#Thanks for messaging me out of concern as well

[aethercoreheart]

earl grey

virtual radio host!rafayel x producer!reader

“I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You roll your eyes at Rafayel’s theatrics. He takes the covered tumbler filled with tea and slides it to his side of the studio desk. You take your own cup, which is filled with coffee, and raise it to your lips. It’s still hot and you have to fight back a grimace as the coffee scalds your tongue.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would have been enough. And next time, maybe don’t waltz in two minutes before we go on air,” you tell him, trying to sound as stern as possible. “Management will chew me out if they find out I’m this lenient on my host.”

Rafayel blows you a kiss from across the desk. “And that’s why I begged them to keep you as my producer.”

He takes a sip from his tumbler, and you watch as his face lights up. “Perfect. You really do make the best tea. I mean it, I really don’t know what I’d do without you,” he repeats.

He settles into his seat and checks the position of his materials. A small canvas is propped up on a table easel in front of him, surrounded by the tools he will need to paint for the stream that night: watercolor paints, jars of water, several brushes and a few rags. He gives you a thumbs up and you nod in return, turning your attention back to your laptop and the mixing console on your side of the desk. 

You glance over at all three camera feeds: one feed showing an overhead view of Rafayel and what he will be working on, one for a close up on his face, and the last one that shows a bigger view of his side of the studio. Rafayel puts his earpiece in while you position your headphones onto your ears. You motion for him to say something to test the sound.

“Only cuties can hear this message,” he drawls. You give him a pressed smile, suppressing another eye roll. He winks at you and you count him down to the start of the stream with just your fingers. As soon as your index finger goes down, his demeanor shifts and you see him sit up straighter in his seat. He beams at the camera for his face, his eyes taking on a curious sparkle. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Hey there, my little fishies. Welcome to Rafayel’s Cove. Grab a warm drink and let’s get settled in for the night...”

—

It’s midnight by the time the stream finishes. A slow, moody R&B song is playing while you set up the queue to run automatically until the breakfast show. You shift your eyes over your laptop to sneak a glance at Rafayel. He’s finishing up his painting of the night, completely immersed in it. Your fingers hover over your keyboard as you watch him, entranced by the way he flicks the brush over the canvas, adding small, intricate details to the piece. It’s been a year since you’ve started spending every weeknight with Rafayel, watching him paint and listening to him talk to the listeners, but you’re still not tired of it. And neither is the audience. You scroll over the comments on the stream, plucking out and reporting the very few abusive or spammy comments. The overwhelming majority of them shower Rafayel with love and praise – his audience has grown steadily over the past year, and they seem to be more committed to him as well.

You look over the analytics and you nod to yourself, pleased with how the stream went tonight. You don’t read the numbers out to Rafayel. He doesn’t care about them. His only concern is making art and connecting with his audience. And that’s all you really need him to do. His previous producers, your predecessors, were hellbent on making his show as profitable as possible, cramming as many ads and sponsorships in as they possibly could, which, of course, Rafayel had detested. Management had found it a relief that Rafayel had tolerated you past your first week of working with him. Then, they were ecstatic that you had managed to negotiate between them and your host: two one-minute ads every hour, and only one sponsorship opening every three months. Rafayel wasn’t over the moon about it, but for some reason, he heard you out and actually listened to you when you said that the show needed to be funded somehow.

You take your eyes away from your screen again and go back to watching Rafayel. You study the piece: a koi fish, painted in shades of purple, red and blue watercolor. You don’t realize it, but you let out a sigh of admiration, and you see him smirk without looking up from the piece.

“Oh, stop it,” he purrs. “You’re making me blush.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scoff. “Finish up quick, Rafayel. It’s past midnight and I want to go home now.” Despite your clipped tone, you feel a warm flush spread over your own cheeks. You’re hoping that he doesn’t look up and see it.

His smirk grows into a grin, his eyes still cast downwards. “Okay, okay, my lovely producer. Almost there.”

With that, he plops the brush he’s holding into a jar of water. He holds the piece up with his faintly stained hands.

“What do you think?” he asks, turning the canvas towards you.

You nod in approval. “Beautiful, as always. Now, let’s get out of here.”

—

You grip your phone tightly, eagerly anticipating a text, a call, anything from Rafayel that would indicate that he’d be in the studio soon. You look at the studio clock, biting the inside of your cheek. The stream should have started seven minutes ago, but the show’s host is currently nowhere to be seen. The last you'd heard from him was a text thirty seconds before the stream was supposed to start.

> Gunna be late. Soz. Cover for me pls

“Dammit, Rafayel,” you mutter, hunching over your laptop. “Who even says ‘Soz’ anymore?”

You read the comments starting to come through on the chat. 

> Where’s Rafa? 🙁

> what’s taking so looooong

> WE WANT RAFAYEL

> i’m logging off ugh

You grab your phone from where you had slammed it down on the desk and you briefly consider calling your creative director. You’d rather stab a pencil into your ear than let him know about the shitshow that’s currently happening. But you’re desperate. You’re even considering cancelling the stream tonight and just queuing songs for the rest of the night. Your thumb hovers over his name on the phone and you’re about to press on it when Rafayel bursts into the studio.

His face is red, all the way up to his ears, and he’s huffing and puffing so intensely that you’re afraid he might pass out. Both of you stare at each other, speechless, and you immediately set your phone down again, scared that your hand might act on its own and actually put the call through.

Rafayel’s eyes flick towards his side of the desk, then to you, then back to the desk. He starts to rush towards it, but you stop him, shaking your head at him. You reach into your bag underneath the desk and pull out a cosmetic kit. It’s not yours, but his – you have it on hand in case he ever needs a touch up in the middle of a stream. You fish a comb out of the kit, and you motion at Rafayel to bend down. He complies, and you run the comb through his lavender hair, neatening the stray hairs that had been sticking out. You then take his compact powder out, and press the puff against the places on his forehead where a sheens of sweat had started to form. You lock eyes with Rafayel for a split second and notice that his pupils have become dilated, his breath now coming out in shallow pants. You feel your mouth suddenly become dry. You snap the pact closed and nod at him. He inhales sharply and zigzags around you to sit at his side of the desk. He sets himself up with his earpiece and looks straight into the camera, putting on a smile. You check the camera feeds and turn the mic on – no time for a soundcheck. 

Rafayel takes another deep breath before going into his usual spiel. “Hi there fishies! Sorry about the late start. I had to take a detour to get to the cove. Now that we’re here though, why don’t we get started?”

—

You and Rafayel are both silent as you wrap up for the night. You chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating how you’re going to bring up the disaster that was the start of the show. He beats you to it.

“I’m really sorry,” he sighs, looking up from his piece of the night. “There wasn’t even an emergency. I was just late.”

You nod, choosing your next words carefully. “Can you tell me why you were late?”

Rafayel bites his lower lip before sighing again. “I was working on a piece the whole day. I got… distracted, I guess. That happens, sometimes. Certain pieces can just… eat you up.”

He chuckles nervously. “I was in a flow state the whole day, I think. By the time I realized that the whole day had gone, I was already going to be late for the show.”

You peer at him and notice that there are faint dark circles under his eyes. The whites of his eyes are also tinged with a light pink hue. “God, Rafayel, did you even sleep after the show last night?”

He shakes his head. “I napped for maybe an hour. But I was feeling inspired, so I just went with it. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

With that last statement, he locks eyes with you. You hold his gaze and you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach. He breaks away first, his attention going back to his piece.

“If Thomas wants someone to blame, give him my name,” he tells you. “Do not take the fall for me.” He looks back up at you, a determined glint in his eyes. “And it won’t happen again. I promise.”

—

“So you’re really taking the fall for him?” Thomas asks the question, but he already knows your answer. Your creative director taps on the rim of his coffee cup absentmindedly, awaiting your reply.

You shrug, your palms facing outwards. You shift in your seat and lean forward, just inches away from his desk. You’re determined to keep your voice steady. “I’m the producer. The buck stops with me. Anything that happens on Rafayel’s Cove has my name on it.”

Thomas lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re just like him,” he says, shaking his head. “Both of you are incredibly stubborn.” He picks up his cup and sips from it. 

“But we can’t lose either of you,” he murmurs, squinting at you from above the rim of the cup. He sets it down on his desk again. “Rafayel is invaluable to the network and you’re the only one he’ll work with.”

Inwardly, you’re already celebrating, but you wait for Thomas to finish his lecture.

“I’ll just tell management there was a technical issue. Servers were down for maintenance. Whatever. They won’t really care at that point.”

You slowly release the breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “Thank you Thomas,” reply, bowing your head towards him. “It won’t happen again.”

Thomas waves his hand at you, dismissing you. “Of course. Go now, don’t you have a show to prepare for?”

—

You take your time making your way to the studio. You’re making plans in your head about how you’re going to get Rafayel into the studio on time, everyday. Should you call him two hours before his scheduled time? What if you picked him up on your way in yourself?

You’re still deep in thought when you open the door to the studio. You don’t notice that the lights are already on and that someone is already in there.

You’re startled, and your shoulders tense up – you’re not expecting anyone to be in the studio. You exhale quickly when you realize that it’s just Rafayel, setting up his things for the stream. Wait. You check the time on your watch. It’s half an hour before the show starts.

You head inside and close the door behind you. “You’re early,” you remark as you head to the desk. 

Rafayel looks up from what he’s doing and gives you a mirthless chuckle. “See? Didn’t I tell you? Yesterday will not happen again.”

You settle in your seat, pleasantly surprised that most of your pre-show work is already done. You could get used to this. You’re about to go on your phone and start scrolling when Rafayel pipes up from his side of the desk. 

“You stuck your neck out for me, didn’t you? I told you not to.”

You shrug, the same way you had shrugged at Thomas back in his office. “I’m your producer. I’m responsible for you and the show.” You lean in towards Rafayel, closing the space between the two of you. “And you need a producer you can trust. Someone you can always turn to.” You set your hands on the table gently. “Let me be that producer for you.”

Rafayel is silent for a few moments, but he nods. His jaw clenches and unclenches before he replies in a whisper. “Yeah. Thank you.”

You spot two covered cups on the corner of the desk. One of them has a tea bag string and tag dangling outside of it. You take that one and pass it to Rafayel. He receives it from you without looking up from his work. He raises the cup to his lips to take a sip and you see him frown into the cup.

“Ugh,” he mutters, smacking his lips together. “I didn’t make it right. It doesn’t taste good.”

You giggle as you motion for him to give the cup back to you. “Here, let me take it. Since we’ve got time, I’ll make it just how you like it.”

—

You’re a few minutes into the stream when Rafayel answers his first question of the night from the audience. He’s working with pastels tonight, and he’s just finished picking out the colors he’s going to work with.

“What am I drinking?” he reads the question from the tablet in front of him, his hand reaching for his cup. “Good question. First time in the history of me doing this show that someone’s ever asked that. Any guesses?”

Your eyes leave your screen and focus on him. He raises his cup briefly for the camera before setting it back down. You drag your gaze back to the screen and notice that the chat is flooded with comments.

> definitely some tequila in there…

> i think it’s coffee?

> No wait, there’s a tag and string, it’s tea!

“Definitely no tequila,” Rafayel chuckles. “My producer would kill me.”

He turns his attention back to his piece and picks up a pastel stick. He starts sketching roughly with it, drawing bold lines. “You’re right, it’s tea,” he confirms for the audience.

> what kind!!!

> i bet he’s a green tea guy

> What if it’s matcha?

> or oolong maybe?

Rafayel looks at the tablet momentarily, then back to his piece. He continues to draw, talking while he does so. “It’s Earl Grey, actually.” 

“It’s my favorite tea. My producer makes it perfectly, every single time. I can’t do a show without it.”

His hands work furiously on the canvas panel. “My tea has to be bold, strong and fragrant. Sweet, but not too sickly sweet. I like the kind of tea that makes you miss it and crave it, just a little bit.”

You raise your eyebrows at what he says, but continue to listen.

“I need my tea by my side, always. It’s what gets me coming into the studio and doing these streams every night.”

Your cheeks start to heat up as you read the comments coming through.

> wow, waxing poetic about tea. okayyyy

> Damn I think I need some of that tea

> are we still talking about tea or…?

You look up and notice that Rafayel is looking directly at you, his hand hovering over the canvas. He has started sketching out the outline of a tea cup and it’s looking amazing already. Your eyes flick to the camera, then back to Rafayel. You motion with your head for him to turn his attention back to the camera, but he continues to look at you, his expression unreadable. That feeling you had felt the night before in your stomach comes back with an increased intensity. You bite down on your lower lip, no longer able to hide the fact that you are blushing.

“My tea. My lovely Earl Grey tea,” Rafayel murmurs, his head tilting to the side as he continues to look at you. “I really don’t know what I’d do without it.”

[dani-moonstars]

Master post Galladrabbles # 1

Hey! So, even though I wasn't able to participate this week, I have been meaning to do this for a bit since I keep feeding this story and I'm getting tired of linking back to all of the parts soooo.

But also, links to all the original posts in each tittle.

(Btw, stole the idea from the amazing @gallavich-annise who has her Space AU on a master post; go read it i'ts amazing)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Keeper

“You can’t do this to him”.

“Yeah, I can. I’m his keeper. I have power of attorney”.

Lip is fuming. Ian finally found a way to leave. Thought that if he explained and they talked about it, it would be fine.

But no. Seems like his fucking husband got him committed.

“He was being irrational, Lip. Talking nonsense about leaving. Got all violent when they took him”.

Lip swings at him. “Fuck you”.

He leaves. He needs to get Ian out of there. They need to find a way.

He needs to tell everyone.

He needs to tell Mickey.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Big Bang

(Ian's POV)

The marriage had to end. He planned a Big Bang of sorts. A move which would ensure a cosmic shift. The creation of something new and better.

He’d been miserable for too long.

It didn’t go as intended. Apparently Jordan had a scheme of his own and the wellness center on speed dial.

The orderlies cornered him in their kitchen, grabbing at him roughly; a needle piercing his skin to sedate him. He yelled and fought fiercely, but he refused to beg.

The last thing he heard was Jordan’s voice: “You’ll thank me later, babe”.

Everything went black after that.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Whistle

Mickey thinks of Ian’s excited message announcing that he’d found a way to leave Jordan. He’d promised to head to Mickey’s afterwards, while he rambled about the future, their future. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” he declared at the end like a giddy schoolgirl.

That was hours ago.

 Mickey stares intently at the kettle as it whistles loudly, a deafening and irrefutable alarm stating that time’s up.

It’s way past midnight and Ian isn’t coming.

Mickey turns the stove off, locks his front door with a sigh and goes to bed. He should have know better.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time

The first “family therapy” session is a mess. Ian is sedated and needlessly restrained while Jordan rambles about how “concerned” he is. Ian is mostly out of it, so he only gets snippets.

“He kidnapped a baby once, you know? Just took off.”

“He used to ‘work’ at a club, if you know what I mean”.

When they’re alone Ian finally manages to ask. “When… leave…?”

Jordan grabs his face roughly and hisses at him. “Depends. How long until you understand that unless you come back home to me, you are never getting out?” He smirks. “Take. Your. Time.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Coworkers

Mickey sips his morning coffee while he remembers last night’s dream.

Ian and Mickey as coworkers. The details are fuzzy, but it’s a menial office job. They flirt over the watercooler, make out in the supply closet on their breaks. They have passion and each other.

He drops back into reality. Ian broke his promise and never showed up, called or explained. He just disappeared.

Mickey silently thanks him for that mercy. A clean break, no more bullshit.

Once he gets to work, he sees a familiar figure near the door.

Fucking Lip.

Guess he’s not getting his clean break.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.

Science Fiction

Fucking Lip is here.

Mickey glares at him. It’s not the first time that Ian’s sent Lip to deliver his empty promises.

Unless he’s here to tell him that Ian got abducted by aliens and that’s why he broke his heart, he’s not interested.

This is not science fiction, though. That would at least make more sense.

“Mickey, come on.”

Mickey snarls at him. “Fuck off”.

 Lip grabs his arm. “Jordan got him committed, ok?”

Mickey freezes. What?

“Gonna leave him there to rot.”

No, no, no.

“We... Ian needs your help, Mickey”.

Mickey sees red. He’s gonna kill Jordan.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

In these arms

“I would give anything to have you in these arms tonight”. Jordan comes even closer. “Baby, I want you.”

“Fuck you”. Ian’s no longer heavily sedated, but he’s foggy and they won’t let him leave.

Jordan scowls at him. “Hmm… might have to move you. Somewhere stricter, with more… traditional methods.”.

“You can’t. My family…” They won’t allow it.

Jordan scoffs. “Do you see them anywhere? Three weeks, Ian. Not a single phone call.”.

“Liar”. It can’t be.

“Forgotten middle child and all, they don’t care. Does it surprise you?”  

It can’t be true.

A wave of sadness swallows him.

[littlebvtterfly]

Hi, everyone! And Happy Pride! This is probably coming in just under the line, but I'll throw it out there nonetheless since someone did ask for it. I've been feeling kind of creatively in a void and I no longer know what to do, so I am doing this because it usually helps me out a great deal. And, I always love to celebrate Pride with you guys! Anyways, I hope you will all join and have fun!

P.s.: I am currently trying my best to rework or make Pinterest boards for OCs who have none, so bear with me.

The rules and regulations are simple, but they exist nonetheless, so here they are:

The exchange, for now, is open until June 30th. I may extend it if people are interested.

LGBTQ+ OC's only, please! Yes, you can send in someone with a non-same-sex relationships as long as one or two of the people in are LGBTQ. Trans and non-binary OC's are always welcome!

You may make 1-2 requests, but I will probably reblog it, saying you can ask for more because I always do (hehe).

Please reblog this post to spread some awareness. You can like for remembrance, but just a like doesn't count (you already know this; I know my 5 regulars who come here every time)!

As aforementioned, this is open to my regular drunks and new patrons alike, so please do not be shy. Think of me as I think of birds; I am more scared of you than you are of me.

Fill out the form linked below and find the password in the form!

Please only send me face claims with good quality and plenty of material to use. Also, no cartoon characters. Video game characters may work, depending on the animation style. I'm not trying to discriminate; it can just be really tough for me to find material for cartoons, anime, video games, etc., as I edit by making little video clips first and so on. However, if you slide in my DMs, we might be able to discuss some stuff.

Please, please, please fill out all the columns I need and choose at least two gift options. I just like to have a fallback in case one gift doesn’t work out for any reason, though I usually do post two gifts for everyone.

Remember the pleases and thank you's; pleases and thank you's make my heart grow fond.

I don't do Harry Potter or Stranger Things OCs, and while I don't have a specific list of FCs I don't use, I ask that you do not request anything for overtly problematic actors. Thank you!

I accept pretty much any gift in return: GIF edits, mood boards, playlists, story reviews, drawings/art—anything is fine. If it's a story review, please let me know in the form so I know you did, as I don't check my accounts every day. You can find my writing platforms in my pinned post.

I'm fine with gifts for any of my OCs; my master list as well as the link to my Pinterest and Spotify are in my pinned post.

Please remember that in order for me to post my gifts for you, I need to know you have given me a gift first. I don’t want to sound greedy in any form; I have just had issues with this before. I do want to make everyone who hands in a form a gift, and it hurts when I can’t. If you submitted and can’t make gifts for any reason that comes up, it’s totally fine; I will most likely do another exchange in no time.

FOR ANY OTHER QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS, FEEL FREE TO SEND ME A MESSAGE, AND I WILL TRY TO CLEAR EVERYTHING UP!

CELEBRATE PRIDE WITH ME HERE; HERE IS THE LINK FOR PRIDE; PRIIIIIIIDE!

TAGGING: @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @nikosasaki @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @avcrymorgans @andromedalestrange @far-shores @rose-of-oz @bibaybe @come-along-pond @dancingsunflowers-ocs @justahopelessssromantic

[welcometohellfilm]

Hey I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or you partnered with hot topic but today I saw them selling a Mephistopheles shirt. The same exact design you have on red bubble, I was not able to take a picture of it unfortunately but if I go back I will.

I can tell you which mall it was located in.

oh hey! Okay well I guess this is as good a time as any to announce it, but YES! I do have Welcome to Hell shirts arriving in Hot Topic soon! (I didn't know they were already in stores, but I knew the Mephistopheles shirt was on their website!)

There's going to be three (3) different shirts, for now, including the Mephistopheles one you saw. I did do some HT-exclusive designs, but they were really just interested in revisiting the designs from my Redbubble store. If these shirts do well, there might be an option for me to do more merch with them! We'll see! That said, the designs have been updated from their original Redbubble debut, so the characters are a little more on-model with their current designs, and I re-upped some of the other elements like text as well. Plus, the quality of the print from this shirt company is more robust and the shirts will last a lot longer. Anyway I'll post more about it later, but I'm excited you saw the design in store! Stay tuned and I'll post more about it as they roll out!

[tohruies]

ha! 💌 ! except that i’m doing uno reverse and sending one to you! (and especially since you’ve already written it once for me and i even printed it out!!!)

dear coco, so i know how you always want to bring even the tiniest smile to people’s faces! you are the sunshine that peeks from behind the clouds during the cloudy days ⛅️ but i’m smacking you affectionately because oftentimes in your selfship dynamics you mention that your dear beloveds soothe your heart after you give it away to everyone around on an open palm — and you should listen to that inner voice! ✨ treat yourself first, be a little selfish, make sure to feel comfortable before you comfort others ❤️‍🩹 let me tell you again — i am shaking you and telling you this because a happy and healthy coco guarantees even more happy people around her! 🥺 i love your prose, love your poetry that you sneak so elegantly in between sentences and paragraphs — it’s been a while since i’ve read anything from you and i understand that there are things that you must focus on first, but no matter the passing time, yours will always be one of the styles that inspired me the most in my writing journey on here! 🥹 your presence here has been influencing my life in the most positive way ever since becoming mooties with you! you always put so much thought into remembering everyone’s personalities, lives, preferences and stories! 🌸 but i wanted to make sure that you know how it also feels to be on the receiving side of love (though i know i’m not the only one adoring you so much and certainly there are so many others who would stand right beside you if you only needed a shoulder to lean on) 🩷

༼ﾉ ´༎ຶ ﹏ ༎ຶ༽ ﾉ *: ·ﾟ💌 when manu wears the biggest ever size of meanie pants ever... /silly

(i will acknowledge & respond to your own 💌 to me in the tags, if that's okay!! 🥺 oh my goodness 🥺🥺)

3 days later and i think i have finally collected myself enough to respond to this WAH... I AM SO SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING MANU! 🥺 i am uno reversing your uno reverse >:3 hehe, i remember that i wrote you one of these last year, in april!!!! it's always been a difficult month for me, so it made me really happy + meant the whole world to be able to write something for you and have you receive it with all the love in your heart 🥺 so much so that you even printed it out (i cried tears of joy last year when you told me that AODKJFAJ i am so sorry 🙈). i hope you don't mind that i give last year's message a sibling LOL, with what i am about to say to you now!!!! (⁄ ⁄>⁄ω⁄<⁄ ⁄) 

dearest manu mousie, manu the great, my manumimii!

where do i even begin with youuuu ;w; /pos!!!!! maybe i can start with how much i love (and also fear /lh, because you are truly so... omniscient lol!) how perceptive you are... the way you make people feel seen (exhibit a, the contents of this ask asdfghjkl) and look so deep into their hearts... i think you are incredibly excellent at analysing people and charaters /POS and i feel like this is very evident in your fics and character studies!!!!! it is due in large part to your introspection which is another thing i love about you :D and why i think i find a great deal of comfort in you 🥺 because i am always especially drawn to these kinds of people!! people who you don't need to wear a mask around because they will be able to see through you anyway... it's very soothing in a sense to know that you are like this 🥺💗 and it only inspires me to be more perceptive too!! i hope i can be as caring and kind as manu is some day, heheh (๑•̀ᴗ•́๑)  💗

which brings me to my next point—i love all the ways in which you are quietly kind and looking out for your friends—again, as evidenced by this ask, wah... BUT ALSO!!! in how you do other things for them! 🥺 little blurbs in their mailbox (i revisit that xiangli one you wrote me not so long ago) or even drawings!!! perhaps i don't ship with haitham anymore, but the doodle you gifted me last year has always been a widget on my phone :3 and it will continue to be!!! that was the very first time anyone had ever drawn me something just out of the goodness of their heart, let alone gifted me anything of the sort!!!! 🥺🥺 so it is something i hold really really close. it makes me smile SO BIG!! and kick my feet all excitedly to see you do that for your other friends here too HEHE—when i look at femi's pfp... vana's pinned... i am reminded of just how big and bursting with love that your heart is 🥺💗

i love how much you have grown on here over the past year. ⭐️ in terms of your writing—which has been such a pleasure to witness over time how you've grown into a style that is so distinctly manu!! 🥺🥺 because like! 🥺 i remember so distinctly a certain post you made last year about wanting to improve your writing and your vocabulary and finding your 'own writing voice' 🥺 look at you now!!! with your lush descriptions and rich prose and dynamic characterisation, IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!! AND PROUD!!! and i hope you too, are proud of yourself friend 🥹💖 even aside from your writing, i'm so glad that you have grown more comfortable here in sharing more personal posts about yourself hehe AND OF COURSE YOUR SELFSHIPS!!!!!!!!!! :3 i am also very glad about how you have lots and lots of friends on here now!!! that all love and cherish and uplift and reassure you in the way you deserve to be 🥺

i'm just really happy you are here with us, babie. i hope you won't take it the wrong way when i say this, but i really do believe that you are so much stronger, kinder, and easy to love than you think yourself to be! 🥺🥺 i hope that you can continue to work on being less hard on yourself, and i hope that all your friends here can help with that in any way you'll let us!! i hope you will continue to share more of your heart with us here and let us cradle it and soothe it when you need it. i hope your studies will treat you as kindly as they can, and that you will succeed in them :3 i hope you know that all you need to do is try your best!! you have a beautiful brain and a tender, loving heart—so i am sure in due time that all the good karma will be returned to you 🥺💗 making you a steaming cup of pink chai with a dollop of condensed milk in it, and gently rubbing your hands in mine to warm them up 🥰 we love you so much manu, not just for all that you do for us, but for just simply existing as you are, and letting us bask in the warm light you radiate 💖💖💖

[windupaidoneus]

i do love that i have /slump bc i can now physically roleplay as emet too. perfect for 'emet is in hildes head' era shit. imagine being the scion who has to find out emet is alive, in the wol's head & can front

[luveline]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

you get a good dose, confess your affections, and leave poor, oblivious hotch to fix things up neatly. 

cw painkiller high, light suggestive theme 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“Hello.” 

You lift your gaze without blinking. Hotch is standing in the doorway, making his way in with a bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm and a white envelope against his chest. 

“Hello,” he says again, meeting your wide, still eyes with concern. “You okay?” 

“Flowers for me?” 

“You’re the one here in a hospital bed. They’re from me and Jack. He insisted.” 

You nod up and down robotically. Your heart is unhappy today. You’ve been fast and slow and now it’s running fast again, a tip-tip-tip on the heart monitor that makes Hotch frown. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “They told me you were on a lot of pain medication, you shouldn’t be hurting anymore. Is it not working?” 

“I feel a lot.” 

“And that’s unsettling,” he surmises.

“Can I have my flowers?” 

Hotch offers them to you immediately. “Why don’t you count to a hundred for me?” 

“They’re beautiful, but there’s not that many.” 

“Count to one hundred. I can start. Do you need me to start for you?” 

You dip your face into the flowers. “I love when you say stuff like that.” 

Hotch doesn’t answer you. You begin counting, hoping he’ll say a nice thing if you do as he asked. The numbers get mixed up after thirty five, there really aren’t enough flowers to count to a hundred, but when forty five and fifty four begin to feel like the same number spiritually, Hotch reaches for your forearm and gives it a squeeze. That means job well done. Nobody else in the team gets arm squeezes —they’re for you. Nobody else has noticed, but you have. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

You beam at him. The heart monitor beeps in slow loops. “You’re welcome. Did it help?” 

“I’d say so.” He takes off his suit jacket and puts it over the back of the chair, pulling the chair towards the bed with his foot, and getting comfortable beside you, a little lower down than you but tall regardless. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“I can’t believe you got me flowers.” 

“I got you flowers the last time you were injured.” 

“I know,” you say with a laugh. “I know, it was amazing.” 

“Here’s your card from Jack. I’ve opened it for you, I hope that’s okay.” 

“I cannot open anything. I tried to stab my pudding open with a spoon and broke it and can’t find the sharp part in my blankets. I’m worried it’s going to poke me.” 

Hotch stands from his chair. “That’s not good.” 

You take up Jack’s card, pinching the folded printer paper and pulling all of its homemade glory from the envelope. The front has a red heart drawn with bandages wrapped around it, and inside is a message written in impressive penmanship considering his age. To Y/N, it says, Please get well soon. We are hoping you to have a speedy recovery! Love you, Jack and Aaron 

“It says you love me,” you say. 

“Mm, Jack wrote the message. He misses you.” 

You catch the feeling of Hotch’s hand where it slips between your legs and almost burst, giggling excitedly, which makes his hand jump away from you like a fish out of water. “You have the spoon!” 

“Found it. No more danger.” 

“Thank you. I knew you could find it.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

The pain medication Hotch spoke of is starting to make itself known. You hadn’t felt very different to begin with, the only worthy note your absence of pain, but right now you feel weird. Light. Happy, but strange, like the opposite feeling of missing a step. You know something’s wrong and you know it’s the medication, but you’re elated at the same time. Hotch is here. Maybe it’s just him. Maybe he’ll know. 

“Do you think I feel happy ‘cos of you or the morphine?” you ask. Softly, slurring, you swallow and try not to sound as drunk. “I feel amazing.” 

“It’s the morphine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Well, it’s been a long time since I had some myself, but I remember feeling amazing at the time, and you’re on a lot more of it than I was.” Hotch sets himself back down in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Are you staying for long?” 

“Until they make me leave,” he says. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Yesterday you were here for ten minutes and I felt like my heart was bruised.” 

He doesn’t speak for a moment. His eyes seem darker than usual. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I had to be home to take care of Jack.” 

“I know you had to, it’s not your fault, but I still missed you.” 

You prop Jack’s amazing card on the nightstand with a proud grin. You love Jack Hotchner, he’s the smartest, kindest, sweetest boy you’ve ever met, and it must be because of his parents. You’ve not met Haley many times, but Hotch is amazing. It makes sense that his kid would be just as awesome as he is. Turning your attention back to the flowers, you find the courage to ask, “Do you think you could bring Jack to see me?” 

“I think he might be a little young for hospitals, I’m sorry.” 

“Well, maybe I can see him when I’m out of the hospital? How can I say thank you for the card? Does he still like bears?” 

“He has enough bears,” Hotch says gently. “You don’t need to buy him anything, he just wants you to get better soon.” 

“You’re such a good dad.” Your lashes kiss with the force of your smile. “You’re lovely. Jack is really kind.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re handsome,” you continue, slinking down in the bed. You feel tired but not sleepy, craving a really big, hot sandwich. Hotch holds your gaze. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“What?” he asks quietly. 

“Can you please get me a big, hot sandwich? Maybe with hot chicken? Or spicy chicken in a burrito? I really need it to be hot.” 

Hotch laughs aloud and reaches for your forearm to squeeze you again. “Of course I can. I’ll call Derek and I’ll make him get you both of those things, if you like.” 

“Oh, good. I really really don’t want you to leave but I really want the sandwich more than I want you to stay.” You tip your head to one side. “If you hugged me again I’d say I want you to stay more than I want the sandwich, ‘cos you haven’t hugged me in a long time.” 

“Does that bother you?” he asks, the pad of his thumb working against your wrist. 

“No, I know I’m not supposed to want you to hug me.” 

“We’re friends,” he says, shaking his head, “good friends, aren’t we? It’s alright if you want a hug. I should be better at giving them.” 

When he was with Haley you wouldn’t have dreamed of wanting it, because your affection for him has always been more than a friend‘s. You’ve guarded the secret carefully over the years. What’s more unfair to a wife than to fancy her husband? But Haley left Hotch, and he’s been single for a while now, and you think that lately he’s actively dating. He’s always had pride in his appearance, but his suits are tailored again. His hair is left to grow beyond what’s easily maintained. He and Dave occasionally joke about him getting back out there —he doesn’t need to get out there, you’re right here. 

You can’t help frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I think I’m a bad friend.” 

“You aren’t a bad friend.” 

“I am, I have ulterior motives.” 

Hotch rolls his eyes. “Honey, everybody does. You’re fine. You’re a good friend. You know you’re the sole member of the team who’s remembered Jack’s birthday every year? Remembered mine?” 

“I don’t do that to be a good friend, I just love Jack.” 

His hand slips down to yours. He holds it briefly. “I know you do.” 

“It’s why I remember yours,” you say, shaking your head, annoyed he’s taken his hand back but ready to move on to better things. “Can you ask Derek for my sandwich now, please? Please, please, I’m so hungry I’m gonna die.” 

Hotch gives you a funny look. “How about I go and get you your sandwich? I’ll be very fast. I’ll go to Sam’s across the street, would you like that?” 

“Can I have maybe a donut too?” 

“Sure, honey. I’ll get you a half dozen.” 

“Really?” 

“Sure. Do you want any in particular?” 

Hotch goes off to get you a sandwich and you click the button for more morphine without really thinking. You’re asleep before he gets back.

—

You wake up shaking. 

Aaron straightens in his chair. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but it’s nearing the end of your visiting hours and he’s been here since three. Your sandwich is stone cold in the bag and he’s not sure how he’ll get it warmed up.

Your arms are trembling badly. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“Hotch, where am I?” 

Aaron stands. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve had some morphine and it ended up sedating you. The shaking will calm down soon, but nothing’s wrong, okay?” 

You’re noticeably confused, and Aaron hates it enough to sew his fingers between yours. His are thicker by quite a bit, but he’s used to smaller hands. He’s careful with you. He can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. 

The undercurrent of fear you’d been harbouring begins to ebb. You let Aaron hold your hand and settle back down into your sheets, turning your face toward him and shutting your eyes. You don’t seem sleepy. He’s not sure what’s wrong. 

When you say you love him, he understands. He loves you, too. He doesn’t think that he’s in love with you, but he could be. He’s had enough guilty daydreams about it, batted them away, moments doing the dishes or at the gym or when you’re standing together working a case, where he forgets to forbid himself the pleasure and imagines you in simple intimacies. He sees himself taking your hand. He pictures waking up to the smell of you on his pillows. When he’s especially pent up and you’ve haunted him with your bare face or a shy smile, he ends the day thinking of you. How he’d kiss your head with just a little of his weight atop you, or a lot. 

And then he feels so horribly wrong for doing it that he resigns himself to the distance between you forever. 

Aaron doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he could fall in love with you if given the chance. He has to determine how honest your morphine-confession was, and there’s no time like the present. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks softly. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back. 

“I brought you the donuts and a sandwich, but I’ll have to reheat it. I’m sorry.” 

“Did I ask for a sandwich?” you ask, startled.

“A hot one. You emphasised.” 

“Thank you, Aaron. I don’t think I’m hungry now, I’m kinda queasy.” 

“You had a little bit more morphine than you should’ve.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says under his breath, “that’s not your fault.” 

You squeeze his hand weakly. Any want to draw the truth from you is quickly dwindling. All he wants now is to make sure you’re okay. 

He spills himself closer to you and, without untangling your hands, brings your thin blankets to your shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. The queasiness won’t last long. In fact, eating might help, but we can wait.” 

“Don’t you have to go home?” 

“No, I can stay if you want me to.” 

“Please, I want you to.” 

“You’re still on the morphine,” he says, rubbing your hand, “I can ask them to lower your dosage if you don’t like it, but you have to remember that it’s keeping you unaware of your pain.” 

You hesitate. “I don’t want it to hurt.” 

“Then it won’t,” he promises. You had more than your fair share of pain. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“This is all I want. For you to look after me.” 

He takes a measured breath. “I would love to look after you.” 

You turn your head half an inch to see him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” He’s trying to blend the half of him you know at work with the half of him responsible for his outer life, the part of him that flirts with beautiful women at bars, the part of him that loved being a husband. “I don’t know what you want, and now isn’t the time, but,” —he prepares to be brave— “if you want me to look after you, then I will.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.”

“Can you kiss me?” 

His heart skips a beat. “No, honey, I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“Not even on the head?” 

His stomach aches, but it’s a good feeling. Like worrying you lost something and finding it in the first place you’ve looked. “On the head I can do.” 

You squeeze your eyes closed in wait of his kiss, a light, chaste brush of the lips to your temple. The morphine makes you laugh, a girly, giggly bubble of it as you burrow into the sheets, like he’s tickled you. He’s twice as endeared when you squint at him like you’re waiting. 

“Can I–”

“One more,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “Any more than that and you’ll die of embarrassment when you’re not drugged out of your mind.” 

“I’m not out of my mind. I’m just hallucinating. Or having a great dream.” 

He’s inclined to agree, but he knows with confidence he hasn’t had any heavy medication today. He gives you a fond look and sits back down, obliging you when you scramble to put your hand in his again. It’s a weight he could get used to holding.

“I really like you,” you confess quietly. 

He quite likes you in return. “That’s great, honey. Do you want to talk about it later? Maybe you can have one of your donuts.” 

You don’t take his misdirection as rejection, you just pull his hand to your chest and smile. “No thank you. I can wait.” 

He can wait too. 

[kisses4themissus]

A Foreign Love || In-ho x Reader

wc: 2.6k a/n: Ahh i had so much fun writing this request!! if you would like a happier ending do please send me a message or inbox me i don't mind warning: (spelling errors possibly?)

Pt 2 | masterlist

You nervously played with your hands as you walked around the room, every team had gotten a sixth player, it didn't help that you were seemingly the only foreigner there.

“Excuse me, could I join you all?” You questioned as you walked up to a group of elders. 

Player 100 scoffed and dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Please sir, I see your team is short a member..” You tried to convince him. He groaned at you before turning towards you. “Can’t you take a hint and leave...entitled americans!” He scoffed at you, looking you up and down in disgust.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized before walking away. You sat down near the wall and let tears well up in your eyes. As you let out a shakily breath, covering your face with your hands. You didn't even want to play more games, all you wished was to go home.

As you cried, a gentle hand was placed on you shoulder, making you peek through your hands. Player 388 was squatted next to you. “Are you alright, miss?” He questioned, concern in his eyes, you nodded and wiped your eyes with your jacket sleeve.

“Do you have a team?” He asked, helping you stand up; You shook your head at him, “Everyone claimed to have a sixth player..” You explained, he nodded slowly at your words before motioning for you to follow him. 

Trailing behind him, he led you to a group of three older men and one girl around your age. “I have found our sixth!” He announced happily before stepping to the side to show you.

They all blinked as you waved to them, a small polite smile on your face.

“The foreigner?!” Player 390 exclaimed, one of the other men; player 456 smacked his arm before greeting you with a nod.

“In my game we had a foreigner, he did well, he just got given the wrong kind of person during a game...” Player 456 explained.

“Welcome!” Player 001 greeted, you smiled and nodded your head in acknowledgment “Thank you for having me.” You bowed slightly.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You all sat together in a line as the games got announced. 

Ddakji, flying stones, gong-gi, spinning top, jegi and jacks.

“Jacks?” All of your teammates questioned. “You have to bounce a ball and collect little metal jacks and have to pick them up before the ball falls.” You explained, perking up. 

“Are you any good?” Player 001 questioned. You held your hand out and shook it side to side, “somewhat.” He nodded as the others began to claim the other games.

You all watched as the other teams went, before you knew it, you were the last team to go.

You all got up and waited as the guards chained you; Your team had done well til it had gotten to spinning top.

You groaned as he managed to toss it behind you all, he broke down, yelling at himself for his mistake, you leaned forward a bit and looked towards player 001, “We all make mistakes, maybe try your left hand!” You suggested, he nodded and winded the toy up before letting it go, you all waited with baited breath as it spun.

You all walked to the next mini game and began to hype player 456 up as he did jegi, you all moved forwards as both player 456 and 001 caught it with their legs that were tied together.

“You got this!” Player 388 smiled as the guard handed you the ball, you and your team squatted down so you could play on the small table, shaking you tossed the ball up, you had failed to catch the jack in time due to your shaking hands. You groaned, you had tried twice to get the jacks before the ball fell but failed, you were on the verge of a panic attack as you glanced up to the counter. 

“Calm down, we all make mistakes!” 001 tried to reassure. You just nodded and tried once more, you waited as the ball went up, with a swift hand you swiped up the mini jacks and the ball, you all yelled out in relief before running the fastest you could tied together.

You all cheered as you crossed the finish line; your beginning was cut short. Gunshots made you all flinch; The opposite team didn’t make it. You all stared horrified at the corpses while being unshackled.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You all walked back to the dorm, everyone's eyes on your backs. You had linked arms with 222, she had explained she was pregnant at the beginning of the game, you had gained a need to protect her ever since. As you passed player 100 and his friends you stopped at his words, “Both the foreigner and the pregnant girl lived, they’re definitely not making it to the next round!” He laughed, you turned and went to open your mouth but stopped as 001 walked over to them.

“What does that say about you? Your team is all old men, who’s to say none of you don’t have heart failure in the middle of the next game? What kind of men are you all, denying an expecting mother and an innocent foreigner help?!” He scoffed as the group of older men stumbled over their words.

He wordlessly walked away to his bed by the others.

You unlinked your arms as 222 walked towards another player, leaving you to follow after 001.

He sat on his bed, sighing. You quietly approached his bed, watching as he rubbed his shoulder, trying to give his muscles a bit of comfort. “Thank you again mister.” You muttered out, earning his attention, he looked in your direction. 

“For letting me on your team, and standing up to that player…thank you mister!” You clarified, nervously playing with your fingers. 

“Someone had to put them in their place, it was a matter of time really.” He lightly chuckled, patting the space next to him on his bed, you sit down.

“Why are you in the game?” He questioned, you softly laughed. “I originally came here to study abroad.  emergencies happened in my home country, I trusted the wrong shady guy to send money to my family..” You explained, he listened.

“What brought you here mister?” you questioned, sitting up. “Hospital’s build up a lot of debt..” He sighed, you nodded. 

He snickered, making you look at him confused. “You don’t have to call me mister, it’s-!” As he went to give you his name the others walked over, talking about the next vote.

“I think I threw my shoulder out!” Player 390 sighed, moving his arm in a circle motion. “I’m sorry about earlier, everyone..” 001 apologized. You all dismissed his apology 

Player 222 had walked over and sat on the steps beside your shoes; she looked around as the group sat down together and talked. “Oh what about her ddakji  play, im surprised she didn’t break the ground when she threw it!” Player 390 laughed, she looked bashfully to the ground, a smile on her face.

“Or what about her jacks play, swiped them better than a thief!” 388 complimented making you giggle; Player 222 bowed her head as she looked at you all. “Thank you for including me on your team.” she thanked. You quickly nodded in agreement, “thank you, i’d probably be dead if i hadn't found a team in time..” They all nodded.

“I think we’re lucky you two joined us, we’d be lost with the jacks or stuck on ddakji forever.” 390 joked, earning laughs from everyone. 388 stood up in front of you all, “listen since we’re sticking together, i think we should learn each other's names, it would be a good idea right?” He questioned, waiting for someone to disagree but it never came, you all nodded.

“I’ll start, my name is kang dae-ho; dae means big and ho means tiger!” He grinned, you all nodded.

“That’s a very cool meaning!” You grinned at him. Player 390 cleared his throat, “My parents didn't give me a cool name, it's just park jung-bae. Righteous and twice.. I guess they want me to be twice as righteous.” He sighed.

“My name is kim jun-hee, i dunno what it means though..” She gave a soft look before glancing down to her hands.

“Jun-hee, once we get out of here you need to go see a doctor, stress isn't good for either you or the baby.” 001 told the young girl, who nodded.

“I’m oh young il.” He introduced himself, you all nodded. 

“It kinda sounds like your number!” You pointed out. “It’s easy to remember,” He laughed, before turning to 456.

“You’ve all heard my name, it's gi-hun.” He dismissed you all, “What’s your last name gi-hun?” Young il questioned. “It’s seong gi-hun.” He explained, earning nods.

“I’m y/n y/l/n, my name doesn’t have any meaning like your guys.” You smiled, earning a laugh from jungbae.

“Very american!” He commented, earning more comments of your nationality. 

“Is it true americans carry guns everywhere?” Jung-bae asked, earning a laugh from you. “Um, certain states..yes.” You grinned.

You all had continued talking till a loud buzz, out walked the guards with the voting machine, you all watched as they set it up and went over the rules once more.

You all looked at one another’s badges. Young il cover his as you looked at him with a slight frown. ‘I’m voting to leave this time.” He nodded at you. You grinned and nodded “Maybe when we get out, me and you can go for dinner?” You suggested, a smile on your face, he chuckled at you “I’d enjoy that.”

You grinned at him as he walked to the machine and pressed the X.

You watched as the screen counting the votes go up as more people voted to stay, you began to shake as gi-hun pressed the X but was outvoted, you swallowed a knot in your throat. 

You stood beside dae-ho and jun-hee in shock at the results, “I’m gonna be sick.” You muttered before running to the restrooms. 

In-ho waited til everyone had disbursed before signalling towards the guard in your direction, you were to busy trying not to vomit in the dorm to notice anyone gaze.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Gi-hun had you all move your mattresses to the ground, he was on edge. He had told your group in his past game by the third game players had gotten violent during the night.

You sighed, laying down under the bed frame on your mattress. Slowly you had drifted off to sleep while the others continued to move more beds and set up a watch system.

You woke up during the night, having to use the restroom. You glanced over and saw everyone had fallen asleep. You quietly got up and walked to gi-hun, who watched for other players.

“I need to go use the restroom.” you told him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “It's dangerous out there!” He warned, you glanced around the dorm, no one was actively awake.

“I'll be ok, no one seems to be up yet either!” 

Before he could respond, you walked past and towards the side door and knocked. A triangle guard opened the small hatch, before you could say anything the door opened fully for you. “oh, thank you! I won't be long.” You thanked them, before walking into the restroom.

Gi-hun silently watched, holding back his yawns. A tap of his shoulder alerted him, in-ho smiled at the man. “Ready to switch off?” He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, gi-hun nodded and traded spots; In-ho waited til he knew gi-hun was asleep before getting up from the floor and walked to the side door and knocked in a pattern, the triangle guard bowed their head and stepped to the side.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You yawned as you walked out of the restroom, as you went to leave back to the dorm, the guard stopped you, standing in front of the door, facing you.

“Can i get by please?” You motioned to the door with your hand. They shook their head at you before speaking. “Follow the guard.” 

You gave him a confused look, as you followed their raised hand you were surprised to see another guard, this guard was dressed different, his clothing was black and his mask had a sqaure. “Ok?” You quickly followed as the guard let you through the stairs, as you go to a certain part, they turned around and handed you a piece of black cloth. “Put it on.” They commanded, you nodded and tied it over your eyes, your heart began to pick up.

What did they want from you? Are they going to execute you? 

Your thoughts ran wild as the guard guided you through the halls. Finally you had stopped. The sound of shoes filled your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your vision was restored, you flinched covering your eyes due to the lights. You squinted at the figure.

“Who are you?” You questioned, your eyes adjusting to the room’s light, the man’s mask was matte black, it had a sort of 3D design to it.

“I am the frontman, owner of these games.” He introduced himself, your heart stopped. 

“Why am i here?” You questioned, too busy to see the guard grabbed rope and slowly approaching you. “I see you have gotten very close with one of the players…001.” You nodded, watching his every move.

“What did you do to him?” You questioned, the frontman stepping closer to you. “Nothing, just if your safe and away from him, he’ll do better at these games.” He explained, motioning for the guard.

As you turned your head the guard grabbed your arms and began to tie them together. You let out a yell as they pinned you and tied your legs together. “No one can hear you from here.” He explained, running one of his gloved fingers over your cheek as tears fell down.

He motioned to the guard to help move you to the bed he had in an adjacent room. You cried and thrashed the best you could.

He shushed you as you cried, he sighed, knowing it wasn't helping. He grabbed a remote he had on the bedside; he waited til the guard confirmed you were sacred in the bed before pressing a button, a small hiss filled the room. You stared at him in horror as gas filled the room. 

“Goodnight.” He nodded to you before shutting the room door, feeling drowsy, you tired to look around the room for any way out but stopped as your eyes forced shut.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Gi-hun and the others were startled awake as in-ho yelled at the guards. “What happened?” Jung-bae questioned, rubbing his eyes and began to stand up to see the commotion.

“YOU TOOK HER, I  KNOW IT SHE’S BEEN GONE FOR 5 HOURS!” In-ho yelled, pounding at the door where the hatch was closed.

Gi-hun and the others ran over to him, concerned and confused. “What’s going on?” Gi-hun asked looking at his teammate who sobbed squatting down to his knees, playing the grieving act.

“Those masked guards took y/n, she had been gone for sometime and i went to see if she was there and-!” He sobbed, earning worried looks from the group.

“Player 129 has been eliminated!” The voice rang out in the room. 

Everyone stared at each other in shock. Jun-hee covered her mouth in shock. Gi-hun sighed and squatted down to in-ho’s level and patted him on the back in comfort. “Help stop these games for her.” 

In-ho nodded and wiped the tears away. “For her..” He repeated sadly, knowing full well you were peacefully sleeping in his bed at the moment.

pt 2

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, sickfic, SFW, requested.

Mara is surprised to see him. "Hey Captain Riley."

He nods. “She in the back?” The knit between her eyebrows is quizzical, and she shakes her head.

“What? No… she went home. Hours ago. Said she didn’t feel well.” He doesn’t bother to school his expression into neutrality, and she turns sheepish, like somehow she’s the one in trouble now. “I told her to call you. She was nearly falling asleep back there. Almost face planted in the batter of these cookies.” She points to an artfully arranged tower of chocolate chip cookies, their little placard labeling them as ‘brown butter’. What that means, he’s not sure. 

“How long ago did she leave?” He had no idea you were sick. Worse, you didn’t say anything. You lied by omission, sending your usual morning text messages, your before lunch check in with zero mention of feeling unwell. 

He’s not angry with you, because he understands you. This is uneven footing, new territory, a lot to learn for his little fawn. You’re finding your way in this new life, and he has plenty of time.

 A learning experience, that’s all this is. 

“Like… an hour ago? Maybe two?” A frown tugs his lips towards his chin. 

“Her car is still in the lot.” 

“Oh yeah… she walked.” Walked? You walked? 

Your ass is going to be sore for a week. 

There’s a queue forming behind him, so he steps back, gives her a parting glance before turning to leave. “Thanks Mara.” 

“Tell her I hope she feels better!” 

You live on the fourth floor. The elevator in your building is busted, along with the front door’s lock, and there are no cameras, no security, nothing stopping anyone from walking inside. 

Just his baby in a fourth floor apartment with a measly deadbolt and chain. 

You’ll be so much happier at home with him.

It takes three tries for you to come to the door, and when you find him on the other side, your expression splits in two, one side saturated with relief, the other, buzzing with nerves, but somehow still half asleep. 

“H-hi.” You croak, sweating and shivering, standing there in only a t-shirt. 

Miserable. You look miserable. 

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, stepping inside, immediately placing the back of his hand to your forehead, trailing down your chin to find your pulse fluttering beneath your jaw. It’s elevated, and you’re burning up, tears gathering on your waterline, threatening to fall.

"D-daddy," you hiccup, trembling, reaching for him just as he pulls you into his chest with a palm against your neck, rubbing circles at your nape as he takes a quick look around. He’s never been inside your apartment before, though he’s been tempted multiple times, made the trip to your building often, ensuring you’re home safe, watching the comings and goings of others who live here, looking for any red flags or reasons for immediate concern. He’s inspected empty units, tested the standard locks, checked for mold and mildew. It’s adequate, but your own flat is too cramped, and he knows you feel boxed in. 

"I'm here baby, I'm here. Let me look at you." He tips your chin up and moves into your line of sight, glassy, glazed eyes tracking him the whole way. "Have you seen a doctor?”

“No,” you sniffle, immediately planting your face back into his sternum, “’s just a cold.” 

“You don’t get a fever with a cold sweetheart. Have you taken anything?” He doesn't panic. It's not in his programming, not a part of his reality but seeing you like this, in distress, suffering, is starting to rewire long dormant standards.

“Don’t have a fever.” There’s a short hallway across the living room, two doors on either end, one he assumes is your bedroom, and he starts moving that way, keeping you tucked against him. “I took some naproxen.” You’re floating along with his direction without a single peep, barely recognizing where you are when he sits you down on the edge of your bed. 

First things first. He has to get you out of these clothes and into something dry. “This has to come off baby girl, it’s wet.” 

“Wet?” You’re barely holding yourself up, and he probably only has a few minutes before you’re out. 

“Your body is trying to regulate it's temperature, so you've been sweating.” He finds pajamas in the top drawer of your dresser, lips rolling into a smile as he unfurls the t-shirt. “Gremlins?” You throw him a squinty glare. 

“It’s a good movie.” He brushes his lips across your forehead, tasting the slick of salt before pulling away and tapping your shoulders. 

“Arms up.” You oblige without question, the trust that sometimes gets lost in this newfound dance shining through brilliantly. His hands brush against your ribs, your belly as he slides them beneath the hem of your shirt and tries not to wince at the scorching temperature of your skin. “Good girl. Don’t want you going back to sleep all sweaty do we?” He quickly pats the sheets, relieved to find them dry. 

“No daddy.” Such a sweet girl. You roll instinctively, burrowing in the mound of things in your bed, knees curling up towards your belly. There are at least three different colored fuzzy blankets in your bed, six pillows, and a stuffed cat of some kind, something about it vaguely familiar but difficult to place. A crumpled notebook with loopy handwriting and small drawings adorning the pages is wedged beneath your hip, and there’s a kindle sitting on the other side along with an empty water bottle. The frame itself has a shelf at the head of the bed, and it’s lined with stuff… a small lamp, a ceramic cupcake, a collection of seashells, chapstick, lotion, an empty mug, a glowing mushroom, along with two pairs of glasses and a few candles. It’s clear this is your space, where you’re safe and comfortable, a nest of your own making, a place just for you, and it’s fitting, all of it. Each little piece is perfect just like you. 

He lets you sleep while he cleans and refills your water bottle, finds the naproxen and your towels, pulling a washcloth out so he can run it under cold water for your head. You definitely have a fever, but if you can break it on your own there’s no reason to take you to a doctor. Time will tell, but if it gets worse, you’ll have to go immediately. 

Tally marks for today’s transgressions sit quietly on a slate in the back of his mind for far later, satisfying realization settling in against his soul. You’ve earned a spanking, and stricter rules. 

It’s a fine line. He doesn’t punish for the sake of punishing, there’s nothing good in it for him, or you, but he will punish you for things like this, things that put you in harms way, things like not telling him you’re sick and in need of help. Things like fucking walking ten blocks home. He’ll punish you for stepping outside a boundary, or failing to follow a rule, all of it a double edged sword, one he wields delicately, because often, punishments come with their own rewards, whether they be emotional or physical.

You rouse a bit when he comes back, making little sounds as he props you up to take more medicine, dabs the cold washcloth around your face, cooling you down and wiping some of the stale sweat away. He smooths a palm over your forehead. “We’re going to have a long talk about rules when you’re feeling better.” 

“Mmkay.” You press your nose into his neck. “Are you going to lay with me?” He kisses your temple. 

“In a little bit, I have some work to take care of. Close your eyes for now.” You nuzzle down into the mattress against his thigh and he can’t resist placing his hand atop your head, holding you there, your cheek bleeding heat through his pants, warm, wet breath building a damp spot. 

“But you’ll be here?” You mumble it, and like you’re afraid the answer will be no, you wrap an arm around the width of his thigh. He chuckles. 

“I’ll be right here.” 

[verstappenverse]

Knight of My Heart

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After one too many drinks, a protective Max arrives right when you need him most.

1.7k words / Masterlist

It was nearly 2am when Max’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, dragging him from the edges of sleep. The faint light from his screen illuminated the dark room, and he reached for it with a groggy hand, squinting at the text that appeared.

“She’s drunk. Like realllly drunk. Can you come get her?”

Max sat up, his heart already sinking. The message was from one of your friends, someone whose name he only half-remembered from the countless times they’d insisted they’d “watch out for you.” Max knew better by now. He sighed, raking a hand through his messy hair, before throwing the sheets off and quickly pulling on a hoodie and jeans.

The drive to the club was quiet, but Max’s mind wasn’t. He hated these nights. It wasn’t just the thought of you being drunk and vulnerable, it was the idea that you were so carefree and beautiful, and people always noticed. Too many times Max had seen guys try to get too close, their smiles too slick and intentions too obvious.

When he finally pulled up outside the club he saw you almost immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

You were leaning against a lamp post near the curb swaying slightly in your heels, a dazed smile on your face as a man hovered beside you. Max’s chest tightened at the sight. The guy was too close, his body angled toward yours as he spoke animatedly, gesturing with his hands. You laughed softly at whatever he said, your voice carrying over the low thrum of the music spilling from the club’s entrance.

Max killed the engine and climbed out, his jaw set. His strides were purposeful, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“Maxie!” you squealed the moment you spotted him, your arms flinging open in delight.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his torso and nearly toppling yourself over in the process.

The guy looked over at Max, not at all intimidated, but Max didn’t care. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching by his sides as he stepped closer.

“You good?” Max asks you, his voice a little rougher than usual.

The man gave Max a once-over, clearly sizing him up. “She seems fine to me,” he said, his tone too casual for Max’s liking.

Max’s eyes narrowed, the jealousy coursing through him now unmistakable. He took a step closer to him. “Oh because you know her so well, right?” he asked the guy, voice clipped.

With a taunting smirk, the guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “She was just telling me about her night. She looked like she needed some company.”

Max wasn’t having it, he stands tall, his body blocking your view of the man now. “Right, I don’t think you understand,” Max replied dryly, placing a firm hand on your waist. “I’m her boyfriend, she's mine. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll take it from here.”

The man’s lips twitched, as though he wanted to argue, but something in Max’s gaze seemed to convince him otherwise. With a tight nod, he muttered a quick, “Whatever man,” and walked off into the crowd.

As the guy disappeared, Max’s frustration didn’t completely fade, but he focused right back on you. Guiding you towards his car, hand never leaving your side. You leaned into him, your cheek resting against his shoulder the alcohol making your limbs feel heavy.

You looked up at him, your face slightly flushed, your eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” you asked quietly.

Max’s lips press together tightly, trying to ignore the flare of jealousy still lingering. “I’m fine,” he said, even though he’s anything but. "Just... I want you to be safe alright?"

You nod, though your head wobbles slightly. "I know... just wanted to have some fun…long week."

Max exhaled slowly, his tension only easing slightly as he turned to you. You were beaming up at him, clearly oblivious to the small confrontation that had just unfolded.

“I get it,” he said softly, his hand steadying you at your waist. “But where are your friends?”

“They’re inside,” you mumbled, waving a hand vaguely toward the club entrance. “Or somewhere. I don’t know. I came out to get some air.”

Max sighed, scanning the area for any sign of your group. Just then a few of your friends emerged from the club giggling.

“Max!” One of them called her tone far too cheery. “She’s all yours.”

Max’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling over. “Why did you let her get this drunk?” he snapped. “Anything could’ve happened to her out here!”

Your friend blinked, her smile faltering. “She’s a big girl Max. Besides, we knew you’d come.”

“That’s not the point,” Max said, his voice sharp. "You should’ve made sure she was safe.”

Your friends exchanged glances mumbling something, he exhaled heavily running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m glad you've all had fun, but next time just… watch out for her yeah? She’s very important to me.” He gazed down at you.

Your friends exchanged glances, some looking sheepish, others visibly annoyed at his tone.

“We had it under control Max,” one of your friends said, her tone defensive. “We weren’t going to babysit her all night.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Being there for your friend isn’t babysitting, it’s just what you do.”

Another friend, the quieter one of the group spoke up “Okay Max. We’ll keep a better eye on her next time, promise.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, looking back down at you. Your eyes were half-closed, a lazy smile on your lips as you mumbled something unintelligible against his chest.

Max shook his head, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his face. “Alright,” he said to the group, his tone a little lighter now. “I’m taking her home. Get back safely.”

“We will,” the quieter friend said, giving him a small, apologetic smile.

Max turned to you with a sigh of relief. “Let’s get you home.”

Max guided you to the car, his hand never leaving your waist. You leaned into him heavily, giggling at every little thing, the way his hand steadied you, the low muttering under his breath, even the way he opened the car door for you like you were royalty.

“You’re so nice to me Maxie,” you said, settling into the passenger seat with a content sigh.

“I’m always nice to you,” he replied, pulling the seatbelt across your body and clicking it into place.

“You are,” you agreed, your voice soft and dreamy. “You’re my favourite person, you know that?”

Max froze for a moment, sure his heart skipped a beat, before he shook his head and closed your door.

The drive home was quiet, save for your occasional hums and mumbled comments about the pretty city lights. Max glanced at you every so often, his hand gripping your thigh, your eyes fluttering shut for brief moments.

When he finally pulled into his apartment’s parking garage you stirred, blinking sleepily. Inside you clung to him like a lifeline, your arms looped around his neck as he guided you to the bathroom.

“You’re so tall,” you murmured, your head resting against his chest. “Like a tree. A strong, handsome tree.”

Max chuckled despite himself, shaking his head as he set you down on the bathroom counter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway,” you said, your grin lazy and smug.

He didn’t respond, instead reaching for a makeup remover wipe from the cabinet. You watched him curiously as he carefully cupped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Taking your makeup off,” he said simply.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, as he carefully wiped at your face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he avoided your eyes, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"You take such good care of me." You whispered, reaching up to touch his hand. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know,” he said with a slight frown, his eyes finally meeting yours. “But I want to. You deserve it.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Max carried you to the bedroom, letting you climb him like a koala as you giggled into his shoulder. He set you down gently, pulling the covers over you before crouching beside the bed. You blinked at him sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re like a knight,” you mumbled, your voice thick with drowsiness. “My very own knight in shining armour.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “A very tired knight,” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face. “But you’re going to hate me in the morning if I let you go to sleep without water and something for your hangover.”

“I don’t hate you,” you slurred, blinking up at him with glassy eyes. “I could never hate you.”

His chest tightened at the sincerity in your tone, “Stay awake for just a few more minutes okay? I’ll be right back.”

You made a soft noise of protest as he stood, but you didn’t try to stop him. Max moved quietly through the apartment, grabbing a glass from the kitchen and filling it with cold water. From the bathroom he grabbed a pack of paracetamol, the domesticity of the routine bringing a faint smile to his lips.

When he returned you were still half-propped against the pillows, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of his footsteps.

“Here,” Max said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He handed you the glass and pressed two pills into your palm. “Take these and drink some water. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You squinted at the pills like they’d personally offended you. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Max replied firmly, his lips quirking upward. “No arguments.”

“Bossy,” you muttered, but you popped the pills into your mouth and swallowed them with some water. “Happy now?”

“Very.”

You handed the glass back to him, and he set it on the nightstand before leaning forward to pull the blankets higher around you.

“I’m so lucky you’re my Maxie,” you sighed.

“Sleep,” he said softly, stroking your cheek.

“Stay,” you murmured, your eyes already half-closed.

Max hesitated, his heart twisting with adoration, before nodding. “I’ll be right here.”

[c4toru]

BLOWING OFF STEAM !

Sypnosis : you’re on the brink of failing and in desperate need of a tutor. nerd!suguru is here to save the day! what happens when you find the nerdy perv a bit cute..— what?

Warnings : 18+ content, female reader, switch!reader, switch!geto, pervy suguru, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex ( m + f receiving ), cowgirl position, panty sniffing, etc.

WC : 2.7k

a/n : i hope you all like this !! i’ve had nerd!suguru on my brain for a while, nobody ever writes him this pathetic, c4toru is here to save the day! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ minors & ageless blogs dni

“fuck..” you grumble, you had just received a passive email from your statistics professor informing you that your grades have dropped severely in the past couple of weeks. he was concerned with the fact that this continuous behavior could lead to you failing his class, insisting that you give tutoring a try. you run your hands through your sleek hair, leaning far back into your chair before sighing noisily.

you always had a tough time with maintaining decent grades, especially in courses as complicated as statistics. it was a class that always left you feeling extremely stagnant. you don’t know anyone in your class but you do in fact briefly recall your professor naming one particular man as his top student.

suguru geto wasn’t necessarily intimidating, he seemed very welcoming and kind! well, at least he portrayed that side of himself to you. you had once done a quick in-class study session together as part of an assignment, he was exceptionally shy but not a total freak. the rest of your classmates tended to avoid associating themselves with him, not wanting to be labeled as a friend of the peevish and perfectionist nerd.

you dragged your hands down your face before slouching over your laptop once more. you figured one study session with him wouldn’t be the end of the world, very much awkward but not a total disaster. your nails hit the keyboard, quickly typing until you’ve scrounged up a coherent email explaining your situation. you began skimming through the bold text, your eyes gliding across the luminant screen before clicking ‘send’.

it feels as though an additional weight has been added to your workload. you stretch your limbs, pressing your lips together before raising yourself out of your seat. you turn, heading to your bed when you hear a raucous noise coming from behind you. ding

sugurugeto : of course i can help. although, the library tends to be too crowded for me to focus.. could we study at your place? | 10:05pm

you stare at the screen for a while, narrowing your eyes, bringing your hand up to your frazzled face, harshly pressing it to your forehead. “is he fucking serious..?” you whine, letting a random nerd from your statistics class into your dorm room, were you crazy..? you contemplate your next move, going through numerous situations as you play them all out in your head. “ugh maybe i am crazy,” you groan while you type away at your computer, clicking send on your message reluctantly.

y/n : that’s understandable, if you don’t have any other study locations in mind then we could do so at my place. thank you for the help! | 10:15pm

sugurugeto : does tomorrow at 6pm sound good for you? | 10:16pm

y/n : that sounds good. i’ll send you my address, thank you | 10:23pm

you shut your laptop, refraining from relishing in this strange moment. you now have a study period tomorrow with suguru geto, you figured it wouldn’t be too bad. little did you know, suguru had the biggest crush on you. he had been eyeing you ever since you stepped through the door to your shared class. the tiny skirts you wore perfectly showed off your soft and delicate legs, always causing his mouth to water. the singular time you had spoke to him, he swore he was dreaming.. how could a pretty girl like you ever come near him?

when he received your email, he swears his heart stopped beating. was it some sort of scam or even worse, were you hacked..? he truly couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. he felt the butterflies in his stomach as his entire body shook like a leaf in the wind while he typed up his message.

when he suggested he go over to your place, it was partially true! crowds did frighten him a bit.. though, he did love the library. truthfully, he just wanted to see you in what he calls ‘your natural form’. — god what a loser. despite everything, even if you weren’t enthusiastic about your upcoming meetup with him, suguru was sure ready for your little study date, at least that’s what he viewed it as.

the following morning came and went hastily meanwhile you prepare yourself as well as your dorm for quite the guest. you whip your head towards your clock, its 6:15pm, where is this guy..?— ding! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ you swiftly move towards the door, taking in a shaky breath before opening your room door with a soft smile.

“hello! i thought you might’ve gotten lost.. hah..uhh come sit!” you awkwardly motion towards your desk, you pull a chair out for him before subtly staring him down. he looked surprisingly normal, his outfit was fairly casual but his hair wasn’t tied up in his usual bun. his hair looked soft as it gently caressed his facial features, were his cheeks always so toned.. god his glasses really do make his nose look deli—

“y/n..? where did you want to start?” he repeated, dragging you out of your trance. “oh! anywhere, you can lead the pace.” you reply, shooting him a soft smile out of reassurance. you both settle in and get to work, hours going by as he grills you on multiple different lessons. you lean back in your chair letting out an exasperated sigh, “can we take a break please.. i might go crazy if i don’t,” you pout, eyebrows slightly raising when you hear his smooth laugh while he agrees in amusement.

“why don’t you leave your hair like this more often hmm?” you tease, twirling a small snippet of it with your fingers. his face flushes a bright red before wrapping his fingers around your wrist, halting your movements. “oh! i’m sorry i didn’t realiz—” . . . “can i kiss you?” he replies abruptly, he has a pathetic look on his face, almost like he’s begging.

“what..?” you question, you’re frozen with wide eyes. you’re shocked to say the least, suguru wasn’t necessarily hard to look at. he had a pretty face to him, a sharp jawline, and lustful purple eyes that really drag you in. “i- you’re just so pretty! a-and i’ve never been alone with a girl like this before..” he stutters shyly, you sort of feel bad for the guy. it’s clear how much of a virgin he is, you can’t recall a time where he’s even looked in a girls direction!

“seriously.. hah- just one time okay? i’m only doing this as a ‘thank you’ alright.” he nods excitedly, staring at you with longing puppy dog eyes. you remove his glasses, setting them on the desk before cupping his face gently with both of your hands as you pull him in and give him a soft kiss. you felt his breath hitch as you both pull back slightly, he looks away quickly while using both of his hands to cover his. . . crotch?

“don’t look!” he pleads, shifting his body away from you. you’re taken aback by his sudden tone of voice as well as his humiliated body language. your eyes narrow in on him, “suguru.. are you hard?” you ask, his face is tomato red and his eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights. he quickly grabs his glasses and his book bag that’s hanging on your chair before attempting to bolt for the door. “wait!” you yelp, grabbing his arm as you try to pull him back, “i-i’ll help you, just sit back down.”

you have no idea what’s gotten into you, all you can focus on is the fact that this nerdy perv is now sitting on your bed with his pants off as you’re on your knees in front of him, staring up at him with doe eyes. his shirt is lifted and the hem is tucked into his mouth. your hands reach for the waistline on his boxers, slowly pulling them down when his cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. he’s whimpering while you stare intensely at his pretty curve and pink mushroom tip, pressing your thighs together at the pure sight of his lengthy cock.

“m’gonna touch you kay?” your lip is tucked between your teeth while he nods expectantly. you smear the pre-cum forming on his slit, a wad of spit leaving your mouth and dripping right on the head of his cock. your hand soon envelopes his tip, moving up and down in a twisting motion that causes his hips to buck.

“nngh- f-feels so good,” suguru whined, letting go the hem of his shirt as he brings a hand up to cover his lewd expressions. you bring your mouth to his cock head before pursing your lips, letting an obscene amount of spit dribble all the way down his shaft. he lets out a wet moan at the sight.

you’re planting harsh kisses down his length, licking and sucking periodically around his base. “want you to use my mouth kay? just want you t’a feel good,” you say seductively, licking your lips before you engulf his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking against his frenulum. “f-fuck! so w-warm.. nngh please!” he pleads, his heavy hand softly caressing your head as you began bobbing your head up and down on his hefty cock.

your hands firmly grip his thighs as he bucks his hips up further into your mouth causing you to gag, throat tightening around his shaft, earning an elated moan from him. “c-can i fuck your mouth p-please..?” he needly asks, eyebrows furrowed while he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. you stare up at him, batting your long eyelashes when you nod, humming around him.

he’s rutting his hips into your mouth, cock hitting the back of your throat deliciously. “y-yeah take it.. hah” he grumbles, you’re being starved for breath as spit drips all over the base of his cock, traveling down to his balls. “m’gonna cum! w-where do i—” he whines, you push his hands off and take initiative, suckling on his flushed tip while your free hand strokes the rest of his length. “o. . oh f-fuck m’cumming! d-don’t stop ah!” he pleads, his hand covering his own mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he’s cumming down your throat. you moan at the action, eyebrows furrowed as you swallow his thick fluids.

you pull off his cock, he winces at the friction before you climb on top of him, pushing him against the mattress, giving him a rough kiss. your tongue prodding against his, spit connecting your lips when you pull back. “feel good sugu?” you smirk, your smitten expressions fall when he flips the two of you over. “i- i wanna taste you, can i?” he replies, pawing at the waistband of your sweatpants in desperation.

“do you even know what you’re doing..” you question him, unsure if you really want to continue this relationship. “well n-no! not yet. . but you can teach me! i’ll be good i promise.” he’s practically begging you with pathetic heart eyes. you’re just so cute, he doesn’t know how to act anymore. “ugh.. fine just go slow ‘kay?” you whisper, hands covering your face out of embarrassment.

he’s pulling your sweats down, tossing them in the corner of the room. you’re wearing these pastel pink panties with lace on the borders, small print of roses and hearts all across the front, a small white bow in the center. suguru feels lightheaded, he could probably cum untouched if he stared long enough. he caresses your thighs, spreading them apart slowly as you feel his hot breath flowing against your clothed cunt.

his tongue escapes his mouth, licking a long stripe from the outline of your hole up to your mound. you’re letting out soft moans while he leaves sweet delicate kisses on your covered clit.

his nose pressing up against your cunt as he’s sucking and licking the fabric. “hah.. you smell so delicious, think m’gonna go crazy,” he groans, tonguing your clit through the cloth, earning loud yelps from you. “nngh! you’re so n-nasty.. ah!” you cry, your hips jerking up into his face.

he hooks his two hands into your panties before dragging them down your legs, tossing them near his sweats, hoping he’ll be able to take them home as a souvenir. “be gentle, if you go too fast it won’t feel good..” you whimper as you widen your legs, a hand coming down to spread yourself open for him to see. his mouth is beginning to water as he inches closer towards your dripping cunt.

“stop staring! j-just do it already!” you mewl, your hands coming up to cup your perky breasts. he rubs his thumb on your puffy clit, gently spitting on it before giving it a long suck. he's planting sloppy kisses all over your cunt, from your labias to your twitching hole. “so sweet mmf..” he moans into your pussy, delving back into your wet folds.

“i-inside! put a finger inside- hah..nngh!” you cry out, needing more stimulation. he slowly inserts his middle finger into your sopping wet cunt, it’s going in with such ease despite how thick his fingers are. he’s in awe at how well your pussy his swallowing him before testing the waters and squeezing in another finger.

“y-you’re so tight.. does it hurt?” he asks worried, he’s slowly thrusting his fingers inside you, the pace is almost agonizing. “no just- p-please keep going.. nngh,” you shake your head, begging him to continue as you feel yourself getting closer.

he’s putting his parched lips back onto your swollen clit, sloshing his tongue against it as he pistons his digits deep inside you. “ff-fuuuckkk.. right there suguru! m’gonna- ah!” you yawp, thighs tightening around his head while your hands grab fist fulls of his hair.

your cunt is dripping your slick all over his face and he’s gulping up every last drop. he’s humming little ‘mhm’ s as you ride out your orgasm on his broad nose. he pulls his thick fingers out of you , you stare down at his disheveled face. his glasses are crooked, hair a complete mess with your juices covering his face.

you sit up, crawling towards him, latching your hands onto his shoulders and kissing his fucked out lips harshly. “want you so bad.., can i? please sugu..” now you’re the one pouting and begging him for more. of course he’s nodding in agreement, he could never turn down a pretty little thing like you especially when you’re pleading for his cock.

you’re pushing him against the bed, plump thighs straddling his hips. “lemme make you feel good sugu- hah,” you whine, stroking his heavy cock before lining him up with your warm entrance, sinking yourself down on him.

his hands find your hips, grabbing onto them for dear life as your pretty pussy sucks him in. “s-slow please, you feel so good mnngh!” he moans, your hips rocking into his viciously. your pace is already so deadly for him, a virgin former virgin at that. “fuckk y/n p-please! i can’t- shiiiit. . s-so good mmf!” he babbles before being silenced by your dainty palm.

“f-fuck..just shut up- nngh!” you mewl, one hand silencing him while the other digs into his chest. his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your sweet cunt milks him.

you’re letting out lewd moans meanwhile the melodious sound of skin slapping fills the room. your feet rest on top of his thighs, you’re bouncing up and down as your creamy pussy swallows his curvy cock justtt right.

your tired body leans flush to his chest, slowly grinding your hips together before you remove your hand from his mouth and landing a sloppy kiss to his lips. your tongues swirling together in unison, “wanna cum p-please y/n, wan’ it so bad nngh,” he cries, drawing a giggle out of you. how pathetic.

“yeah? c’mon give it to me big boy, want it all inside- hah..” you reply, biting your lip. he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist while he bucks his hips up into you, slick balls slapping against your ass. “ah! m’gonna cum sugu, r-right there!” you moan into the crook of his neck, leaving kisses behind his ear.

you finally gush all over him, your juices spraying all over his lower abdomen. “f-fuck you’re so tightt! m’cumming- hah.. mmf!” suguru rambles, his reddened tip releases thick white spurts into you as he pounds into your cervix. he’s cumming so hard he swears he’s seeing stars, only thing bringing him back down was your soft pleas for a kiss.

“kiss me suguru, p-please mmh,” you kiss him passionately, tongue moving its way throughout his mouth as you both grip onto each other, hungry for one another. you let go of him, caressing his pretty face before pulling apart to flop your body over next to him as you both struggle to catch your breath. you are sitting in comfortable silence until. .

“y/n? does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now?” he asks innocently, turning towards you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

you sigh, glueing your eyes shut. what a fuckin’ nerd

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! i might write little drabbles bout this duo in the future ^.^ their story definitely isn’t over.

[vettelsvee]

SÍ... ESTAMOS SALIENDO | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Pérez!Reader

SUMMARY: Scared of everyone to find out, Y/N Pérez and Oscar Piastri decide to hide their relationship from everyone until Checo starts wondering how Piastri learnt to speak Spanish so good... and specially why he has a Mexican accent ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe one were she is checos daughter and they hide their relationship from him. And also maybe she teaches oscar some Spanish. At the end they end up telling checo about their relationship

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: Use of Spanish. Important to say that even Spanish is my mother tongue, I may have some mistakes because it is Mexican Spanish and I don't know much about it, so I had to do some research. Otherwise, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, unprotected sex, drugs and alcohol

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Not writing related but I’m obsessed with a K-Drama I started watching yesterday and I just wanna write Come What May series since the main characters’ personalities are the same as Seb and Y/N (Di in case you read the OC Version) there lmao. Anyways, missed a lot writing about Oscar (I definitely will be writing about him more as he's my second fave on the current grid) and this one got me so happy with how it turned out! Hope you like it as well, and remember that I'd love to see your comments <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“What if you taught me some Spanish?”

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“That's it, Y/N. Teach me some Spanish.”

You, completely absorbed in looking at the pictures you had taken during the date you had with your boyfriend that same day, lifted your gaze from your phone and raised an eyebrow, fully taken aback by Oscar's proposal.

“Spanish? You? You already speak English! English is the only language that matters to you all…”

Oscar shrugged, nervously playing with the steering wheel. At that moment, he reconsidered what he had said, unsure now, and realized that maybe it had been a somewhat strange proposal on his part.

“I just want to understand you when you talk to your dad or your family. I know no one knows we’re together yet, but sometimes when you do video calls with them, I feel a bit lost. I also feel like sometimes you talk about me, and I’d like to know if I should worry,” he confessed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And why do you assume we talk about you, huh?”

“Well, because you always look at me out of the corner of your eye when you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with that unnecessary concern.

“Why do you have to be so chismoso?” You said, making Oscar give you a little tap on the shoulder. That just made you laugh more. “Alright, alright, fine! But I warn you in advance: if you laugh at me speaking Spanish or don’t take me seriously, I’ll break up with you.”

What started as a completely random proposal, with little prospect of a future or sense at first, eventually became one of your favorite routines. You took advantage of every moment together to practice, always hiding it from Checo or any member of the Pérez family when you were in the paddock. Moreover, whenever you were in your respective countries, you would watch Mexican movies and TV shows, and also some in their original version with English subtitles. You even started sending each other the occasional message in Spanish, thanks to the Australian’s initiative.

Oscar seemed to have, in your eyes, a natural talent for languages. Not only did he manage to learn greetings and basic words in less than a week, but after a month, he was already making the effort to use your Mexican accent and even incorporating words that seemed exclusive to your family’s vocabulary.

And that was exactly what, a few months later, turned into a real nightmare for the secrecy with which you kept your relationship.

While no one knew you were together as a couple, Oscar and you pretended to be just friends when you were in public. That’s why it was completely normal for Checo Pérez to see his daughter with the Australian, having coffee and chatting animatedly after a press conference.

“¡Buenos días, Checo!” Oscar said in almost perfect Spanish. “¿Cómo va, papá?”

You, hearing that last word, spat out the little coffee you had left in your mouth and opened your eyes, completely surprised. Checo, however, made a face and a frown, questioning his daughter’s friend.

“What did you say?” You asked, though you knew perfectly well that what your boyfriend had just said was something you hadn’t taught him, and he’d probably heard it from you.

“Well… ¿Cómo va, papá?” the guy repeated innocently. “Did I say it right?”

“Papá?” repeated the Red Bull driver, even more shocked. “Do you even know what that means, kid?”

“It’s an expression, right? Isn’t it like saying buddy?”

Checo stared at him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Oscar. Then, he turned his gaze to you, who was pretending to fiddle with your phone to avoid having to face an awkward conversation about why your secret boyfriend had just said that.

“¿Te importaría decirme por qué Oscar habla como tú?” Pérez asked quickly in Spanish, clearly aiming for Oscar not to understand.

“He doesn’t talk like me!” You quickly replied in English. “Oscar has been practicing Spanish, and well… he wants to fit in better so he’s trying. Duolingo isn’t the best app for learning, so he’s been watching YouTube videos... Right, Osc?”

The guy nodded, but that didn’t convince Checo. Still, he didn’t say anything else and, instead, coldly said goodbye to you both.

As soon as he was far enough away not to hear you, you turned to Oscar and started shaking him:

“Of all the things you could say, you call him papá?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, babe!” He rushed to reply, feeling bad for you. “I’ve heard it so many times that, well… I just said it without thinking. I honestly didn’t think it was anything bad.”

You huffed, knowing that it wasn’t Oscar’s fault or his curiosity and interest in learning your mother tongue, but yours for not setting boundaries or explaining the meaning of each word, as well as the context in which it should be used or who it was addressed to.

From that moment on, your father started paying more attention. He was an expert in discretion, but you knew him well enough to realize that, since the incident with Oscar, he had become much more alert and interested in you both, especially looking for clear signs that would confirm his suspicions that his daughter was dating one of the newest additions to the grid.

Unfortunately for you and Oscar, the Mexican didn’t need to investigate much, and he only did so for a month to confirm his theories.

During one of the briefings with all the drivers, Checo heard Oscar mumbling an “Órale, wey” followed by some insults in Spanish that you had made up when it had gotten pretty late and everyone was eager to return to their hotel. Also, instead of saying “sorry,” he let out a “¿mande?” which wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t continued speaking in English, as if nothing had happened.

You and Oscar seemed unaware of all your slip-ups; on the contrary, feeling like you weren’t arousing anyone’s suspicion, you lowered your guard. Displays of affection in public, though still cautious, became more frequent, especially when Checo wasn’t near you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The back of the McLaren garage, just a few meters away from Red Bull’s, as expected, wasn’t the most suitable place.

“We should go somewhere else,” you said softly while nervously fiddling with the collar of your boyfriend's shirt, who had his arm around your waist.

“Why? This place is perfect,” Oscar replied, unconcerned.

“Yeah, sure, perfect for my dad to catch us,” you muttered. “If he already suspects and looks like that doll from the red light, green light game on Squid Game, analyzing us so much to jump on us as soon as he catches us… imagine if he finds us. He’ll kill us, I swear.”

“Come on, Y/N, just try to relax. We’ve got it all under control. Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about, mi amor.”

You blushed at the compliment he had given you in Spanish, and couldn’t help but plant a chaste kiss on his lips, even though everything inside you felt chaotic.

“If you’re trying to convince me that everything’s fine by speaking to me in Spanish, just know that you’re doing it perfectly,” you declared. “But don’t forget, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a tremendous anxiety and keep thinking that we’re literally one step away from getting caught. Do you know what he could do if he finds out that you and I… that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Is he going to give us a lecture on how we have to stay professional whenever we’re in public? Or is he going to tell me he’ll kill me if I even think about getting you pregnant?”

“He’ll probably make you come home to have lunch with my family and only speak Spanish,” you tried not to laugh but couldn’t help yourself. “And trust me, you don’t want to be in that position because you’ll have all my aunts, and there are quite a few of them, right next to you, asking you some very uncomfortable questions.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him as soon as possible so he can prepare. How about I tell him that I’m absolutely and completely in love with his daughter?”

You shot him a glare, panic flooding your insides at the thought of that happening.

“No, don’t you dare do that, Osc, and especially not here. You have no idea how my dad would react if…”

“Why not?” He interrupted. Then, he stopped, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to you, he seemed to finally find the courage to speak: “I could tell him something like… ¡Señor Pérez, estoy saliendo con su hija porque además de ser la mejor mujer de este mundo, me hace la persona más feliz del mundo!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, filled with emotion inside at Oscar’s sweet yet innocent declaration of love aloud.

However, a cough behind you made you snap back to reality.

“Can I know what you’re doing with my daughter, Piastri?”

You both slowly turned around. There, standing before you, was Checo, arms crossed, with a very unfriendly look on his face. You swore that if Oscar walked out of there alive and without a reprimand from your overprotective father, he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of the year.

“Well…” Oscar began, his confidence suddenly disappearing.

“Esto no es lo que parece, te lo juro,” you said in Spanish, trying to calm your father, even though you knew your attempts would be in vain.

“Oh, really?” Checo asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing you were both lying. “Then, what explanation do you have for this kid shouting to the four winds in almost perfect Spanish that he’s in love with you? At least that’s what I understood, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me.”

You were about to reply, but instead, Oscar gently took you by the wrist and stepped forward, surprisingly confident.

“Checo, I’m not playing around. Okay, I was joking about that, but not about what it means… like…” Piastri explained slowly, nerves eating at him as he couldn’t bring himself to look Checo in the face. “Your daughter matters to me, well, like… you know, like a boyfriend cares for his girlfriend.”

Checo tried not to laugh at the declaration of love from the man who had just confirmed he was his son-in-law and did his best to maintain the protective fatherly composure, thinking no guy would ever be good enough for his daughter.

“So you care about my daughter… You, one of my coworkers, a twenty-three-year-old kid, care about my eldest daughter enough to believe you can have a relationship with her…”

“It’s not that I believe it, it’s that I know I do.”

Not only you and Checo were surprised by the boy’s words, but Oscar himself too. He regretted it immediately, but before he could apologize to Checo, the man stepped forward, raising a hand and staring at him:

“So… are you two dating or not?”

“Yes, for almost six months now,” you answered, feeling a knot in your stomach, but much less pressure now that your father knew the truth.

Checo sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to process the news his daughter, his little girl, had just told him. The girl he knew ever since she was born and now he had to imagine her spending, if not the rest of her life, at least part of it, with another man.

“And why didn’t you tell me before?” Checo asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but also some understanding. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I knew you would react badly,” you answered, frustrated. “I trust you, and I know you want to protect me from any guy who could make me feel bad, but you have to understand that I’m twenty years old, and whether you like it or not, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Checo looked at you and then turned his gaze to Oscar, who had his head down. Besides his nerves being pretty evident, so was his willingness to face any kind of dispute or reprimand from him just to stay with you.

That made Checo feel a bit bad, though it also gave him some relief seeing that the Australian was truly concerned and, why not say it, in love, willing to do anything for his little Y/N.

Finally, he let out a small sigh, trying to calm himself. He repeated your words over and over in his mind before saying anything else because if you had never disappointed him in your life, then he didn’t want to disappoint you just because you were in love.

I’m not a little girl anymore.

“Checo…” Piastri spoke, but Checo raised a finger, silencing him instantly.

“I’m only going to say this once: you better not hurt my daughter, or I’ll hurt you when I kick you off the track or crash into you accidentally. Is that clear?”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling that Checo wasn’t joking.

“Understood…”

“And as for you,” Checo now spoke to you, completely stunned, “don’t think this is over. Your mother, you, and I will have a conversation about this and several other topics when we get home.”

Unprotected wild sex, alcohol, and drugs, for sure, you thought, forcing a smile to try to hide your worry.

“Now go on and keep loving each other, but be careful where and how you do it. I don’t want to be a grandfather just yet.”

With those words, Checo left, leaving you both.

“Well… now he knows. Finally,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I told you he was intense. Do you believe me now?”

“Of course, mi amor,” the Australian replied, taking your hand and heading to your room in the McLaren motorhome, so, as Checo had said, you wouldn’t become grandparents just yet. “Your dad scared me, but I’m not going to lie to you, he gave me enough motivation to beat him in every race from now on.”

[tojisun]

something about best friend simon not knowing any boundaries (or, deliberately bulldozing through boundaries)—

the way he’s the one who picks you up in the airport even though you and your boyfriend already made arrangements for the pick up, but simon just says he offered to take over because your parents needed help setting things up in their lake house and that your boyfriend offered to help them.

(simon made him offer to help. it’s hidden so well behind honest concern that your boyfriend didn’t notice that simon’s been pushing him into the role until simon's calling out his goodbye's, saying he's off to pick you up now.

"oh, i can-"

"don't sweat it, mate," simon replies with a pinched smile. "i'll drive carefully, promise. bring her back, all safe and lovely.")

you didn’t even know simon’s invited to the vacation, but you gladly murmured to him your thanks, too caught up in your exhaustion to notice the little mean grin that tugged his lips up.

you clamber to his rover messily, blinking slowly, and before you can reach over to buckle your seatbelt, simon leans over and does it for you.

"could've done it myself, y'know?" you whine.

"sure you can," he grunts as he pulls himself back to his seat. "not like y'were one blown wind away from keeling over, but sure."

you roll your eyes at him playfully before biting a giggle when he scrunches his nose at you in reply.

he takes the long route back.

"want anythin' to eat?" simon asks after a while.

"don't we—" you pause, yawning. "need to hurry back?"

"not really," he replies, eyes flicking to the side mirror before he rounds a sharp curve. your body jostles, falling to the side, slipping towards the gear, and simon's hand falls to your lap to steady you.

he doesn't remove it even when the road straightens.

"okay," you finally reply, tired eyes blinking at the size of his hand on your leg. "m'kinda hungry."

he huffs a fond laugh and says he knows a place close by.

it's a local burger joint, apparently known for their fries and milkshake. simon buys you one.

"aww," you croon, grabby hands pulling the cold cup closer to you. "thank you, si."

you two eat in his rover, too lazy to actually settle in the diner.

it's greasy and messy and delicious. simon says you look filthy, before reaching over to wipe the stray milkshake on the corner of your lips. you poke your tongue out to him in reply; he says to swallow that back in before he yanks it out.

you laugh, chucking a balled-up napkin towards him before jumping out of his SUV to run to the bathroom.

(you didn't notice the throngs of messages coming in from your boyfriend nor the way simon swiped your phone from your back pocket and kept it.

he remembers your passcode—still unchanged even after all these years—and reads the messages that your boyfriend sent.

he's asking if you've landed or if you and simon are on your way back. he says he also misses you dearly, and that he can't wait to finally be with you again.

simon deletes them all.)

the two of you return when it’s well into the night, and everyone's gone to sleep. you sigh, feeling the exhaustion hitting you harder now, and amble to your room where you know your boyfriend must be waiting for you, only to stop when simon holds your arm.

"wanna sleep with me?"

"what," you begin, turning your sleepy eyes up at him. "no that's alright. my boyfriend's—"

"asleep, already. probably got ordered 'round by your pa, huh?" he smiles, his thumb swiping along the side of your forearm. "y'might wake up the poor lad if you go there so why don't you sleep in my room just for tonight?"

simon's words wash over you and you know, somehow, there's something wrong with them, with him, but your mind is bogged down by your drowsiness. you can't rationalize what's going on, so you say yes.

that's all simon needed to pull you to his room and into his bed.

you slip out of your clothes, per simon's instructions—his words all muffled as you try to stay up awake—and slip into something loose and baggy—stretched in its overuse but so comfortable on your skin.

it's simon's shirt, you'll learn tomorrow, but for now, you drop to the bed, your eyes shut close, and fall in deep sleep.

the last thing you feel is the heavy dip on the mattress behind you before a thick arm is thrown over your side, pressing into the fat of your stomach to push you back and into simon's front.

limbs lay tangled together, breaths shared, and the summer heat buzzing as skin meets skin.

-

simon doesn't get any better after that. he gets so clingy, and intrudes in your space and forces your boyfriend out.

your boyfriend complained, of course he did, but what could you do? what could you say? simon's your childhood friend so there's nothing malicious between you two. there's nothing more into it.

he gave up fighting then, fists tucked close to his sides as you kissed his jaw and told him to trust you on your words.

but—

how can he calm down? how can he not burn in anger when he sees the way simon pulls you to his lap and you readily nuzzle close. granted it's all because the two of you are watching some game on your phone and the position must be the only way to watch it comfortably, whatever, but it rubs him so wrong how familiar you and simon fall into each other.

how can he not doubt your words when he catches simon's eyes narrowed at him in quiet delight, before deliberately curling his arm around your stomach, and throws the other one on your lap, so dangerously close to your crotch.

it's even worse when the family gathers to the lake, and you and simon are chasing each other, playfighting in front of everyone. simon picks you up with ease, big hands digging into the fat of your belly or your thighs or gripping your ass like simon's so intimately familiar with your body.

how can he not hate himself a little bit when he realizes that it was always you and simon. that that's the dynamic.

-

(and if simon successfully seduces you during this vacation, well—)

-

ext

[heartyluv]

I love your writings of Zayne and Sylus! Can you do one of Zayne and Sylus (separately) where reader tells them that she thinks they should break up because she feels like she isn’t good enough for him so she needs to focus on herself, plus he’s been so busy, and they haven’t had time to be with each other for a while. Which leads up to this moment. Zayne and Sylus ofc get angry because they love reader so much and deny her request. No matter what they will always chose her and who is she to tell him how to feel. Kind of angsty, passionate, and deep yearning if you get what I’m saying. Thank you.🙇🏻‍♀️

Note: You guys are getting all the angst today LOLL. I had some extra time to actually get this done, especially since it didn’t need to be too long. I hope you enjoy, luvly! Thank you so much for being here.

Warning: You talk badly about yourself in this, but I’m here to tell you that all of you luvlys deserve nothing but the absolute best and nothing less. I luv you. 😚

Zayne

Zayne was worried when he got a text from you while he was at work during another one of his late night shifts. He hasn’t been able to be around you for long for the last couple of weeks because of being on call so often lately, so when you messaged him on your own accord for the first time in a while at almost one in the morning, all his focus was out the window. It was a good thing he was due to go home soon.

“Hey, Z. Sorry if you’re busy. Nothing’s wrong, but if you had time tomorrow, could I come by and we talk for a little bit? Love you.”

He wasn’t waiting until tomorrow. Especially when he tried to text and call you and you didn’t answer any attempt. And not when you texted him like that. No emojis, no babe, no lovebug, not even an I in saying that you love him. So when he finally was able to get out of the hospital, the first thing he did was drive to your home.

He doesn’t know about the mental turmoil you’ve been dealing with. He doesn’t know that it’s been going on long before he started getting really busy.

You’ve been feeling insecure about, well, everything. About you not feeling like you’re good enough for someone as talented, intelligent, and handsome as your boyfriend, feeling like he deserves someone who can match him in ways you believe you’re incapable of doing. The distance hasn’t helped, and all you could think of was all the pretty doctors and nurses that he’s around everyday, all the women he encounters on the daily who are undoubtedly just as enamored by him as you were when you first laid your eyes on him.

You tried to convince yourself that this was just you having a moment of weakness, that you simply missed him so much that your brain couldn’t help but try and pin something on you since you haven’t seen him in what feels like forever. It got so bad that you genuinely wondered if he was working overtime, longer than usual, just to get away from you.

Because you knew Zayne was never that cruel, you came to the conclusion that it was time to talk, to tell him that perhaps breaking up is good for the both of you so he doesn’t have to deal with you.

You were rehearsing all of what you hoped you could properly communicate in your bed, when you got a text.

“I’m outside. Please open the door.”

Your whole body froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here now. But you couldn’t just leave him out there, so you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready to tell him something you’d never be prepared enough to say.

His eyes were full of curiosity, confusion, and concern when you stood face to face. He was so worried that he didn’t even bother removing his coat or making himself comfortable. Instead, he just turned your light on so that he could see you properly.

“I got your text, yet you didn’t respond to me when I tried to message and call you back. You’ve worried me. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

You swallow, feeling the tears in your eyes burn as you tried to get yourself right to say what you needed to. But every time you looked into his worrying eyes, your heart cracked. For yourself and for the fact that even with the love in them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were undeserving of it.

“I think we need to break up, Zayne,” you rush out, shutting your eyes and breathing out as if you were being held underwater. No amount of tugging on your pajama sleeve was going to ease your nerves, so you resorted to your fingers, picking at the skin until it hurt.

Zayne hated that. He placed a large palm on both of your hands, looking down at them before he looked up at you.

“Is it something I’ve done wrong? Because of my recent increase in absence?” he studies you, trying to look for any of your ticks to try and see if you’ll lie.

“I just—” the tears fall loosely, rushing down your cheeks. Instead of piecing your thoughts together, they just start spilling out uncontrollably. “I just believe you deserve so much more than me, than what I offer you. I could never be what you need, what you deserve. You’re one of the youngest and most successful surgeons in the world, Zayne. You are so perfect that it makes me wonder how I was so lucky to be given someone like you. And because of that it’s best for me to just let you go so that you—“

“Stop,” he interrupts you. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve when everything and all I’ve ever wanted, needed, is standing right in front of me, trying to leave.”

Your heart beats rapidly from the intense emotions and heavy stress you’ve weighed upon yourself.

“I could lose my job, lose everything I’ve ever earned in this life, and the only thing that would keep me going is you, do you understand that?” He reaches his hand up to cup your face. “But because you’ve come to me with this, it’s obvious that I’ve failed in making sure you know and understand how special you are to me. And it is my responsibility to instill that security in you and us, again.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. He shut all of that down before you had the chance to dig an unnecessary hole deeper, even if that uncertainly is still in the back of your mind.

“I will listen to your concerns and I will mend your heart, but I will not let you discredit or talk down on the only person I’ll only and will ever, love. Is that fair?”

You nod, unable to speak due to embarrassment, relief, and even because of that tinge of fear in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you only mumble.

“There’s no need to apologize to me. It’s my fault for letting these thoughts have the chance to stew in your pretty mind when I know that reassurance is one of the things that keeps us strong. We’re okay, my love. We always will be.”

Sylus

When you started ignoring Sylus’ text messages today, he tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. You had times where you forgot to even look at your phone, so he couldn’t fault you. His kitten, funnily enough, was still human. He was bothered that you had only spoken with him once this morning and it was almost five in the evening now.

Even then, he figured that since he’ll see you later, you can tell him what was so much more important than him while he teased you about it. But when you ignored his phone calls, he knew there was a problem.

You never missed a call from him because his ringtone was the song he had playing when he asked to be your boyfriend. It was a beautiful night on a luxurious rooftop restaurant that he rented for the night as a special way to romance you. It was unique and the song always had you smiling, floating to your phone when you went to pick up as that same dreamy memory replayed in your mind. So now that you’re not answering, his anger and concern began to mend together.

“She’s home?” Luke says with confusion when he gives Sylus your location. He had him find you after his first and only attempt to call you went to voicemail.

“Boss, did you do something?” Kieran asks, his tone laced with shock. You never got like this and the only thing he could think was that after almost three years together, you must’ve had your first real big fight that they were unaware of.

Prepared to debunk that theory, he suddenly got the text message that had him in front of your house faster than anything or anyone could comprehend.

“I’m breaking up with you, Sylus. I’m so sorry.”

Sylus angry was scary—because he didn’t look angry. He had the face that you could compare to a sleeping baby; calm, peaceful unbothered. But under the surface, he was one wrong sentence away from losing his shit.

Your door was thrown open, broken off the hinges when you ran into your living room. His head quirked to the side when he saw you. Puffy and eyes, runny nose, oversized clothing in a relatively warm house. He didn’t know what was wrong, but running from him? He wasn’t allowing it.

“It seems you’ve gotten my attention as you anticipated, sweetie.” He steps toward you, feeling his heart twist with concern as you look at everything but his eyes. “You ignore me, and I allow it all day. Yet to repay me for my generosity, my sweet kitten decides to push her luck and sends me nonsense.”

His playful attempt to control himself drops when he thinks of how prepared you were to just send him that message as if he would ever just accept such a thing. “There is nothing above me that I an incapable of fixing when it comes to keeping you happy. Talk to me. Tell me what needs to be done so that we can resolve it together like we’re supposed to.”

You taught Sylus what real communication was. In this moment, he’s thankful for it because he’s determined to use it to get rid of all your worries and concerns. He tilts your chin up when you refuse to look at him and that sends the waterworks rushing again.

Sylus has been so busy that this was the first night you would’ve seen him face to face in over a month. A part of the reason as to why you were driven to send him that message is because you felt like he was only ready to see you since you nagged him so much.

Even if you didn’t seem to understand that, it couldn’t be further away from the truth for the man looking down at you with determination. Being away from you was hard, but your safety meant more to him than anything. Being apart from you was necessary to ensure nothing ever touched a hair on your head while he handled things you didn’t need to concern yourself with.

Between him being gone and the type of charismatic man he is, you firmly believed that Sylus would inevitably find someone better. You became so dependent on him in a way that made you feel desperate. You felt that maybe you were way in over your head, that this separation was needed so that you could accurately reflect.

You believe that he should have someone secure in themselves, someone who could keep up with him. Someone that was better than you, someone more than you’d ever be.

“I’ve been thinking… And I believe that it’s good for the both us to separate. I didn’t intend to drop this on you, not like this. I just feel like I’m not worthy of you—that you’re a man that women would give nothing but the best to. All I want is for you to get the things that make you happy, not have you settling for something like me.”

You’re surprised that he actually let you finish.

He breathes out, shaking his head slightly. “For someone so smart, your mind must’ve worked tirelessly to convince you to believe something so ridiculous.”

His thumb runs along your bottom lip, staring at them before he looks into your eyes. “It insults me that you don’t think that I know what I want, that I know what I deserve. It insults me that you would belittle the only real thing I’ve ever had in my life, so boldly. It angers me, that I’ve not done my part to properly ensure that you know that you are the only person alive that I would destroy this planet and myself for.”

Your breath hitches when he pulls you closer. “If you ever believed for a second, that I’d let you simmer in this darkness, that I’d let you leave me, I need to do a better job in showing you the kind of man whose children you’ll carry.” He kisses your nose. “Whose ring you’ll bear.” Another kiss to your lips. “Whose heart you will always own.” A final one to your forehead.

“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling the emotions bubble inside you again, threatening to spillover. You want to believe that what you sent was a spark of simple insecurity. But you know it’s been inside you long enough for it to erupt the way it did.

It’s the fact that he would never even allow you to deal with any of this on your own that makes your tears spill.

“You don’t need to say anything, pretty.” He rubs the tears away, one by one as they come. “The only thing you need to tell me are ways we can make sure that this belief never plagues your mind again and how I can keep you confident in my love for you.”

He simply takes your hand, walking out of your apartment and makes a phone call to have your door repaired tonight because you’ll be staying with him until further notice.

“You’re stuck with me for life, kitten. Not even death could keep me from you. And I’m going to make sure that you always understand that.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i am sick rn ;((((( so how about pure vanilla and shadow milk (separately) taking care of a sick reader? i need my silly lil guys doing their best (or worst LMAO) to take care of their beloved -galaxy

Here you go! Hope you feel better soon :(

.....

Pure Vanilla

As a healer, it's only natural that he's the first cookie you called when you started feeling under the weather.

You're certain that you caught a cold from the snowy mountains of Dark Cacao Kingdom while accompanying him to a meeting a few days ago, as your doughy body hasn't stopped shaking since your return despite all attempts to warm yourself up.

Today, you woke up feeling achy all over, barely able to finish your tasks around the kingdom without becoming dizzy or getting sudden chills.

So you've put on bedrest until you feel well, asking one of the bluebirds to send PV a message.

Within the hour, he shows up at your place, bringing some good natural remedies to your bedside.

He also brought some hot jelly soup for when/if you feel like you could eat something light.

While his healing magic mainly extends to injuries, it's able to relieve the aches that plagued your dough.

But he discourages you from jumping up right away, as it took time to work.

Even though you think he's worrying too much over your simple cold, PV admits that he felt partially responsible for getting you sick because he asked you to attend the meeting in the first place.

You tell him that's not true, as you wanted to go and he couldn't have possibly predicted the weather that day. You promise him that you'll recover in no time, and you thank him for being here.

That cheers him up, as he promises to stay with you until you're well enough to move around, assuring you that whatever tasks you had could wait.

Shadow Milk

Despite being an inhabitant of Beast Yeast for years, you weren't familiar with the weather patterns within the Land of Spice...

Until Shadow Milk dragged you into his fellow Beast's domain at the peak of a spice storm one day.

He only wanted to annoy Burning Spice, although after you kept sneezing nonstop during their banter and being the one who annoyed him instead, the jester pouted and decided to warp back to his Spire with you.

Unfortunately, the storm made you terribly sick, with your eyes constantly burning and your throat feeling scratchy.

Shadow Milk only realizes something MIGHT be wrong with you when you refused to come out of your chambers that evening.

He invites himself inside and sees the sorry state you're in, laying in bed with spice particles in your dough and your toppings looking like they're gonna melt at any moment.

He doesn't understand why you're pouting and blaming him for dragging you out into that storm.

He even starts whining like "so you hate me now???? you want me to leave??????"

When you deny that and tell him he can stay, he's suddenly all smiles like "hehe I was gonna stay whether you wanted me to or not, doll. You're gonna have to depend on me now! But then again....you always have, and you always will~"

Sinister undertones aside, he's actually genuinely concerned for your health, taking care of you in-between his duties within the Spire.

He shapeshifts into a doctor/nurse persona, looking up cures for spice-related sicknesses and speaking in medical jargon the whole time he's with you.

He'd gather natural remedies and medicines out in the town no problem, demanding them from every vendor/storekeeper--and of course they listen.

After all, those same folks would gladly give him their left arm in exchange for a comforting lie.

You didn't mind playing the patient role, and you don't question how or where he got all those remedies, as you recover pretty quickly.

He definitely wouldn't dote on Black Sapphire or Candy Apple like this if they ever got sick, so you considered yourself very lucky.

[samerpal]

Honestly, I’m not asking for much. What would mean the world 🌎 to me and my family right now is simply a message from you—a kind question about how my family is doing or how my children are holding up. This small gesture of care is enough to remind us that we’re not forgotten.

Each of you, whether a well-known blogger or just starting out, has the power to make a meaningful difference. A simple question, a brief message, or even an acknowledgment of our struggles can have a great impact. Your kindness would not only lift my spirits but also bring warmth to my family, reminding us that we’re in your thoughts.

🌹Thank you 🙏 for being here, and please know that your concern, however small, has a profound effect on our lives. 🌹

For anyone interested in following our story, you can find it through the following links

My original story

My donation campaign link.

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