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dreamauri · 1 month ago

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♪ — 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗥𝗜𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘 lando norris x girlfriend! reader ( angst, dark, psychological horror ) fic summary . . . Your world starts shifting in the smallest ways—laundry folded when you never touched it, bills paid without your input, and letters signed with a name you shouldn’t know. By the time you finally try to run, it’s too late—Lando Norris is already there, waiting, ready to remind you that you were never going to leave (2.8k words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

this is dark fiction contains mature themes of psychological horror, do not read if that makes you uncomfortable. you've been warned

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, stalking, kidnapping, dark themes, non-consensual acts, dub-con, manipulation & coercion, psychological abuse, captivity, forced dependency, obsession, possessiveness, power imbalance, fear, helplessness, dehumanization, objectification, unhealthy relationship )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The first time you noticed something was off, it was small.

A shirt, washed and neatly folded on your bed, even though you distinctly remember tossing it into the laundry hamper days ago. Then it was your bills—emails confirming they were paid, despite the fact that you hadn’t touched your banking app. Maybe you were just tired. Overworked. Forgetful.

But then the letters started coming.

They were handwritten, ink pressed deep into expensive paper, each one signed with a flourish.

You don’t need to worry about anything. I’m taking care of you.

Wear that blue dress tomorrow. I want to see you in it.

Don’t think about running. You wouldn’t get far.

The gifts appeared next. Jewelry in little velvet boxes, an expensive perfume you once mentioned liking in passing, delicate lace underwear that matched sets you had lost. Your fridge, which you never remembered restocking, was always full of your favorite foods.

But it was the missing items that truly made your skin crawl. Panties vanishing from your drawers. The faint scent of unfamiliar cologne clinging to your sheets.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to tell yourself you were imagining things. But paranoia clung to you like a second skin, fear curling in your stomach every time you entered your apartment, never knowing what you’d find. You considered going to the police, but every letter carried an unspoken threat, a silent warning laced between the lines.

And then, one night, you decided to leave.

You packed in a hurry, throwing essentials into a duffel, your hands trembling as you zipped it shut. You didn’t care where you went—just somewhere far, far away from here.

Your fingers had barely grazed the doorknob when you yanked it open—only for it to slam shut.

A hand. Large, steady, pressing the door closed from over your shoulder.

Your breath hitched, ice crawling through your veins as you felt it—warmth radiating from behind you, a body too close, too solid, pressing into your back. The air shifted, the faintest brush of breath against your ear.

Then, the slow, arm snaking around your stomach, firmly holding you into his body to eliminate any space between you..

"You’re not going anywhere, love."

The voice was smooth, edged with something dark. You turned slowly, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes met his for the first time.

Lando Norris.

You knew his face. Everyone did. But up close, in the dim light of your apartment, he looked different. His usual boyish charm was laced with something more sinister. Possessiveness flickered behind those stormy blue eyes, the curve of his lips almost . . . amused.

He stepped forward, leisurely closing the space between you, his fingers brushing over your cheek before you could flinch away. “You weren’t really thinking of leaving me, were you?”

Your throat felt tight. “Lando—”

“Took you long enough to say my name.” He exhaled, almost like he was relieved, before gripping your chin between his fingers. His touch was firm, not bruising, but enough to remind you of your place. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

Your stomach churned. “Please… let me go.”

His thumb traced your bottom lip, and the smile he gave you sent ice down your spine. “Now, now,” he tutted. “I’ve done everything for you. I’ve taken care of you. And this is how you repay me?”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, but you refused to let them fall. “I never asked for any of this.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, something sharp flickering across his expression. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “But you’re mine. And I don’t like losing what’s mine.”

You swallowed hard, pulse racing as he pulled back just enough to look at you again, studying every inch of your face like he was committing it to memory.

Then, he smiled—soft, affectionate, like you weren’t his prisoner but something precious, something treasured. “Now,” he murmured, reaching for your duffel bag and tossing it aside like it meant nothing. “Let’s get you out of those clothes. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

The unspoken or else hung heavy in the air, suffocating you.

And for the first time, you truly understood.

There was no leaving.

There was no escape.

You don’t remember how long it’s been. Days, weeks—maybe months. Time doesn’t exist the same way in here.

Lando leaves sometimes. Not often, but just enough for you to feel the ache of his absence. The first time he left, you felt relief. A breath of air that wasn’t saturated with his presence, with the thick, suffocating feeling of his control. But then the hours stretched. The silence became deafening.

You’d never been scared of silence before.

But now, it claws at you. It reminds you how alone you are. It reminds you that if something happened—if the world outside forgot you existed—no one would come.

By the time he returned, you had curled yourself into a tight ball on the floor, your breath shallow, your body trembling. The sight of him standing in the doorway, silhouetted by dim hallway light, should have sent fresh waves of terror through you.

Instead, you exhaled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lando murmured, closing the door behind him. He crouched down in front of you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “Did you miss me?”

You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have felt that desperate sense of relief, like a drowning person finally breaking the surface.

But you nodded.

His smile was warm, pleased. “That’s my good girl.”

It’s easier when you don’t fight.

The resistance had lasted in the beginning. Stubbornness was stitched into your bones, refusal threaded through your veins. But it didn’t matter how hard you fought—Lando didn’t break. He waited.

Waited for you to come to your own conclusions.

Waited for you to realize that obedience meant warmth, comfort, clothing.

Disobedience meant cold tile floors, meant standing in front of him with nothing but skin, his gaze dragging over you like hands, pressing, owning.

You learned.

Your body still belonged to you, in some small way. If obedience kept his eyes softer, if listening meant he didn’t look at you like that—like something he could devour—then obedience was a small price to pay.

Lando knew it, too.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured when you handed him your empty plate after dinner, your hands shaking just slightly. “I like when you listen.”

You hated when he praised you. Hated the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his words. It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

But your brain was starting to betray you.

Somewhere, deep down, in the parts of your mind he’d sunk his claws into, you wanted to be good for him.

The apartment was too quiet when he left.

At first, it had been the silence that unsettled you. The absence of footsteps, the lack of his voice, the eerie stillness that seeped into your bones like ice water. Even though you hated him, feared him, loathed every breath he stole from your skin—when he was gone, you felt untethered.

Your fingers trembled as you hugged your knees to your chest, curling into the corner of the couch where he usually held you. The collar around your throat felt heavier when he wasn’t there to tug at it, to remind you that you belonged to him.

It had been months now. Maybe longer. Time had turned into a slow, syrupy thing, dripping through your fingers in melted memories of a life you used to have. You barely remembered the scent of your own apartment, the sound of your phone buzzing, the feeling of slipping into fresh clothes that hadn’t already been picked for you.

Because Lando did everything for you.

At first, it had been terrifying—the way he controlled every detail of your existence. He fed you, bathed you, dressed you. He decided when you slept and when you woke, when you spoke and when you stayed silent. When you were good, he rewarded you with soft touches, curling you into his lap and stroking your hair. When you disobeyed… he reminded you who you belonged to.

But something worse had started happening.

You needed him.

Not just for food, or warmth, or comfort. You needed him because when he was gone, the silence was unbearable. Your stomach clenched with hunger even though the fridge was full. Your throat tightened with thirst even though there was water. Every meal tasted like ash without his fingers pressing it to your lips.

And when he touched you—when he cupped your chin and made you look at him, when he praised you, when he let you rest your head against his chest—you felt safe.

It was sick.

It was wrong.

But it was all you had.

Lando had left again.

You told yourself you wouldn’t panic. That you wouldn’t curl into the corner like some pathetic, abandoned pet. You wanted to be alone.

Didn’t you?

Your fingers trembled as you touched the edge of the collar around your neck. The key was gone. It always was. The door was locked.

You could scream.

But who would hear?

A part of you whispered that you could do it. You could find a way out, somehow. You could fight harder. You could—

The thought shattered when the door handle twisted.

He was back.

You froze in place, every muscle seizing, every part of you bracing for the flood of emotions that came with his presence. Fear. Loathing. Relief.

Lando stepped inside, eyes immediately landing on you. His lips curled into something almost affectionate.

“Still sitting in your little corner, hmm? Right where I left you.” His voice was gentle, teasing. “You really don’t like being alone, do you?”

Your throat felt too tight to answer.

He knew.

You had fought so hard not to need him. But he had taken everything. Stripped you down to something weak, something fragile, something that only existed inside this apartment.

“I told you,” he murmured, stepping closer, crouching in front of you. “You don’t need anything else. Just me.”

He reached out, his fingers threading through your hair, brushing the strands from your face, petting you like something docile, something broken.

And you let him.

Because at this point, you were something broken.

"You think you own me?" Your voice cracked as you took a step back, fists clenched. "I’m not your pet, Lando. My soul isn’t yours."

You recoiled when he reached for you, dodging his touch like it burned.

Lando didn’t move after that.

He just stood there, watching you.

No anger. No shouting. Just a quiet, unreadable gaze. His expression was placid—too placid. The faintest curl of amusement ghosted over his lips, as if you were a child throwing a tantrum.

Slowly, he tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Undress."

The word slithered through the air like smoke, curling around your lungs, suffocating.

Your breath hitched. The weight of his command pressed down on you like cold iron, making the room feel smaller, the walls inching closer.

You shook your head—barely. Your throat was too tight to form words.

Lando exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. "Did you not hear me?" His voice was light, almost playful. "Take your clothes off."

A chill crawled down your spine.

When you still didn’t move, he clicked his tongue. "You love testing my limits. Fine. You can handle the consequences."

The distance between you vanished in a heartbeat.

Before you could react, his fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. The rush of cold air against your skin sent a violent shudder through your body. The loss of fabric was too sudden, too exposing.

Your hands trembled at your sides, nails digging into your palms. You wanted to run—to fight—but Lando didn’t allow it.

"Keep going," he murmured, voice smooth. No urgency. No cruelty. Just an expectation. Like this was nothing more than another command you were expected to obey.

Your fingers felt foreign, sluggish, as you undid the button of your pants, slipping them down your legs in stiff, jerky movements.

"Underwear too."

You clenched your jaw.

Your hands faltered, your pulse hammering in your ears. Just get it over with. Just—

"Slower."

A choked noise caught in your throat.

You obeyed.

Your hands shook as you peeled away the last layer, exposing yourself inch by inch beneath his watchful gaze.

When you hesitated, barely breathing, Lando simply held out his hand, waiting.

Waiting for you to give him your underwear.

Shame curled hot in your stomach.

His brow lifted, lips parting slightly, as if mocking your hesitation. Humiliation crawled up your throat like bile.

Your fingers twitched before you finally placed the fabric in his open palm.

Lando examined the garment briefly, then hummed, bringing it to his nose and taking a slow, deliberate breath.

"I’ll let you keep the socks," he mused. "Next time, I won’t."

A warning wrapped in false kindness.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself.

It was everything after.

The way Lando’s eyes never truly left you.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t need to.

You felt his gaze.

He flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up. Sipped his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup. Paused mid-step when walking past, his eyes dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

It was worse than any touch.

You wanted to disappear, to sink into the floorboards, to claw at your own skin if it meant escaping his stare.

Your arms twitched, instinctively moving to cover yourself—

You stopped.

You knew better.

He wanted you aware.

Of yourself. Of him. Of this endless, unbearable humiliation.

At some point, the shame became unbearable.

You reached for a blanket—just something, anything to dull the feeling of exposure.

A sharp tsk cut through the air.

Before you could wrap it around yourself, Lando was there, plucking it effortlessly from your fingers.

He folded it neatly over his arm. "No."

Your stomach twisted violently.

Your breath hitched as you turned away, arms wrapping around yourself as if that could shield you.

It didn’t.

Then he spoke, and it was worse than anything else.

"You’re beautiful like this."

Soft. Gentle. As if this was normal.

The words shattered whatever fragile control you had left.

A sob ripped from your throat.

You stood there, trembling, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as the tears came—silent at first, then wracking, unstoppable. Your shoulders shook, your breath hitching, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except break apart right where you stood.

Lando huffed, almost amused, before his hands found your wrists, prying them away from your body. In one smooth motion, he pulled you against his chest, his grip firm, unyielding.

He kissed your head. Rubbed slow circles against your back.

It shouldn’t comfort you.

But it did.

He told you he had to leave.

It was the last race of the season. He would be gone for days. Maybe longer.

And the moment those words left his mouth, something inside you shattered.

"No," you whispered, shaking your head. "No, you can’t—Lando, please—"

His hand reached for his suitcase, and before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. He turned to look at you, startled.

"Don't go," you begged, voice breaking. "Please don’t go—please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t leave me here alone—"

Lando sighed, brushing his fingers through your hair. "Sweetheart, I won’t be gone long. You’ll be fine—"

"No, I won’t!" You were sobbing now, gripping his arm like a lifeline, your body trembling so hard you could barely stay upright. "I’ll die without you, Lando—I’ll die in here, I’ll starve, I’ll—"

"You won’t starve," he said, voice calm.

"But I will," you choked out. "Not like that—but I will."

Your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the floor. Your arms wrapped around his leg, clinging to him desperately. You didn’t care how pathetic you looked. You didn’t care that he was smiling, that this was exactly what he wanted.

All you cared about was keeping him here.

"Take me with you," you whispered. "Please, Lando, please, I’ll be good, I swear, I won’t try to run, I won’t even leave the hotel room—I just—just don’t leave me here, please—"

You were pulling at him, your fingers slipping against the fabric of his pants, dragging along the tiles as he moved toward the door.

And Lando… just laughed.

It was soft, almost affectionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, stroking through the strands as you sobbed into his thigh.

"You really can’t live without me, huh?"

You shook your head frantically.

His smile was gentle as he knelt down, cupping your face in his hands. "That’s what I wanted, baby," he murmured. "I wanted you to need me."

And God, you did.

You needed him more than air.

noice notes 🔊 . . . ( its been a while since I wrote something dark. I wrote dark for Max and Charles, and now it's Lando's turn, most likely Oscar or Carlos next )

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cloudyluun · 2 months ago

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Matilda

Summary: During a heartfelt moment on tour, Harry Styles dedicates Matilda to his girlfriend, Y/N. As he sings to a packed arena, his words hold a deeper meaning, reminding her, and everyone listening, that she doesn’t have to be sorry for choosing herself. In that moment, with his voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions, Y/N realizes she’s finally found the love she’s always deserved.

A/N: This blurb is a little love letter to anyone who’s ever felt like they had to apologize for simply being themselves. Matilda is such a special song, and I wanted to capture the warmth, love, and safety of Harry singing it just for Y/N. If you’ve ever needed a reminder that you are loved and enough just as you are, this is for you. 💛

Word Count: 1k

Warnings:

Soft angst & emotional themes

Mentions of past hurt but lots of comfort

Crying (the good, healing kind)

So much love and reassurance

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The arena hummed with restless anticipation, the crowd buzzing as they waited for Harry to speak. The night had been filled with energy, flashing lights, and the familiar rush of excitement that always came with his shows. But now, as he stood at the center of the stage, adjusting the mic stand with careful hands, the atmosphere shifted. It softened, like the world was holding its breath.

Harry exhaled, rolling his shoulders back before looking out at the thousands of faces staring up at him. Somewhere in the front row, right where she always was, sat Y/N.

He found her instantly. She was watching him with that look—the one that made his chest feel too tight and too full all at once. She already knew what was coming.

“This next song is…” Harry trailed off, running a hand through his curls, voice unsteady for a moment. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “It’s an emotional one.”

The crowd quieted, sensing the shift in mood.

“I wrote it after a conversation with someone very special to me,” he continued, gaze flickering back to Y/N. “Someone who has the biggest heart I’ve ever known, even when she didn’t always get the love she deserved.”

Y/N’s breath caught, fingers curling around the edge of her seat.

Harry hesitated, voice thick. “She… she’s spent too much of her life thinking she had to apologize for wanting more. For wanting to be loved the way she should have been from the start. And when she told me her story, I just…” He exhaled, rubbing his jaw before continuing.

“I knew I had to write this. For her.”

The crowd let out a collective aww, but Harry barely heard it. He was still looking at Y/N, his expression soft yet unreadable.

“I asked her if I could sing it tonight,” he admitted, smirking slightly. “She said yes—after making me promise I wouldn’t cry. We’ll see how that goes.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, but Y/N was frozen in place, heart hammering against her ribs.

Harry glanced back at his band, nodding. The first delicate chords of Matilda filled the stadium, and as he turned back to the mic, his eyes found hers again.

Then he started to sing.

"You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’..."

Y/N felt her throat tighten.

"And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels..."

The words hit her the way they always did—like a whisper of something she had never been able to say out loud.

"Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now..."

The crowd swayed, phone lights twinkling like stars. But for Harry, there was only her.

"So you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal."

She had smiled like that for years—like everything was fine. Even when it wasn’t.

And Harry had seen right through it.

Her vision blurred, and she quickly wiped at her eyes, but it was no use. The emotion in his voice was too raw, too real.

"You can let it go..."

As the chorus washed over the arena, it was as if he was singing just for her.

"You can throw a party full of everyone you know..."

Y/N swallowed hard. She had never truly believed it before. That she could let go. That she could move forward without carrying the weight of the past on her shoulders.

"You can start a family who will always show you love..."

Her breath hitched.

"You don’t have to be sorry for doing it on your own."

Harry’s voice was steady, but she could see the way his fingers trembled slightly on the mic stand. He was feeling this. Every single word.

By the time he reached the last chorus, she was openly crying. And she wasn’t the only one. Fans wiped their cheeks, whispering the lyrics back to him, as if they, too, had spent years feeling like they had to apologize for simply wanting love.

When the song ended, the silence stretched for just a second—thick, heavy, real. Then, the entire stadium erupted into cheers, but Harry wasn’t paying attention.

His eyes were locked on her.

He stepped back from the mic, pressing a hand to his chest, as if to steady himself. Then he took a breath and spoke, voice gentle but unwavering.

“If you need to hear this tonight—” He let his gaze sweep over the crowd before settling back on Y/N. “You don’t have to be sorry for choosing yourself. For walking away from what doesn’t serve you. You deserve love. You deserve all of it.”

The cheers grew louder, but Y/N barely heard them.

Because in that moment, looking up at him, she realized something.

Harry had always known. Always seen her for who she really was. And somehow, he had turned all the words she had never been able to say into something beautiful.

For the first time in her life, she truly believed it.

She didn’t have to be sorry. Not anymore.

And with Harry by her side, she never would be again.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #blurb #drabble #cloudyluun #cloudyluun's original post

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quandledlngle69 · 2 months ago

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greetings its the anon with whipped cream, a cherry ontop and rainbow sprinkles again (●’◡’●)ﾉ

i have made my appearance here today to ask for another kasier x reader where reader protects kaiser against some weirdo even tho he didnt really need it but its still super cute bc yk halahakahalahssnhsjdjdjd ♥︎♥︎♥︎

・. ★ omg omg hi again anon.ᐟ I made this one extra juicy 4 u >:3 I hope this finds you well! And if you want you could give yourself an emoji so i can associate it w you <3

☆ CONTENT: Your drinking at the bar for the teams post-match celebration. Kaiser tries to leave when he notices your drunk asf and bumps into a drunk guy who starts getting aggressive. You basically put this guy in his place to Kaisers surprise. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Drinking, alcohol, aggressiveness, kaiser almost fighting this guy, swearing, protectiveness, reader throwing a drink in the drunk guys face, mention of violence, reader not tolerating any bullshit, reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress and heels. Mein schatz - 'My Sweetheart.' Mein liebling - 'My darling.' ☆ W.C. 1.0K

It’s not uncommon for Bastard München to have a post–match celebration at a club.

Usually you spent the night at the bar, preferring it over the cramped and stuffy booths. Drinks came way more quicker when you were closer to the source, your strawberry daiquiri always ended up being slid to you no more than five minutes after being requested. It was also a must that your face made a fake disgusted look when Kaiser's choice of drink–which was a pint of beer–was set in front of him. He sent you an amused smirk as you asked him why he gets beer–knowing your tongue forever tainted for tasting the nasty liquid.

“It’s in my blood, mein schatz.” he drawled, his fingertip following the rim of his glass, his crowned hand splayed out over your flexing knee. “Plus, it's a manly drink.”

Psh, whatever that means.

The next hour and a half is spent babbling his ear off as more strawberry daiquiris found its way in your hands. After about four drinks in a row, your flushed cheek was smushed against his bicep, giggling at whatever small thing he did. He knew it was time to leave when your words started to slur, coupled with hiccups and flushed cheeks. Your feet swinging back and forth slightly from where you sat, nuzzling into him like a cat who had too much affection to give for its own good.

He said his goodbyes to his hammered teammates, the gesture added on with your enthusiastic waving as Kaiser paid the tab, leading you away from the bar by the small of your back.

It took roughly thirty seconds leaving the bar before trouble already began to bloom.

The club wasn’t packed, but it was still bursting with life, neon flashing lights lit up all corners of the dance floor, the music in the background drumming and vibrating in the floor like a second heartbeat. He was cautious and focused, weaving you and himself out of people's way as they passed. Kaiser could see the exit a few feet away, and with the way your heels were barley cooperating with the floor, he knew he had a limited time before you got to your drunken whiny stage–

BAM.

A stumbling figure collided straight into him, slamming into his shoulder hard enough to make him shift his stance. The bump was hard enough to make Kaiser stop, gently grabbing the front of your waist to stop you from continuing on walking. The man wasn’t small by any means–he was almost as tall as Kaiser, and with enough weight and muscle that would be dangerous if thrown around with a purpose. The smell of tequila immediately hit his nose, and he could see the guy barely managing to catch himself from falling. The drunk man turned around, his eyes faltering for a second before pinpointing on Kaiser.

“Whass—what’s your problem, man?” The drunk slurred, frowning like he was the one offended, his voice barely heard over the deafening music.

Kaiser exhaled through his nose. He really didn’t have the time or patience to deal with lowlife drunk idiots–and that description was being nice. Kaiser knew from the other man's stance, he wouldn’t let it go. “You walked into me,” His deep voice calm but firm, his grip on your dress tightening.

“So–so…you think you're some…tough guy, huh?” The man's words are slowed and drawn out, a sense of aggressive edge wedged in them that Kaiser instantly picked up on. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharpening tenfold, foul words quickly forming in the base of his throat. Yet it quickly dissipates when he hears you mumble something about wanting to go home, glancing at you before releasing the tension in his jaw. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Move out of my way. Now.”

It seems like your boyfriend's threatening words finally make you pay attention to the brewing confrontation, forcing yourself to sober up as much as you can to focus on his tension–filled words and the situation in front of you. And his response only seemed to piss the drunk man off more, his face twisting into a nasty scowl, side stepping to stand in front of your boyfriend, sizing him up.

“Nah, you...you don’t just get to walk away, bitch –”

The man puts a rough hand on Kaiser’s shoulder, gripping it in a hostile manner. By some miracle, he hasn’t just completely socked this man in the face. He’s eerily calm, his fist already balling, thinking about how he was going to break this guy's wrist if he didn’t let go in the next three seconds –

But before he could even move, you had snatched the man's wrist, twisting it off harshly with precision, making the man gasp. Kaiser didn’t even have time to process what you had just done before your heel came into hard contact with the man’s foot, making him yelp, loudly. But it was short–lived as it was quickly cut off by a drink to the face, a cup you must have snatched in the moment from someone’s hands on the dance floor.

The surrounding area had paused its flow, dozens of eyes looking on at the scene of this aggressive man who was soaked in sticky alcohol, the drunk girl responsible protectively standing in front of her boyfriend.

Kaiser was still surprised at your actions, but so entertained, letting you cuss this man out with a causal hand resting on your hip, as if consciously holding you back from doing anything else. The mean energy and adrenaline rush was still with you even as the man was escorted out the club by a bouncer. It was after the man had left you felt yourself being pulled gently through the crowd and out into the cool night of Berlin, before being hoisted up effortlessly off the ground and onto your boyfriend's back. Kaiser smirked to himself, still hearing you mumbling insults to yourself by his ear as he brought you back to his sports car. He didn’t bother ushering you into the passenger seat, letting you stay comfortably perked in his lap in the driver's instead.

“You know, I could’ve handled him by myself, mein liebling.” He muttered in your ear as he brushed some stray hair from your face, his cerulean eyes looking down at your drunken form. You mumbled something unintelligible to his ears, earning a soft chuckle from him, shaking his head at your adorableness before smoothly turning his keys in the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

If you were this much of a troublemaker drunk, his mind already raced with how lethal sober you could’ve been.

#𖥔 ݁ ˖ stardustmail #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ light!lock #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ seaglasskisses #𖥔 ݁ ˖ milkywaywhispers #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #micheal kaiser #kaiser x reader #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #kaiser michael #kaiser #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader

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sereia4skz · 11 days ago

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1K Followers Event

★ To celebrate reaching 1k followers I'll be hosting another event!!!

★ I'll be taking request for fake texts/drabbles/oneshots for hybrid!stray kids. You should let me know which member(s)/pairings x reader you would like to see. PLEASE READ STORY THEMES UTC

STATUS: OPEN

#1kShootingStars: masterlist

A/N: super excited, and so happy to have reached another milestone so fast. I appreciate anyone who stays in character just to make it immersive but it's up to you

You're flying in from Australia, your friend Felix, offered to let you stay with his pack. After much discussion with his Pack Leader, you agree. What is going to happen? Keep updating your friend (me), about your time there and your encounters with your friend and his pack (your ask).

A/N pt2: anyways have fun with it and be as vague/precise as you want. feel free to suggest other kinks you’d prefer too

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

wolf!BANGCHAN

★ About: Pack leader, rubs himself all over the house and the boys (scent-marking), howls when he's alone because he thinks it’s cool but the boys make fun of him for it

★ Kinks: Breeding, begging, daddy kink duh, public sex

cat!LEEKNOW

★ About: Moms all of them, runs the place like the military, aloof, despite being super agile he’ll knock stuff over for attention, weirdly super high maintenance about odd things

★ Kinks: Butt stuff just all over, spanking, sharing, blades

bunny!CHANGBIN

★ About: Has way too much energy, bounces around like a maniac, squeezes people to death to show affection

★ Kinks: Dry humping, vibrators, shibari, size differences

ferret!HYUNJIN

★ About: Steals shiny things, dramatically hides under furniture when you disagree with him, wraps himself around others, kinda like a snake he’ll just flop and be impossible to hold

★ Kinks: Dollification, cockwarming, oral (giving), camera/filming

quokka!HAN

★ About: Curious and has no self preservation skills, will just follow anyone anywhere, will climb on anything and everything, including people.

★ Kinks: DP, ice/temperature play, voyeurism, pegging/ass play

kitten!FELIX

★ About: Headbutts for affection, purrs loudly when happy, loves warm laundry piles, and will get hair everywhere, curls up in your bag so you accidentally bring him places, has a please love me look that is downright magic

★ Kinks: Licking, feminization, restraints, wax/temperature play

puppy!SEUNGMIN

★ About: Grumpy golden retriever energy, whines for attention and then pretended you were bothering him, gnaws on sleeves, gets jealous if you pet someone else

★ Kinks: Pup play duh, collars & leashes, spit, choking, oral (receiving)

fox!JEONGIN

★ About: Flicks tail at the boys when annoyed, fake-sleeps to eavesdrop, lowkey scheming with Minnie all the time, mischievous ass guy with a shopping problem

★ Kinks: Dacryphilia, marking, tit fucking (just tits tbh), choking

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway

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boyinatown · 2 years ago

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Hi good day how are you? I really like Wind Breaker but I don't find smut about it. If you don't mind, won't you write about it.

BED-BREAKER

Summary: just smut about windbreakers boys.

Warning: sexual theme, oral sex, doggy style , missionary and cowgirl

Pairing: Dom, Vinny , joker & Owen x f! Reader

A/n : thanks for requesting this, I just didn’t know what characters you wanted so I went with a few i like.

★ DOM KANG

dom 100% loves taking you about anywhere, one time he even requested having sex in his dads club.

Big fan of stomachs, no matter the size , scar , rolls , moles or any insecurities he just loves planting kisses on yours and because of your heat he often finds his self sleeping on it

During sex he’s not very loud , a few grunts here and there but nothing like whimpering or moaning unless you two have been at it for a while he would leave a few gaspy noises!

really into doggy style for some reason, he just loves how your ass slams back against his hips and how easily he can make it jiggle and red with his hand prints <3

He’s definitely big, I mean have you seen this guy? Packing about a 9/10 inch

He has a happy trail. Argue with the wall

Likes wrapping his arms around you , then continues to ravage you.

★ VINNY HONG

Despite his looks he gets embarrassed when you two have sex, but when he sees you underneath him clasping at the sheets or anything to control yourself his red eye glows with excitement to ruin you

He loves missionary so he can see your face, plant kisses on your jawline then savor the taste of your lips

He isn’t really into any specific type of body part , but he does love it when your breasts slightly bounce, and once again doesn’t care if their small , middle or huge. As long as he can watch he’s fine with it.

Vinny whimpers, I’m sorry but he does. He’s a sensitive guy and when you have sex he’s glad you chose him and cherish moments with him

Definitely spanks your ass when you walk by him or when your back is arched

Hickeys , hickeys lots of hickeys! Vinny can’t control his whimpers so he chooses to muffle them by painting your body with marks. <3

★ JOKER

this is unrelated but why doesn’t this motherfucker have a last name 😭

Joker loves cowgirl, that’s it. He just wants to hold your hips to thrust back into you and control your ever move even though your the one topping him. He can’t help it, that’s just how he is a dominator.

Speaking about dominator, he’s definetly a dom. Even if you tried to take over this mf will pin you down and just thrust harder into you not even stopping his hips for a second.

He’s fast in sex, fast and rough. Where do you think all that anger goes ?

he likes your ass, biting it , spanking it , kissing it. Anything <3 he just loves it. Sometimes he’d just slap your ass so hard you’d jolt high in the air then look back at him disappointed

He likes his arms, the way he can just choke you with them while fucking you from behind muttering stuff into your ear

When you guys fuck his earrings dangle and make noises so that’s sends you both over the edge

★ OWEN KNIGHT

he’s mean during sex, his eyes glowing in the dark and just making you whine for mercy.

Definitely fucks you in front of a mirror , just so you can see his blue orbs focused on you watching your every move even if you try to squint them he’d just force them open by pounding even harder

His favorite body part on you are your thighs , he likes having them on his shoulders while you massage his scalp while watching a movie, just holding you up in the air and to see them pressed against your chest when his cock keeps getting sucked into you

I headcannon he likes giving you oral sex more then you give him, something about you arching your upper body and thighs twitching makes him wanna pounce onto you, Ofcourse after you cum first <3

Has tried to record you two having sex before , but once he saw you looking at the camera with a fucked out look and eyes rolling back biting your lower lip he threw his phone away before smashing his lips onto yours roughly while his hips never stopped… but the recording luckily still went on and your voices were heard.

#dom kang windbreaker #dom windbreaker #Vinny hong windbreaker #vinny hong x reader #vinny windbreaker #joker windbreaker #Owen knight windbreaker #Owen knight #owen knight x reader #windbreaker smut #samii 🐈‍⬛

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saddleups · 6 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 .

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 10k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . ongoing , part one of two. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . : implied domestic violence/abusive relationship . alcoholism . terminal illness . description of hallucinations . dream sequences . spanking . hairpulling . rough sex . unreliable reader . p_rn w/ plot .

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . . james sunderland has emerged from the fog of silent hill , bearing the weight of his past but with a tentative acceptance of his guilt. with young laura by his side, he's prepared to leave the town's horrors behind and step into a new chapter. but when laura bolts back into the fog to retrieve a forgotten stuffed animal, james has no choice but to follow amidst his return, he encounters you — a stranger bound to silent hill by your own unfinished business, still searching for answers about your late husband. as the two of you form a reluctant alliance, the lines between reality and nightmare blur, forcing both of you to confront haunted memories and a shared need for redemption in a town that preys on every buried secret.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . where all my sunderheads at??? i guess taking a break from one fic only lead me into the arms of another fic. this will be a two-parter, maybe an epilogue who knows? just testing the waters with this. please be aware that the contents of this fic are in line with the themes commonly found in the silent hill franchise. please consider the warnings and read with caution.

The fog clung to the streets of Silent Hill like a shroud, a familiar yet unsettling presence that whispered secrets of the past. James held Laura’s hand tightly as they made their way toward the town’s edge, the weight of their shared experiences hanging heavily between them. After everything he had endured, he was finally ready to leave this cursed place behind, to start anew with her by his side.

“Are you sure you have everything?” he asked, glancing down at her small backpack, packed full of her belongings. She nodded, her eyes bright with determination. They’d faced enough together, and now, with the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders, he felt a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.

Just as they approached the outskirts, Laura suddenly halted, her expression shifting from excitement to panic. “Wait! I forgot my bunny!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing off the fog-drenched buildings.

“What?” James felt his heart drop. “Laura, we can’t go back! It’s dangerous!”

But she was already pulling away, her small legs carrying her back toward the heart of Silent Hill. He cursed under his breath, adrenaline surging through him as he chased after her. “Laura, stop! Please!”

The fog swirled around him, thickening with every step. It felt as if the town itself was resisting their departure, reluctant to let them go. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, familiar shapes that once haunted him. But now, they merely observed, lingering like specters of the past rather than threats. The creatures, remnants of his darkest fears, stayed back, as if recognizing that James had earned his freedom.

“Laura!” he called out, his voice strained as he strained to catch up to her. “Where did you go?”

The day at the lake was one of those rare moments you held close—a time when you and Chris weren’t at each other’s throats, voices raised, each of you convinced that volume could somehow mend what was breaking between you. Chris was never a great man; he did what he could, and you gave him credit for that. He tried, he really did. But then he died, and… well, that was complicated.

The lake had been everything your relationship wasn’t at the time: calm, serene, a mirror of something whole. The town welcomed you both with open arms, mistaking you for lovebirds celebrating an anniversary. Little did they know it was the last-ditch effort to salvage a marriage already unraveling. You had been done with him, resigned to leaving. But something about that day at the lake changed things. You returned home, and for a while, it was as if Silent Hill had lifted a weight, given you a second chance. Chris seemed different—softer, even attentive. He asked about your day, kept his temper, stopped drinking so much. And for once, being a "good wife" felt possible, like a role you could fit into.

Then Chris got sick. So sick, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do. He refused hospital stays, insisted the doctors were all quacks who didn’t know a damn thing. And he wasn’t entirely wrong—no diagnosis ever stuck. His hair thinned, his weight plummeted, and the six-foot-four man who’d once filled a room seemed to shrink before your eyes. He took to drinking again, convinced it was doing him more good than the doctors ever had. And then, one ordinary Wednesday afternoon, he died. Just like that.

So when you received a voicemail from the Lakeview Hotel saying your husband had booked the honeymoon suite for the weekend, you thought it was a cruel joke. Then came flowers at work, the card signed “Chris” with a note about how much he looked forward to your trip back to Silent Hill. Something was wrong, something deeply, viscerally wrong. But you had to know.

The fog in Silent Hill was relentless, thick and damp, swirling around you as if it were alive. When the wind picked up, it chafed your cheeks raw, and the empty water bottle in your hand felt like a taunt. The town looked so different from what you remembered. Gone were the bustling streets and cheerful Americana charm that had once made you consider leaving the city to settle here. What you found instead was a hollow vessel, the life drained from it, a love grown cold. But you searched on, knowing this desolate place held your only answers.

Time didn’t move right here; minutes and hours blurred together until they meant nothing. The fog rang in your ears, drowning out your thoughts until you found yourself in front of a crumbling apartment complex near the town square. Inside, you moved slowly, feeling like you were following someone else’s steps, picking up right where they had left off. It felt like a cage, in both the literal and the suffocating, metaphorical sense.

The walls—sticky with something infectious—pressed in on you, both restricting and repelling as you paced the decayed floor. The beam of your flashlight crackled, faintly illuminating the mangled limbs soaking in stagnant pools of bile and blood. Your steps traced a path with no end in sight, guided only by luck and a fading wit, absent even a scrap of a map. Someone had taken it before you, maybe to keep you lost. You rubbed at the cross on your chest, though the metal burned cold against your skin, and no prayer would form to soothe you.

How long had it been? How many bullets did you have left?

Then, you heard footsteps. A scrape, then another, louder than your heartbeat but not by much. Slowly, you raised the gun, unable to see much of anything, the pungent stench saturating the air as you squinted into the darkness. A shadow moved in the murk, steps too soft to be anything monstrous. And yet, your finger tightened on the trigger.

The crack of your shot echoed through the hall.

The figure jerked backward, but you could tell it hadn’t struck home. He stumbled into view, lifting his hands, a gun gripped loosely in one. His face came into focus under your wavering flashlight—a man, worn down, wary, yet unafraid.

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice rough.

"Let’s put the guns down first," he replied, voice low and steady, as he slowly lowered his weapon, tucking it away with one last glance at you.

You mirrored his action, hands dropping just enough.

“You almost killed me,” he said.

“Yeah, well, can you blame me?”

A pause, then he nodded. “Suppose you’re right.”

His gaze shifted, still guarded. “James Sunderland,” he added, almost reluctantly.

You hesitated. “That supposed to mean something?”

“Not really.” His eyes lingered, taking in your face, maybe wondering if you, too, had anything left to lose.

You held his gaze, unsure whether this new presence was a relief or just another curse to endure. You swallow, and give him your name.

He repeats it with a polite smile before asking, “What brings you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m looking for my...daughter. Laura” His words are plain, almost hollow, yet you can feel the weight behind them. There’s a sincerity there, but even so, you keep your distance, wary that he could be just another twisted manifestation of the town, designed to taunt you.

“I’m a journalist…an investigative journalist,” you say, the lie escaping easily enough, though you throw in a casual shrug to help sell it. “Strange things happen in this town. Worth investigating.”

James nods, seeming to accept this, and even manages a faint, tired smile. “Yeah. Well, good luck.”

With that, he turns and walks away. As he does, you notice a sheaf of papers slipping from his back pocket—maps in various states of decay. You quicken your pace to catch up, trying to think of something to say. He glances back, his expression mirroring your own uncertainty. You know playing the helpless act would ring hollow after nearly shooting him in the head, so you try something new. Honesty.

“I’m…lost.” The admission comes reluctantly, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. “Just let me tag along, yeah?”

James doesn’t respond right away, and you brace yourself for rejection. But then you speak up, pressing your case further. “I won’t get in the way. Plus, you’ll have an extra gun.”

He looks at you, working his jaw as if weighing a response. You’re ready to hear him refuse when he finally parts his lips to answer.

“Sure,” he says. “Just stay close.”

He’s disarming, isn’t he? Voice so gentle, so steady. You aren’t sure if that’s normal. After years of Chris’s voice sharp with vitriol, you’d almost forgotten that men could speak without dripping contempt.

The two of you navigate the building, slipping from one corridor to the next in tense silence, every footfall weighed with alertness. Neither of you is inclined to push the silence back; this isn’t the place for it, anyway. Each door you try leads to the same dead end: strange rooms littered with remnants of lives long abandoned, like paintings frozen in decay. A child’s single shoe left on a dusty carpet. Newspapers yellowed with age. The walls scrawled with jagged messages that almost seem to call to you personally.

James steps into the next room first, and suddenly the air is cut by a familiar, sickening squelch. You both go rigid. His flashlight catches only the vague outline of it—an amalgamation of twisted, fleshy limbs tangled around itself, no face, no eyes, barely a body but moving like something alive. It trudges toward you with the single-mindedness of something that hunts.

Without thinking, you raise your gun, squeezing the trigger as you aim for its head. The shot lands, and the creature lurches backward, twisting before collapsing in a heap mere inches from James.

James’s wide eyes meet yours, both of you sharing a sharp, relieved exhale. "Thanks," he breathes, still catching his breath. "Guess it’s good you didn’t miss this time."

“Yeah,” you say, your heart pounding almost as loud as his. He presses a hand to his chest as if it might slow the beat, while you take a moment to steady your grip on the gun.

For a moment, you’re both suspended in a quiet that feels heavier than before. Trust was established, and it's almost like it scared you both. The crackle of a record player cuts through the silence, startling you. A song starts, warped and dragging, as if it's being pulled through deep water.

Why do birds suddenly appear…

The voice is strained, drowning in static. You press your hand to head as a pang hits you. The words churning something up you'd thought you'd locked away.

…Every time you are near…

The room looses focus, eyes blur and darkness begins to press in from all asides. Your heartbeat drums in your eyes, every note tangling around your memories of Chris, the way he used to hum this song when things were still.. bearable.

…Just like me, they long to be…

The room spins and you stagger slightly, barely catching yourself on a shelf with a thud. The song goes on, warped, echoing…

Close to you…

“Hey, you all right?” James’s voice pulls you back, grounding you as you blink, disoriented, trying to shake the fog from your mind. He’s closer now, his eyes narrowing, his expression shifting from vague curiosity to something sharper, more focused.

You pull yourself up, forcing a shrug. “I’m fine,” you say, the lie coming out thick. “Just…dizzy, that’s all.”

James studies you, not entirely convinced. There’s a pause as the record scratches, skipping over a verse, the strained vocals dragging out an unsteady note that seems to fill the room. You glance away, letting the darkness swallow your expression, fighting the emotions this song brings up.

“Pretty strong reaction for a journalist.” His tone is quiet, but the words cut through the static. He doesn’t press further, but the question lingers in his eyes.

You laugh it off, masking your discomfort. “Yeah, guess I don’t like this song much,” you manage, brushing past him to look for the record player. “The whole place feels like it’s… like it’s trying to get in my head.”

You spot the record player in the corner, its needle still scratching, caught on the line, "close to you." It’s enough to make your stomach twist, but you shake off the dizziness and press the needle to silence. When you turn, James’s eyes are still on you, his expression wary, cautious.

The silence stretches, heavy with what you’re both choosing not to say. Finally, he nods toward the doorway. “Ready to go?”

You let out a breath, forcing your voice to stay light. “Lead the way.”

As he moves ahead, you catch him glancing back at you, each look carrying a hint of suspicion. You know he’s beginning to piece things together, but you’re not ready to give him the truth—not yet.

Chris was an enigma, a puzzle you never fully solved, even when he was by your side. That song had its roots deep in your life together: road trips, late-night humming, dancing to it at your wedding. You hadn’t heard it in years, and yet it still had the power to unravel you.

“You sure you’re alright?” James asks, his voice steady but his eyes watchful.

“Just… a little tired.” The lie tastes hollow, but it’s enough for now.

James doesn’t press, nodding as he lets it go. You can see Silent Hill’s weight on him too, a shared fatigue between you. There's a muted relief in his eyes, knowing he’s not alone in this—someone else who sees what he sees and is capable of handling the worst of it.

“Yeah,” he mutters, glancing out a window, confronting the fog-choked street. “Me too.”

You’re both drained, each weighed down by the town's relentless demands. When you come across yet another abandoned apartment with a door slightly ajar, it looks as good a place as any to rest. James enters first, gun drawn, carefully scanning each room until he’s satisfied it’s safe. You follow, and the two of you settle into the dusty living room, sinking onto the worn couch across from him. The dim light casting shadows over his face makes him look even more exhausted than before. Despite his guarded demeanor, a flicker of relief softens his expression.

But you’re barely aware of him. Your mind keeps drifting, pulled back to the haunting notes of Close to You, the song’s echo dredging up memories and leaving a strange, hollow ache in its wake. Chris used to sing it with that same reverence you heard in your mind just now. The way it clung to him, stayed with you, as if the song itself held a secret too. You close your eyes, your last thought tangled in memories as sleep claims you faster than you realize.

The dream is seamless, more real than any nightmare should feel.

The church pews overflow with lush white blooms, their delicate petals casting a fragrant veil over the room, mingling with the scent of polished wood and old hymnals. Statues of angels line the chancel, their stone faces serene, hands pressed together in prayer, as if they too bless this day. Friends and family fill the space—faces from high school, colleagues, distant cousins. The two of you are well-loved, and it shows in every corner of this room filled with warm smiles and gentle whispers.

Your dress is exquisite, timeless, the lace delicate and intricate. A sheer net veil drapes over your face, softening your features; Chris never liked heavy makeup, and today, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. The wedding march begins, and as you step down the aisle, heart pounding, you see him waiting—Chris, the man you loved, standing with that familiar smile. It’s perfect, almost too perfect.

You’re standing by the lake now, that same lake you once visited together. The water is unnaturally still, like polished glass, reflecting a cloudless sky with eerie clarity. You look down and see yourself dressed differently—a simple sundress, soft and light, embroidered with tiny flowers. The lake shifts, its surface darkening to an inky black, and Chris’s form starts to dissolve, his features warping as he stares at you. His brown eyes, once warm, pool with a thick, dark liquid that streams down his face—a grotesque mix of blood and tears.

His lips pull back into a grimace, revealing not his familiar smile but a horrifying maw of decayed teeth, blackened and rotten, the gums swollen and raw. It’s almost impossible to look at him, but there’s something in his eyes—a haunting, bottomless pain—that keeps you rooted, feeling his anguish as if it’s your own. You try to reach him, but he keeps drifting farther, swallowed by the thickening fog, his shape barely visible. Your legs feel heavy, unable to chase after him. You open your mouth to scream, but your voice is gone. In place of Chris’s hum, the warped, dragging voice from the record begins to play, twisting the lyrics into something unsettling.

Why do birds suddenly appear… every time you are near…

It’s as if the town itself is singing, mocking your grief, laughing at your misery. You spin around, and now, in the lake’s reflection, you see… James?

He stands in the distance, his gaze fixed on something just beyond your line of sight. His expression is twisted in pain, not the frantic desperation of your own memories but a deep, abiding sorrow that feels almost like acceptance. It’s a sorrow that seeps into the atmosphere, heavy and palpable, and it pierces through the veil of your nightmare, pulling you toward him as if you’re both bound by an unseen thread.

Your mind fractures with the realization that this isn’t your memory—it’s his. You want to call out to him, to bridge the distance between you, but no sound escapes your lips. The fog envelops you both, thick and suffocating, intertwining your fears and regrets into a shared torment. As you look closer, flashes of another woman’s face blur into the water beside Chris’s—faces of those you’ve each lost or left behind, woven into the fabric of this haunting place. The lyrics echo around you, a cruel reminder of your collective longing:

They long to be… close to you.

Then everything shatters—the lake, the fog, and the memories—blowing apart like glass fragments, each shard reflecting images you’d rather forget. You wake with a jolt, gasping, and for a disorienting second, you don’t know where you are. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling the rapid thump of your heart, the remnants of the nightmare lingering. Across the room, James is also awake, his face pale and strained as he stares at the wall, clearly shaken by whatever he just experienced.

The silence stretches, both of you catching your breath, still in the grip of the shared memory. After a moment, James finally looks at you, his gaze troubled. He knelt on the floor across from you, reaching forward. You retreat inward, bringing your knees close to your chest as you attempt to gather yourself from the vivid nightmare.

“You… saw it too, didn’t you?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

For a long moment, you don’t know what to say. All the excuses you’d planned earlier crumble, replaced by the rawness of what you just experienced. You give a slow nod, your voice shaky. “Yeah, I… I did.”

The weight of this unspoken bond hangs between you, a fragile connection forged through shared suffering. You can tell he wants to ask more, but he holds back, respect or fear—it’s hard to tell.

“You’re not a journalist, are you?” His voice is edged with something colder than distrust. “Why are you lying to me?”

Your index finger digs into the flesh of your thumb, scratching at the nail fold, peeling away the dead skin with anxious precision. With a reluctant sigh, you finally admit,

“My husband is here.” The words sound foreign, almost absurd, and you stop, feeling the weight of them settle uncomfortably. Your fingers drift to the spot where your wedding band should have been; it’s been years since you wore it. You hope James doesn’t notice its absence.

James’s gaze drifts, as though he’s caught in a memory of his own, piecing together fragments that refuse to settle. He remembers his own day by the lake, the memory of Mary and him standing silently together, wrapped in a shared peace as they looked out over the water’s glassy calm. That day had held something pure, untouched. But when that same vision began to warp, blending into a nightmare where he saw you there, tangled in shadows and held close by a man whose features twisted painfully, he assumed it must have been someone you loved deeply. Someone whose memory drew you here, too, searching through Silent Hill’s fog for answers, just like him.

“Did you get a letter from him?” James asks, his voice almost relieved, as though grasping at a thread of shared experience. “Like I did… from Mary?” His eyes search yours, teetering on the edge of desperation, as though hoping you might be a lifeline, someone who could understand.

“No,” you murmur, the answer thick in your throat. “He… he booked us the honeymoon suite at Lakeside. For our anniversary.” You hesitate, then glance up at James. Oddly, there’s a connection there, a shared understanding that feels like an anchor in this distorted reality. “I got a phone call. He said he’d be… waiting for me.”

James shifts, steadying himself, then reaches down and offers his hand. “How long have you been married?”

Taking his hand, you rise, feeling the warmth of his grip. “A long time.”

Lucky for you, he doesn’t ask for more.

You rub your eyes, exhausted. The rest was a waste of time, James knew that. You noticed his urgency, his resolve. It didn't parallel you, who dreaded the confrontation with Chris.

"Who was the woman?"

"Mary," he says her name with such familiarity. There's warmth in his tone that had been absence till now.

God, he must really love her. And you wonder what that felt like, the warm embrace of a man who loved you.

“Is she Laura's mom?”

James voice is low and purposeful. “It's...complicated.”

Taking the hint, you refuse to press further, “we should keep moving.”

You come to your senses, dusting off your legs, turning your gaze toward an hallway drowned in darkness. It looked endless, barely visible under a tangle of peeling wallpaper and decay. With a hesitant nod, you follow him; your hearts quicken as you tread deeper into the unknown. As you walk, each step feels like an invitation into Silent Hill’s dark heart. The sound of your footsteps is swallowed by the oppressive quiet, James reached forward firmly grabbing your forearm and pushing you toward him. You let out a scream, it echoes through the hallway sending you into a flustered, embarrassed state. You’d done so well keeping your composure, keeping your fear close to your chest even when Silent Hill beckoned for you to give into it.

“Careful!”

Your gaze falls to the floor and you can't help but notice the large, jagged hole that threatens to swallow you whole. You're still in James' grasp, you look up at him and see the exhaustion etched into his face. The stubble on his usually clean-shaven jaw looks foreign, a sign of how little sleep he's gotten. But despite it all, there is an undeniable warmth in his eyes, a flicker of determination that refuses to be dimmed. It hits you suddenly.

Shit, he’s handsome.

As if sensing your thoughts, James pulls you closer and your body responds automatically. His touch is like a lifeline, one that you grip onto tightly. Your breath hitches as he leans in, his heart beating rapidly against your chest.

It's strangely calming, and you find yourself sinking into him as if searching for some kind of solace. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent, and for a brief moment you both linger in this embrace. Before you can gather your thoughts and thank him for saving you from plummeting to your death, a voice interrupts the moment. It doesn't belong to either of you.

"Well, well. Looks like Jamesie has a new lady friend."

Both of you startle at the unexpected voice, but James responds with familiarity. He knows this woman. And as she steps out from the shadows, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and her ample assets on full display, it's clear why he knows her so well.

“Maria, don’t,” James’s voice drops, laced with warning. "I said we were finished."

You try to pull away, but James’s grip on your hand holds steady. It’s hard to tell if he’s unwilling to let go of you, or if he’s trying to shield you from something he knows all too well.

Maria steps forward, her heels striking the floor with sharp, deliberate clicks. Her gaze cuts through the darkness of the room, narrowing as they land on you. There's a mocking edge to her expression, something both inviting and dangerous, like she holds the keys to a room you don’t want to enter.

“Don’t what?” she taunts, her voice light, but a dark undercurrent simmers beneath it. The tension thickens, palpable, as though the entire room hinges on Maria’s whims. Something in her presence feels volatile, as if one wrong move might unravel whatever frail sense of reality you have left.

You find your voice, though it wavers. “James… who is this?”

But Maria doesn’t give him a chance to answer. Her lips curl into a knowing smirk. “She makes you feel like such a strong man, doesn’t she?” she purrs, her gaze shifting to him, almost challenging.

“Strong and brave,” she sneers softly, drawing out the words like she’s savoring each one. “But that’s only because she hasn’t seen you like I have.” Her eyes flash with something dark and possessive, a twisted familiarity that makes your stomach churn.

“What would you do if she knew who you really are, James?”

James stiffens beside you, but Maria doesn’t back off. Instead, she takes another step forward. Reaching towards you, gentle hands touching your hair with thoughtfulness, yet the action sends shivers down your spine. Maria tilts her head, studying you with a look that feels both knowing and cruel. “And you,” she says, her tone shifting, becoming almost sweet but dripping with malice. “Poor thing. I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Your fingers tighten in James’s grasp, and Maria’s eyes flicker with wicked amusement as she notices. A low, bitter chuckle escapes her, slicing through the room.

“You really think you’re here for your husband, don’t you? Sweet Chris is waiting for you, dear,” she coos, her voice dripping with venom.

Her words hit like a punch, and an icy chill races down your spine. How she could know Chris—how she could know anything about him—is beyond comprehension. Yet here she is, peeling back your skin, exposing secrets you thought were buried. The anger simmering within you begins to fester, raw and ugly, threatening to spill over.

“Stop,” you plead, voice shaking.

Maria’s lips twist into a mocking smile, and she leans in closer. “Isn’t he?” Her tone is taunting, merciless, as though she’s drawing power from the very pain she’s causing.

"How'd you think he'd feel seeing you locking arms with another man?"

Finding a surge of strength, you step forward, voice firm. “I said stop it.”

For a moment, Maria halts, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Then she raises her hands in exaggerated surrender, her smile never fading. “Oh, look at you, standing up for yourself.�� She gives a small, mocking clap.

“You two really do make a cute couple.” Her words are laced with contempt, every syllable dripping with disdain.

With that, she takes a step back, casting one last dark glance at James before she turns to leave. Her parting words echo in the room, leaving a chill in their wake.

“Good luck, sweetheart. You’re going to need it.”

And then she’s gone, her laughter fading into the silence, leaving you and James in the tense, suffocating aftermath. The silence in the room feels electric, charged with the residue of Maria's taunts. The air grows thicker, pressing down on you as you turn to James, seeking solace in his familiar presence. But instead of comfort, unease flickers across his face—his eyes darting, unable to meet yours. It’s as if he’s caught in a web spun by Maria’s venomous words, and you can feel the strands tightening around your heart.

“James,” you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “How does she know Chris?” Your chest constricts at the mere mention of your husband’s name, the laughter you once shared with him echoing in your mind. James and you had been inseparable upon meeting, following each other at the heel as you navigated the labyrinth of the apartment complex. It wasn’t plausible to accuse James of telling Maria about Chris, yet you couldn’t conjure up another justification.

James glances away, fingers raking through his hair, a gesture so familiar yet suddenly alien. “I don’t know what she’s playing at,” he mutters, but there’s an edge to his voice that tinges his words with doubt. You feel it—a crack in the foundation of trust that has held strong until now. He swallows hard, his throat working as though he’s contemplating a confession that could shatter everything between you. He shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture that normally calms him now making his insides twist tighter. “She’s just… trying to get into your head,” he finally admits, but the hesitation lingers like a specter. You take a step closer to him, searching for reassurance in his deep-set gaze.

His eyes met yours, “Please believe me."

The air between you feels brittle, each word hanging like fragile glass, and you have to look away. Without a word, you step back and turn down the hallway, putting distance between yourself and James’s pained gaze. You walk, the low hum of silence filling your ears, until you find a room that’s only slightly ajar. With a deep breath, you nudge the door open and step inside, the hollow creak adding to the suffocating quiet.

The room itself is suffused with an eerie calm, yet it carries the faint remnants of something lived-in. Faded wallpaper, once cream-colored and adorned with delicate flowers, now curls at the edges, stained by water and age. Dust particles float in the muted light, casting a dreamlike haze over the place. A loveseat, its upholstery worn to the threads, sits against the far wall, its cushions sunken in, as if weighed down by the echoes of past residents who sought refuge here. An old, ornate mirror is mounted on the wall, the glass cracked, sending distorted reflections back at you. You catch your own image in its fractured surface, fragmented and unfamiliar.

You lower yourself onto the loveseat, and the springs creak beneath your weight, a hollow, mournful sound that matches the hollowness blooming in your chest. Maria’s words ring in your mind, each syllable a serrated edge cutting into memories you’ve tried so hard to repress. Chris—his laugh, his teasing smile, his hand in yours as you danced on your wedding day. And now, here in this place, in Silent Hill, his name feels like a curse, a haunting that even the fog cannot mask.

How could she know about him? How could she know you?

The silence presses on, thick and suffocating, forcing memories to the surface that you’d rather keep submerged. Chris wasn’t perfect; your marriage wasn’t the fairy tale people assumed it to be. You remember the fights, the silences, the times he looked at you as though he didn’t know you anymore. You remember feeling like strangers in your own home. The weight of it—the memory, the bitterness, the grief—settles on your chest like a stone, and you can feel yourself sinking under it, drawn down by a ghost who refuses to let you go.

You clench your hands together, fingers tracing the place where your wedding band used to rest. It’s just an empty strip of skin now, yet it still feels heavy, like an anchor tethering you to a past you can’t outrun. Maria’s voice reverberates in your mind, mocking and sharp, unearthing everything you’ve tried to bury.

How much did she know? How much could she see?

A chill seeps into your bones, the room itself growing colder as though responding to your turmoil. You wrap your arms around yourself, gaze drifting around the room once more, searching for answers in the decayed furniture, the cracked mirror, the peeling wallpaper. But the silence offers no solace, only a hollow echo of a life you once led, a love that may have been more illusion than truth.

The door creaks open softly, and you look up to see James standing there, a shadow in the doorway. His face is lined with concern, his brows furrowed, and he steps inside with cautious urgency, his voice low and gentle. “She’s just trying to mess with you,” he says, moving closer. “That’s what she does—Maria’s… she’s not someone you should trust.”

You feel a flash of anger bubble up, something raw that you can’t hold back. “She may be messing with me, but she’s clearly something to you, James. You think I haven’t noticed? She knows things that no stranger would know.”

You stand, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as though to ward off the chill that Maria left in the room. “Whatever she is, she’s tied to you. I can feel it.”

He looks away, eyes darkening, an almost haunted expression casting shadows across his face. “Maybe she is. But you can’t believe her. She… she’s just a part of this place, trying to twist things.” His fingers rake through his hair, betraying his own uncertainty. “You have to believe me.”

The truth in his words wavers, not quite reaching you. “Maybe this is where we part ways. You need to find Laura, I need to find Chris… maybe it’s better if we don’t drag each other further down.”

James takes a step toward you, urgency flaring in his eyes. “No—don’t say that. I know it sounds crazy, but I… I don’t want to go on alone. You’re here, and I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like… like I’m supposed to be with you, like you’re a part of this, too.”

The weight of his words presses into you, and the room falls quiet, thick with a shared loneliness, a strange intimacy brought on by this cursed place. For a moment, you can see the struggle behind his guarded gaze—a longing for connection, for some thread of human understanding. You feel it, too, this tether that’s kept you together, kept you following each other through the shadows of Silent Hill.

His eyes search yours, desperate, unguarded. “Please. We’re both here looking for answers… for the people we love. Isn’t that enough?”

You swallow hard, your emotions twisting into knots that leave you feeling raw and exposed. Chris’s memory looms, heavy and sharp, stirring a familiar pain in your chest. Despite all the hurt he left behind, despite the tangled mess he made of your heart, there’s an ache that remains—a longing, a craving for the simple comfort of touch, of companionship.

Your gaze settles on James, who stands there, his expression earnest, vulnerable in a way that only seems to deepen the strange connection between you. It’s been so long since someone looked at you like that, without judgment, without expectation. Just… seeing.

And James, with his own broken pieces, feels like someone who could understand. Someone you don’t have to explain yourself to. He doesn’t pry or push; his presence is soft, like a balm for the emptiness that’s grown inside you over the years. Chris may have broken parts of you, but James is different. He’s open in his own quiet way, holding his pain close yet giving space for yours.

James feels a slight shiver run through him as he stands in front of you, realizing that he’s not just here searching for Laura anymore. The realization deepens his guilt, the past hangs heavily on his shoulders. He carries the burden through the mist-shrouded streets. It dawns on him that he’s looking for something to believe in, something to hold onto.

Maybe it’s because of Mary, and that guilt has anchored him to this place. But you—you—are here, standing before him, offering the possibility of solace. There’s an unspoken understanding, a thread of empathy woven between your shared pain that draws him in—a yearning for connection, for hope, for a reason to keep moving forward.

Would Mary want this for me, do I deserve to have it?

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out slowly, as though afraid to startle you. His fingers find yours, and you feel a warmth—a reminder that you’re here, alive. He’s close now, his gaze steady and searching, asking permission without words. You feel yourself leaning in, drawn to him, the vulnerability in his eyes echoing your own.

When your lips meet, the kiss is soft, hesitant. But there’s a sweetness in it, a gentleness that feels like a reprieve, a quiet offering in a place that knows only shadows and despair. It'd been long since you felt a kiss like that, full of good intentions.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing your cheek, anchoring you in the moment. You let yourself sink into it, let yourself forget the weight of Silent Hill, the scars of Chris’s memory, the strange nightmare you’ve been thrust into.

For just a moment, there’s only you and James, two broken souls finding comfort in each other. When you finally part, his gaze lingers on you, a question, a silent promise. Brushing your nose against his, you close your eyes tightly, tears verging to spill through yet for whatever damn reason you stop them.

“Wait,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath. You pull backward, the warmth of his presence falling away like a fragile dream shattered by dawn. “What am I doing? This isn’t right.”

Confusion swirling in your mind like the fog outside. The warmth of him still lingers on your lips, it feels so sweet. So right. But the ache of Chris’s memory claws its way back, a sharp reminder of everything that remains unresolved. All the reasons as to why you were here.

James blinks, confusion clouding his eyes as he searches your face for answers, for assurance that this moment hasn’t meant something else entirely. “I didn’t—” James starts, his brows knitting together in concern. “I thought… I thought we were—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head violently as if to dislodge the memories that threaten to smother you. “We can’t just… I can’t pretend like everything’s okay here.”

James falters, his expression shifting from confusion to hurt. “I’m not trying to pretend anything. I thought…”

Realization washes over him, an understanding that battles with the hope he had dared to cling to moments ago. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean..” His words stutter, because James did mean something. And apart of you did too. Neither of you were ready to confront it.

James sighs, “we can’t just shut ourselves off from each other either. We need each other. Look around us—this place…” He gestures wildly at the peeling walls and flickering shadows. “It thrives on our pain and isolation. It wants us to stay broken.”

Your breath hitches as you take in the decay surrounding you—a world molded by fears and heartsick memories. Maria’s words echo in the back of your mind, fueling your doubt and straining the bond you have just begun to forge.

“But if we let it, if we lean on each other…” you murmur, a tremor threading through your voice. “What happens when the truth comes to light? When it all unravels and we’re left… shattered?”

James tilts his head, a flicker of defiance igniting in his eyes. “Maybe it can’t unravel if we face it together,” he responds. “Maybe that’s how we find the strength to overcome this—this place, this guilt, these ghosts of our past.” He takes another cautious step toward you, bridging the gap that had formed between your hearts.

“James, I don’t know if I can do that,” you admit, your heart racing with uncertainty. The shadows stretch and creep closer, whispering secrets meant to keep you both locked within their grasp.

“Then let me help you,” he pleads softly, an earnestness in his tone that cuts through the fog of confusion. “We’ve already faced so much together in such little time—more than either of us thought was possible. You don't have to do this alone.”

His words reverberate with raw honesty, pulling at something deep inside you—the spark of hope woven tightly into the air. The flickering light cast shadows that danced across your faces, illuminating the vulnerability in James's gaze. It was a look that you hadn't seen in Chris before, it was a look of promised understanding and comfort. A safe harbor.

“James…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with uncertainty. The weight of Chris’s memory lingered like a ghost, but in that moment, you were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him, pulling you closer against the chill of the darkened room.

“I'm here,” James said softly, reaching out to cup your cheek.

His touch ignited a flicker of something deep within you, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time. You leaned into his hand, closing your eyes for a brief moment, allowing the warmth to wash over you. There was an undeniable connection, an unspoken understanding that anchored you both.

“I’m scared, James,” you confessed, your heart racing as the memories of your husband intertwined with the growing emotions you felt for this man. “What if I can’t do this? What if—”

“Stop,” he interrupted gently, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“You’re stronger than you think. You just have to trust me.”

James’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you fell away. The kiss deepened, a desperate expression of everything left unsaid—the frustration, the fear, the need for connection. You tangled your fingers in his hair, losing yourself in the moment as your hearts raced in synchrony. It was a kiss that spoke of yearning, of healing, and the promise of something more. In that breathless exchange, you both felt the weight of your pasts lift, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the room around you felt a little less suffocating. James looked down at you, his expression a mix of surprise and longing, as if he too was processing the intensity of what had just happened.

“Wow,” he murmured, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That was...”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension breaking as you caught your breath. “Unexpected,” you add, your cheeks flushed.

Finding a new companion in the midst of all this was unexpected, yet you couldn't deny it wasn't wanted.

Exiting the apartment, you return to the fog swarmed streets with the intention of going to Lakeview Hotel and settle this.

"Tell me about Chris."

James’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as though he knew the weight of what he was asking but couldn’t help himself. The question caught you off guard, slicing through the quiet that had fallen over you both since the kiss. You pulled back, eyes narrowing as you measured his expression, wondering why he wanted to know—wondering if you should even answer.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“What about him?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral. The memory of Chris’s face lingers at the edge of your mind, blurring between pain and longing, between a life you lived and a guilt you couldn’t quite let go of.

James shifts, his brow knitting as he considers his words carefully. “Well, you said you were married for a long time… I just thought… maybe he was part of the reason you’re here.” He pauses, then adds almost apologetically, “I just want to understand.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, the tension in your chest tightening. “So, you kiss me, and now you want me to bare my soul?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm bleeding into your voice, trying to lighten the confession that was pressing against your throat.

James’s gaze holds steady, his face tinged with a mix of embarrassment and genuine concern. “I’m sorry—I just thought…” He fumbles for a second, searching for the right words. “I just thought maybe… if I know, I can help.”

The idea of anyone helping you felt almost absurd, but here he was, leaning into the murky past you’d never wanted to share. You take a breath, feeling the weight of what it means to even think about Chris—to feel the pull of what you left behind.

The truth of it stirs in you, raw and jagged, as you force yourself to continue. “Kissing you…” Your voice falters, and you can’t meet his eyes. “Kissing you makes me realize what I was doing even before I came here.” You clench your jaw, steadying yourself as you try to explain. “I was unfaithful in my own way—long chats, late nights with men I’d never meet. Random strangers who’d call me beautiful just to feel something real again. Just to feel noticed.”

You feel James’s gaze on you, but it’s soft, like he’s looking past the words to the heart of it. You keep talking, almost as if to absolve yourself, or maybe just to say it out loud. “It wasn’t ever physical. I never wanted that. But I wanted to know I could be seen, could still be wanted. That I wasn’t just someone’s forgotten wife.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, and James finally nods, his face shadowed with understanding, though he doesn’t press you any further. The question lingers, though, as if he’s on the brink of asking something more but thinks better of it.

As the fog thickens around you both, you wonder if he can see how broken this confession has left you, your own secrets spilling out like poisoned air. But there’s something reassuring in the way he stays, how he doesn’t look away. He’s searching for his own peace, you can tell. But here, together, you’re both finding something neither of you had expected: a moment of understanding, as fleeting and fragile as it is.

Your confession made the weight of the cross necklace on your chest feel lighter, a burden released, if only for a moment. But Silent Hill had other plans, a different way of reminding you why you were here. That song—the one that had haunted you—warps again, piercing through the fog with an unsettling clarity.

Why do stars fall down from the sky?

It was louder this time, invasive, its notes burrowing into your chest like needles. The sound seeped through your skin, winding its way through your veins until you could feel it thrum with your pulse. Your body began to tremble, muscles weakening, as if the song itself was commanding you to surrender.

Every time you walk by?

You stagger, trying to shake off the sensation, but the pressure overwhelms you. Your knees buckle, and the world tilts, the song closing in, dragging you down.

James lunges forward, reaching you just as your legs give out, his arms strong around you as he keeps you upright. “Hey!” he calls, his voice tinged with alarm as he holds you close. “Stay with me—stay with me!”

Just like me, they long to be

But his voice is fading, becoming part of the fog as your mind begins to drift, retreating into a darkness that feels familiar yet endless. The haunting refrain echoes, growing louder and louder, pressing down on you, pulling you further from James’s steady grip and deeper into the secrets that Silent Hill had dredged up from the shadows.

Your vision blurs, the edges softening until James’s face is little more than a shadow against the fog. The song’s haunting lyrics spiral in your mind, merging with his voice as he calls your name, but the words feel distant, muffled, like they’re underwater.

Your pulse quickens, heartbeat pounding loud in your ears as your body grows cold and heavy. Your legs tremble and your knees weaken; you try to catch your breath, but it slips away, pulled down by the weight of the memories clawing at you. James’s grip tightens around you, but the sensation barely registers as a wave of dizziness crashes over, sending you spiraling.

Close to you.

The melody presses into you like a physical force, digging into your chest until your heartbeat falters. You reach for James, but your fingers grow numb, vision narrowing into a tunnel of darkness, and the world tilts, fading away as you finally surrender, consciousness slipping into the void.

Slowly, your heavy eyelids flutter open and you find yourself standing in the dimly lit, crimson-tinted bathroom of Heaven's Night. The air is thick with a palpable electricity, a raw and close sensation that sends shivers down your spine. The familiar smells of smoke and stale perfume mingle with something new - the warm, musky scent of desire. You can hear the faint hum of neon lights from the club pulsing through the walls, casting a seductive glow over the small bathroom.

In front of you is an old, dirty sink accompanied by a cracked and weathered mirror. The reflection staring back at you feels surreal and blurred, but you can't help but notice how different you look. Your hair is styled in loose waves, a deep crimson shade staining your lips. Your outfit is a low cut dress that hugs your curves in all the right places, revealing just enough skin to leave little to the imagination. As you take a step back to admire yourself, you suddenly collide into something - or someone.

Turning your neck, you see James standing behind you with a hungry look in his eyes. The gentleness he once had is now replaced with an untapped dominance that sends a rush of excitement through your body. His rough breath fans across your neck as his hands find their way to your waist, gripping you with a restraint that feels seconds away from breaking. Pressed together in the tight space, the intensity between you surges like an electric current, igniting long-buried desires that are now clawing their way to the surface.

James is already so close, but he presses even closer until your bodies are flush against each other. He doesn't stop until your front collides with the cold porcelain sink, causing you to gasp and turn your face towards the mirror inches away from your nose. In its reflection, you see two figures consumed by desire - yours with an equal if not greater intensity than James'. It's been so long since you've felt this kind of want, this kind of fiery desire. And as he leans in closer, you can't help but give in to the temptation and let yourself drown in the heat of the moment.

The first kiss is a violent onslaught, a collision of two tormented souls who have been lost in darkness for far too long. The force behind it is primal and desperate, the mingling of desperation and desire causing an inferno to rage between your lips.

You instinctively raise your arms, tangling your fingers in his hair as he presses you forcefully against the sink. In this moment, there is only him and the overwhelming need for him. James eagerly grabs at your breasts, tearing at your clothing until your laced bra is exposed, barely containing your hardened buds which beg for his touch. His grip tightens as his lips trail down your neck, each touch rough and urgent.

There is a raw honesty in every touch, every shared breath that speaks volumes about the pent-up frustration and pain that has brought you both to this moment. Here, in the seedy sanctuary of Heaven's Night, you lose yourself completely to each other-- no expectations, no inhibitions, just the all-consuming desire to feel alive in a town that takes everything from you.

Your body arches against James' as you feel the hard bulge in his pants pressing against you. In one swift motion, he grabs the hem of your skirt and pulls it up, baring your ass to him. Any sense of embarrassment is quickly replaced by intense arousal.

Without hesitation, James moves your panties aside and spits on his fingers before plunging them into your dripping cunt. You let out a wild shriek, the cool air hitting your exposed sex only to be soothed by the warmth of his wet fingers. He pumps two slender digits inside you with ease, the sound of your wet core filling the room.

His words send shivers down your spine as he scissors his fingers inside you, "Listen to how wet you are for me already." Your hands leave his hair and grip onto the sink for support as you lose yourself in his touch.

He suddenly removes his fingers and gives your wet cunt a sharp slap, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body and out of your mouth. "You couldn't stop thinking about this, could you?" he growls.

"No," you whimper, unable to resist his dominance. "I need it so bad, James," you plead, wiggling your ass towards him. "I need your cock inside me."

He doesn't hesitate, his grunts joining yours as he complies, thrusting his hard cock into you with renewed vigor. Every inch of you is filled, your body shaking with the intensity of it all.

"Harder! James! Harder!" You beg, your voice trembling with need.

James notices your half-lidded eyes drifting shut, lost in the throes of passion. With a growl, he pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at your reflection in the mirror.

"Look at you. Look how cock-hungry you are." His words are a filthy whisper, laced with dominance and affection.

Your eyes flutter open, staring into the mirror where you both are reflected. The sight is intoxicating, your bodies entwined, your faces a mix of pleasure and raw need. You watch as James continues to pound into you, his muscles straining with effort, his eyes locked on yours. The reflection in the mirror is almost too much to bear, the reality of the scene so vivid, so real.

"Please," you whimper, your voice breaking. "I need more."

James smirks, his hand moving to cup your cheek, brushing away a stray tear. "What do you need, baby?" He asks, his tone gentle despite the rough handling.

"I... I need you to make me come," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission feels liberating, freeing.

His eyes darken with intent, a predatory gleam flashing in their depths. "That's my girl," he murmurs, his thumb stroking your lower lip. "But not just yet. Not until you've earned it."

With that, he yanks your head back, exposing your neck, and bites down gently, his teeth grazing your skin. The sensation is electrifying, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to your core. You arch your back, pressing yourself further onto his cock, desperate for more.

"James..." You groan, your body trembling with need.

He releases your neck, leaving a mark that slowly begins to throb. His hand moves down, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your ass. With a firm grip, he spanks you, the sting a welcome contrast to the pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Did that hurt, baby?" He asks, his voice dripping with concern.

You shake your head, moaning softly. "No, it felt... good."

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "Good girl," he praises, his hand landing another smack on your already reddened skin. "Now, tell me what you want."

"I want you to... to keep going," you gasp, your voice strained with effort. "I want you to make me beg for it."

His grin widens, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Oh, I intend to."

With that, he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more primal. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you, controlling you. You can feel the pressure building inside you, the orgasm lurking just out of reach. You clench your muscles around him, trying to coax it closer, but James has other plans.

"Not yet," he growls, his voice harsh. "Not until you're begging, baby."

Your frustration mounts, your body screaming for release, but James is relentless. He alternates between slow, teasing strokes and wild, frenzied thrusts, keeping you on the edge, always just one step away from oblivion.

"Please, James," you plead, your voice breaking. "Please, I can't take it anymore."

He pauses, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "What do you want, baby?" He asks, his voice calm, controlled.

"I want to come," you sob, tears streaming down your face. "Please, let me come."

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a victorious gleam in his eyes. "Beg for it," he demands, his voice firm.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of his command pressing down on you. But the need, the desperation, it's overwhelming. You crumple under the pressure, your pride forgotten.

"Please, James," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, let me come. I'll do anything."

His smile widens, a predator finally catching its prey. "Anything?" He asks, his tone curious.

You nod, your resolve crumbling. "Yes, anything."

With a satisfied hum, he resumes, his thrusts becoming more brutal, more punishing. You can feel the orgasm creeping closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you. And then, just as you think you can't take it anymore, James pulls out.

Your eyes fly open, confusion and frustration mingling in your gaze. "No," you whine, reaching for him. "Don't stop."

He steps back, his cock glistening with your arousal, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Make a choice, baby,"

“Choice?” You ask, panting.

James lunges forward, his erection pressing hard against your backside. He grabs the delicate cross chain around your neck with a tight grip, pulling at it until it snaps off in his hand. The necklace falls to the ground with a metallic clang, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry advances…

"Yeah, choice."

The gray fog clears just enough to reveal a run-down convenience store, the dim lights barely illuminating the cracked tile and empty shelves. James adjusts his grip, holding your limp form securely as he pushes through the broken door. The smell of stale air and dust hits him, but he hardly notices—his focus is on finding something, anything to help you.

Inside, Laura sits cross-legged on the floor, her back against a display, a dusty stuffed bunny cradled in her arms. She looks up at the sound of footsteps, her eyes narrowing with cautious curiosity as she spots you in James’s arms.

James releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he sees Laura sitting there, safe and sound with her stuffed bunny. Relief washes over him, momentarily cutting through the ever-present tension in his chest. He approaches, his arms aching from carrying you, but there's still a sternness in his voice.

“Laura,” he says, steady but firm. “Don’t run off like that again.”

She looks up at him, feigning innocence as she squeezes the bunny closer. “I just forgot Mr. Hopps! You wouldn’t leave Mary’s things behind, would you?”

James’s expression softens, but only slightly. “No, but…” He trails off, glancing down at your unconscious form, still nestled carefully in his arms. “I just need to know you’re safe. We can’t afford to lose each other in this place.”

Laura stares at him, her brows furrowing as her gaze shifts from his concerned face to you. "Who’s that?” she asks, her tone both wary and a little defiant. “Is she okay?”

“She just needs a little help,” James replies, his voice low, soothing—almost like he's trying to convince himself, too. He carefully lowers you onto a patch of clean floor, checking your breathing, his hand lingering near yours before he pulls back. He takes off his military jacket, balling it up and placing it under your head to support your neck.

Laura tilts her head, observing you. After a moment, she shrugs and says, almost offhandedly, “She’s really pretty, you know.”

James glances at Laura, surprised, before his gaze returns to you. He hadn’t thought about it like that—or maybe he’d been trying not to. He just wanted you safe. But with you lying there, fragile and quiet, Laura’s words stir something that catches him off guard.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I guess she is.”

Laura watches him carefully, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “So, you’re helping her because she’s pretty?”

James lets out a short laugh, more a huff than anything else. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m helping her because… because she’s here, and she...” His voice is distant, like he’s still working through it himself. "She… She’s someone who gets it. Someone who needs help, like you and me.”

Laura huffs but nods slowly, her gaze lingering on you, still clutching her bunny. “Fine. I’ll stay. But she better not be all weird.”

James manages a small, weary smile. “No promises,” he murmurs, sitting down beside you both, his eyes on the fog-shrouded streets.

“But we’ll wait here until she’s ready.”

#james sunderland smut #james sunderland x reader #james x reader #silent hill 2 smut #silent hill x reader #silent hill x reader smut #james sunderland x you #james x you #james sunderland x fem reader #saddleups #filed: long to be

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oofthwoods · 1 year ago

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── ˙ ̟ 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 !!

🎙️ how heavy is the weight of a legacy, and what would you do to protect it?

to you, legacy means the formula one team bearing your family name. as a child, you eagerly tagged along with your mother to races, sharing laughs with the engineers and mechanics, and being lifted into the air in triumph after every win. yet as time passed, those moments became fewer and farther between, and before you knew it, the once-legendary team was now scraping by at the back of the pack.

in your final visit with your grandfather before he passed away, you made a promise to him: you would drive for the team that he and your grandmother poured their blood, sweat, and tears into, and you would restore glory to the williams surname, whatever it takes.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) :: 2024!f1 grid x williams driver!reader. | specific pairing to be revealed.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :: cursing, sexual themes, mention of death, mental health, sexism. will be updated if necessary.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: if this is the first work you see on my page, hello and welcome! hope you enjoy bring home the glory. if you have already read my other serie, the echo, i feel that is necessary to comment that this serie is written and released in a different style — while my first one is full of separated one shots and a barely there plot line, bhtg is plot heavy, with a determined beginning, middle, and end. hope you still enjoy it <3 | as always, english is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes in the writing, and if you want to be added to the taglist, just say so!

˒ ⌕ — CHAPTERS

ᯓ★ :: prologue

ᯓ★ :: chapter one "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

©️ oofthwoods — 2024.

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noira-l · 10 months ago

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𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭-𝐮𝐩

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: your first major argument that really shakes the foundations of everything, including your arrangement and its soul.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: is that angst?, hurt/comfort?, swearing, argument, adult life is kinda hard, mature themes, satoru is trying to say something, utahime is the best, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: well, I had a rough day. Also, question. Should I open a tag list? Someone ask about this (I remeber you, love ~) So what do you think about the chapter and the idea? Let me know :3

"Listen to me, I've had enough. Screw it." You threw a kitchen cloth over the countertop.

"I'm here to help YOU. Not to do everything for you! You've dumped everything on me and you don't give a shit about anything," you shout, feeling like throwing it all away. He frowned. "You think I'm going to look after the kids by myself and you're going to have free evenings to go off on your own no matter where? Oh no no no. I'm not your fucking housekeeper for you to treat me like that." You pointed your finger at him, your tone rising even more. You felt like starting to laugh at the anger. "Fuck you. I'm not going to put up with this kind of treatment for a second longer." Your step left the sound of a loud thud. He started to follow you.

"You agreed to this yourself, you knew it would be difficult!" you felt like punching him. You picked up your backpack from the wardrobe. You were silent.

"I need time to myself, these missions are exhausting! Still! Taking over the clan, doesn't make it any easier for me at all, you know!" you didn't listen to him at this point, you were on the verge of exploding and you didn't want to do it.

"Don't act like a brat and listen to me!!!" he grabbed you firmly by the arm, you pushed him forcibly away from you, putting your shirts in your backpack. You packed the first necessary things that came your way. Your face was boiling with anger, you felt like shouting everything in his face, but you knew it wouldn't change anything. You clenched your teeth tightly and bit your tongue repeating to yourself - pack, don't think, leave. You passed him on your way out of the room. You were already at the door, started putting on your jacket, when he added:

"FINE! Go away, I never needed you anyway, you stupid idiot!"

The sound of the door slamming was everywhere.

★ --

calling…calling…calling…

"Hello?"

"Hi Utahime…" your voice gave away too much at that moment, as always "Could I stay with you for a while? I can't go back to the flat or to the facility" you grabbed your head, trying to contain your emotions. You were met with silence on the other side "Sorry to impose…. I won't… sorry… I'll go now- I…"

"N-no! It's all right! I'm just worried, what's wrong?" you could hear her worrying about you, you were on the verge of crying, all the anger was slowly draining out of you.

"U-Utahime…" your voice was shaking.

"Never mind, wait for me, please, I'll pick you up myself, I'll be there soon. Wait for me where you usually do, can you do it?"

"Mhm." tears began to run down your cheeks.

A long sigh "What did that idiot do to you this time?"

★ --

You spent the evening glued to a box of ice cream and a comfortable couch in Utahime's flat. You sat in her borrowed clothes, covered in a blanket, gesturing heavily as you expressed your emotions.

It started with an angry session in which you spouted off about what a horrible asshole Gojo is. You recounted in detail, how he forgot to pick up the kids from school, leaving them out in the cold often. How he was constantly late, whether to go shopping with you or to a parents' meeting at school. How he avoided household chores, which you later had to do after missions, and at worst his duties were filled by Tsumiki and Megumi. It wasn't that they didn't have household duties or didn't know how to take care of the house - no. You didn't know any more mature or understanding children, it was just that Gojo lived there too and should contribute as much as you did. For the last months, everything was done by you: laundry, shopping, cleaning, doing homework with Tsumiki and helping Megumi with calligraphy.

On top of that, you had missions that were also exhausting you mentally, coming home battered, in wounds because you didn't want to wake Shoko up at 3am and preferred to wait until morning. And every morning it was you, who walked the children to school. It doesn't matter if you were beating a powerful curse last night or if you slept at all. They always had breakfast ready, clothes and your smile every morning. You knew they deserved it - you wanted to give it to them.

As you came home from school on the days like this, did your shopping, went to Shoko's and came back, you thought of nothing else, but to lie down and rest. It was then that you allowed yourself moments of weakness, where you could carelessly cry all over the house, with no embarrassment that the children, or worse Satoru, would hear you. Your life has been awful for the last while. There have been better moments, but there have been far more of the worse ones.

It was then, that the crying session began.

You couldn't stop the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. You didn't say anything anymore. You just cried, hugging your pillow tighter.

Utahime only saw you cry once, that time when Geto left. And that was the only time. This one was the second.

She handed you a pack of tissues, which you took advantage of by resisting new tears. After which you immediately went back to hugging the lovely cushion.

Why did you agree to all this in the first place?

Why did you allow yourself to do something like this?

Looking after children is not an easy thing to do, especially when you are alone.

Suguru would never treat you like this.

If you thought before that you were more or less in control of your crying, so after that thought, you definitely lost all the control you had. It was no longer a cry. It was hysterical. And you are not going to snap out of it any time soon.

★ --

"What are you doing?" the white-haired sat on the steps, drinking a can of sweet drink. They had just finished their training.

"I'm going to talk to her." said the raven-haired getting up from his seat, heading towards the dormitories.

"HUH? What for? She's the one who blew up at you, after all. She should be making an effort now." He crushed the can with cursed energy. His friend sighed.

"You don't understand, do you? It is not that clear, besides I care about her. I understand her view of the situation and even though it's wrong, I'm willing to talk to her about it." Suguru put his hands in his pockets slowly moving away.

"Stupid, why bother." Satoru rolled his eyes looking at the training field.

"Because she is important to me, her opinion, thoughts and feelings are important." he turned towards him, he continued. "A joint solution to the problem is important. In moments like this, it's crucial to push away your tantrums and reach out to someone." Suguru looked ahead "There have been situations where I have made a mistake and she has come to me on her own" he smiled affectionately "I appreciate her for this approach and I love her for it."

Satoru opened his eyes, waking up from the slumber that had caught him. He rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clock; it was late at night. Instinctively, he glanced to the other side of the bed to find it empty and cold.

He clutched his head, remembering what had happened. He growled quietly. You haven't come back yet, it's past day two, he's starting to worry, the siblings keep asking about you too. And he doesn't know what to answer them. Should he say you're gone because of him? He's already punishing himself enough in his head.

He nervously turned on his bed. What should he do?

He knows perfectly well what he should do.

To go to you and apologise is difficult.

On the very first day he called all your friends, to find out where you were. Utahime only failed to answer, so he was sure you were there.

He growled rolling over onto his stomach in frustration. He hugged the pillow tightly, so that if it were alive he would have strangled it.

Why do you make everything so difficult?

It was supposed to be a simple arrangement: you help him with the kids, he provides everything you need. Like some stupid traditional marriage - he thought.

This was not how he had imagined it. In his mind, taking care of a kid was not that difficult. Oh boy, he was wrong. Originally he was only going to take Megumi in, you were the one who insisted that he couldn't separate siblings like that, and since you'd already agreed to the arrangement, you also had a say. He only agreed to it because you insisted.

He did not expect things to go this far. He never imagined that he would have to falsify the children's documents (Tsumiki was, according to the law, already unfit for adoption), look for a suitable flat that you could barely afford at first, or bother with the authorities and social services.

He himself was also too young to understand many things.

He knew that anything was better than letting the Zen'in clan get their hands on these kids.

He also knew that he would not have succeeded in many things without you.

His face clung completely to the pillow. It was your pillow, it smelled of you. He took it from your side as soon as he lay down.

Everything had been getting to him lately. Higher-ups had some doubts about him taking over the clan, which was ridiculous in general. His mother found out about his secret marriage, which meant he had to listen for hours on ‘how he had disgraced the whole clan’. He had to work twice as much, having a child and expenses were really considerable. Even if you shared expenses, Gojo did not yet have access to the clan's money, to throw his own money on left and right with ease. He also stopped feeling like a teenager at this point, by taking on these responsibilities, he has accept to a certain extent, the fate of an adult.

He didn't even notice, how much he started to run away from it, to distance himself, from his problems and worries. He was never in the habit of sharing his true feelings or emotions. Opening up to someone was blocked again when his best friend left. He knew, that he had let you look inside him once, at one memorable conversation. He was so weak in that moment, so shattered, after all that had happened. And you? You embraced him then, with a tenderness and care he could never have dreamed of. He knew that if only he opened up again now, you would do exactly the same. But he couldn't afford to do it again.

He didn't want to feel that he wasn't able to cope with something, again. It's silly, isn't it? He, the strongest, vulnerable?

But you saw him vulnerable. You didn't laugh at him, didn't mock him in that moment. You were tender, you showed him understanding, even if sometimes you didn't quite understand what he wanted to communicate to you, you tried. You hugged him close, stroked his hair, telling him that you would be there for him, whenever he needed you - you would be there for him, as long as he was there for you.

He wasn't there for you, was he?

He was so focused on himself that he forgot about you. You've had a tough time too, particularly with him. You were alone with it all. No. He left you alone with it all. That's not what your agreement was about, that's not how he promised to behave, that's not how he really was.

He acted like an asshole. He dumped all his responsibilities on you and yet had the audacity to complain, that you had not fulfilled one little thing, which was picking up his ceremonial outfit from the laundry, what he should do, but he was sent on mission.

A small tear appeared in the corner of his crystal eyes. It disappeared very quickly absorbed by the pillow. He shouldn't treat you like that. He sighed breathlessly, banging his head against the soft pillow.

Tomorrow he will go to apologize to you. Witnter snow was slowly falling outside the window.

He won't last another day without you.

★ --

"Utahime~~ Nice to see-" she closed the door in front of his nose, sighing with irritation, regretting that her apartment door did not have a peephole.

You just had breakfast, looking like a total crap. You just got up, even though it was late in the morning, according to your routine you should have taken the siblings to school long ago.

Hearing his voice immediately lifted your gaze from your plate. How did he find you? Why did he come here?

Ah, well, yes, he probably came to ask you to fulfill your part of the bargain and stop dabbling. You sighed. You couldn't stay at Utahime's for that long anyway, you didn't want to bother her, besides, you hadn't packed enough clothes and necessities.

You didn't want to see him at this point, but you had no choice. You spent the last two days crying, you were fed up with it yourself.

You moved away from the kitchen table, put your plate in the sink and headed for the door.

"Go away! Don't you understand that she doesn't want to see you!" Utahime shouted at the door, angrly.

"Ee~ Come on, open the door. I want to talk to her, she won't answer my calls and texts, what a man can do?" his tone did not at all betray how concerned he was about the situation. His mask was perfect enough, that he was even able to smile a little in this situation. Although he was quite cold, despite really warm winter jacket, in his kinda shakey hands he held a small bouquet of flowers behind him.

"Go to hell you moron, I also, don't want to see you too, go away or I'm calling authorities!"

"Don't be like that! Five minutes and I'll be gone! Do a friend a favour~"

"I'm not your friend!"

"Like hell you are! I saved you many times, that counts right? Like that time when I excorcise that curse that took you hostage for two days. Or that time when I-"

Utahime was about to hurl another insult in his direction when you placed your hand on her shoulder. “It's okey, give me a moment,” you whispered it so quietly that you wondered if you really said it. Her gaze expressed concern and yours expressed certainty. He had found you anyway, so why drag this out any longer? You knew he won't leave until you talk to him. “Call me as if you need something, or as if he doesn't give you a break." the violet-haired fell silent, moving away from the door and walking deeper into the apartment.

He didn't stop talking when you stood in front of the closed door. His yapping was unbearable, happily listing or coloring situations that happened to him with Utahime.

"Or when I-" he shut up when you open the door. He looked at you.

"You look like shit" he said.

"Thanks for noticing, something else to say?"

You had bags under your eyes, your voice was raspy and you looked paler than usual. When you looked in his direction, he could see how red your eyes were. He really messed up. He took a deep breath.

"If you came here to remind me of my duties, or to tell me that I'm going on a mission soon, or just to make fun of me, then go away and save us the time." you were so exhausted, however, seeing his face, which was smiling just a moment ago, gave you a new drive.

"I-"

"Ughh.. I am so done with this." you growled "You come here after two days and the first thing you find is that I look like shit? Thanks, I didn't notice!"

"Listen.." his voice is kinda...soft?

"NO! You listen!"

"O-okey..."

"Why are you acting like a brat? I've been doing practically everything for you for the past year! You disappeared for a few days, you didn't say anything, it's cool, I understand, you need space, yadda, yadda.." your voice has started to rise again "But damn it, that's not what we agreed on, I didn't sign up for doing all the work for this part of your life!" you clenched your hands into fists.

"Besides, I also have my own life, right? I'm not entitled to have a free time? Do you know how many times I came home after a mission completely tired? I wasn't at Shoko's more than once, I just went straight to make breakfast, because I knew YOU wouldn't do it!" he see how your expression is changing, now tears appear in your angry eyes.

"I-" he tried again, only to see that his voice stattered.

"Why do you do this to me?! Why can't you treat me like a normal human being?! What did I do to you?!" An avalanche of questions flowed from your mouth, again and again, just as tears covered your cheeks "Am I just a plaything to you?" you started to shake.

"N-no!" he tightened his grip on the bouquet.

"I fell so fucking used!" you started sobbing "You used me and my kindness to make life easier for yourself-" you sniffle "-you never cared about anyone or anything at all!" you looked at his winter boots, although your vision blurred completely.

"Stop! No-I-"

"I can understand, really, you may not feel anything towards these children, but me? I thought you really cared then! I thought you were sincere and open then, when…. we had… this conversation" you were slowly running out of words, the pace of this conversation was slowing down. You almost feel panic in your vains.

"Stop!" he grabbed you by the shoulder with one hand, and put the other to your lips, letting go of the bouquet of flowers, which fell to the floor. You didn't say anything anymore, you couldn't, he's hands were trembling.

"Please.. j-just..listen.." you wanted to turn away, he stopped you. The sight of you crying internally caused him pain, somehow.

"I-.. I am sorry..you're right." his voice was almost silent, despite the fact that he was close to you. Your eyes met his and despite the layer of glass, you knew he was looking at you.

"I-I am an idiot" his breathing was deep, as if saying these words made it difficult for him, or a great struggle, took his hand from your mouth, placed it on your cheek, his head went down "I've had.. I.. well.. the thing is.." he swallowed the massive lump that had gathered in his throat

"N-no.. ple-" you tried to say something.

"This.. this is hard..!! Just.." now his voice is trembling, you don't know what is happening.

"You.. don't know how hard are thing for me now.. I've.." long pause filled with nervous breath "Listen.. I know.. I've been awful to you.. y-you didn't deserve it of course.. I hurt you.. and I-I am sorry, so so sorry.."

"If this is some kind of trick to get me back-"

"No!" he imidietly put his sight to you, he look terriefied, you could see throught the glasses "I mean it.. " you looked away. He signed nervously.

"I left you with all of this.. I let you down.. I'm sorry.." he swiped away any tear that come close to falling down your red cheeks "I don't expect this to fix.. I m-mean my apology.. to fix anything.. but please" his hand was so cold, yet the sensation from this was so calming.

"Let me get this right.. I-I-I will never, ever let you down again.. one chance.. If you want to!" Do you want to? "If no.. I-I promise to back off! I leave you alone! I-I'll never hurt you again! and I'll do anything you say!" his words were speeding up "I will provide..I will make everything right.. I will try to.." his words were rapid, so fast, he almost couldn't keep up with saying every one of it. You started sobbing again. To much emotions cought you off guard.

"n-no don't cry.. please" he wispered, his second hand also landed on your cheek, you closed your eyes unable to even look at him.

He drew himself to you, embracing you whole. You could then feel how much his chest was rising in stress, and how wet his jacket was from the melted snow. His hair was also slightly wet, the glasses at his nose irritated your skin, they were so cold. But this embrace was warm, he held you like something important, precious even. Large hands stroked your back, his breath started to calm down, just like yours. You didn't know how long he held you like this.

"Please.." he started again "Try to forgive me. I.." at this moment you hugged him too, he pressed himself more to you.

"I don't want to lose you." You almost missed it, it was soft and silenty brethless, but it was full of emotions.

You waited, a long moment. A long moment when you thought about everything. You were thinking about him, your life, Tsumiki and Megumi. You didn't want to lose him too. In some way. He was the only thing that held you together. Also you don't know what you should do with your life, and he gave you a purpouse. A purpouse you were desperatly lacking. The kids gave you hope, and even thought you'll need to listen to his annoying voice every day, this is the price you could accept.

"Fine.." you said, gathering your voice to even be able to speak. You are far too soft for him. Oh, for fuck sake. "I.. forgive you.. for now." he froze.

You slowly left his embrace. Then grabbed him tightly by the collar of his jacket, pulling his face toward you "But if you do that again, I'm leaving. And don't even try to look for me. Understood?" you wanted to sound menacing, but your voice was so hoarse and the height difference between you was large enough, that it didn't work out well.

"Of course" smile appeared on his face again "You look cute y'know.." he mumbled, you let him go, growling, you looked down and see something behind his foot.

"What's that?" you asked, he quickly kicked something behind him, you heard something hit the ground on the bottom of the staircase.

"What?" he turned around to look behind and back, playfully "I don't see antything." his smile was so bright.

"Never mind." you signed.

"Let me take you home." this offer suprised you, Satoru could tell by the look "The kids miss you.. and I took your favourite take out." you looked at him suspiciously "I also cleaned the house and took kids to school."

"Now I don't belive you." you crossed your arms, he laught.

"You'll see when we get home." he corrected his glasses still smiling. "I did pretty amazing job, maybe even better than you."

"You're starting again?"

bonus:

You left Utahime's apartment thanking her for all she had done for you, saying that if she needed help, you were always available to her. She hugged you goodbye, measuring Satoru with a menacing gaze, and he waved her off, smiling goofily.

Walking down the staircase, Satoru took your backpack from you and gave you your gloves. The snow was still falling outside and it was quite cold.

When you were at the exit you noticed out of the corner of your eye a colorful bouquet of flowers, it was really pretty and quite small. You are sure you have seen these colors somewhere.

“Look.” you pointed your finger at the bouquet “Someone left it here, I wonder who it was for?” he scoffed.

“Quite ugly for me.” He didn't even look at it, just opened the door in front of him.

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur

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chackyxyooj · 6 months ago

Text

Vol. 2 - I 'Love' You: Mozaik Role

-> “What’s wrong with me loving you, bound together, so nobody can touch you?”

╭──────────.★..─╮

Description: Gene can usually control himself when it comes to things like this, but with you he just can’t seem to do it. || ONESHOT, SMUT (Public, Restrained, Hard!Mdom)

Included: MS!Gene X Reader

WC: 2.4k

CW: Strong Sexual Themes | NSFW

One Night Masterlist

╰─..★.──────────╯

Sexual Content Ahead: If uncomfortable with this type of content, please DNI! - Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI!

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Gene grabs your wrist and pulls it away from your face, pinning you against the wall with a grin. “Don’t close your eyes. I want to see every expression you make with that pretty little face of yours.” Gene doesn’t bother waiting for your reply before pushing himself deep into your pussy. And fuck, if this isn’t paradise then he doesn’t need it. All he needs is you.

Your back arches off the wall, your movements confined as the boy uses his free hand to hike your dress higher up your leg. Who would’ve expected a girl like you to want to go home with a guy like him? Gene certainly didn’t.

Girls like you aren’t usually his type. Hell, the club you found him in was hardly his scene but he found a reason to stay when you took a seat beside him at his booth. You were worn out from what little dancing you could do when packed shoulder to shoulder on a dancefloor and Gene wasn’t about to chase you away. To say he didn’t expect you was one thing, but to say he didn’t enjoy your presence was dead wrong.

Despite your run on sentences and half finished thoughts, you were entertaining. More specifically, your reactions were entertaining. For all your nervous mannerisms you somehow dug up enough courage to pull his hand onto your knee. He could practically feel you holding your breath as he slowly pushed his fingers higher up your leg.

Things only escalated from there. Gene’s lips on your neck. Your hand running along the subtle bulge in his pants. The works. If not for the crowded space Gene would’ve taken you right then and there, but he has enough self respect to go somewhere at least a little isolated.

That being said, Gene thinks you look real damn good pressed against the muted colours of night. He’s using one of his hands to hold your leg as his body presses against yours, his other hand holding your wrist as he prevents you from hiding your expression from his view. He’s staying quiet in case anyone happens to walk by the alley he decided to pull you into. He was only planning on having a taste before getting back to his place, but Gene didn’t realise how hard it would be to hold back.

You, with your fleeting words and clever lips, managed to rouse him far past the point of sensibility. He needed to have you right then and there, even if it meant fucking you where anyone could walk by and see.

“I bet this is exactly what you wanted.” Gene mutters against your neck, his hips rough as he fucks you against the wall. “You wanted to rile me up to the point where I’d have to fuck you out in the open, huh? I should’ve known.”

Your only response to Gene’s jeers are a few stifled moans. He likes that. He likes how desperately you cling to him. How eagerly you move your hips against his. If he could bring himself to slow down a bit more he’s sure he’d enjoy you all night long. But alas, Gene doesn’t have time to slow down. Not when you’re right at his fingertips begging for more.

Gene trails his lips down the side of your neck, pressing brief kisses against the skin all the way to your shoulder. He can feel your body quiver beneath him, your free hand firmly pressed against his chest as you hold yourself up against him.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, Gene bites down against the skin of your shoulder. It’s far from enough to break the skin but the sudden pressure causes you to jolt beneath his hold.

You mutter something incoherent to yourself, head tilted up as you quietly gasp for air. Your grip on the boy’s shirt tightens as you unconsciously try to bring him closer. He thinks it’s pretty cute how badly you want him - how you try to pull him closer while simultaneously trying to hide away. It’s no good if he lets you go to waste so he’ll gladly play along.

“Good girls like you aren’t supposed to flirt with guys like me.” Gene hums in a cautionary tone. He drags his tongue over the faint mark on your skin and tilts his head to get a look at your face. “Then again, you’re not a very good girl now, are you?”

“H-hey, that’s not-” You bite back your response and suppress a moan when Gene suddenly pinches at the sensitive skin of your thigh.

“You like that, huh?” A deep laugh bubbles up from within Gene’s chest at your reaction. “First you tease me in the club and now you’re letting me fuck you out in the open. You must like this kind of thing. Must like fucking strangers where you can get caught.”

Gene takes a moment to pull your leg higher up his hip, exposing you in a way where he can watch his length disappear inside of you. On instinct your eyes follow Gene’s gaze as it trails down your bodies. He can practically feel your movements growing more eager the longer things go on. He’d be remiss if he didn’t notice your quiet, breathless moans every time he buried his length deep inside you.

“I can tell you’re holding back.” The boy peels back if only to catch your gaze. “It’s okay, I get it. It feels good. There’s no need for you to hold back your pretty little sounds-?”

He doesn’t know when you did it but Gene suddenly finds that you’ve tangled your free hand into his hair, tugging his head back as you expose his neck to your eyes. “T-teasing me so relentlessly when you haven’t even made me cum. Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? Or maybe you don’t know how.”

Gene brings his movements to a halt. Despite the firm grasp you have on him, he can’t help but want to laugh at your flushed expression. The way you desperately grind against him when he deprives you of his touch is such a pleasant contrast to your clever words. He didn’t expect such a witty girl like you to so easily give in to your desires, but if you didn’t then the two of you wouldn’t be where you are now.

“You’re a cheeky one.” Gene utters with a cocky grin. “I like that.”

Gene suddenly drops your leg and pulls away from you completely. Before you have a chance to question him you find yourself facing the wall. He takes both of your wrists and holds them in one of his hands, pinning your hands above your head as he grinds his length against your ass.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he slowly lines himself back up to your entrance, taking in a sharp breath as he teases himself back inside.

“So good… you’re so fucking good…” The words roll off of Gene’s tongue as he drags his hand up your thigh and to your hip. Fingers digging into the plush of your hips, Gene’s grip on you is firm. It allows you no chance to satisfy your own growing desires. A quiet sound of protest bubbles up in your chest as your impatience starts to grow. You want to pull him against you more than anything, but with your hands pressed against the wall you’re left with few ways to get what you want from him. “I want to feel more of you…” You finally manage to mutter out between your quiet breaths.

“That right?” Gene hums and leans in closer to you, bringing his lips right to the shell of your ear with a low chuckle. He’s loving the way your hands squirm beneath his grasp. Watching you struggle to pull him closer is pleasantly entertaining. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll consider it.”

You bite back what’s left of your pride and comply with the boy’s demands. “Can you fuck me? Please?”

“I mean… I’m considering it.” Gene taunts you with a roll of his hips, driving his length into you for just a moment before pulling back all too quickly. “But what good does it serve if I don’t know how to make you cum?”

“That’s not- I didn’t…” You huff to yourself in frustration. “If you’re not going to give me what I want then I’ll just go find someone else.”

Your sudden rebuttal catches Gene off guard. “Hey now, there’s no need for that.” He allows his grip on you to tighten, likely to the point of bruising, and he manages to pull a quiet hiss from between your teeth from the pain.

“That sounds vaguely threatening.”

"Oh sweetheart, I’d never threaten you." He purrs, leaning even closer and pressing you against the rough surface of the wall. “I was making you a promise.”

Though you can tell he’s trying to play coy, his eagerness gets the better of him and he pushes his length deep inside you. The action has your companion leaning over you as he finally sets a rough pace against you, his hips continually snapping against your backside in a satisfying way.

Every thrust of the boy’s hips causes your body to jerk forward into the rough embrace of the wall. You can feel your hands starting to go numb from how tightly he holds you, not to mention the subtle stinging that’s present where the boy is gripping your hip. Even so, the only response you can manage is a stifled plea for more.

Gene grins when he hears your request. Having you like this, so desperate and needy for his touch despite hardly knowing him, makes him crave you in a way he’s never craved someone before. Suddenly he finds that fucking you isn’t enough. He wants you. All of you.

Your voice, your body, everything about you makes the boy’s desires grow. It’s addicting - you’re addicting - and Gene is nothing but an addict.

The hand that was once on your hip snakes up your body and latches onto your chest. Even above the fabric of your dress, his persistent touch causes a slew of curses to spill from your lips. He hasn’t even had his fill of your reactions before he moves his hand somewhere else.

Gene uses his hand to grab and turn your face toward his. His eyes rake over your expression shamelessly. As if to ensure that you’re put to memory, he admires absolutely everything about your appearance. It isn’t long before just looking no longer suffices.

Though Gene intends to close what little distance remains between the two of you, it seems that you’re set on denying him of what he so desperately craves. It’s not fair. You don’t understand how much he wants you - how badly he needs you! So without a moment to waste the boy tightens his grip on your face and holds you still, his lips crashing against yours in a greedy kiss. And fuck him, it’s good.

His lips are harsh against yours, stealing kiss after kiss and savouring every last taste he gets. When he has a chance to deepen the kiss he gladly does so, pushing his tongue past your lips with a low groan.

You quietly whine into the kiss, and it’s that reaction that has Gene teetering on the edge of his release. He wants to hear more. Feel more. Make you fold beneath his fingertips. But having so much of you at the same time quickly catches up to Gene. He just barely manages to pull out before colliding head first into ecstasy.

A deep groan erupts from Gene as he succumbs to pleasure and quietly curses to himself. He keeps his body against yours as he slowly comes down from his orgasm. He doesn’t even realise that his forehead has fallen to your shoulder until he feels you shift beneath him.

“Done already?” There’s a playful lit to your question but Gene hardly even notices it. All he notices is the way you start to push him away as you attempt to free your hands from him.

“Why? Are you trying to get away from me or something?” The boy releases your wrists and wraps his arms around your waist. If that’s anything to go off of, it would appear that he’s unwilling to let you slip away so quickly. “Should I take your silence as a yes?”

You’re about to reply when he suddenly spins you around again. He shoves your hips against the wall and leans against you, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck with a grin. Despite knowing he can’t see your face you roll your eyes. “They do say that silence is adherable to disagreement so…”

Your companion clicks his tongue and pulls back from your neck. His eyes drag across your expression slowly as he searches for something or other. You, on the other hand, use this chance to make yourself a bit more presentable.

As you pull your dress down to an acceptable spot on your legs the boy follows suit. He adjusts his own clothes and slicks back his hair but his eyes never leave you. Just as you feel you’ve made yourself presentable, the male suddenly lifts your chin to meet his gaze. You swallow thickly as your eyes briefly trail across his face.

“Fuck… I didn’t make you cum, did I?” He finally mutters.

“I still enjoyed it.”

“That’s like saying I came in second.”

“Technically you came first, so-”

The boy scoffs at your comment and rolls his eyes. “Such a clever girl…” He grins to himself and tucks a bit of your hair behind your ear. His fingers dance across your waist before squeezing your hip.

Your companion starts to pull you off the wall but you pull away from his touch. There’s a slight frown on his face when you pull away but it quickly morphs into a more neutral expression.

“Come on. Let’s get back to my place so I can make good on that promise I made you.” He suggests. You’re not opposed to the idea, you were set on going home with him about half an hour ago, so why not? Besides, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you already got what you wanted out of this interaction. Where’s the harm in second chances?

#mystreet x reader #one night stand #oneshot #smut #gene #mystreet gene #gene x reader #technically a connected oneshot

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shslbunnylover · 6 months ago

Note

Could you do a chessy X reader where the reader is the ranch hand/horse caretaker for the vineyard and one day the reader has an accident with one of the horses and chessy is the only one around to save her? Fluff and angst would be perfect!

★ ★ ★ Kiss it better ★ ★ ★

Character: Chessy

Summary: When a particularly difficult to handle horse knocks you unconscious, Chessy can't help but fuss over you, leading to some new developments in your seemingly platonic relationship

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1

Trigger Warnings: Horse accident, blood, unconsciousness,

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Author's Note: LET'S GO ANOTHER REQUEST DOWN!! >:3

Word Count: 3.23k

Working at the Parker Knoll Vineyard definitely had its upsides, great pay, working with your favorite animal all day, and the nice solitude that came with working alone on the long acres covered in grapevines (Seriously, this dude is loaded, how does he not have more hostlers??).

“Bye Chessy!” You heard a voice come out from the mansion, whom you assumed to be Annie by her British accent.

And there was your favorite part of working on the Parker Knoll. The housekeeper.

Chessy, to you at least, could be described as one of the most beautiful people you've ever met both inside and out.

No matter how much you'd try to deny yourself of your crush, it never seemed to work, and you'd always end up dreaming about the brunette.

“Alright, you four have fun!” You heard Chessy exclaim, waving the kids and their parents away as they walked out the door with their suitcases

You looked back at the mansion that was about an acre off from the area you were standing in before turning back, laughing to yourself as you saw Chessy chasing after the twins while their parents packed up.

Jesus Christ that woman was cute.

Turning back, you put the music back on your walkman before continuing your work on changing the horseshoes for Nick's steed.

You had been hired at the Parker Knoll Vineyard around 5 months after you graduated college with your bachelor equine degree, and when you moved to Napa, you began applying for as many jobs as possible.

When you found an advertisement in the paper for a job at a successful winery a few weeks later, specifically looking for a hostler and stable caretaker, you were overjoyed to find yourself beginning the application process.

Always being a horse person, you found your comfort in the stables of every ranch you had ever worked at starting in your mid-teens.

Sure they smelled like literal horse shit, but you loved to see how free spirited these creatures were. You were pretty much convinced that they were ethereal beings when they were left off the reins for a minute.

You had gotten into a few minor accidents in your early years of being an equestrian and a hostler (even though they weren't really minor and ended up with you getting a sprained ankle), but you'd learned from those mistakes, and now considered yourself well acquainted with the creatures you adored.

To you, finding your equestrian themed job at the Parker Knoll was the true start of your independent life, and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

“Where the hell did Nick put the horseshoes?” You looked around, attempting to find the object as Nick had rearranged the entire stable, leaving you confused as to where everything was.

You sighed, finally picking up the metal horseshoe to place them on the horse, who always gave you a pretty hard time when it came to changing his racing plates.

“Settle down boy…” You pet the much larger creature, trying to soothe the frazzled horse as you tried to pick up his leg.

The horse neighed violently, his tail swishing up and hitting you in the face.

You sighed, still trying to calm the creature.

“Come on sweetheart, I need you to work with me,” You cooed, petting the horse as you went to bend down.

But before you could even get fully to your position to change the plate, a hard force slammed straight into your face, knocking your body to the ground with a broken nose and definitely some other injuries.

You hit the ground, your breath being knocked out of you from the force of the creature's hoof shoving you to the dirty floor.

You cried out in pain louder than you thought, your body laying on the ground as your nose bled violently down your face. Your eyes began to go blurry, and you gripped the ground.

Your nails dug against the finished wood, your mind trying to fight the overcoming blacked out state. You had handled this before, you could do it again. It's not like this horse was pretty much 3 times your size. You could handle it.

Attempting to tilt your head up, a sharp pain shot through your body starting at your nose and spreading to the rest of your form.

“Fuck!” You cried, beginning to feel your body succumb to unconsciousness as the paralyzing feeling coursed through your blood and muscles, leaving you to pass out on the hay covered floor of the stables.

You weren't sure just how loud or for how long you'd cried out, but you knew it was loud enough for someone to hear, because just before you passed out, you saw a flash of brown and blue over your body before it all went black.

Chessy stood over you, freaking out as she propped your body up onto her own, her hand that wasn't holding your back up moving to hold your legs.

When she heard you scream from inside the house, she had dropped everything and ran to the stables to find you.

“Y/N??” She tried to wake you up, holding your nose with the sleeve of her jacket she had taken off to try and stop the bleeding. “Y/N wake up!” Chessy exclaimed, beginning to tear up as her breathing increased.

She already had shaky breathing from her running all the way to the stables from the house in less than 2 minutes, and now her upcoming panic attack over seeing you knocked out only caused her heart and breathing to race even more.

She moved her hand from under your legs and placed two fingers on your neck, a small cry of relief leaving her lips as she felt your pulse.

You laid in her arms, your body limp with shaky breathing, you looked so small in her arms even though she herself was smaller than you.

“Fucking Christ-” She held you tightly, hyperventilating beyond belief at the mere thought of losing you. God she couldn't lose you. “Stay with me sweetheart, please-”

She held you tightly in her arms, and it felt like her world was collapsing. She was terrified of losing the people she cared about, but if she lost you…she wouldn't know what to do with her life.

She loved you dearly, even if she didn't think you felt the same way.

Chessy scooped you up fully into her arms bridal style, and she kept trying to wake you up for a few solid minutes through choked out sobs.

When she saw your body begin to twitch, she stood up with you in her arms, making sure the horse was locked up before rushing you into the house.

A course of pain flushed through your body as you woke up, and a small grunt escaped your lips.

“Shit-” You grimaced, your hand sliding against the surface beneath you, your eyes widening when you felt the fabric of a bed instead of the furnished wood that you had collapsed onto.

You looked around, your eyes scanning your surroundings.

This wasn't your room.

“What the…where am I…?” You muttered, recognizing the land out the window, knowing you were back in the mansion, but where in it?

“Be careful sweetheart,” You saw Chessy immediately run in, her eyes red and puffy from what seemed like crying, she had a bottle of water in her hands with a corresponding bottle of medicine.

“Chessy?” You muttered, your head tilting to face her.

“Oh thank God you're awake,” Chessy sat on the bed, kissing your forehead before picking you up with surprisingly strong arms.

Your cheeks scattered a bright red, and you barely managed to stutter out a response.

“W-Where am I?”

Chessy propped you up onto by far the largest amount of pillows you had ever seen, allowing for your body to sink softly as if it was on a cloud.

“You're in my room, hon,” Chessy caressed your cheek. “I heard you scream and…” She trailed off, trying to remove the image of the person she cared about so much in that much pain out of her head. “I took you back to my room after I found you so I could take care of you,”

Your head turned to the right, and you noticed a whole tray of supplies on her nightstand, the books previously there now thrown onto the floor next to it.

The tray consisted of a fresh ice pack wrapped in a soft white towel for your nose, cotton balls to soak up the blood escaping your nostrils, band-aids for the scratches on your body you had suffered from the fall, and a bottle of cold water and some fruit in a bowl.

A small cold drop on your nose knocked you out of your small daze, and you realized that your nose wasn't in as much pain as before, which you realized was the case because Chessy had another towel-wrapped ice pack in your nose already.

“Chessy- You don't have to do all of this, I'm fine,” You murmured, still in a lot of pain and in no mood to actually stand up and protest, so you just let whatever the woman do what she wanted to your injured frame.

“No, you're injured, and you scared the shit out of me,” She shot a small glare, causing the blush on your cheeks to darken. “I'm taking care of you,”

You sighed, leaning your head back, too tired to fight.

“Fine…if you say so,” You grimaced.

Chessy’s glare softened, and she moved a few strands of hair away from your face and kissed your forehead.

“Oh hon, I'm so glad you're okay…I don't know what I would have done if I lost you,” The brunette sniffled, wiping her eyes with the non blood-covered sleeve of her jean jacket.

You blushed at her concern, your lips forming a small smile.

“I was going to be fine, just a little accident,” You chuckled.

Chessy frowned at you.

“Y/N, you were unconscious,” The shorter woman said sternly, pulling her glasses back on top of her head.

“I know- But I didn't die?” You attempted to assure her, cursing yourself when she only teared up more.

“I can't lose you sweetheart, I love you too much,” The brown eyed woman blushed, cupping your chin.

A small stutter escaped your lips at the mention of the word ‘love’.

“You're not losing me that quickly,” You chuckled, trying to dismiss the words that left Chessy's mouth.

Chessy smiled back at you.

“I know…” She chuckled, looking down at your form. “Oh hon, why don't I get you all cleaned up?” She cooed, placing a hand overtop of yours.

Your eyes widened, and you stuttered.

“H-Huh?”

“Can I change you out of these clothes hon?” The brunette asked.

“N-No, Chessy it's okay, I can go back to-”

You're cut off by Chessy crossing her arms and looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“That wasn't what I asked, I asked if I could change you into something comfortable,” She then put her hands on her hips.

You bit back a blush, and you simply nodded.

“Please…” You murmured.

Chessy smiled softly, walking out of the room and returning with one of her hoodies and pairs of sweatpants before stripping you of your uncomfortable riding gear.

Your cheeks heated up at the exposure of your skin, and you let out a sigh as Chessy took off your knee and elbow pads.

She looked at you with a smile, laughing at your relaxation.

“I knew you needed a break from the gear,” She chuckled, taking a few baby wipes and wiping down your body with them.

Your head leaned back, every muscle in your body relaxing at the touch of the wipe clearing off any sense of dirt.

“Thank you for this, Chess,” You hummed.

“Anything for you, baby,” The brunette smiled, placing her hoodie onto your body before sliding her sweatpants over your legs.

“Are you sure I'm not taking you away from your job?” You asked her, holding onto a pillow that was resting next to you.

“What do you mean sweetheart? I'm doing my job right now?” Chessy looked at you, taking her fingers and running her digits through your hair softly, taking it out of the ponytail it was in.

You chuckled.

“You're too good to me Chessy,”

“No I'm not, now be a good girl and stay still while I bandage you up, okay hon?” She instructed, beginning to apply some petroleum jelly onto the small scratches across your arms.

The nickname made something inside you flutter, and you immediately nodded, desperate to hear her praise you again. You just wanted to hear her want you.

“Good girl,” She repeated, rubbing in the jelly before taking the now lukewarm ice pack off of your nose and replacing it with the freshly cold one.

As she waited for the jelly to settle in, she wiped off the final remaining drops of blood off of your philtrum, tossing the last cotton ball away as the blood had finally dried up.

Another smile came back to your face as you heard her praise.

“Where did the Parker's all go?” You asked.

“They went up to that mountain cabin Nick just bought a few weeks ago, they'll be gone until around Wednesday,” Chessy replied.

“So…it's just us?” You asked.

“Us and Sammy,” She chuckled, hearing the dog bark downstairs.

“Speak of the devil,” You laughed. “I think he does need to be fed,” You checked the clock on her nightstand and saw it was Sammy's feeding time.

“You're right,” Chessy laughed, giving you a kiss on the forehead before standing up. “I will be right back, hon, and then I'll put the band-aids on now since the jelly will have settled.

You nodded at her, waving her off.

“Take your time, Chess,” You smiled.

Chessy quickly walked downstairs, and you could hear her playing with Sammy before the sound of his food bowl being filled with kibble filled your ears.

You laid in bed, waiting for the housekeeper’s return, nuzzling into her hoodie and engulfing your nose in her smell. Her hoodie smelled like fresh cinnamon and shampoo, matching the scent you had smelled when she had leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

Her hoodie and sweatpants were warm, as if she had just gotten it out of the dryer, yet somehow it already smelled like her.

What Chessy knew that you didn't, however, was that she sprayed her perfume on the hoodie and sweatpants, secretly knowing just how much you adored her scent. I mean, she couldn't blame you, it was a nice perfume she wore, and when surrounded with literal horse shit all day, it wasn't hard to find a scent that you liked over that.

Chessy returned as you had your face buried in the hoodie, and she smiled as she closed the door.

“Aww…Sweetheart you look adorable…” The older woman cooed, kissing your forehead as she sat next to you on her bed.

She took your left arm, beginning to apply the bandages to your scratches.

You blushed at how warm and fuzzy the princess treatment you were receiving made you feel, and you laid your head on her shoulder.

“Your hoodie is so warm…” You smiled.

“I know hon, I took it out of the dryer just for you,” Chessy chuckled.

Of *course* she did. That's why you fell in love with her. She was the most considerate woman you had ever met, and she made you feel like a princess no matter how bad you were feeling that day.

“You're amazing, Chessy,” You laughed, looking at her as she finished with the first arm before moving to the next.

“Not as amazing as you, hon,” The older woman looked at you with the same pure adoration in her eyes she always showed to you every time she saw you.

When she finished with the other arm, you turned your body and cuddled into the older woman, your arms snaking around her waist as you clung to her.

“You're definitely more amazing than me,” You insisted, amused at the small banter you always ended up having on who was more amazing.

Chessy chuckled and took a bottle of water, putting it up to your lips, urging you to drink, which you did.

“Drink up sweetheart…” Chessy smiled, holding your chin up with her fingers as you drank it halfway.

When Chessy took the bottle away, she quickly replaced it with a granola bar she had opened, encouraging you to take small bites before placing the empty wrapper in the trash can before putting the other one next to the half-empty bottle of water.

“Why don't we watch some Clueless, huh? I want you to rest right here and I know that you like that movie,” The older woman suggested, scooping you up just a little and pulling you closer to her body.

“Really? You'd watch it with me?” You asked, smiling up at her with excited eyes, adjusting a bit as your body was still sore.

Chessy nodded.

“Of course, baby, hold on one second,” She picked up another instant ice pack and broke it in, placing two of them on separate sore spots of your body, a soft look in her eyes forming as she watched you relax from the ice packs soothing your pain.

“Thank you Chess…” You mumbled with a blush on your face.

“Anything for you, Y/N,” She hummed, putting on the movie and holding onto you gently.

You nuzzled into her chest as the intro to Clueless played in the background, but you were more focused on the woman holding you than the movie.

A few minutes passed and you thought about everything that had happened just in the span of two and a half hours. The accident sucked, definitely, but it resulted in you cuddling up with the woman you were so madly in love with, the same woman who you didn't know was madly in love with you too.

A sudden surge of confidence pulsed through your brain, and you pulled Chessy in for a sudden but short kiss on the lips.

“I love you, Chessy,” You blurted, sitting up a bit more now as you looked her dead in the eyes, waiting for her response.

Chessy looked at you in shock, and after a moment of silence she laughed softly.

‘Shit, I just messed it all up,’ You thought, your eyes widening in horror and pure embarrassment.

Before you could say anything however, your thoughts were very suddenly cut off by Chessy's lips on yours.

The kiss was much longer this time, and you broke away after what seemed like ages with your lips locked together.

“I love you too Y/N, since the first day I met you,” Chessy smiled, tears forming in her eyes.

You wiped her tears with her thumb.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” You asked with a shaky smile, your own tears starting to form

“More than anything, my love,” Chessy kissed you once again, pulling you into her body and meshing your forms together like puzzle pieces that were always destined to fit with one another, where she held you for the rest of the night.

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

#chessy #chessy x reader #the parent trap #parent trap #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #wlw #nblw #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #akira writes ❤️

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