mine alone. And this is how you end up? In someone else’s arms?”

Roy Goode:

And well, you’d better thank me for my services, ma’am!

Roy Goode would act like the gunslinger he is: he’d wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Don’t get me wrong! This cowboy would bide his time until the target was in position—then bam! Hit the mark—not literally, of course (unless the person you’re with deserves it…). He’d follow them, gather proof, and then show you that your new partner is nothing but a leech.

He’d smirk, trying not to show that all these months apart, he’s felt the worst feeling in the world—envy mixed with jealousy, this ugly thing in his chest, a near-primal rage he hides under that black hat and shy demeanor. All because he loves you so damn much and just wants to see you riding (him) with him again.

He’s not that bad, y’all, come on…

Patrick Sumner:

“Did you really have the audacity?”

He’d ask through gritted teeth, staring at you with disgust. After all the abandonment in his life—his parents, his mentor, himself—you walking out of his life too sounds like a sick joke. This man was destroyed when you left him—maybe because he realized the relationship wouldn’t work, maybe because he relapsed into laudanum… but you made a final decision.

Even now, months (almost a year) later, with both of you changed, he’d stare right through you, a stormy sea drowning you, and… well, maybe on this particular day, you’d end up in some corner reminiscing about old times? Maybe.

Patrick Sumner would punish you for making him suffer—he’s a proud man—but it’d make you rethink your current relationship. Sometimes, you’d crawl right back into the arms of the man who ruined you.

Lion Kaminski:

This poor bastard would isolate himself, cry, take out all his rage on punching bags (and a few faces) because you’re gone. He’s not the jealous type—or at least tries not to be with you—but seeing you with someone else, holding hands, laughing across the street?

And he was just coming back from training, Stan annoying the hell out of him, and suddenly his world collapses. He’d think, “Was I not good enough!?” while feeling like there’s no solid ground under his feet, no heartbeat in his chest.

Poor guy. He’d be the saddest man in the world if he saw that.

Remmick:

Remmick wouldn’t even let you go.

Jokes aside about this beloved vampire’s possessive soul—if you did escape his claws and his eternal love, he’d lose his mind. Feral.

If you’re human, the thought of you wasting a finite life with someone else, living all the emotions and experiences a normal person could have, would fill him with conflicting feelings: relief (knowing you’d live a simple, happy mortal life) and a seething rage that’d haunt him—unless he crawled back to you on his knees, begging for another chance. Otherwise, he’d pack his things and vanish so he’d never have to face you again.

It’s up to you whether you return to his arms or not.

If you’re a vampire—especially if he turned you—the shared mind-link would make the separation worse. You might be apart in body, but never in mind—almost soul. Remmick would use the bond to track you, to know where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing. You’d try to sever the connection, but that little voice in the back of your head would always whisper:

“Come back to me. Come back to me, ah khree…”

[organic-bloodbath]

could you make a part two of “Carry her” where Jun-ho finally makes it to the games while Gi-hun, Player 100, Minsu, Myung-gi, Y/n, Jun-hee, the baby player 336, player 353, player 203 and player 039 are at the final game? And No-Eul comes to help save Jun-hee from sacrificing herself and shooting myung-gi in the leg to stop him from trying to push Y/n? (and ofc this is where Gi-hun is holding the baby while trying think of a way to save Y/n and Jun-hee)

SORRY THIS IS SUCH A LONG REQUEST😭

Carry her – Part 2

Jun-hee x Reader

Summary: As above (almost).

Part 1

A/N: Probably not as good as the first one but oh well it's something :') Deadass writing several different versions of the last game with different outcomes lmao.

♡♡♡

"So, who do you think will be the one to drop dead next?" the long haired VIP asked the others, letting out a laugh before taking a sip from his drink.

"I think it'll be you," a female voice answered behind them. The VIPs turned around, confused why there was a pink guard aiming a gun towards the long haired VIP. The confusion quickly turned into panic.

"Woah! Put that thing down," the man gasped, voice trembling. "I –"

Then, he indeed was the one to drop dead next, falling back on the couch but now with a hole in his head.

The woman got up, ready to flee and save herself, but the guard was faster, shooting a bullet through her brain as well.

When all the VIPs were dead, blood splattered on the couches and the floor, No-eul took the mask off her head and threw it on the floor.

"Got the full experience now," No-eul mumbled and stepped over the woman's corpse.

No-eul looked at the final game play behind the glass, the players currently standing on the second pillar – six of them remaining. The first round had eliminated four players instead of the required one.

No-eul looked at especially the young girl, player 222, who had been pregnant and given birth during one of the games. An older man, player 456, was holding her baby, protecting her, since the girl could barely walk.

Player 222 was one of the few people who No-eul cared about among the players, even though she didn't personally know her and most likely would never either.

☆☆☆

Myung-gi had a tight grip on your neck, squeezing it hard but not enough to choke you – yet, at least. He held you in his arm's length, close to the edge of the pillar. Just two or three steps behind and your foot would face only air.

"Myung-gi, please," Jun-hee begged, trying to stay calm but afraid he'd let go of you and make you drop. She felt her voice trembling as she spoke the words to him. "Please let go of her."

"Yeah? You want to save your little girlfriend here? Walk away and raise our kid together, huh?" Myung-gi rambled, keeping a tight hold on your throat but looking into Jun-hee's eyes. "Yeah, our kid, Jun-hee. That kid is mine. It's my kid too."

"Myung-gi –"

"I've seen how you look at each other," Myung-gi chuckled. "I get it, she's pretty and all. While I'm a piece of shit who's not capable of being a dad. That's what you wanted to hear, Jun-hee? That's what you think, right?"

"Myung-gi, that's not what i think. Can we talk later and figure things out, okay?" Jun-hee insisted, trying to keep him as calm as possible but he was just getting angrier as the seconds passed. He didn't even know why he was so furious. Was it just jealousy? Not wanting to see Jun-hee with someone else?

"We –" Myung-gi started but couldn't get past the first word because suddenly Myung-gi let go of you, a loud scream escaping his mouth. He fell on his knees, holding on his leg which started to bleed. Myung-gi pressed his hand on his leg, painting his palm red.

Everyone noticed the blood and how he had gotten injured, as baffled as others how it had happened out of nowhere. Was that a gunshot? Who the hell had shot him out of nowhere? There was still 4 minutes left of the second round.

But when Myung-gi had let go of you, he gave you a slight push, making you lose your balance and take couple of steps backwards. Your foot didn't meet the ground on the third step. However, you managed to hold your hands on the edge, the rest of your body hanging in the air. You wouldn't be able to stay there very long, there wasn't anything you could properly grab.

"Y/N!" Jun-hee shouted in panic and ran towards you. "Take my hand, i'll help you up."

"No, i'll just pull you down too," you refused and shook your head, tears rising into your eyes. You were going to die but you weren't going to take Jun-hee with you and make her child an orphan.

Oh my god you were really going to fall and fucking die. You had come this far, you could not die right in the end.

Then, your fingers slipped and you lost the hold on the pillar. Jun-hee had a tight grip on your arm but she wouldn't be able to pull you up on her own, she was too small and fragile for that.

"Someone help me!" Jun-hee shouted over her shoulder as she grabbed your arm, squeezing your flesh as hard as she could. She didn't care about whatever you said; she needed to save you. She needed you. She couldn't handle even the thought of losing you.

She had to save you, just like you had saved her.

"Please, please don't let go," Jun-hee pleaded, her body starting to slowly slide down further towards the edge, inch by inch, because of your weight. The rough surface was scratching her pants, but she tried to push herself back as hard as she could, using all the strength she had in her body.

Your hand was becoming sweaty, you couldn't hold on to Jun-hee much longer. You wanted to let go so you wouldn't take Jun-hee with you. She was crying – no, you were both crying.

The moment Myung-gi pushed you over the edge, Gi-hun knew he needed to help you, immediately. But he was holding the baby, trying to figure out what to do. Of course he needed to help you and Jun-hee, she couldn't get you up by herself, but what was he going to do with the baby? If he put her down and left her alone, one of the players could grab and kill her. But he needed to take that risk, otherwise you would be dead.

Gi-hun made it to you and Jun-hee just in time, grabbing your arm and pulling you up with Jun-hee. Just a few more seconds and you would have been dead, bones crushed all the way down there on the floor with the players 353, 203, 039 and, sadly, Min-su.

When you were up on your own two feet again, Jun-hee immediately crashed against you and wrapped her arms tightly around your waist, almost suffocating you. Her body was trembling, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Thank god you're safe," Jun-hee mumbled against your chest, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself down. Shake off the thought of you being dead.

"Are you alright?" Gi-hun asked, his hand on your shoulder and worry bright in his eyes. You managed to just nod, heart racing from that moment. That was the closest you had come to death during these games.

Another gunshot made all of you flinch, separating Jun-hee from you. Now the player 100 had collapsed on the ground, a bullet hole on the middle of his forehead.

Stage 2 – pass.

"Who the hell is firing the gun?" Myung-gi shouted, frantically looking all around the large room for a hidden sniper but wasn't able to spot one. "There wasn't supposed to be guns!"

It was for the players to decide who were to die and who to live, not the guards this time, unless the time would run out and there had still been plenty of time left.

There was no answer, only Myung-gi's loud words hanging in the air. The bridge started to slowly connect the second pillar to the third, letting you to move to the last stage.

Third pillar. You, Jun-hee, Gi-hun and Myung-gi facing each other – nobody else left anymore. Gi-hun was holding the baby, while Jun-hee had grabbed your hand, her fingers squeezing your hand hard; afraid you'd leave her side.

Right after you had pressed the button, turning it from red to green, Myung-gi grabbed the metal pipe to himself, about to push one of you over the edge. He was going to live, no matter what. Jun-hee stepped in front of you, trying to protect you from him – he wouldn't push Jun-hee off, right?

Although, Myung-gi had officially gone insane, so there was no knowing what he was about to do. However, due to the wound on his leg, leaving a blood trail on the ground, he wasn't able to move as quickly as in the beginning. He wasn't as big of a threat anymore to you.

Before the third round had lasted even a minute, another gunshot echoed in the room. This time, Myung-gi collapsed on the ground, another bullet shot into him – now to the head, the shot much more fatal.

Congratulations – you have now passed the game.

All of you just stood there in complete shock what had just happened. That wasn't in the rules. You were supposed to decide the victims when there was still time left. Kill each other.

Although, what mattered the most right now was that you, Jun-hee, the baby and Gi-hun would walk free and alive out of here.

"Is it really over?" Jun-hee asked quietly, feeling like it was all too good to be true.

"I guess so," you mumbled. That was it? There had to be another twist coming up. Where were you supposed to go now?

Jun-hee hesitated for a moment but then walked closer to Myung-gi, kneeling down next to him. She just looked at him, examining his face. Eyes open, staring into nothing. Lips slightly apart from each.

"Goodbye, asshole," Jun-hee whispered and cared enough just to close his eyes.

Then, she returned to you and felt a weight dropping from her shoulders now that Myung-gi was gone. That she'd never have to see him again.

☆☆☆

Jun-hee turned her back to her past, facing now her future – you.

"Jun-ho?" Gi-hun gasped as the four of you reached the boat by the beach. Not a moment too soon.

"Are you the only survivors?" he asked, looking at each of you one by one – his gaze especially glued at the baby Gi-hun was holding. Jun-ho had way too many questions but no time to go through them right now.

"Just us," Gi-hun confirmed.

Jun-ho helped all of you to get up into the boat, especially Jun-hee since she still had trouble with her leg.

"Alright, we should be –" Jun-ho stopped mid-sentence, glancing over Gi-hun's shoulder. His face fell, making everyone turn around to see what he had seen.

A woman dressed up in a pink suit, a rifle in her arms, was standing a few metres behind you. Everyone went into slight panic for a moment. She was clearly one of the guards, though not wearing a black mask anymore.

"Room for one more?" she asked.

It took a few seconds for Jun-ho to answer but he then nodded his head and motioned her to come to them. "Yeah, come on. We don't have much time left."

"What?" Gi-hun asked, needing a good explanation why the hell Jun-ho was willing to take a guard with them without another question. "Why are we taking her with us?"

"I'll explain everything to you later, but she's coming with us," Jun-ho ordered. She had helped Jun-ho earlier, proving that she was on their side, so it would be unfair of him to just leave her to die.

The boat took off, finally leaving the island behind you and heading further towards the sea. Just a few minutes later, you heard a loud explosion coming from the island – the entire place was now completely destroyed.

The place where you had been trapped and fighting for your life for a week, was now turning into ash. The place where you had been only a moment ago was now gone forever.

The idea and thought of it all felt so surreal.

While you sat in the boat, everyone stayed silent for a long time, trying to process everything what had happened alone.

You eyed the guard suspiciously and decided to speak up, to break the thick silence. "Why are you here?"

"I did you a favor, might as well give me a ride back home," she replied, daring to give you a smile.

"Wait, you shot all those other players?" Jun-hee asked, now straightening her back and joining the conversation. "Why?"

"Had to get the game over a little faster." She nodded towards the island which was now in flames.

"But why help us?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. "You could have just left us there and escape on your own."

She went silent for a moment, and you were dying to know what was going on in her head. This was the first moment when you could speak freely to one of the guards without a danger of getting shot in the head.

"Because i don't think the four of you deserve to die," she replied, and you could tell that it was the only answer you would get from her.

So, some of the guards still had a heart that cared about a human life. Or at least one of them.

"What's your name?" Jun-hee asked.

"No-eul," she replied, realizing how much time had passed since the last time she or someone else had said her name out loud. Here she had been known only as 011. She then glanced at the baby Jun-hee was holding, a warm smile spreading on her face. "She's beautiful. Does she have a name yet?"

"No, i haven't really had the time to think about it yet."

After that, all of you sat in silence for a moment, the games speedrunning inside your heads. How the past week had changed all of you. Not only financially but even more mentally. How many people you had watched die right in front of you – some of them strangers that had become your friends. You felt like you had gone through a long war but it was only one week.

"Y/N," Jun-hee whispered, her baby fully asleep in her arms. "What do you plan to do now?"

"Well, i don't know, really."

"I'd like to have you in my life, if that's okay with you," Jun-hee suggested, careful and nervous with her words how you would react. You had lived together in this small bubble, away from the life you knew. You and Jun-hee lived completely separate lives – would there be room for Jun-hee in the future? "I'm not asking you to become a stepmom for her but maybe, if you'd like, her godmother?"

"Really?" you gasped, excited of the thought. "You mean that?"

"Yeah, i'd like that very much," Jun-hee smiled.

"Well, i'd like that too. Very much," you agreed.

God, how much you wanted to kiss her right now. Was this the right moment? Would she even want to? You still remembered the kiss she had given you after the jump rope, the memory alone summoning butterflies into your stomach.

Jun-hee leaned against your shoulder as the waves moved the boat side to side, making you feel tired as well.

Gi-hun was chatting with Jun-ho about something, while No-eul was leaning her head against the wall, deep in her thoughts. Having looked at Jun-hee with her child, No-eul couldn't help but feel a sting in her heart, missing her own daughter as well. She'd find her some day – she'd have to.

"Y/N," Jun-hee mumbled quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad i met you," Jun-hee admitted, now looking into your eyes.

"I'm glad i met you too," you replied and smiled.

"Can i kiss you?" she asked, making your heart skip a beat. You didn't even have to answer with words, she got the permission from the mere look on your face. Smile on both of your faces, Jun-hee softly pressed her lips on yours.

For the rest of the trip on the boat, Jun-hee rested her head on your shoulder and fell asleep. Having a dream about you which she hoped would come true some day.

☆☆☆

[bigdumbbambieyes]

slight nsfw

He’s drunker than he’d anticipated.

Not sloppy drunk, just…moving a little looser, his blinks long like a comfortable cat, bumping into things and smiling to himself because oops…

He didn’t expect to get this drunk but his heart was just ripped from his chest, so…

He hiccups softly and moves through the crowd, feeling stupid in his Halloween costume now that Nancy’s gone and now he just looks like some loner loser wearing sunglasses inside. At least they hide his red eyes.

Maybe he’d gone outside to cry, maybe he didn’t.

He pours himself another cup of whatever and turns to go back outside — and runs right into a bare chest.

“Woah, easy, tiger,” the new kid all but purrs, grabbing Steve’s arm to steady him.

Steve blinks hard behind his sunglasses and focuses his eyesight as best he can, furrowing his brows as he shrugs the blond off, muttering/pouting, “Go away.”

Those blue eyes are sizing him up now, a knowing look on that annoyingly handsome face (handsome?), before the guys says, “C’mon, let’s go outside,” and grabs Steve’s arm, pulling him towards the backyard.

God, why didn’t he just go home?

At least the cool October air feels nice on his hot skin, a nice change from the stifling indoor air. He leans against the railing on the deck and takes another sip of his drink, making a face as it hits his tongue and how can he still taste it when it’s basically burned off all his tastebuds?

“Saw your girl leave without you,” the blond hums, leaning against the railing with him, and Steve turns to look at him in the dim light, the yellow-orange glow from the house highlighting the other’s features even with his sunglasses on.

It’s like, kinda unfair, how someone can look this good.

God, what was his name again?

“It’s messed up, y’know,” the blond hums as he pulls out his pack of cigs and pulls one out, “Pretty boy like you? You should be the one breaking hearts.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve slurs softly, watching the other put a cigarette between his lips, eyeing the blond moustache there, how the flame of his lighter shows more of his face, and what was Steve talking about again?

“Well?” The blond breathes out his inhale of smoke, brows pinched gently.

“Well, what?” Steve mutters dumbly, blinking.

It makes the guy laugh, his eyes crinkling as he grins, showing off perfect teeth, too. Fuck him. How dare he.

“Man, you’re wasted,” the blond chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes landing on Steve again as he takes a long, slow inhale.

Is there tension? Steve can feel something in his stomach.

God, is he gonna puke in front of the hot new guy?

Wait, no. No way.

It’s butterflies. He swears it.

“Y’know,” the blond mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, taking a step closer to Steve, those blue eyes boring into his own even through the dark plastic, so close now Steve can smell his cologne and it’s kinda making his head spin in a good way.

“What?” Steve mumbles in return, almost scared of anyone else hearing him, even though it’s just them back here.

There’s a mischievous look on that handsome face as the blond hums, his tone low and slow, “I’d let you break my heart, again and again and again…”

Steve’s drink slips out of his hand and falls onto the deck, spilling between their feet. Fuck. His shoes.

But it’s whatever, because he makes the guy laugh again, although softer this time. Like Steve made him laugh.

He hasn’t made anyone laugh in a while.

“I got it,” the blond purrs, taking his cigarette from his mouth and holding it to Steve’s, and he takes it between his lips silently.

He receives another little smirk for that before the blond is bending down, grabbing the red cup from the floor but not standing right away, no.

Instead, he looks up at Steve, blue eyes sharp and maybe just a little glazed over from drinking, but there’s intent there.

And, well. Steve can’t help but to imagine other things the guy could be doing down there, on his knees.

It’s silent. The only sound is the party inside, muffled, and it’s definitely his raw emotions and neediness that’s mixed terribly with alcohol that makes Steve reach down and put his thumb on those pretty lips.

And he’s not sure what the blond’s thinking, but his lips part, and his tongue coaxes Steve’s thumb inside. It’s warm and wet and the guys sucks, like he would Steve’s cock, and it makes something lost but familiar tilt its head in Steve in consideration.

Oh, he hasn’t felt this in a while.

It feels good.

“What was your name again?” He asks as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth with his other hand, licking his lips to wet them as he curls his index finger under the blond’s chin, keeping his thumb firmly in place.

The blond’s eyes are half-lidded as he mutters his name around Steve’s thumb, his tongue smoothing along his fingerprint, “B’lly.”

“I think you got something in your mouth there,” he hums, smiling as Billy tries to pull away but he doesn’t let him, earning him a glare.

There’s a fire in Billy’s eyes that Steve could become obsessed with.

And he feels it as Billy bites, nothing to break skin, but it’s enough for Steve to pull his hand away with a sharp ‘ow’ and Billy’s immediately standing, crowding him against the railing.

He should feel afraid, or something, but he doesn’t. Just a burning pit inside his stomach, which only grows as Billy reaches and pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, their eyes connecting again.

“You wanna get outta here?” Billy asks, plucking his cigarette from Steve’s hand, taking a long drag.

It’s a loaded question, full of possibilities and options. Like he’s been given a second chance at something, and it’s thrilling.

So, he nods, and follows Billy.

[myheartsaysyes]

Someone Like You

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Names and Silences

Word Count: 3.1k+

Notes: It’s about to get real y’all! I hope you enjoy this chapter. 🥰 Thank you @partylikemajima for always being so gracious as I relentlessly bother you with this story. ☺️🤣

The morning was warm but not yet heavy, sunlight sifting through the porch rails. Annie stopped by Mary’s house on her way to do a quick grocery run, her mind still on yesterday’s walk home with Smoke.

The screen door creaked open and slapped shut. Barefoot steps padded across the porch.

“Don’t start in on me,” Mary said, voice half-playful, half-regretful. “I know I disappeared on you yesterday.”

Annie looked her over. Mary stepped out onto the porch in a faded blue day dress, the kind worn thin by time and washing boards. The cotton clung to her from the lingering summer heat, its short sleeves rolled and uneven, like she’d tugged them up in a hurry. Her hair unpinned and wild, eyes still soft with sleep but guilt edging her smile.

“I wasn’t,” Annie said lightly. “You don’t owe me nothin.”

Mary plopped down with a groan on the porch steps, brushing her hair out of her face. “Still. I shouldn’t’ve left you like that. Slipped off with Stack like I ain’t got a lick of sense.”

Annie gave her a small smile and lied. “Didn’t bother me, none.”

Mary fidgeted with the hem of her skirt while her voice dropped lower, more honest. “Truth is… I don’t know what happens to me ‘round that boy. Like I go dumb in the head. I love him so much, Annie.” She paused, eyes distant. “Even when he makes me want to set him on fire.”

Annie laughed, her voice teasing. “If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”

Mary gave a crooked smile, shaking her head. “Love like that? It don’t come smooth. Never has.”

The porch fell quiet, Annie was just about to say goodbye to Mary so she could get her shopping done, when Mary sat up straighter and looked at Annie with a sly look.

“So,” she said. “You and the quiet one.”

Annie froze, blinked. “What, whatchu talkin’ bout?”

“Smoke,” Mary said. “You think I ain’t see the way you looked at him? And how he ain’t say a word to nobody that entire time—but he made sure you got home?” She grinned.

Annie’s cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t like that.”

Mary arched a brow. “You like him?”

Annie didn’t answer right away, just shifted her grocery basket on her hip. “I don’t know what I feel,” she said quietly. “But when I’m with him… I don’t feel scared. I feel… still. Like everythin’ else gets quiet too.”

Mary’s face shifted—gentle, thoughtful. She nodded. “Good,” she said. “Just don’t confuse quiet with safe.”

Annie turned to her. “What you mean?”

Mary looked down at her bare feet for a long moment. “Some folks carry silence like peace,” she said finally. “Others carry it like a weapon. Smoke—he the kind that only talks when he means it. He don’t waste words. But that don’t mean he ain’t dangerous.”

A crease formed between Annie’s brows. “You think he’d hurt me?”

Mary’s eyes found hers again—firm, but soft. “No, girl. I think he’d hurt for you. But love don’t always grow easy in soil like that.”

Annie looked down, thumb pressing into the weaving of her basket where it was frayed. “After the things I’ve heard bout him, some stuff you told me, he wasn’t what I expected. He wasn’t mean or nothin.”

“He’s not,” Mary said. “But Smoke’s been through things most boys wouldn’t survive. He don’t let people close for a reason.”

Annie swallowed. The question had been sitting on her tongue for minutes now. “What happened to them? Him and Stack?”

Mary sat back against the porch post, staring out at the trees like they held the answer. “That’s a story,” she murmured. “One you got a right to hear.”

She closed her eyes for a second, gathering it all like stones in her hands.

“The twins mama died birthin ‘em,” she said quietly. “My mama, she helped bring ‘em into this world. But the boys—they came too early. Stack got stuck in her. Smoke came first, but it was Stack who killed her. Least, that’s how they daddy saw it.”

Annie just stared, sat down on the porch next to Mary, placing her grocery basket down at her feet.

“Man was always mean,” Mary went on. “But after she died, he turned cruel. Took it out on those boys—mostly Stack. But Smoke… he took them beatings whenever he could. Protected his brother like he was born to do it.”

Annie’s chest tightened.

Mary leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “And then, one day… their daddy disappeared.”

Annie swallowed. “Disappeared?”

“Just gone,” Mary said. “No body. No funeral. Just—poof….gone. And them boys stopped looking scared after that.”

“You think Smoke…?”

Mary gave her a long look. “Some folks think so. That maybe he’d had enough. That he did what Stack never could.”

Annie’s voice was a whisper now. “What do you believe?”

Mary stared at her a long while, then spoke low. “I believe he did what needed doin’. And I believe he ain’t proud of it, but he sure ain’t sorry.”

Annie’s mouth parted. “You sound like you know more than you sayin’.”

Mary just looked at Annie, without saying a word.

———

The sun beat down heavy on the tin roof of Chow’s grocery store, warming the dusty planks of the porch where Smoke leaned, one boot crossed over the other. He flicked his cigarette into the dirt and rolled the heat of the day off his shoulders with a slow exhale. The street was busy—wagons creaking by, folks fussing over Sunday dinner fixings—but his eyes stayed trained on the store entrance.

The screen door creaked behind him.

“You gon’ stand out here all day like a guard dog?” Bo’s voice was light, teasing. He stepped onto the porch, wiping his hands on his apron. Flour dust clung to the sweat on his forearms.

Smoke didn’t look at him. “Ain’t guardin’ nobody.”

Bo chuckled. “Mmhmm. You just like leanin’ in the sun, then?”

Smoke said nothing, just let the silence stretch until it folded comfortably between them.

Bo leaned against the post beside him. “Heard y’all been back a few weeks now. Folks talkin’. Stack still stirrin’ up trouble?”

Smoke gave the faintest shake of his head. “Stack’s Stack.”

“Fair enough.” Bo looked out at the road, squinting. “Ain’t seen you in town much.”

“Didn’t come back for town.”

Bo nodded like he understood. “You eat yet?”

Smoke’s mouth curved just barely. “You offerin’?”

“You buyin’?”

Smoke finally glanced his way, and Bo laughed. “Thought so.”

The screen door groaned as Bo pushed it open, and Smoke followed him inside. The cool, dim air hit them like a hush—welcome after the thick heat outside. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with tins and jars. Burlap sacks of flour and sugar sat in lopsided rows, and the wooden floor creaked beneath their boots.

The scent hit next—tobacco, molasses, salt meat, and something sharp like vinegar. It wrapped around Smoke like a memory.

Bo was just about to speak when the screen door swung again. Bo turned his head, but Smoke was already looking.

There she was. Walking into the store.

Annie.

She wore a faded yellow dress that clung in places and loosened in others—soft cotton brushing her calves, the fabric swaying with each step. Her curves moved with quiet confidence, full and natural, like she didn’t know the kind of attention she pulled. Her waist dipped smooth into her hips, and Smoke’s eyes tracked the shape of her without meaning to.

The swell of her breasts rose gently beneath the cotton, the kind of soft and full that made it hard not to notice. Her backside curved round and high, the dress hugging just enough to suggest without showing. Smoke’s jaw flexed. He forced his eyes away, but his thoughts lingered on.

He needed to stop. Needed to get his damn mind right. This girl wasn’t for thinking like that—especially not her.

Her hair was pinned up, but some of her tight curls had already slipped free in the heat, sticking to her neck. She held a folded list in one hand, her basket in the other, and her brow furrowed like she was on a mission.

There was nothing flashy about her. Nothing loud.

And still—he felt it. Low in his chest.

Bo followed his line of sight, and when he saw who Smoke was staring at, his mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

“You know her?” he asked under his breath, elbow brushing Smoke’s like he couldn’t help himself. “She come in here ’bout once a month. Always alone. Always polite. Ain’t from town, though.”

Smoke didn’t answer. Didn’t look away, either.

Bo chuckled. “Didn’t figure you had a type,” he said, nudging again. “But I get it now.”

Smoke’s eyes narrowed, just a little. Not enough to start something—just enough to make Bo back off.

Bo raised both hands like alright, alright and stepped away, still grinning to himself.

But Smoke?

He was still watching Annie.

And he hadn’t even realized he’d stopped breathing.

Smoke didn’t move. Just watched. The way she scanned the shelves. The way she stood on her toes to reach for a jar of molasses. The way she turned slightly away when a boy sidled up next to her, talking too fast and standing too close.

Smoke’s jaw twitched.

The boy…. Leon—young, maybe seventeen, with a sharp smile and slicked-down hair—said something that made Annie laugh, but the kind of laugh you knew meant, I’m just being polite. She stepped back, but he stepped forward.

That was enough.

Smoke pushed off the wall and moved towards her.

⸻

The store was cooler than the street outside, but still crowded—bodies weaving between barrels of flour, shelves of preserves, and bins of dried beans. The scent of cured meat, cornmeal, and sun-warmed wood filled the air.

Annie stepped inside, list in hand, eyes scanning. She’d come for just a few things, but her mind was a little foggy—half on the list, half somewhere else.

Or someone.

She shook her head and moved toward the shelf with molasses, biting the inside of her cheek. Focus, Annie.

Still, she felt it—that low buzz under her skin. That strange awareness that made the back of her neck warm. Like she was being watched. Not in a way that unsettled her. Like something familiar was nearby, something quiet and steady.

She reached up for a jar on the high shelf, fingers stretching.

“Let me help you with that.”

The voice didn’t match the feeling in her chest.

She turned and found herself face to face with a boy—Luther, she thought. Or maybe Leon. He grinned too wide and looked her up and down like he’d earned the right.

“No thank you,” she said politely, already stepping back.

But he moved forward.

“You sure? Girl like you shouldn’t have to lift a finger.” He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice like he thought it made him sound smooth. “’Specially not with all that you carryin’.” His eyes scanned down to Annie’s breasts.

Annie’s stomach twisted. She tried to step to the side, but he matched her.

“I’m fine,” she said, firmer this time.

He didn’t listen.

He grinned. “Ain’t you the new girl in town, Miss Anita… yeah from what’s that……Alabama?”

She offered a polite nod and wasn’t trying to correct him either. “Yep, Anita from Alabama.”

He leaned on the edge of the shelf like they were already friends. “Yeah, yeah, heard you live out there in them woods. You must get tired of all them trees and quiet. Bet it get lonely up there, huh?”

Annie gave a thin smile. “I like quiet.”

“Well maybe you need somebody to bring a little noise your way.”

He stepped a bit closer. Close enough that she caught the scent of too-sweet cologne and something sour beneath it. She shifted back, but the shelves were behind her.

“Uh, Luther, Leon, I—”

“She said no.”

The voice cut through the air like a blade.

Luther—or whatever his name was—turned sharply. Smoke stood behind him, still as a shadow but twice as heavy.

The boy laughed, trying to play it off. “Ain’t nobody talkin’ to you, Smoke.”

Smoke didn’t flinch. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

There was something in his eyes that made the boy take a half-step back. People nearby grew quiet. The boy scoffed, but his bravado was gone. “Was just jokin’.”

“Wasn’t funny.”

A beat. Then the boy muttered something under his breath and ducked around Smoke, slipping out the door fast.

Annie stared after him, heart racing. When she turned back, Smoke was watching her—not angry, not proud. Just steady.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded, smoothing her dress though it didn’t need smoothing. “Didn’t need savin’.”

“I know,” he said, low. “Did it anyway.”

She looked down at the basket in her hands. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, then reached for the bag of cornmeal in her basket like it weighed more than it did. “You finished here?”

“Um, almost, still have a few things to get.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

Again, just like last time….. it wasn’t a question.

Annie should’ve said no. But the truth was—she didn’t want to.

———

The sun was starting to dip when they left Bo Chow’s store. Long shadows stretched across the dusty road as Smoke walked beside Annie, one hand curled around the basket she no longer carried.

They didn’t speak at first.

The hush between them wasn’t awkward, though. It felt good. Comfortable. Like the quiet had been made just for them.

Annie peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He looked ahead, jaw set, eyes unreadable, the weight of the world tucked behind those lashes as if it had been there too long to leave.

“You always hang around grocery stores like that?” she asked finally, lips twitching.

Smoke didn’t smile, but something in his face softened. “Not usually.”

“You always scare boys off?”

He glanced at her sideways. “Only the ones who don’t listen.”

A beat passed. Annie looked down at the basket swinging easily in his hand.

“Is that too heavy?” she asked. “I can carry it.”

Smoke’s brow lifted just slightly, and he stopped walking. “You think I can’t handle a basket?”

Annie blinked. “No—I just meant—”

He tilted his head, watching her fluster. Then the edge of his mouth twitched—almost a smirk. “It’s fine.”

She let out a breath, half-laughing. “Alright then. Just trying to be polite.”

They kept walking, a little closer now.

“What’s in it, anyway?” he asked after a minute.

Annie glanced down at the basket. “Stuff for my grandmama mostly. She’s been working on a new batch of oils and powders.”

“Rootwork?” Smoke asked, the word falling quiet off his tongue.

She nodded. “Mm-hmm. Protection, cleansing, grief work… that kind of thing.”

Smoke looked ahead again, but slower this time. Like he was thinking on that.

“You believe in all that?” he asked.

“I believe in what I feel,” she said.

Then, after a pause, she looked at him—soft but sure.

“Right now, I feel calm.”

Smoke didn’t answer right away. Just let the word calm hang between them.

Annie shifted next to him, watching his profile as they walked. “What about you?” she asked. “What do you believe in?”

Smoke kept his gaze forward, jaw working slightly like he was chewing on more than the question. When he spoke, his voice was low.

“I believe in what I see.”

There was no arrogance in it—just truth. Simple. Quiet. Heavy.

Annie didn’t argue. Didn’t need to. She nodded slowly, her steps matching his.

“I get that,” she said. “Ain’t everybody raised to trust feelins. Some folks… feelins got ’em hurt.”

Smoke glanced at her then. Not sharply—just real. Like she’d peeled something back without even trying.

Their eyes held for a beat, the road stretching out before them, the sun sinking low behind the trees.

Annie looked down at the dirt path, then back at him, the question rising before she could stop it.

“What’s your real name?”

Smoke’s steps slowed. He looked down, then back at her.

“You already know it,” he said.

“I do,” she admitted. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

He stopped walking. Turned to face her fully. The basket stayed in one hand, but the other curled at his side like he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

His eyes—dark, steady—held hers in a way that made her breath catch.

“Elijah,” he said quietly.

Annie’s lips parted. She’d heard Mary say it before, had even whispered it once or twice under her breath after he walked her home that first time. But hearing him speak it—offered in that low, careful voice—felt like a door had just opened between them.

She smiled—shy but playful—and tilted her head. “Well, since we were never properly introduced at Mary’s…”

She extended her hand, fingers trembling just slightly.

“My name is Annalise Marceaux,” she said, her voice formal at first. Then, shyly, “But… Annie for short.”

Smoke looked down at her hand like he wasn’t sure if it was a joke or something more. But then he put down the basket, reached out and took it.

His hand was rough, calloused, but warm—a little bit larger than hers, but gentle. Their fingers curled into each other, palms pressed soft between them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Elijah Moore,” she added, voice quiet as a prayer.

“Nice to meet you too, Annalise Marceaux… Annie.”

The sound of her name—full and unhurried in his voice—sent a ripple through her chest.

She’d heard her name spoken a thousand times, but never like this.

Not like it was something.

Not like SHE meant something.

Her breath caught, just for a second. A flicker of heat bloomed low in her belly, unexpected, but not unwelcome.

She glanced up at him, heart tapping wild behind her ribs, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel invisible.

He saw her.

All of her.

Elijah said her name like it was worth remembering.

And then… neither of them let go.

They stayed like that, hand in hand on the side of the dirt road, the sky bleeding gold above them. Their eyes met—and held. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel invisible.

Standing in the heat and dust of Clarksdale, Mississippi, it felt like he saw her. Not just the rumors that surrounded her.

All of her.

Annie’s heart skittered in her chest. She let out a nervous little laugh and slowly pulled her hand back, eyes dipping.

But Elijah didn’t laugh.

He didn’t even blink.

He just kept looking at her, his gaze steady and unreadable—but far from empty.

And in that look, Annie felt something stir. Something deep and real that didn’t yet have a name—but it was there.

Alive.

Before she could think better of it, the words slipped out soft and hopeful: “Would you… want to stay for supper?”

[lcvejjoong]

the things we pretend

pairing : best friend! jongho! x fem! reader

synopsis : Even when the mind forgets, the heart remembers — even if it's only for a moment.

genre : slice of life, fluff, friends to lovers, soft romance 

warnings : none

author’s note : cute lil oneshot 🙈

word count : 1k

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You met Jongho on the second day of university, right outside the music building, where you’re both hopelessly lost and trying not to show it.

You’re squinting at a confusing campus map. 

He’s standing beside you with a banana milk in one hand and a look of quiet panic in his eyes.

You’re the first to laugh. “Please tell me you also have no idea where Room B305 is.”

He blinks. “Not a clue.”

You grin. “Cool. Let’s get lost together then.”

That’s how it starts. 

Not with fireworks, but with shared confusion, easy conversation, and the kind of comfort that sneaks up on you.

Friendship with Jongho is quiet, but full.

You learn his favorite snacks. He learns the exact way you like your coffee. 

You fall into step beside him without meaning to. He holds your bag without asking.

It becomes a rhythm—one you don’t question. 

Study dates. Shared playlists. 

Laughing at inside jokes no one else understands. 

Texting him when you’re sad, and him showing up with strawberry milk and your favorite chips.

You always say you’re just friends.

Everyone around you disagrees.

Your friends call him your “fake boyfriend.” 

Jongho just shrugs and smiles.

You laugh it off.

You try not to wonder why the thought doesn’t feel fake at all.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Everything changes on a Saturday night.

A mutual friend hosts a game night. The room is packed with friends, snacks, blankets, and someone pulls out a deck of “Couples Charades.”

“Pass,” you say instantly. “Jongho and I aren’t—”

“Oh, come on,” someone interrupts, “you two act more married than half the couples I know.”

Before you can argue, Jongho throws an arm around your shoulder and says easily,

“Guess I’m her husband tonight.”

Your heart stutters.

But you smile. Pretend. Play the part.

You act out “laundry day.” He mimes folding your clothes and sniffs an invisible hoodie.

“This one smells like you,” he says with a smirk.

You pretend to gag. But you’re laughing.

You fake a grocery shop. Fake bake cookies. Fake argue about cereal.

Except it starts to feel like it’s not fake at all.

There’s a moment—just a heartbeat—when he looks at you mid-laugh, soft and unguarded, and your breath catches.

It hits you then.

You’ve been pretending for a long time. But not about your feelings.

You’ve just been pretending they didn’t exist.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

That night, he walks you home like always.

The streetlights are warm. The world is quiet.

You don’t want him to leave. You don’t want the feeling to go.

So you say: “Come up. I’ll make tea.”

He says: “Okay,” like he was already hoping you’d ask.

You fold laundry together on your living room floor. 

He’s in his hoodie and socks. You’re wrapped in your blanket. 

A quiet playlist hums in the background. 

He folds your shirts like he’s done it a hundred times.

“You know,” you say softly, “we were a little too good at that game.”

He hums, folding a towel. “Yeah.”

“That didn’t feel like pretending.”

Jongho pauses. Looks at you.

Then says it—barely above a whisper:

“Because it wasn’t.”

You go very still.

He fidgets with the fabric in his hands. “I mean—at least, not for me. I think I’ve been pretending not to love you for a while now.”

Your throat tightens. “Jongho…”

He shakes his head like he’s bracing for rejection. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I didn’t want to keep pretending if you didn’t want to.”

So you take the shirt from his hands.

Set it aside.

And say the only thing that matters.

“I don’t want to pretend either.”

Hesitant. Like you’re both afraid to move too fast and ruin it.

But when he touches your cheek, and you lean in closer, everything clicks into place—like you’ve been leading up to this moment your whole life.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You fall asleep on the couch together. Limbs tangled. His hand in your hair. Your face against his chest.

And when you wake up, sunlight pouring in through your window, he’s still there—warm, solid, breathing slowly.

“You drooled on me,” he mumbles, voice still sleepy.

You smack his arm without lifting your head. “You liked it.”

He grins. “I kind of did.”

That morning, you made breakfast together.

He burns the toast. You pretend it’s gourmet. 

He steals a bite of your eggs. You threaten him with the spatula. 

He kisses your cheek in response and says,“Worth it.”

And somehow, without saying anything, he stays.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Over the next few weeks, the pretending fades. 

Naturally.

Jongho’s toothbrush ends up next to yours. His hoodies live on your chair. He shows up after work with groceries and says, “I saw your fridge and panicked.”

You make dinner while he hums from behind you, arms wrapped lazily around your waist. You fold his socks into neat pairs while he brushes his teeth and sings off-key in the background.

It’s easy. Gentle. Yours.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

One night, curled up beside him, you ask quietly:

“Is this… love?”

Jongho presses a kiss to your temple. “If it’s not, I don’t want anything else.”

You turn to face him. “You were always home to me. Even before I realized it.”

He brushes his thumb across your cheek. “Then let’s stay home. Forever.”

You fall asleep with his hoodie wrapped around you and his arms around your waist.

And this time, it’s not pretending.

It’s love—slow and real.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2025

[m3mento-m0rii]

How would the Saja boys react to receiving hate online ? We all know that most of them would brush jt off and say it’s not a big deal but Ik that some of them would really take it to heart and prolly need some hard core comfort and head pats [fan fic request] (I literally had no idea how to start it so now this has an odd format sobs-)

Digital Disdain—

2.0k words; Saja Boys x reader Masterlist | Requests open!

The Sajas get hate online and you help pull them out of it. Well . . . some of them.

A/N: Thank you for the request!! No, it's okay I could read it sksisng. I had fun with this one, I angst is especially fun for me. I hope this meets your standards, anon!

Jinu—

“This guy is the competition for Huntrix 😐”

���BAHAHA WHAT WAS THAT MOVE AT THE BEGINNING OF SODA POP”

“How did Soda Pop beat Golden?? BE SO FR.”

Honestly, Jinu didn’t care. Things were going to plan. Mostly. The fans were part of their plan, yes, but . . . they were literally going to get their souls stolen by the end of their run. So who’s really laughing??

. . .

The answer was ‘not Jinu’. Why did it still kind of hurt?

At first, he could ignore it. They were the minority, and everyone else was treating it like the best thing since sliced bread. Eating it up. Even Gwi-Ma was bumping it. Why did it matter that Gwi-Ma cared? Since when did he care that much about others' opinions?

He knew who he was.

Did he?

Jinu knew they were a bunch of nobodies. They didn’t help the already torturous voices lingering on the outskirts of his mind.

That’s how you found him lying underneath Derpy, barely visible (with the exception of his legs) on the floor of his room. Sussie was staring down at him, one set of eyes flickering to the new disturbance in the room before returning back to Jinu.

“Um . . . Jinu??”

You walked further into the room, passing Derpy to find the other half of the demon. He was staring blankly at the ceiling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He took a deep breath. One of those long sighs meant to release the tension in your body but barely put a dent in it, because it didn’t erase the thoughts in your mind.

You plopped down next to him, watching as his head turned tiredly to stare at you. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.”

You frowned at his difficult behavior, looking at his discarded phone. It was still open, displaying different messages about his work. You nudged his hand.

“I thought it was amazing, if that means anything,” you murmured, and he only hummed.

“This is dumb.”

“Not if it makes you feel bad about yourself,” you shook your head. “There are always going to be rude people, but the truth is that only you get to decide the worth of what pertains to you. Music is art, and art is subjective.”

“The plan will only work if people like us, though.”

“This isn’t about the plan, it’s about how you feel,” You flicked his head. He only pouted, and you pinched his cheek. “You’re allowed to feel some type of way when people are assholes, but don’t forget that only you get to decide who you are and what it means to you.”

Jinu stayed quiet. Gently, he pushed Derpy off of his form so that he could press his face into your side.

“You could have hypnotized people into liking you,” you murmured. “Don’t forget that the majority decided to put you up here in the first place. You are a good musician.”

“But am I good?”

No. Not technically. You, of course, knew that trying to sacrifice the population to a demon king was a bad idea. You weren’t a stranger to his past. Not a good decision at all. But instead of telling him that, you left him with something else:

“You can decide to be.”

That stuck with Jinu for a while.

Abby—

You were scrolling on your phone, lying on the couch; there wasn’t much going on that day. The Sajas raided Huntrix’s fansigning recently, and it was a top tier power play. Everything seemed to be going well.

At least, you thought so. Maybe you were wrong, because Abby came and flopped his big ass over you.

“O-kay,” you huffed, wrapping your arms around him anyway. He nuzzled further into the crook of your neck, and you knew that if he wasn’t looking at you, something was bothering him. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Abby didn’t say anything, only snaking his arms under your waist and holding you loosely. You allowed him; he’d come around eventually. He just had to get out of his own head. So you went back to swiping on tiktok, earbuds in, until you came across a post about the recent event.

Some random user talking about Abby, and a lot of comments saying the same thing. It had gotten a reasonable amount of traction, though definitely not as much as the love he got.

“Prime example of guys being attractive until you realize they also think they’re attractive.”

“This cornball was really stenciling his abs on paper and handing them out to fans??”

“If you’re an Abby fan you just like him because he’s attractive, bc what else is there??”

A little can go a long way.

You gently tilted his head up, trying to meet his eyes. He wouldn’t look at you. “Is this because of what the internet is saying?”

He swallowed thickly. His frown got deeper, and he made a noise that could hardly be distinguished between a yes or a no. Your fingers brushed his cheek.

“You are attractive,” You easily whispered, your eyes never leaving him even if he wouldn’t let them connect, “And there’s nothing wrong with being confident about it. The world is full of people who aren’t comfortable with how they look, so to come to terms with your own is an amazing feat in itself. There’s a difference between making edits for yourself and then having people do it for you.”

“They called me a cornball,” Abby whined, and you only laughed.

“You are kind of cheesy-”

“Hey-!”

“But I love it,” you finished, and finally he looked at you. That sad expression slipped off his face for wider eyes, as if waiting for you to explain. “See? That proves you’re not just looks. Anyone who really knows you would know how much you think. And you’re skilled, too, because you dance, you sing, you perform, and people love that. That’s more than what most of those people can say for themselves.”

Abby thought for a moment, his lips pursing before deciding you had a point. He sank into you a bit more as your fingers slipped through his hair. He put those thoughts away, because who were those people? “. . . You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“No one is always right,” he smiled, “but you can have that title this time.”

Mystery—

Mystery knew that there would always be someone yapping about him. Of course, he was aware that he didn’t always act normal. He wasn’t normal, and he wouldn't completely pretend to be.

That didn’t make people any less mean.

“What the hell? Did he just bark??”

“Just anybody think they can be an idol now, istg.”

“He doesn’t even say anything. What a freak.”

Mystery honestly didn’t care. Well, he tried not to, anyway. He wasn’t phased. Not he. Certainly not. 

But then you checked in on him, and suddenly it did matter.

Just because he wanted the pets, though.

“You know you’re not weird, right?” You had said to him randomly, the both of you sitting on his bed, taking a break between movies. He didn’t dignify the words with so much as a glance.

“You saw?”

You made a so-so motion (yes, you did see). You opened your arms for him, and he entered them without question.

“It’s okay. Some things aren’t meant to be understood.” He shrugged, pressing his head under yours.

“You should be.”

Mystery inhaled slowly, exhaling just the same. “The people who matter do, and that’s enough. Thank you, though.”

He knew that he kind of invited it with the way he acted sometimes. Mystery wouldn’t change how he was just to make others more comfortable, however.

What he would do was accept your affections when you thought he was sad, even if he could just drape himself over you if he felt like it.

Seems the haters are good for something.

Romance—

When you walked in and found Romance hunched over the couch, not taking up space, no perfect posture for once as he rolled through social media, you knew something was up. He didn’t even hear you come in.

You felt your heart drop when you saw his fingers brush his cheek, though.

“Romance??”

He immediately tensed up, his head slowly raising to see you. A horrified, wobbly smile formed on his face. “. . . Hi.”

You immediately dropped your bag at the door, kicking your shoes off so that you could curl up on the couch next to him. His smile only widened—self-deprecation, you’d seen that face before—as you cupped his face, but you could see the slight puffiness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” you pressed, worry heavy in your chest. Romance shook his head, letting out a little wet laugh.

Your heart only broke more.

“(Y/N),” he started, his hands pressing over yours, “what do you think of me?”

What??

“Why are you asking?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

Your lips twinged as you tried to find the right words. “I think you’re lovely,” you finally decided, “I think that you’re one of the most important people in my life. I think you’re just right. Now, why are you asking?”

Romance sniffed, trying to keep himself from ugly crying in front of you. “I don’t know, people are just . . . mean, I guess. Do you think I talk too much?”

“No,”

“Am I only pretty?”

“What? No, not at all—”

“Am I too much of a—”

“Flirt?” You ask, and he didn’t answer. “That’s literally your whole gimmick. It may be the persona you put on for the public, but people who perceive you outside are only seeing the way you play your role.”

Romance hesitated, finally meeting your eyes. “. . . You don’t think it’s annoying?”

“No, Romance,” you reassured, wrapping your arms around his neck snuggly. His head pressed into the dip of your shoulder, his own arms snaking around you. “It’s endearing.”

He swallowed any other noises he could have made, taking another shaky breath. “Sorry, I just . . .”

“You have no reason to apologize, lovely,” You promised. “The thing about communities on the internet is that there will always be one for hate. Don’t forget about the amount of people who adore you, too.”

Romance settled for a while, eventually calming with your hands gently traveling his back. “. . . Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Baby—

Baby was grinning at his phone. Deviously. You walked up behind him to peer over his shoulder. He was staring at . . . hate comments??

“This is a grown ass man, btw.”

“The way he switches up?? Can we pick a side, please??”

“I just think it’s funny they picked him to be the maknae.”

You raised a brow at him. “You’re laughing at online bullying??”

Baby only shrugged, scrolling further to find more. Hell, he even followed the page. The audacity. “It’s funny they think this fazes me.”

. . . Not gonna lie, you were a little concerned for him. You pushed the phone away from him and onto the table, pulling up a chair next to him. At the loss of the device, he only focused on eating more of his snacks. “Do we need to have a conversation about your mental health?”

“I’m fine,” he deadpanned. “The bars have to come from somewhere, though.”

You mulled over that one for a moment, then decided it made it’s own sense. “. . . Can you teach me how to be that nonchalant?”

“Nah, it’s something you’re born with,” he snickered, going back to his phone. His free hand was making notes on a spare napkin, and you had to admire the outlook.

Finally, you decided to let it be. “Whatever,” you leaned back in your chair, stealing a chip. He didn’t even glance at you. Though he did nudge you a little as you started watching a video; his own acknowledgement that you cared.

To each their own, you guessed.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Heyy I hope you guys enjoyed!! Sorry Mystery's and Baby's are kind of shorter than the rest, I just think it wouldn't phase them as much in my personal opinion. Slowly working my way through a few requests! I'm getting to them I swear. See you soon, lovelies <33

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @abby-himbo-truther @kpopmultistans

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Cool Points (Part 2)

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!Reader (pro footballer player)

Summary: Having fought long and hard for custody of her two younger siblings, Y/N was ready for smooth sailing at least until the F1-obsessed twins became teenagers. What she wasn't expecting was for Lando to come and turn her world upside down

Warnings: Swearing, a lil angst, talks of past child neglect and allusion to past child abuse, slow burn to start but largely just domestic fluff so we good

Word Count: 4,866

A/N: Part two - I hope you guys enjoy. There'll be one more part to bring us to present day, so just a lot of domestic fluff to come. Please let me know what you thought and if you'd like to see more F1 writing in the future ❤️

Part One

2022 (Age 22)

“Y/N - hang back a sec, if you would?”

Y/N slowed to a jog, gesturing to Tara to continue onto the changing room without her as she turned around to face where their coach, Jude, and captain, Liza, were standing. From one of the stands, she could still hear her siblings and Lando cheering - she was sure they had made a game of it, to see who of them could cheer the loudest for their training, but Y/N couldn’t particularly find it within herself to care.

“What’s wrong?” She panted, hands on her hips.

“Take a second to catch your breath,” Jude ordered. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Liza said, practically beaming at her.

Y/N was going to miss Liza - she had announced at one of the training sessions the previous week that she would be leaving Chelsea. She had been Y/N’s captain ever since she herself had signed her contract when she was 18, and she knew it had been Liza who had vouched for her place on the national team both in the Olympics and the World Cup. More than that, she had been a valuable character witness during the adoption hearing for the twins, vouching for Y/N’s capability as a guardian to the two kids.

“Good work today,” Jude started. “There’s for sure been some improvement with your footwork - and your teamwork with Tara-"

“It’s like you’re telepathic sometimes,” Liza cut him off. “Which is exactly what you want for your midfielders.”

“Ah - thank you,” Y/N said, not quite sure what to make of the sudden compliments. 

“When Liza told me of her plans to leave, I asked if she had any suggestions for who should be named Captain,” Jude began. Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she began to connect the dots.

“I put you forwards,” Liza confirmed. “I think you’re ready.”

“I’ve been watching more closely for the past week and I have to agree.”

“I… I’m flattered,” Y/N began slowly. “But - my schedule, and there are others who have more experience.”

“Maybe - but the team listen to you, they respect you,” Jude informed her. “Just - think about it for now. We’ll schedule a meeting to go over it next week, alright? I know you have… other commitments.” As if on cue, there was another shriek of laughter from the stands and Y/N had to smile. “But we can work something out, okay?”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good man,” Jude said, clapping his hand on her shoulder. “Now - it sounds as though you’ve got some adoring fans to get to.”

“Yeah - sorry again about that. The Goblins insisted Lando come to watch training,” Y/N said apologetically.

“It’s nice to have them here - it’s been a while since you’ve brought them.”

“Despite my best attempts, they still have minimal interest in football.”

“A shame - suppose it doesn’t help that your boyfriend’s an F1 driver, he’s bound to be encouraging that.”

“Me and Lando aren’t together,” Y/N dismissed immediately. “But he definitely has a hand in their continued love of all things Forumla One.”

“I’ll certainly miss them when I leave the team, though,” Liza inputted, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Please - when I told Haz you’d signed a new contract, she asked if I’d buy her merch for your new team because she wants to change allegiance. Absolute nightmare child.” 

“That’s my girl,” Liza laughed.

Y/N lifted a hand as she jogged away from her manager and old captain, her mind racing with thoughts of what they had proposed. When she got to the changing room, only Tara was still inside, brushing her hair out.

“What did they want? Offer you the captaincy?” 

“How’d you know?”

“We’ve been taking bets as a team,” Tara shrugged. “Which you’d know if you ever came out for team drinks,” she added, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“I try and come for the first round!” Y/N protested, grabbing her towel and heading towards the showers. Tara followed her, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“And you always pay for the first round - which is why we keep you around,” she got a more serious expression then. “But it’s true, then? They made you captain?”

“They’ve asked me to think on it,” Y/N corrected, beginning to strip.

“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know - maybe.”

“Your twins would be fuming if they know they’re the reason,” Tara warned her.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the changing room door and the sound of Haz’s voice calling for her.

“I said I’d think on it and I will.”

“Talk it through with them - they’re old enough to understand and have an opinion, Y/N,” she hesitated before her grin widened into something sharper. “And tell Lando, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.”

“Don’t you have a date to get to?” Y/N laughed, not bothering to correct Tara’s words - her best friend knew exactly what was going on with Lando, and just liked to tease her about it. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Tara put her hands up and turned away. “I’ll let Haz know you’re just showering.”

Y/N showered quickly and changed into some regular clothes before stuffing her kit into her sports bag and putting it over her shoulder. Haz was waiting outside, leaning against the wall opposite the door to the changing rom with her nose buried in a book.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Queenie,” Y/N said, smoothing her hand over her sister’s hair. 

“Took so long I had to turn to studying,” Haz huffed, but there was a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N laughed, leading her sister outside, where Lando had managed to get his hands on a football, and was kicking it back and forth with Tony. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the scene.

“Thinking of switching sport?” She teased.

Lando turned around, a beaming smile on his face.

“You were awesome!”

“It wan’t a match,” Y/N laughed, ignoring the fluttering of her heart.

“She’s also great in matches,” Tony inputted quietly, kicking the football over to Haz.

“Of course she is!”

“You could come to a match,” Haz offered eagerly, booting the ball over to Lando.

“I’d love to!” 

“If you hang around until next year you could come to the world cup,” Y/N joked.

“Have you been selected for the team?” Lando asked excitedly. “Is that what they wanted to talk to you about?”

“They floated team selection, like, a month ago. I think the Olympics means that I’m likely going to make the team - especially since Chelsea’s at the top of the league anyway,” Y/N dismissed. 

“Well I’ll certainly still be around next year so I’m definitely going to hold you to World Cup tickets,” Lando informed her. His words warmed her from the inside out. 

She hadn’t expected to hear from him again after Silverstone last year - after they had kissed and she had insisted it couldn’t go anywhere, she’d assumed he’d lose interest. But that hadn’t been the case - instead, the opposite had happened. 

He had made himself constantly available to her - he’d text her about his strangest thoughts, and would send her pictures from the Paddock of his fellow drivers for her to show to the twins. He’d call her to listen to her worries about her siblings - offering words of support or just an outlet for her constant fears, and always tried to assure her that she was doing a good job raising them. 

Lando had even invited the three of them to stay with him in Monaco over the twins’ half term during the football off-season. It had been a brilliant week - Lando had organised a packed itinerary for them all, and Y/N knew that the twins were still bragging about the trip to their school friends.

If she was being entirely honest, Y/N wasn’t sure what she would have done without his support over the past year.

She had tried to return the favour - if she saw he’d had a hard race, or seemed distant over his messages she’d do her best to cheer him up. Either through sending him pictures of the twins messing around, or by recalling a funny anecdote of her own, or just offering a free ear if he wanted to complain. 

And at some point over the last year or so, she had started to believe that he really was here to stay.

“Come on - lets get some food,” Y/N said, receiving the ball that Tony kicked towards her. She picked it up and chucked it back through the door that she had just come out of.

“Rabbit food?” Haz asked, scrunching her nose in distaste.

“Only for your sister and me, you two can get whatever you like - my treat,” Lando assured her, sharing an amused glance with Y/N.

“What do you feel like?” Y/N asked the twins. 

“Pasta?” Tony suggested immediately, as Y/N knew he would.

Later that evening, the four of them were walking back through the streets of London - the twins ahead of them each holding an ice cream as they chatted about something to do with their friends.

“Thank you for watching them, by the way - I’ve not really said that yet,” Y/N said, breaking the silence at last.

“Of course,” Lando snorted. “I’d remind you that they’re good kids, but I think they’re going to start objecting to that soon.”

“I’m not ready for them to go full teenager,” Y/N groaned at the reminder. 

“Think they’ll be like you were?” Lando asked curiously.

“God I hope not.”

“Why? Were you a troublemaker?” There was so much glee in the question that Y/N had to think for a second about how honestly to answer. She didn’t want to ruin this, she didn’t want to break the causal, cheerful atmosphere around them.

Then she looked over at Lando, who was staring at her expectantly and there was something so achingly soft in his expression that she knew for the first time that she wanted to tell him everything - anything that he wanted to know about her, anything that he was willing to ask, she was willing to share.

“More like the opposite,” Y/N admitted, going for a casual shrug, but knew the movement was more jerky than she was aiming for. “I was scared of causing trouble. I… didn’t want to give my parents any more excuse to be angry, you know?”

Lando stops walking, reaching out and carefully circling his fingers around her wrist to pull her to a stop as well. There’s open fear in his eyes and Y/N wants to reassure him, wants to hug him and promise that everything is okay.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked in a whisper. 

Y/N tried for a smile, but knew it came out as more of a grimace. She carefully moved her wrist so that their hands linked together instead, and she tugged on their now joined hands to get him to start moving again.

“They were bad parents,” she told him in lieu of a straight answer. Lando sucked in a breath, but when Y/N looked at him again, he just nodded - apparently deciding not to press further. “I want them to feel safe enough to be… nightmares, you know? Like I’m dreading them becoming teenagers, but I hope that they feel safe enough to cause trouble at all? Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Lando confirmed quietly. “I meant to say, by the way - my mum wants to meet you.”

“She what?”

“Well - she was actually asking if there was anything she could do to help you out with the twins,” Lando clarified, “and then said I should bring you three for dinner some day,” and Y/N laughed. 

“You talking to your mum about me, Norris?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

Y/N had to look away in the hopes he wouldn’t see the embarrassment at how earnest he sounded. He chuckled lowly and squeezed her hand.

“Well that’s very kind of her.” She hesitated before adding: “And you.”

“Of course, Cap,” Lando said softly.

“Oh! That reminds me!”

“Yeah?”

“Guess who’s being considered for Captain?”

“At Chelsea?” Lando asked excitedly. Y/N beamed and nodded.

“I mean I’m not sure I’m actually going to accept and-“ Y/N began to ramble, before being cut off entirely.

Lando whooped and dropped her hand. But before she could mourn the loss of contact, his hands were on her hips and he was lifting her up to spin her around. A laugh bubbled up from her and she locked her hands around his neck, desperate for balance. He placed her back down carefully on the ground and they grinned at each other, the moment finally broken by the twins questions.

“You’re sure you're not together?” Haz asked.

“Has something happened?” 

Y/N saw a flash of pain in Lando’s eyes, and Y/N ached with want.

But rather than closing the gap between them further, she cleared her throat awkwardly and stepped out of the safe circle of his arms.

“Jude’s asked me to consider taking over as Captain,” she told them, forcing herself to keep her attention on them and not Lando. Trying to remind herself that remaining just friends was for the best.

2023 (Age 23)

“Is that the Captain of a world cup winning team I see?” Lando’s voice was loud even over the thumping of the music playing in the club. 

Lando was sitting back on a couch in the VIP section of the club - his legs were spread out beneath the table, and he was wearing a white shirt which was only half buttoned up. His eyes were slightly glassy, his hair was a mess, and one hand was clutching a glass that looked on the verge of being spilt.

There were some girls at the table too, one of them clearly vying for Lando’s attention - and Y/N had also recognised several of the other drivers on the grid as she had walked through the club in the search for her friend. Many of them had called out greetings and congratulations to her, recognising her now from the amount of time she had spent with Lando over the years.

The jolt of envy that ran through her from seeing the pretty girls around Lando was quickly extinguished with how her friend’s face had lit up in a bright grin at the sight of her and how he had immediately tried to stand up, knocking into the table in front of him.

Y/N snorted as Lando pushed at the people blocking his exit, and practically fell into her, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink down her back as he hugged her.

“Congratulations!”

“You've already said that,” Y/N reminded him, hugging him back tightly.

“Not in person! You didn’t come to the Paddock,” Lando pulled away with a pout.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N laughed. “Tara wanted to explore and I felt bad just leaving her.”

“She could’ve wanted to explore the Paddock,” Lando huffed, but it was short lived as he grabbed hold of her hand instead and began to pull her through the club.

“She came to the race today with me! Where are you taking me?” 

“To get a drink - you need to catch up!”

“Tara and I had a couple before we got here,” Y/N promised him, though allowed him to continue to lead her through the crowds. 

“Where is Tara? I wanted to say hello.”

“She immediately got waylaid,” Y/N admitted. “I’d be surprised if she makes another appearance tonight.”

“Really? Good for her!” 

“Jealous, Norris?”

Lando turned back to look at her, eyes crinkled with mischief.

“She’s not the footballer I’m interested in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she just laughed at him.

“I never said - but you drove well today,” she said in an attempt to change the subject. She lent against the bar beside him as he ordered on her behalf.

“I didn’t win or anything,” Lando dismissed immediately.

“You still drove well,” Y/N shrugged. 

“You think?” Lando asked, his words more vulnerable than usual. 

“Of course I do,” Y/N responded.

Lando seemed to hesitate for a moment before drawing her into a tight hug again.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“Don’t apologise! You’ve been killing it, Cap.”

“I know - I just wish…”

“Yeah… I know,” Lando agreed with a soft smile. “Missing the twins?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N groaned. “They were so mad when I told them they couldn’t come  to the Netherlands to see you. But they stopped complaining as much when I said they’d be staying with your parents.”

Lando took the two glasses being offered to him and handed one off to Y/N, before taking hold of her hand and pulling her back through the crowd towards the table.

“They’re would’ve been welcome,” Lando informed her, squeezing her hand.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “But Tara’s been on at me to take some time for myself, you know?”

Lando focused back on her, eyebrows raised in surprise. Y/N squirmed with embarrassment at his considering gaze.

“I’m glad,” he said at last, his smile slowly creeping back across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Course - even if I do miss my personal fan club,” he teased.

“I can’t believe Haz finally changed allegiance,” Y/N groaned. 

“I can’t believe it was Oscar that made her,” Lando laughed. “You have no idea how betrayed I was when she told me.”

“She’d determined she’s going to be his race engineer one day,” Y/N confided. 

“She's wearing Papaya and that’s what’s important.”

“Tony’s always going to be rooting for you, Lan, don’t worry.”

“And every other weekend I get your undying support too, right?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N teased. “The twins are old enough that they want my support anymore - maybe I’ll start wearing red instead?”

Lando downed his drink.

“You want to say that again?”

Y/N bit her lip. She hesitated, then mimicked his action, grimacing a little at the strong aftertaste.

“I’m just saying - I think Charles Leclerc might be my favourite driver on the grid right now.”

“Charles Leclerc had a DNF today,” Lando said, his voice carefully measured.

“It happens to the best drivers,” Y/n shrugged, reaching behind Lando to place the empty cup on the table. Lando did the same, though kept his careful gaze on her.

“Bold words for someone who voiced their support for me on TV today,” Lando said.

“You saw that?” Y/N squeaked, unable to maintain the teasing in the face of the interview she had been drawn into earlier that day. 

Her and Tara had been approached where they had been watching the race, having been recognised from their recent win in Australia. They had just asked a few questions about that last match - some jokes about how they were celebrating the win by coming to the Dutch Grand Prix, and then asked who they would be supporting for the day.

Y/N had answered with Lando’s name without thinking, not really expecting that it would get back to her friend. 

“Of course I did,” Lando chuckled. “And, your brother texted me about it.”

“Little snitch!” 

“It’s called loyalty!” Lando exclaimed. “Which you also showed - so don’t try that shit about being a Ferrari fan!”

“I just don’t want you getting a big head,” Y/N told him. “I’m going to keep you humble right up until you get your World Championship - then I’ll let you start bragging."

“Until? Not if?”

“When you become World Champion,” Y/N confirmed. “Not if.”

Lando bit his lip, then grabbed both of her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on - we’re going to dance!”

“No! No we’re not!” Y/N immediately argued, half-heartedly trying to pull away from him. Lando just tightened his grip, beaming at her and tugging her into the mass of moving bodies.

“Yes we are!”

“I’m going to need so many more drinks before I start dancing, Lan,” Y/N protested, even as she allowed herself to be pulled. She knew she’d do anything that he asked of her. Anything that would keep that smile on his face.

“That’s something I can manage.”

The next couple of hours passed in a blur - Lando hardly left her side all night, periodically dragging her to the bar for another round of drinks or shots, before pulling her back to the throng of people dancing. Occasionally they would be joined by someone else - Tara made a brief appearance before going home with the woman she had pulled when they first got to the club, and some of Lando’s fellow drivers and their girlfriends would join them every now and then. Once in a while, they would be tugged into a group photo, their fingers laced in most of them, and if that wasn’t the case, then Lando’s arm would be thrown over her shoulder to pull her into his chest.

But by the end of the night, it was just the two of them left.

Three in the morning, and Lando was once more tugging her by the hand to lead her out into the cool night air, having stopped to collect a jacket from the cloakroom along the way.

“Where about are you staying?” He asked, and his voice was hoarse from having been singing along to the songs all night. 

“I’ve got an Air BnB like… fifteen minutes away from here,” Y/N���s voice felt loud in the sudden quiet of the night, but the alcohol still in her system stopped her from caring too much. 

“Let me walk you back?” Lando sounded hopeful.

Y/N gave an over-dramatic sigh, just to hear him laugh again.

“I suppose I’ll allow it.”

They set off down the street, Y/N pulling out her phone to navigate. But she quickly got distracted by the messages on the home screen. The first of which was from Lando’s mum, who had sent her a picture of the twins helping out in the kitchen.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah - just your mum was sending me updates,” Y/N confirmed, angling her phone towards Lando so he could see the picture.

“She was so happy you asked if they could stay with her,” Lando said, swinging their still joined hands.

“She offered first!” Y/N said defensively.

“I know! I was being honest! She was so happy, Cap. She just wanted to help you,” Lando shot her a sly look. “Her and Tara would agree that you need to take some time for yourself.”

Y/N squeezed his hand.

“I’m trying.”

“I’m happy to wait,” Lando told her, answering what she didn’t say.

“I can’t… ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything.”

“I don’t want you to have to wait, Lan.”

“Sometimes you look at me…” Lando trailed off and shook his head.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

He didn’t let her answer, dropping her hand so that he could instead wrap his jacket around her. Y/N allowed herself to be moved, but when Lando tried to walk on, she snagged her fingers in his shirt and he immediately stilled.

“Tell me.”

“Sometimes you look at me, and I think you’re talking yourself out of it. Like, the wait could be over, but you’re looking for excuses and telling yourself to hold off.”

“Lando-”

“And it’s okay, because I will wait,” he continued, staring at a point over her shoulder. He was still smiling, but it was sadder, more troubled than before. “Of course I will. Until you’ve convinced yourself I’m going to stay, or that I love your siblings as much as I love you-“

“Lan-“ Y/N’s eyes widened at that confession, her heart dropping.

  “And I don’t know, maybe I’m delusional, because I will wait. And being your friend is enough for me. Because I may have started wanting something casual when I first messaged you, but this is so much more to me now. You and the twins - you’re everything to me, Cap.”

“You love me?” Y/N managed to get out. 

When Lando at last met her eyes again, there was no denying the fondness in his expression, and he reached to smooth down some of her hair that had gotten messy in the club.

“How could I not?”

Maybe later, she would blame it on the night. On the atmosphere, of the amount that they’d had to drink, of the fact that she was still riding the high of her World Cup win. Or maybe how he was looking at her, the same way that he always looked at her, only this time she was letting herself see it, and letting herself believe him.

But she surged forwards, reaching up to pull his face down to hers, connecting their lips. Lando made a muffled noise of surprise, but responded quickly, pressing forwards immediately - his hands went to her cheeks to pull her closer, and his tongue swiped across her bottom lip, asking for access.

She opened her mouth for him, and felt one hand drop down to rest on her waist. She allowed her own fingers to tangle in his hair, clutching at the soft strands, desperate to hold onto him. She closed the last minute gap between them, stepping so that she was pressed up against the hard line of his body, and Lando sighed gently at that last piece of contact.

Then, he pulled away, his face dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin there. Y/N continued to run her fingers through his hair, and she felt his lips turn up in a smile at the sensation.

“Tell me now,” he whispered.

“Tell you what?”

“That this is just another kiss we’re not going to talk about. Tell me now, straight-up so I’m not agonising over it later.”

“I don’t want to,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Yeah?” Lando asked, finally pulling away so that he could meet her eyes. Y/N gave him a wobbly smile.

“I love you too," she managed to get out. “For what it’s worth.”

Lando brushed another kiss against her lips, grinning.

“Everything. It’s worth everything,” then his smile dimmed, his eyes searching hers. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?”

“I can’t… put you first. You deserve someone who can,” Y/N said at last, idly playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s all?” Lando asked, smile brightening again. “Darling - that’s not news. You’re a sister first, I get that. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

He went to kiss her again, but Y/N ducked away.

“Lando, I’m being serious. I just… I don’t want you to be upset when I have to put them above you. Because they will…” she sighed. “They’re always going to be first to me. And I know that’s not fair to you, which is why-“

“I know,” Lando laughed. “I know that’s why you always pull away. I know they always come first. I know you’re worried about my relationship with them. I know you, Cap. I promise. I know all of it, and I still love you, I still want to be with you, okay?”

“Our dates are going to be crashed all the time,” Y/N warned him. “And I spend half my free-time teaching myself their homework to help them study. And the other half is spent ironing their uniforms.”

“I’ll spend our dates ironing happily.”

“That was not the take-away!” Y/N laughed. Lando kissed her forehead, still grinning.

“You’ve told me you loved me, the rest is just a bonus,” he joked.

“I’m trying to give you an out!”

“I know - I don’t want it,” he responded cheerfully, kissing her again.

“Tomorrow,” Y/N said decisively, pushing him away - not that there was much force behind it.

“What?”

“We’ll talk about it properly tomorrow, when we’re not drunk,” she insisted.

“Promise?” 

“You sound so eager,” she laughed, turning away and reaching for her pocket for her phone.

“I’ve been waiting for this for, like, two years. Since we met in person at least,” Lando promised her, immediately going to tangle their fingers together again.

“For a conversation?” She joked.

“For this conversation,” he agreed.

Y/N bit her lip to try and stop herself from smiling too wide. She would wait to see what sobriety brought, though her instincts were telling her that this was it. That nothing she would say when they woke up would dissuade him. And she was tired of pretending that she wasn’t in love with him, tired of pretending that she didn’t think that her and Lando were endgame.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sugar, we're goin' down

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt '8 seconds'

rated t | 666 words (very unintentional i swear) | cw: medical emergency/condition | tags: famous corroded coffin, gareth's got diabetes and makes a mistake everyone eventually makes, band manager steve/babysitter to grown men steve

also on ao3

🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞

“How long’s he been out?”

“I dunno! Eight seconds maybe?”

Steve checks the clock and shoves Jeff out of the way. Gareth’s unconscious and no one knows why.

He didn’t fall, he didn’t hit his head, he’s not drunk as far as they know. He just passed out.

“Call 911,” Steve says to whoever will listen. There’s seven people surrounding them, at least one of them should be capable of doing that.

Steve does everything he knows to do: checks his pulse and to see if he’s breathing, makes sure there’s no blood, rolls him onto his side in case he starts seizing.

The clock over the stagehand booth shows that it’s just turning 6:00, soundcheck over only minutes ago. Steve keeps an eye out as it changes to 6:01.

As long as he’s breathing, it’s fine.

“Anyone know if he’s eaten and drank today?” Steve asks when he’s sure that Gareth is at least stable in his current position.

“We all had pancakes at that Denny’s. Remember he ate like, five? And then said he felt sick,” Frankie says, looking terrified.

“Anyone else feel sick after?” Steve’s brain is trying to make connections that may or may not be there.

“No, we were fine,” Eddie says as he sits down next to Steve. He looks pale and terrified. “Does he need CPR?”

“EMT is 4 minutes away!” Someone calls from outside the group surrounding him.

He checks Gareth’s pulse again. No change. That’s good. He doesn’t know much, but he knows that at least.

“Should we slap him or something?” Frankie asks.

“No.” Steve sighs. He pulls out his glucose monitor, ignoring the eyes watching him. He gets it ready, pricks Gareth’s finger, and waits three seconds. The number that comes up shocks him. “222.”

“Is that bad?”

“It’s not great. I think it might’ve been higher and he’s crashing too fast. They’ll get him set,” Steve brushes the bangs from Gareth’s face as he blinks his eyes open. “Hey, bud. Pancakes earlier set you off.”

Gareth groans. “Delicious.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah anything covered in syrup, powdered sugar, and chocolate chips is gonna be. Maybe next time we stick to just one of those things.”

“He’s okay?”

“Yeah, he will be.” Steve takes a water from Eddie and holds it up to Gareth’s lips. “Slow sips.”

When the EMT walks in, he’s asking questions that Steve is quick to answer.

“You his boyfriend?” He asks after he’s checked his pulse and responsiveness.

“No,” Steve laughs. “Just his babysitter.”

“And he’s the best damn one around!” Gareth says, hands shaking as he takes small bites of a granola bar Jeff gave him when the paramedic said it was okay. “I ate pancakes.”

The paramedic snorts. “You’re diabetic?”

“Only a little.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “He manages it well most of the time, but they celebrated a bit too much this morning. Their album hit number one.”

Everyone cheers and Gareth holds up his fist, still chewing on the granola bar.

“Do you want to go to the hospital to get checked out?” The paramedic asks, ignoring the energy of the band.

Gareth looks at Steve.

“Up to you. If you think we can handle it here, I’ll walk you to the bus while the guys finish with security.” Steve tries not to overrule Gareth’s choices about his own health, and he wouldn’t now unless he was genuinely worried he needed the hospital. “Or we’ll have Max hop on the drums tonight while you get looked at.”

Max would be thrilled. Gareth looks disgusted.

“I can handle it.”

The paramedic cleans up and the guys all give Gareth fist bumps.

“One hour until call time,” Steve reminds them. “You guys stay, I’ll bring him back when he’s leveled out.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Frankie asks.

“I’ll text Max.” Gareth starts to argue and Eddie puts his hand over his mouth. “Or you can cancel. I’d go the Max route.”

“Fine,” Gareth says against Eddie’s hand.

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Fucked it up !

Yet another fic hehe:3 doing anything but posting part 4 of Moth Drawn To Flame...Forgive me y'all! I'm having writer's block, so I don't like anything I'm writing rn. I don't like this either but, oh well...I still wanna keep updating. Anyway, dividers by @cafekitsune tagging: @shintaru @ravenwritten @bfwooin @sylith @wthphe1n @zyart-jpg @bunnygirlgonewild @kuchisabishiiiii @i-nssomniia @mscatheart @erisawrites

Wooin has always been the type to catch up on trends, know what's trending rn and what's not. To be entirely honest, he's the one that introduced you to many trends in the first place, which later you got obsessed with. And truthfully? He didn't mind. Those stupid pranks you pulled? Entertaining, at least for him—even though you'd get frustrated for almost never being able to prank him. But whenever you succeed, you'd always celebrate it and gosh, that cute little celebration? He found it so adorable that he couldn't even get mad at you.

He was almost always informed on what was going on social media and never has he made a mistake during pranks or even during your stupid lil questions that girlfriends often asked their boyfriends.

But everything can happen at least once, huh?

You were spread out on the bed, watching Wooin play one of his online game that you already forgot the name of—but he surely loved it. However, your mind was drifting to another places, specifically to the memory of something you came across on tiktok and for whatever reason, curiosity ate you up whole, wanting to know how Wooin would react.

So, with a playful smirk, you leaned over his shoulder and rested your chin on him, mumbling excitedly. "Damnn, my current boyfriend is very good at playing games."

His fingers paused, his head tilting a little to get a look at your expression. He wasn't offended, no. He was trying to figure you out. What intentions did you have now, huh? Make him jealous? How cute. Shouldn't you know better?

You spoke up again. "I want to play it with you, current boyfriend."

He almost snickered. "Current?"

You hummed, nodding your head. "Yup, current."

Oh. He gets it. That's what you want, huh. Well, two can play at that game.

"Aww, really.." He turned to his screen once again, continuing his game. "I'm your current boyfriend?"

"Yup!" You answered without hesitation.

"Then you're my current girlfriend. Still thinking if I should keep you or upgrade to someone who can cook."

He said it.

Gosh, he really said it.

With no hesitation.

Your smile faltered before completely disappearing, your eyebrows knitted together as you frowned upon him. "What..?"

He turned to look at you, completely unfazed by what he just said. "What?"

"Why would you say that?" You tried to laugh but your voice almost cracked.

He sighed like this was giving him headache, turning his phone off. "Because you started it?"

"I called you my current boyfriend because I want you to be my husband one day..." You explained, your voice trailing quieter, watching the way his mouth parted open in surprise. "But..You think I'm repleacable instead?"

His phone almost dropped from his hands, his expression more than just surprised, but also capturing the moment of realization on him. He could swear to god, he started cursing himself in his head.

"No. No, I don't—fuck, baby, I was joking." He gets up from the floor, sitting on the bed beside you, his fingers immediately linking with you.

You fought the urge to swat his hand away, but you didn't. In the end, you knew he just misunderstood what you were trying to say but, damn, that hurt so bad. And that familiar yet very unpleasant feeling of your heart feeling heavy, eyes burning from unshed tears, settled in your chest. "You...You said it like it could happen, you know."

"I'm sorry.." He groaned, laying you back down on your back, his head resting on your chest while his arms wrapped themselves around your waist. "I thought you were pranking me and I thought I'd match your energy, but I misunderstood what you truly meant. And you know how I am—Joking about shits I shouldn't."

You sighed to yourself, your gaze glued to ceiling. "You're stupid."

He clossed his eyes in acceptance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm stupid." Though, there was no seriousness in his voice while saying that.

"And idiotic if you thought I'd ever joke about replacing you." You huffed, shifting beneath him to have space for yourself but he has glued himself on you like a parasite, unwilling to let you go, like his life depended on you.

"I'm sorry, I fucked it up." He muttered, cursing under his breath. How could he not understand your intentions in the first place? You were like an open book, easy to read, easy to understand. But only because he thought he could get stupid for a second— gosh, the more he thinks about it, the more he hates himself for it. "It was just a dumb joke. I didn't mean it."

You didn't answer. Instead, you were much more interested in the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with him. He groaned again—not in annoyance, no—but because he felt so stupid in moments like this, awkward and stupid. "You're not gonna be replaced, you know that, right?"

You finally looked at him, your lips curled in disdain and unamusement. "I better not. Or I'll cut your balls off."

"See?" He smirked, lifting his head from your chest. "Who needs forgiveness when I can have my beautiful girlfriend threatening me with Castration?"

Your lips twitched in smile slightly and he didn't miss that moment. His heart calmed down now that he successfully made you smile, even if slight.

"But seriously..." He rubbed his neck, glancing down at you. "Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

"And how?" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"I'll buy us matching rings from Chrome Hearts, deal? The ones you've been eyeing for." He noticed. He always noticed how much you loved Chrome Hearts rings. So, for a while, he's been planning to make them customize for you and perfect moment for that finally came.

His attentiveness made you forget about what you were upset about in the first place. You sit up on the bed, still not done with him. "And ice cream."

"And ice cream, of course."

You bit your lip. Gosh, he was so annoying sometimes but great heavens, you were so lucky to have him.

"And kisses." He added, his smirk stretching wider.

"What—Oh—" You were caught off guard by him suddenly pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss, as if he was pouring all his apologies and promises in it.

And maybe he was. Hence, he kissed you breathless, cupping your cheek in his hand, slowly cradling you as if you were most delicate thing he has ever touched.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath—cheeks flushed, he asked. "Am I forgiven?"

You nodded your head, still distracted by the kiss and closeness of his presence. "Mhm. But don't joke like that again."

"I won't." He left peck on your lips. "Never again."