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chlorinecake · 28 days ago

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— BITE ME ‘TIL IT HURTS | 𝐏.𝐉𝐒

▹ PAIRING: vampire jongseong x newborn vampire reader

▹ GENRE: smut, vampire au

▹ SYNOPSIS: Literally just you and your vampire boyfriend having sex for the first time as an immortal couple…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, very rough unprotected sex (expect some crying, hair pulling, and impact play), biting & marking kink, mentions of blood, vampire themes, dom!jay x sub!reader, they’re both pretty feral in this tbh

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.1k — DAY 4

YOU WALKED INTO a reserved room hidden within The Scarlet Speakeasy; a fancy local bar in which your boyfriend Jay would routinely rent out private spaces for the two of you to hang…

Ever since Jay converted you into a member of his kind, he made it his duty to at least maintain some normalcy for you whenever you both craved a bit of seclusion from the outside, mortal world.

Jay was the type who usually spent his time wandering the wilderness, or other dark places void of humanity and their stalking eyes…

However, you,still being an infant to vampire conduct of dwelling amongst wildlife and navigating bloodlust, preferred places more familiar to you, and Jay always kept that in mind when you two were together.

Next week, to celebrate your first full month as an immortal, Jay planned to take you to the Evergreen Woods where he could teach you how to hunt for prey firsthand.

For now though, you simply appreciated every gesture of him smuggling blood bags from hospitals for you, waiting until the time was right for you to get your hands dirty on your own…

You spot Jay sitting on a velvet, loveseat couch, legs crossed knowingly as a certain smell stings within your nostrils, and your senses are heightened enough for you to know the source of the scent came from his jacket.

“Is that a surprise for me, Jay-Jay?” You asked playfully as you made your way over to your boyfriend, joining him on the couch.

“Kinda hard to surprise a vampire with blood, don’t you think?” Jay returns with a smirk before turning to face you, taking the blood bag from his jacket pocket and bringing it to your mouth, “drink up, babe.”

You part your rouge tinted lips for him as you watch him pierce the bag with his fangs so he can feed it to you.

The taste alone was so soothing to you, and although you’ve been a vampire for three weeks, you’re still shocked to find that you actually enjoy drinking the life source of humans—

“Slow down, baby, there’s more where that came from,” Jay chuckled as you hummed around the bag, a bit of blood dripping down the side of your mouth.

Pop.

He took the blood bag from your mouth, making you sulk momentarily until he leaned towards you, licking the excess from your chin and all the way up to your lips.

“So much for my heightened reflexes...” you breathe out as sarcastically as you can manage, but you’re already too effected just from having his mouth so close to yours, and so is he… humming at the delicious contrast between the warm blood and the coldness of your skin…

It's a combination that tantalizes him…

Licking his lips, the residue remaining on his tongue stains his lips, making you want to kiss him even more—

“Don't pressure yourself princess, you'll get the hang of it soon,” he replies with a hoarseness to his tone, and you can't help but notice the immediate change in energy surrounding you two now.

Again, you had only been a vampire for just under 4 weeks, but you didn't know how much longer Jay expected you to ignore your growing sexual urges…

“Sex isn't safe this early,” he unfortunately always said told you whenever you tried making a move on him…

With your newfound strengths as an immortal being came a lifelong-journey of learning how to navigate your gifts and curses, so reasonably so, Jay didn't wanna take any risks too soon.

You could potentially hurt him if you handled your strength incorrectly, or even worse, he could hurt you if you were still meddling between the fragile transition of humanhood to full-blown bloodsucker.

Still, it wasn't like in all those vampire movies, though... you didn't have to die first to become immortal... all it took was your consenting word and Jay's venomous bite to rewrite the course of your entire story, unto forever and forevermore.

And in this moment, you craved nothing more than to experience the thrill of having your boyfriend sink his teeth into you again, or perhaps, something even more exciting…

With mischief lacing your every move, you took the blood bag from Jay’s grasp, tearing yet another hole in it with your fang, letting a thin stream of cherry red decorate the supple flesh of your exposed breasts.

“Whoops!… A little help here?” You offer seductively, and he gives you a knowing look before leaning his head down to catch the blood once again on his tongue, and you let yourself moan at the feeling of him against you this time.

He’s smiles into the contact, and you let your hand find the nape of your boyfriend’s scalp where your fingers get tussled in the clumpy waves of his hair, lifting your chest to deepen things until his nose is practically drowning in your chest.

“God,” he mumbles deeply, and you feel his voice tremble all the way to your core.

One of his free hands grope your left tit, inviting the right one between his hungry teeth and snagging the flesh there.

“Jongseong, be gentle,” you whimper slightly, trying to maintain some stability in your tone, but his actions are already affecting you far too much.

He pulls his head away from your chest, and although you're both vampires, there was a certain warmth to his presence in this moment that you're already missing now.

His eyes, dark and in a haze, scan over your chest, and the dainty mark left behind by his greed makes a small smirk tug at his lips.

“Sorry, sweetheart... I really shouldn't I have done that...” he breathes out, and you're still clutching onto a handful of his locks as you take a few deep breaths of your own.

“Why not? It's not like you have issues with controlling yourself around human blood…”

“It's not the blood that I'm worried about having tasted, love…” he clarifies, looking you dead in the eyes…

It was lust, and he didn't have to utter another word for you to be sure of it... Hell, you could see it clear as day and all over his face…

Jay knew that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back from falling all the way in with you tonight, and he hated that the sultry tension was making him careless.

“You're not gonna hurt me, Jay,” you say in a slightly annoyed voice now, and he knows it's only because you're getting needier by the minute. “And I'm not gonna hurt you,” you continue, but only because he's rolling his eyes at you.

“Do you really believe that, baby?” He asks, and at first you can't tell if he's being sarcastic until his hand reached for yours, holding it in his own while gazing into your dazzling eyes.

She’s earned it, he thought to himself... a chance to explore the riskier sides of intimacy with him in this new life, and at the very least, he could agree it was worth a shot...

“We won't know for sure until we try, Jay-Jay,” you continue, attempting to convince him the best you could, but all he does is give you a look… one that you can feel all the down to your aching core again…

For the next few moments, you both communicate through expressions… your eyes tell him it’s not that big of a deal, but his eyes tell you not to ask for something you’re not truly ready for.

“Ugh,” you scoff, visibly sulking before him, “this is so unbelievably mean of you, y’know that?... We haven’t done anything in… God, I can’t even remember anymore…”

“Aishh… quit acting like you need sex to survive, ____,” your boyfriend tsks, letting go of your hand before sitting back against the couch, adjusting himself in his seat.

Pat, pat.

Jay taps his thighs twice, instructing for you to sit on his lap, and you do, straddling him now as he starts removing his jacket.

The eye contact he holds with you is near-deadly, and you start to feel yourself get nervous as he stretches his arms out to rest on the back of the sofa, seemingly vulnerable but his energy says completely otherwise.

“Take off my belt since you’re so eager,” he dares in a deep voice, and your hands reluctantly yet eventually get to work.

The belt buckle feels cold against your fingers, and the leather strap rough against your touch; all two perfect words to describe what Jay had in store for you tonight...

He lets one of his hands leave the neck rest of the couch before using a finger to tug at the fabric of your leather skirt.

“This too,” he says in a deep tone, “take it off for me…”

Lifting up to your knees, you start to unzip your skirt, but Jay’s hands reach down to rip it off the rest of the way, his strength being so profound that it tore the leather like a flimsy sheet of paper.

Suddenly, he grips your thigh with one hand, keeping you in the position you’re in as he leans closer to your face and whispering against your lips, “You know what you want, princess… now it’s your turn to work for it…”

And he doesn’t have to say much else for you to know what that means…

Deep down, Jay recognized that you weren’t much different from the shy, human girl he first met, and who you used to be… the only difference now was that the primal urges that came with being a vampire had been awakened inside you, and he wanted to be the first soul to witness your newfound boldness come to play.

You start to ride your boyfriend nice and fast, bouncing in his lap at an impressive speed, though its a blur to you how you successfully managed to get his cock inside your cunt in the first place given how nervous you were...

He’s slapping at your tits, and gently at your face, too, challenging you to go faster because he knows you can now.

“C’mon baby, is that all you got?” He huffs, and you whine out of frustration, making him chuckle as you desperately cling to his shoulders, trying to ride him faster than you already were.

“Aww... you gonna cry, baby? Is my cock too much for you?… Hm?” He continues you taunt at the way you seem so affected just from his words... you're just such a teary-eyed mess before him, and he finds the sight so fucking arousing—

“J-Jay,” you whimper, vision foggy from your own tears, “I’m doing the best that I c-can…” you sniffle, but he’s not trying to hear any of it.

“Oh? So this is all you can take then, huh?” He presses, holding your face in place as you keep bouncing in his lap, and you almost sob at the feeling of his cock hitting so deep inside your walls, and so deliciously at that.

“I never s-said that, Jay,” you choke out, feeling your legs tremble at his sides the harder he grips at your face.

Your bouncing starts to slow down, and he pulls your hair, making you cry out even louder.

“Did I say you could slow down?” He growls with darkened eyes now, and you whine in protest, provoking him to only slightly loosen his grip on your hair so you can look at him, foggy mascara decorating your damp eye lids.

Though, you had already dug your finger nails deep into his shoulders, and surely hard enough to leave a mark given the way he hissed out loud.

Jay was right to warn you… you always liked sex better when it was on the friskier side, but you never would’ve expected Jay, your typically loving boyfriend, to be so rough with you... especially not on your first time with him…

“P-please,” you began, walls fluttering around his length, and he can’t help but feel guilt creep up on him now as the tears in your eyes don’t seem to stop.

He doesn’t realize that your tears are tears of pleasure yet, so he releases his grip on your hair completely, cupping the side of your face in remorse as his eyes soften before you... he couldn’t shake the feeling of worry shadowing over him now...

“Are you okay, love?” He whispers with concern, and you only respond by kissing him, gripping at his shoulders once more to which he winced slightly thanks to the pressure you applied to the fresh wounds you left there.

“I’m more than okay, Jay,” you return weakly in between kissing him, “I just want you to take the lead from here…”

The words left your mouth smoother than honey, and the dom in him was going absolutely feral…

You were a sub at heart, so while being on top was fun and all, you still wanted him cry to be in charge of making you feel good tonight…

“Jay,” you say with a light chuckle this time, drawing his sullen eyes back to look at you, “don’t tell me you think I couldn’t take it just because I got a little whiny…”

“A little?” He challenges with a small smile, and you nod, taking his hand in yours and giving it a tender peck.

“Yes... now can we pick up where we left off please, or are you gonna make me beg for that, too?” You pout at him, and he shakes his head in compliance.

“Hmm… you're really needy today, huh?” He smirks at you, and you’re just happy to see him in good spirits again, “and spoiled,” he continues, lips finding yours as the sexual energy immediately returns to its initial high.

Your fingers get tussled in his wavy locks as your tongues intertwine, greedy hums coming from the two of you as your hips circle in Jay’s lap, and you almost forget that his cock was still inside you, until your felt his hands push your hips down further.

He can’t help himself from tumbling off the couch and onto the floor, both of you acting like bitches in heat now.

At first you’re on top, but then he remembers you wanted him to take the lead, turning you over on your back before finding your hands and pinning them above your head.

Keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, your boyfriend wastes no time in pistoling his hips into you, tiny hiccups slipping past your lips again as your body bumps against the carpet.

Your head feels like it’s in the clouds with the way his tip hits all the greedy parts inside you, but you can’t help but want a little more from him… something was missing that you knew would help really take you over the edge...

Slipping your hands from beneath his, you let them find the nape of his neck where you pull him closer enough to kiss you, moaning against his lips as pure pleasure took over every cell and sense you possessed.

“You feel so f-fucking good inside me, Jay-Jay,” you say, words coming out in wobbly mumbles as your boyfriend keeps fucking into you, a gorgeous sheen of sweat glazing his forehead now, “p-please don’t stop…”

And all Jay can do is groan in this moment, also craving a little something more to help him reach his breaking point.

“Baby,” he whispers heavily, and you meet his eyes, both of your cores heating up as the pace of his thrusts don’t cease, “I want you to bite me…”

“W-what?” You question with labored breaths, already feeling a bit bad about having scratched him so hard earlier, and now he was asking you to bite him? Knowing that your baby fangs would likely wound him terribly?...

“I want you to- nnngh… I want you to bite me when I make you come,” he slurs through a moan, hips stuttering slightly as he felt himself slowly losing control, “can you do that for me, princess?”

“Y-yes, Jay,” you whimper, grinding your pelvis with the pace of his movements, and you don’t think you’ve ever had intimacy that felt this good before, “I’ll do anything for you…”

His pubis keeps bumping against your clit with each snap of his hips, and the added stimulation is what really helps you get there, especially with him muttering dirty nothings beneath his breath.

“Ohhh, God!~” You cry out desperately, and your eyes prick with tears again as you cling to your boyfriend’s shoulders, gently biting him there to hide in your sounds.

And the feeling's so delicious for him that he moans out loud, and you’ve never heard such a beautiful sound in your entire life.

“Harder, baby,” Jay huffs in between fucking you wide open, squelching sounds filling the room as you whined against his skin even more, “bite me til it hurts…”

You let your teeth sink deeper into the muscle of his shoulder and that’s when his eyes shut with pure ecstasy, lowering his head between the crook of you neck as his hips tremble, the overflow of sensations being too much for him to bare.

And your walls are clenching around him just as your own climax overtakes you, your back arching against the carpet as he rode out your highs together...

Eventually, he pulls his cock out of you, and you’re initially surprised that there’s no cum there until you remember that’s a factor of being immortal, a.k.a., biologically undead—

“Fuck~,” you both sigh, and his head hangs low over you as he fights to catch his breath, your own vision blurry from the intense pleasure… colorful even as if you’re in a dream...

“That was… amazing,” you say, sitting up on your elbows now as he readjusts his pants before crawling away for a second, grabbing for your skirt that he threw aside earlier.

“It was,” —Jay agrees while licking his lips to get another taste of you— “if we were still mortals, I’m sure our hearts would’ve burst out of our chests from how intense that was,” he continues with a deep look on his face, despite the humor of his comment… and it’s genuinely almost like he can hear it… your two hearts beating… even though he knows they’re not there anymore…

He slides the tight leather skirt back up your hips to cover you, and you help by lifting yourself from the ground, smiling as his cold fingers work the fabric over your curves.

“You’re gonna have to buy me a new one after this, y’know that?” You ask comically, and Jay lets out a small chuckle at both your words and the raunchy tear in your skirt.

“I know,” he hums, kissing the part of your thigh that was exposed thanks to the torn leather before sucking the flesh between his teeth slightly, making your fists ball at the sudden feeling.

“J-Jay,” your voice stumbles, and you feel his fingers slide under your skirt before gliding across your sensitive folds, making your legs squirm once again.

“Jay,” you say again, and this time you grab his hair for what seems like the tenth time all day, his lips releasing from your skin with a wet pop and revealing the dark hue brewing on your flesh now.

“A mark for a mark, princess,” he whispers through a subtle smirk, and your eyes flicker to the bite pattern you left on his neck earlier, reminding you that your bond between each other was more than the average young love story:

It was blood bound, fueled by the lusts of your two immortal hearts and renewed by the nature of a love that'd last eternally...

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone reading this fic, which actually concludes DAY 4 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma

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ak319 · 2 months ago

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Yan Socialite brother x reader

Ezra Alvarez , your younger brother, has always been your number one supporter. From a young age, he was taught that tradition dictated the older sibling would inherit the business and the farms—essentially, everything. This meant all the power would eventually be in your hands. But Ezra wasn’t a moneygrubber seeking favor, he genuinely admired your intelligence, strength, and the way you cared for the family, especially him. From the moment he gained consciousness, he aimed to be your best friend and sole confidant. He longed to be the person you turned to for counsel, and slowly but surely, things were unfolding just as he wanted.

Let's start from the beginning. Ezra and you were quite different in many ways, largely due to the contrasting upbringings you had. For example, while you cherished solitude and indulged in expensive hobbies like horseback riding, archery, and swordsmanship within the privacy of your estate, not to mention almost always busy learning and handling the business with your father. On the other hand, Ezra thrived in social settings. As a fashion designer, it was his job to attend lavish parties and stay connected with the latest trends. However, his socializing had a deeper purpose, to monitor the people in high circles and gauge their intentions toward his family, especially you.

Ezra was always vigilant, keeping tabs on potential rivals and meticulously recording this information. He made sure you were aware of everything you needed to know, and thanks to his discreet tactics, you were advancing. The way he giggled looking up at you when you patted his head in praise was endearing, if he were a puppy, his tail would surely have been wagging.

Ezra would do anything for his older sister because you're the best sister in the world! Despite being used to receiving expensive trinkets, he always gets teary-eyed when you gift him something special. Given your usually stoic and aloof demeanor, he can't help but cry tears of joy when you show him affection and smile at him. He ceaselessly rambles on about his latest projects and clothing line while you sit there, reading a book and nodding along, often clueless about what he’s saying. Yet, he still cherishes these moments because it’s only HIS sister who takes time out of her busy schedule for HIM. How could he not be grateful? That would be a crime. No other sister would ever do this for their brother! Anyway, back to designing some jockey apparels for you. You really need new ones.

As much as he dislikes your boisterous hobbies, he uses them as an excuse to spend time with you. He eagerly asks you to teach him, no matter how dirty his nails or clothes get, or how much he might risk getting sunburned. Every bit of it is worth it when someone like you is his mentor.

Your parents reprimended you for spoiling your baby brother but you always shrugged it off saying "How can I not spoil my only baby brother?." That's right sister, I am and will be always your only brother. He always makes sure to pass a victorious smirk to his parents who could only sigh in defeat at both of you.

Whenever it rains, he remembers how you love the rain while he hates it because it's all muddy but on the other hand memories of him as a kid getting scared of the thunder and you holding him in your bed in your protective embrace always warms his heart. Maybe this is where the habit of cuddling you has developed. Even now when something in his life goes wrong or he is having a tantrum , only your the one who can calm him or otherwise he is crying screaming and complaining for days and yes this is a true incident , the whole estate was close to becoming deaf if you hadn't come back from your academy bringing some new jewels and his favourite pastries for him.

Speaking of the academy, Ezra had to swallow the urge to throw another tantrum or cling to your feet when the time came for you to leave for further studies. He knew you had to do this for your own sake and the future of your family business. So, instead, he became like a second mother to you, sending letters to make sure you weren’t skipping classes—even though he knew you weren’t that kind of a person. He frequently asked about your meals and sports activities, but the part he hated most was even thinking about you having a potential lover. God, he couldn’t help but crumple up the third letter when he wrote about it, but he had to know. The thought of being secondary in your life, in everything, terrified him. What if you brought home a gold digger?! That’s how he saw anyone who came close to you. They didn’t care about your personality or charm, they were after that KA-CHING! And him being one of your top prized assets, he wasn’t about to let that happen.

His heart however calmed down when you replied with a simple 'No' about the question. Yay! Whenever you came back from academy , he was even more excited than your parents, who always found his enthusiasm adorable. How he ran back and forth scolding the servants for not cleaning your room properly , not having your favourite dish up to notch like DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS PROPERLY! He wouldn't stop yapping when you sat for tea after dinner but no matter how much you were exhausted from your journey , you still listened to him.

As cunning, witty, and sophisticated he was, Ezra made mistakes too, and in his mind, the worst mistake was failing at a task you assigned him. He would cower under your anger, fully aware that he had messed up. He was still learning the ins and outs of the tedious household budget—something he would have to manage for you one day—but it was boring, okay? Numbers just weren’t his thing. Even if you scolded him, he always waited for your apology, which you offered in your own way—like taking him out to his favorite café or silently sharing a cup of tea in his room. Moments later, he’d be hugging you, petulantly whining about you getting angry at him. He hated how you chuckled at his childish attitude, but deep down, he loved it too.

Life was going well until, one day he received a letter that you were unable to attend father's funeral due to work back in the academy. He knew it was a lie , you WOULD NEVER abandon your family like this , even your mother was skeptical. But since there was no sign of you coming back, he handled his grieving mother and the arrangements himself as much as he was dying inside due to your absence. Where were you? They needed you. You were their head now. He was worried sick.

After the guests left , it was only his uncles and aunts who sat in the living room while he came down after putting his mother to sleep.

"Ezra, dear boy. You must be tired, but there is something we need to discuss with you." The words made his blood boil, and he fought the urge to slap the indifferent looks off his father’s brothers and sisters. He knew exactly why they were still here—they were nothing but vile, disgusting pieces of filth, circling like vultures after the family’s money. He had always seen the malicious intent in their eyes when they interacted with you, and it broke his heart how you treated them as family while they plotted to push you out of the way. But he kept up the façade of a nice, obedient nephew, knowing that it would be handy for a moment like this. Where were they when he was struggling to handle everything? They only arrived at the last minute for their sibling's funeral. His poor father had died surrounded by snakes. But he swore he would never let the same happen to you. He would never betray you, his blood, like these filthy excuses for humans.

He wanted to throw up as they offered their insincere condolences, but he remained firm. They inquired about your absence, talking shit about your cold behavior for not being there, and this was his cue to play his cards right. Slipping into his favorite role as the bimbo younger brother, he wept, agreeing with their criticisms, and even cursed you, despite how much it made his heart ache. Eventually, they began to open up, believing in the hate and jealousy he pretended to harbor for you. While they didn’t reveal your whereabouts, they made it clear they deemed you as an unworthy heiress. He fake-laughed through his tears, gaining their trust the best that he could. They even had the audacity to suggest dividing the property among themselves, without even considering his mother as the rightful owner of anything. Oh, they were going to be obliterated.

He then promised to hand them the papers during a party he was going to arrange that too in a ferry. Acting on the information you once gave him, he contacted some gunmen for emergencies, making the necessary arrangements. Oh what a sight it was to see the ferry filled with the corpses of his treacherous relatives. One of the assassin came and informed that they had you abducted and thrown into a mental asylum on your way back to the estate for the funeral. His mouth hung agape at the revelation, his whole body seething with fury, and without wasting a moment, he set out to bring you back. But not before ordering the ferry to be blown up in the middle of the sea. He cackled maniacally from the dock as he watched the explosion, then leaped onto the back of one of the hitmen like a kid, gleeful at the destruction of those who had wronged you.

Once you were back and grieved a bit which only lasted for a few moments before you had to take care of covering up the bloodshed your baby brother did. But at the end you did it and currently Ezra was beside you on the arm of the chair while you worked on your late father's study table , now yours. "You are not mad at me, are you?" He asked softly, voice almost breaking at the end.

"You did what had to be done. I would have done the same to anyone who came after my family like this," you said, hearing him sniffle beside you. You gently caressed his arm, your gaze still fixed on the parchment. "Don’t cry, you know how much I hate seeing you cry, Ezzy." You felt him lay his head on your shoulder, his soft brunette locks brushing against your ear.

"Thank you… I couldn’t fucking stand them anymore, doing such… such a horrendous thing to you."

He suddenly burst into giggles, his feet dangling. "But it was fun! You know, before his death, Uncle Auden wore that hideous yellow sack coat. I saw it through the binoculars—God, he looked like a penguin getting on the ferr-!"

"Ezra." Your warning tone almost made him flinch. "What did I tell you about speaking ill of the dead?"

"I think they deserve a pass." His pout was defiant yet playful, and you couldn’t help but smile. His laughter was light, a contrast to the heaviness of this week.

He couldn't be more blissful than this. You looked as if you were made to sit in that chair, and he felt immensely proud to have cleared the path for you. He always would. As his heart pondered the future, a frown creased his brow. The thought of a day when you might stray, bringing a partner into the estate, unsettled him. Though that day seemed far off, he was already prepared to make their life hell. After all, the chances of you siding with a partner over him were slim. He has got his older sister wrapped around his manicured pinky.

➺Ezra x reader x hubby

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urdreamydoodles · 1 month ago

Note

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he’s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.

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goldfades · 22 days ago

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STOLEN MOMENTS IN PARKING LOTS──RAFE CAMERON

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for this request!

─ summary | rafe tries to provoke jealousy by showing public affection for sofia, but as tensions rise, he confronts you and reveals his feelings.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x ex!fem!reader

─ warnings | NSFW!! (with plot) under the cut!! p in v, praise, pretty soft, nothing too cray but it's in the backseat of his car soooo. some angst in the beginning, rafe tries to fight someone (when does he not?), mention of drinking, ummm maybe cheating cause i lowk forgot about sofia cause bro does break up with her... but wtv! it's for the plot!

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! i actually love rafe more than i do life itself and... i wanna feed yall so PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME ANYTHING. anyways... sorry i just had to get that out there!!

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The air feels thick around you as you weave through the crowded beach, trying to keep your gaze anywhere but on Rafe. His laugh, louder than it needs to be, cuts through the noise of the party, and you can’t help but notice Sofia wrapped around him.

She leans into his touch, her smile bright as his hands roam casually over her waist, like he used to do with you. You catch a glimpse of them, Rafe pulling her closer, his lips moving to hers in a display meant for everyone, but especially for you. You look away, forcing yourself to focus on the bonfire, the drinks, anything. But it’s impossible to ignore the magnetic pull. It’s like he’s everywhere at once, the weight of his stare pressing into you even though his attention should be elsewhere.

And maybe it is—his lips are on her—but his eyes, whenever you risk a glance, are always searching for you.

You tighten your grip around your drink, jaw clenched against the swirl of emotions building in your chest. Each stolen glance at Rafe pulls at something deep inside you, but you refuse to let it show. The heat of the bonfire warms your skin, the crackling flames a welcome distraction as you will yourself to block out the image of him with her.

The party hums around you, but all you can hear is his laughter—so familiar, yet distant, like he’s a world away, even though he’s right there.

But before the thoughts can spiral further, someone steps into your line of sight, blocking the view you’ve been pretending not to care about. You blink up, surprised to see a guy you vaguely recognize from around town, his easy smile and tousled brown hair a stark contrast to the tension thrumming inside you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth, the kind that carries well over the music. “You looked like you could use some company.”

You offer him a half-smile, more out of politeness than genuine interest, but something in you shifts—an instinct, maybe, to distract yourself, to prove to yourself that you’re fine. If Rafe can move, so can you. So, you shrug, meeting his gaze for longer than you have with anyone all night.

“Maybe I do,” you reply, your voice light despite the ache still gnawing at the back of your mind.

He steps closer, leaning casually on the railing next to you. “Name’s Tyler. You’ve been to these parties before, right?”

You nod, taking a sip of your drink, your eyes drifting briefly toward where Rafe stands before snapping back to Tyler. He follows your gaze but doesn’t comment on it. “Yeah, once or twice,” you say, playing along.

Tyler’s grin widens, sensing an opening. “Let me guess, you’re not a fan of the scene? You don’t seem like the type to be into the chaos.”

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. “Not usually,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But it’s better than staying home.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, his eyes roaming over your face, lingering a second longer than necessary. “But I’ve gotta say, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

There’s a warmth in his words, a casual flirtation that makes it easy to forget the lingering tension in your chest. You tilt your head, giving him a look you haven’t given anyone in a while—playful, even if only for the moment. “And why’s that?”

His smile turns a bit more mischievous as he leans in, lowering his voice. “Because I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you.”

You feel a small spark of satisfaction flare inside, the kind that comes from knowing you’re being noticed, admired, even if it’s fleeting. You toy with the edge of your cup, glancing up at him beneath your lashes. “Well, aren’t you charming.”

Tyler laughs, a low, easy sound that feels like a balm against the tension in your mind. “Just telling the truth,” he says, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he gestures toward the fire. “Want to grab a seat by the bonfire? I’d hate for you to be stuck standing here all night.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing toward the beach where Rafe and Sofia are still tangled in each other. But the sight no longer stings as much—it’s dulled, replaced by a sudden urge to push back, to be seen with someone else, just as he’s parading her around. It’s petty, you know that. But right now, you don’t care.

“Sure,” you say, offering Tyler a real smile this time, one that lights up your eyes. “Why not?”

As the two of you make your way to the fire, you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you, burning hotter than the flames, but you don’t look back. Not yet. You settle onto one of the logs beside Tyler, letting his easy conversation and light touches distract you, pretending for a moment that you don’t feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze following your every move.

A few hours (and drinks) later, you find yourself leaning against Tyler’s car, his hands on your waist, lips trailing down your neck as the distant sounds of the party fade into the background. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been out here, away from the noise, away from him. The warmth of the alcohol buzzes through you, making it easy to forget about the tension that had been gnawing at you all night.

Tyler’s mouth finds yours, and you lean into it, closing the gap between you. His kiss is heated but unhurried, his touch light on your skin, and for the first time tonight, you let yourself slip into the moment. The back of your mind, the part that’s always aware of Rafe, quiets—just for now. Tyler’s hands move down to your hips, pulling you closer, and you tilt your head, deepening the kiss as his fingers trace soft patterns over your waist.

For a few blissful seconds, you don’t think about Rafe at all. It’s just you, Tyler, and the cool night air pressing in around you. Tyler’s touch is comforting, a distraction, a way to escape the complicated mess of emotions Rafe always drags you into. And for the first time tonight, you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of what used to be.

Tyler breaks the kiss, his lips still brushing against yours as he grins. “You sure know how to make a guy’s night, sweetheart,” he teases, his voice low and breathy, pulling you in even further.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Do I, really?” You reply, matching his grin, feeling the haze of everything slip further away.

Tyler’s hands tighten around your waist, his mouth once again capturing yours as you press against the cool metal of the car. His kisses are eager now, more insistent, and you match his energy, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. The taste of alcohol lingers between you, the sound of your breathing mingling with the distant crash of waves and faint music from the party you left behind.

You close your eyes, momentarily letting go of everything—of Rafe, of the tangled mess he left behind in your head. Tyler’s lips move against yours, and for just a second, you feel light. Free.

But then, everything shifts.

The tension in the air thickens in an instant, and you sense it before you even open your eyes. A sudden presence, looming and charged, like a storm about to break. When you finally pull back from Tyler and glance up, your heart stumbles in your chest.

Rafe stands a few feet away, his expression dark—dangerously dark. His eyes lock onto yours first, blazing with an anger so intense it makes your stomach flip. Then his gaze flicks to Tyler, and you can practically feel the rage rolling off him in waves.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe’s voice is low, almost a growl, but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

Tyler, oblivious to the storm he’s just walked into, straightens up, his arm still loosely around your waist. “Relax, man,” he says, trying to sound casual, though there’s a note of uncertainty in his voice. “We were just—”

Rafe doesn’t let him finish. He takes a step closer, fists clenched at his sides, his whole body vibrating with barely-contained fury. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he spits, his eyes still fixed on you. But then his gaze cuts back to Tyler, and something dangerous flashes there. “But if you don’t get your hands off her right now, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Tyler scoffs, dropping his arm but not backing down. “What’s your deal, Cameron? She’s not your girl anymore.”

Those words are like a lit match thrown into a gasoline fire.

In an instant, Rafe’s on him, shoving Tyler hard against the side of the car. “What did you just say?” Rafe’s voice is low and menacing, his face inches from Tyler’s. His fists are white-knuckled, trembling with the need to unleash the anger bottled up inside him. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?”

Tyler stumbles, but he manages to push back, his hands coming up defensively. “Chill, man! It’s not that serious!”

But it is. For Rafe, it’s everything.

You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, in the wild, desperate look in his eyes as they flicker between you and Tyler. He’s spiraling, and you know this side of him all too well—the part that lashes out, that destroys when he feels like he’s losing control.

“Rafe, stop,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended, cutting through the haze of tension. You step forward, placing yourself between him and Tyler, your hand pressing against Rafe’s chest. His muscles are taut beneath your touch, coiled and ready to explode. “This isn’t worth it.”

For a moment, Rafe doesn’t move. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, his eyes locked on yours, searching, desperate for something he can’t find. He looks down at your hand on his chest, and for a second, you think he might back down.

But then he shakes his head, his voice tight with frustration. “What’s your fucking problem?” he snaps, his words aimed at you now. “Do you not miss me? Is this how you move on?”

You flinch, taken aback by the raw vulnerability buried beneath his anger. His words hit harder than any shove, cutting through the defenses you’ve been trying to build all night. You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat.

Rafe’s hands grip your arms suddenly, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching, the anger faltering for a split second as something else flickers there—something almost like hurt. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice quieter now, but no less desperate. “Tell me you don’t miss me.”

Rafe's grip tightens for a fraction of a second, his eyes still locked on yours, searching for something, anything, that will ease the storm raging inside him. His question lingers between you, thick and heavy, but you can’t answer him, not here, not like this. Tyler, still lingering nearby, lets out an irritated scoff, but there’s a tremor in it. He knows better than to challenge Rafe further—everyone does.

You feel Rafe’s breath against your skin, shallow and ragged, as if he's waiting for the moment you confirm his worst fears. But instead of answering him, you take a deep breath, your hand brushing over his chest. “Come on,” you murmur, voice softer now, low enough that only he can hear. “Let’s go.”

For a brief moment, Rafe hesitates, his gaze flickering toward Tyler, like he’s still deciding whether to throw another punch. But your hand slides down, gently tugging at his arm, and his attention snaps back to you. Slowly, his grip loosens.

Tyler, sensing the shift, straightens up but keeps his distance, his bravado from earlier slipping away as he watches you lead Rafe toward the beach. “Whatever, man,” Tyler mutters, though his voice wavers, betraying the fear he's been masking. “You two deserve each other.”

You don’t even look back at him, and Rafe doesn’t either. His focus is entirely on you now, the tension between his clenched jaw and the way he follows your lead without protest. Tyler slinks off, disappearing into the crowd as if he’s suddenly remembered who he’s dealing with.

As you walk further from the party, the sounds of the bonfire and distant music grow fainter, leaving only the soft rush of the waves and the cool breeze whipping against your skin. Rafe’s fingers brush against your hand, and though the anger in him hasn’t fully burned out, his pace slows as the two of you near the shore.

The silence between you is heavy, electric. You can feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down, the tension thick enough to suffocate. His frustration, his desperation—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface. But now, without an audience, without the pretense of Tyler or Sofia, it feels rawer, more exposed.

Rafe stops just shy of the water, his grip on you tightening again, though not out of anger this time. It’s almost as if he’s holding onto you for stability, for some anchor to stop him from drowning in whatever dark place his mind has gone. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice quiet, rough around the edges, but no longer carrying the rage that had consumed him moments before. “Why are you acting like you don’t care?”

You feel the words clawing at the back of your throat, the urge to lash out or deflect, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you stand there, caught between the pull of the past and the mess of emotions swirling around you now.

It’s all too complicated, and yet somehow, painfully simple. You’ve never stopped caring. But Rafe… Rafe has always made things more difficult than they needed to be.

Rafe’s question lingers in the salty night air, hanging between you like a taut string waiting to snap. His eyes search your face for something—an answer, an apology, anything to make sense of the confusion brewing in his mind. But you’re not ready to give him what he wants. Not yet, at least.

The sound of the ocean crashing against the shore fills the silence between you, your pulse racing in time with the waves. You look away, focusing on the dark horizon, your toes sinking into the cool sand as you try to gather your thoughts. Why are you doing this? The question echoes in your mind, but it’s not as simple as Rafe seems to think.

Maybe it’s because you’re tired—tired of feeling like he’s pulling the strings, tired of the toxic push and pull of your relationship. Maybe you’re doing it because it hurts too much to care about someone who only seems to care when you’re slipping away. Or maybe it’s because, deep down, you know that no matter how hard he tries to provoke you, to force a reaction, the person who’s really hurting is him.

You glance at him, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself really look. His eyes are still wild with anger, but there’s something else there too—something that cracks through the hard shell he’s built around himself. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged from the tension that’s been gripping him since the moment he saw you with Tyler. His hands, though no longer tight on your arms, still linger, as if afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go entirely.

“I’m not acting like I don’t care,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended. There’s a vulnerability in the admission that makes your stomach twist, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I just… I can’t do this with you, Rafe. Not like this.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, his brows furrowing, but then he hesitates, the frustration flickering in his eyes giving way to something closer to desperation. “Then how?” His voice is quieter now, too, though it’s laced with an edge of exasperation. “Tell me how, because I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the ache in your chest keeps you from it. He doesn’t know what to do? The guy who’s spent the entire night trying to make you jealous, parading Sofia around like some twisted declaration of victory, now stands in front of you, unsure, vulnerable.

But this is Rafe Cameron. The boy who hides his insecurities behind anger and control. The boy who pushes you away just to pull you back in, like some sick game where neither of you ever really wins.

“You think this is all my fault?” you ask, taking a step back, breaking the physical connection between you. His hands fall away, and though his body stays rooted in place, his expression twists as if the loss of contact has left him exposed. “You think you can just act like that all night, throw Sofia in my face, and I’m supposed to be okay with it?”

Rafe winces at your words, and for a moment, he looks away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I wasn’t trying to—” He stops, gritting his teeth, clearly wrestling with what to say. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Right,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest, the bitterness in your tone impossible to hide. “Because trying to hurt me is the only way you know how to get my attention?”

He stares at you, his lips parting like he wants to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he clenches his jaw and looks down, the anger draining from his posture, leaving behind only exhaustion. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says finally, so quietly you almost don’t hear him over the waves. “I just… I didn’t know how to make you miss me. I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up.”

The confession hits you harder than you expect, a crack in the armor he’s always so careful to maintain. It’s the first time all night he’s shown you anything real, anything beyond the bluster and anger he uses to shield himself. And it leaves you speechless.

Rafe lets out a frustrated breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares down at the sand, avoiding your gaze. “I know I’m not… good at this. At us.” His voice wavers slightly, like admitting it is a betrayal of the tough, unshakable image he’s spent his whole life building. “But I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else. Especially not him.”

There it is. The raw, vulnerable truth buried beneath layers of anger and bravado. The truth you’ve always known but never heard him admit out loud.

You swallow hard, feeling the sting of his words settle into the hollow ache in your chest. “Rafe… I can’t keep doing this. The fighting, the jealousy—it’s too much.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how exposed you feel saying it out loud. But it needs to be said.

His eyes snap back to yours, wide and frantic, as if he’s afraid you’re slipping through his fingers. “I’ll stop,” he blurts out, stepping closer, the desperation back in his voice. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—don’t walk away.”

You bite your lip, torn between the part of you that wants to believe him and the part of you that knows it’s not that simple. He’s said things like this before, made promises in moments of weakness, only to fall back into old patterns when the anger returns. But this time, there’s something different in his eyes—a genuine fear that this might really be it.

“I don’t know if you can stop, Rafe,” you say quietly, the honesty of your words hanging heavy between you. “You’re always so angry… and I can’t be the one trying to fix it every time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he absorbs what you’ve said. But then, to your surprise, he nods, his expression shifting from desperation to something more resigned. “You’re right,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am angry. But not at you.”

You blink, taken aback by the admission. It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged that the rage he carries isn’t about you—not really. It’s always been deeper than that, rooted in things he’s never fully let you in on.

“So what then?” you ask, your tone softer now, more searching. “What are you so angry about?”

Rafe looks away again, his jaw clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back. But then he sighs, running both hands through his hair in a gesture that screams frustration. “Everything,” he mutters, his voice rough. “My family, my life… I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it.”

You watch him, your heart aching at the sight of him so lost, so broken. For a moment, all the frustration you’ve felt toward him melts away, replaced by the familiar ache of wanting to help him, to fix what’s been broken between you.

But you know that’s not your job. It never was.

Rafe’s confession hangs in the air, weighty and raw, his vulnerability exposed in a way that catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and frustration that has built up between you feels insignificant. The walls he keeps so tightly guarded have crumbled, and in their place, there's a boy you recognize—a boy desperate for something solid in a world that’s been spiraling out of control.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach out, brushing your fingers against his arm. His breath hitches at the contact, and slowly, his gaze finds yours again. His eyes are dark, a mix of anger, longing, and something deeper, something that’s always been there but never fully spoken between you two.

“I’m not walking away,” you murmur, barely able to find your voice as the tension between you thickens. “I’m still here, Rafe. But you need to figure out what you want… and stop trying to hurt me to get there.”

His expression softens at your words, the desperation giving way to a flicker of hope. For a moment, he just stares at you, his lips parted like he’s trying to say something, but no words come. Instead, he steps closer, his hands brushing your waist, hesitant, as if testing the boundaries between you.

“Tell me what to do,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how to fix this.”

The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and despite everything—despite the anger, the games, the toxic cycle—you find yourself leaning into him. The truth is, you don’t have all the answers. You never have. But standing this close to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body, you know one thing for certain—you miss him. As much as you’ve tried to push him away, you can’t deny the pull that’s always been there, the magnetic connection between you.

“You start by being honest with me,” you say quietly, your fingers finding their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric as if anchoring yourself. “No more games, Rafe.”

He nods, swallowing hard as his hands slide up your waist, pulling you closer, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. “I’ll be honest,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, sending a rush of heat through your body. “I’m done with the games, baby.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s desperate and hungry, all the frustration and longing pouring into the contact. It’s not gentle; it’s raw and unfiltered, like he’s been holding back for too long, and now that he has you, he can’t stop himself.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely. The world around you blurs into nothingness—the sound of the waves, the distant party—it all fades away until the only thing that exists is him. His hands roam your body, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, and you melt into him, the heat between you building with every passing second.

He pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours as his lips move with a kind of desperation that makes your heart race. It's overwhelming, the way he kisses you, the way he holds you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. You feel the intensity of everything he's been holding back—the anger, the pain, the desire—and it ignites something deep within you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, but he doesn’t let you pull away for long. His lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your throat, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips. His name tumbles from your mouth in a breathless whisper, and you feel him tense against you, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and hoarse as his hands slide under your shirt, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Your heart stutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice taking you off guard. It’s not just the physical connection that’s pulling you back in—it’s the raw emotion behind it, the way he’s finally letting you see the side of him he’s been hiding for so long.

And then, somehow, you find yourself back in parking lot, against his car. His lips never leave yours, his kiss hungry and desperate.

“Rafe…” You barely manage to get his name out as he lifts you slightly, pushing you against the side of his car, his body pressing you firmly against the cool metal. His lips find yours again, and this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the taste of you.

Your mind spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the way he touches you, the way he kisses you like he’s afraid this might be the last time. There's a desperation in the way he clings to you, like he's trying to make up for every moment he's hurt you, every second he's pushed you away.

Rafe’s hands grip your hips as he pulls you tighter against him, his touch searing through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way his body presses into yours is almost suffocating, but in a way that you crave, like you’ve been starved for this kind of contact for too long. His lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, a contrast that leaves you dizzy, struggling to catch your breath.

Every kiss feels like a question, as if he’s asking for more, for you to let him in completely again. And you want to. Despite all the games, all the hurt, there’s something undeniable about being with him—something that makes your heart race in ways you haven’t felt since the beginning.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten as his hands slide up your back, his fingertips grazing the bare skin just under the hem of your shirt. It’s almost like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you, as if this is his last chance to make things right.

His lips leave yours for just a moment, trailing down your jaw and finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. You shiver as his hot breath fans against your skin, your body reacting instinctively to his every move. His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, and you feel him pause, his breath hitching at the sound.

You feel his hand reach for the door behind you, opening it before he practically threw you into the backseat. Rafe climbs on top of you, and his lips are on yours again. You moan at the contact, your head falling back into the cool leather of his backseat. God, how you missed those cushions.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion, barely holding himself together. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, and you feel his desperation in every touch, in every kiss that follows. It’s not just physical—there’s a vulnerability there, a need that goes far deeper than the surface.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize what he’s truly saying. This isn’t just about the heat of the moment or the chemistry that’s always drawn you two together. It’s about him finally letting you see past the walls he’s built—past the anger, the bravado, and the façade he shows everyone else.

You tilt your head back, giving him more access as his lips move lower, trailing down your collarbone, and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The world around you seems to blur, the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the soft hum of the party fading into the background until all that’s left is the two of you, tangled together in the dim glow of the night.

He leans back slightly and all you could hear in the darkness of the night was the clink of his belt, and a shiver went down your spine as you think about what's coming. You almost immediately slip out of your shorts as you slid back, giving yourself enough room to spread out before Rafe is in between your legs.

You can make out his face in the darkness, the faint moonlight casting shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes that have always had a way of making you feel seen—and sometimes too exposed—are locked on you, and it makes your heart (and pussy) beat faster.

“Rafe,” you breathe, your voice barely audible as his lips return to yours in a searing kiss. It’s slow this time, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands slide up your sides, taking the edge of your shirt with them, and your breath hitches as you feel the cool night air against your skin.

Then, you feel his warm tip against your thigh. Never leaving your lips, Rafe slowly leans his cock right into your sopping pussy. You let out a soft moan, the feeling of being filled up by his cock again making your head spin with pure bliss.

“Oh, shit,” he draws out as his head falls back, the feeling of your warm cunt overwhelming. “God I missed you, pretty baby.”

And it feels like time has stopped, like the only thing that matters is the heat between you, the way your bodies fit together perfectly, like this is where you’re meant to be. His hands roam over your back, your sides, exploring with a kind of urgency that makes your pulse quicken as he pushes in deeper into your pussy.

It hurts, at first until he bottoms you out. He's still for a moment as he leans his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy. After he felt you tighten around him, he instantly pulled your hips before he began thrusting in and out of you slowly, as if he was warming up.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out as your hands find his shoulders. Your breath comes out in short, ragged gasps as you cling to him, your body responding to his in ways that are both familiar and intoxicatingly new.

He's fucking into you at this point, his own grunts echoing in the empty car. You could feel the windows begin to fog up as his thrusts become more sharp, more meaningful. It’s overwhelming, the intensity of it all, but you can’t stop yourself—you don’t want to. You’ve missed this, missed him, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

At the sound of your cries of pleasure, Rafe chuckles breathless. “Oh, yeah? You like that?”

All you could do was nod as he begins increasing the speed of his thrusts, he was rocking into you with brute force but he was still gentle, somehow. His hands reach up to find your throat, holding it as he fucks into you harder. Rafe lifts your hips a little more so that he could reach that sweet spot, and you knew it was over.

“Rafe, fuck!” You cry as your head falls back into the cushion, your mouth slightly open and your eyes rolling back in your head. You're shaking, at this point—you're not holding back whatsoever.

Anyone who was walking by his car could probably see and hear what's happening, and probably think he was murdering you. And they were right, he was absolutely obliterating your insides. But you didn't care, and neither did Rafe.

His breathing is heavy, matching the erratic rhythm of his hips, and he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours. His scent—a mix of saltwater, cologne, and something distinctly him—invades your senses, grounding you in the moment, making everything else disappear.

“Oh, my god I'm gonna—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, the tight knot in your stomach snaps and it feels like everything is still for a moment. You can't even hear yourself anymore, it feels like you were on a cloud as you cum around his cock.

A few more deep thrusts and he was spilling inside you, his own body shaking above you. His lips find yours in a sloppy and desperate kiss, his hips keeping you placed right beneath him. He doesn't pull out—no, he wouldn't even dare. He doesn't want to. Not yet, of course. You both just lay in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“I missed you,” he finally whispers, his voice rough and edged with something almost like pain. His fingers tighten around your waist, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and your heart stutters at the vulnerability laced in them.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His breath is warm against your skin, his presence overwhelming but somehow comforting, like a weight you didn’t know you needed. You want to say something, to respond, but the words get caught in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you.

Instead, you reach up, your fingers grazing his jawline, feeling the stubble under your fingertips. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes—an acknowledgment of what you both know but can’t yet fully voice. His eyes close at the contact, and for a split second, the tension melts away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

Then his lips are on yours again, but this time it’s different. It’s slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands trail up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer, and your body responds in kind, the need for him growing stronger with every kiss.

You lose yourself in the feeling of him—how perfect he feels when he's inside of you, the heat of his skin, the way his fingers trace patterns along your back. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you in the darkness, tangled together in a way that feels both new and familiar at the same time.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything else fades away. The jealousy, the anger, the hurt—it all dissolves into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, caught in a moment that you know you won’t soon forget.

You’ve been through hell with Rafe, and maybe there’s more waiting ahead, but right now, none of that matters. Right now, all you can think about is him—the way he touches you, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing that’s real.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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shadowdaddies · 2 months ago

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I would love an Azriel x reader where they are friends and they have a conversation and Azriel’s scars come up. And he talks about how he hates them and always tried to hide his hands. Then the reader says something about how they find them sexy because all the textures and bumps would feel amazing in the bedroom. Then Az just flabbergasted because he never thought of it like that

Hi! Thank you for the request, lovely. Sorry this took me so long, I hope it is worth the wait.💜

Your Touch

Azriel x f!Reader

warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, allusions to past injury

Cool autumn wind blew gently across your face, blowing strands of your hair to tickle your cheeks as you stepped outside to the training ring. It was a quiet morning, too early for anyone else to be up, or so you thought. The sound of metal brushing stone drowned out the birds’ morning chirps, drawing you toward the source of the disruptive noise.

Azriel’s dark form contrasted against the light morning mist, the Shadowsinger’s large wings folded tightly behind him as he hunched over his treasured blade. Eyebrows furrowed with focus, Az sharply dragged Truth Teller along the whetstone with more force than usual.

You were one of few who recognized the spymaster’s subtle tells, who knew when something was bothering him. The way he gripped his blade, scarred hands flexing with each purposeful stroke against the stone... With a flush you looked away just in time before hazel eyes flicked to you.

It was a practiced dance, a rhythm that flowed in flawless agony each time you caught yourself staring at your best friend. That tug in your chest that pulled you to find him in moments like this also let you know when he could feel you - your eyes on him, your presence - but you would not let him feel your longing.

He was the most thoughtful, loyal male you had ever known, and nothing was worth risking losing his place in your life. So you looked away, time after time, in hopes of keeping him around in any way possible.

“You’re up early,” his warm voice rumbled, snapping you from your spiraling thoughts. Forcing your gaze to his, you thanked the Mother for the cool breeze disguising the blush on your cheeks. You smiled, watching the gold in his eyes shimmer as he offered a small smile back.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, willing courage into your bones and urging them forward to find your seat next to Azriel on the bench. His wrist flicked blade against stone once more, sparks flying as he huffed a tense breath. “Please be careful, Az,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You’ll cut your hand,” you added, nodding to his other hand which held the whetstone.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him, no hesitation in his reply. “As if they could look any worse.”

You both grew immediately still, hearts pounding now louder than the birds in the trees, Azriel’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You tracked how his throat rolled, another tell of nerves, of what he’d admitted.

“Azriel,” you whispered, taking the opportunity of his pause to reach for his arm as you looked into his eyes. You could see the emotions warring within them, the deep tortures of his past swirling, same as those thoughts eddied into darkness itself. “Your hands are beautiful.”

His eyes shuttered at your words, body tensing but not moving away from your reassuring touch. “Do not feel pity for me,” Az gritted out, his chest rising dramatically with unreadable emotion. “I know the hideous scars I have bared my entire life. Do not pretend they’re beautiful when I know they’re not.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, as if the Mother herself propelled you to take his hands more firmly in yours. The intensity in your gaze drew Azriel from his stupor, his lips slightly parting as he looked at you in wonder.

“I do not ‘pretend’ anything about you is beautiful, Azriel. I know you are. And your hands...” You paused, allowing your gaze to drift to where you held him, his palms laid gently against your fingers. You stroked the skin there, the grooves and ridges surprisingly soft against your own. Earlier thoughts of those hands, how they might touch you, incensed your mind, leading your thoughts astray - for only a moment.

Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to his own where instead of those earlier emotions, now lay a hint of mischief. “My hands...?” he questioned, brows raised in intrigue.

No weather could disguise the burning of your cheeks now, no birds to drown out the nervous laughter that escaped you. “I, um... I think they are very nice,” you managed, dropping his hands and quickly shifting slightly away.

“They’re nice?” Azriel pressed, his curiosity only growing from your statement.

Breathless, you continued, something in your gut giving you the bravery to finally share a small part of what you felt for Azriel with him. “Yes, they’re... they would feel nice.” Panicked gaze finding his, you amended, “I mean, they do feel nice. Just now, when I held them.”

Azriel was now smiling down at you with an amused grin. “No, you said they would feel nice... What does that mean?”

Fumbling over words, none came to you. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, you prepared to run when those hands found yours. Azriel pulled you close, holding you in place more surely than gravity as one scarred finger ever so lightly traced your cheek.

“Tell me where they would feel good,” he purred, voice low and commanding as you leaned into his touch.

“Everywhere,” you breathed.

Instantly, Azriel’s hands were everywhere, grabbing any part of you he could as the two of you frantically stripped each other of your leathers. Laying you down against the training mat, Az’s black hair fell around his face as he grinned and lowered his lips to yours. Soft but precise, he knew exactly what he was doing as your body became aflame beneath his.

Lips and hands trailed down your body, leaving reminders of your pleasure in their path before he paused above your pussy, so warm against the cool autumn air. “I want to hear how good this feels,” Az murmured, giving no explanation before his finger barely grazed your clit, sliding down to your core.

You had never felt more vindicated than in that moment, when reality proved better than fiction. Azriel’s warm breath fanned over your heat as he watched your reaction to his touch, finger slowly teasing inside of you before he added another.

Your mewls and gasps echoed through the open air along with his name, giving Azriel satisfaction as his wrist flicked and curled his fingers, working you as expertly as his blade. The moment his lips touched your clit, you were gone. Back arched off the mat, you felt the cool breeze against your sweaty, writhing body.

Azriel continued working you through your high, pulling his hand from your cunt to hold it in the light for the both of you to see. Studying the glistening coat of your slick on his fingers, Azriel hummed. “That is beautiful,” he murmured, before turning to lock eyes with you while he licked his digits clean, openly groaning at the taste.

Smirking up at him, you lunged to pull Az back towards you, eager to have your hands on him now, but the shadowsinger held your wrists, stepping back with a ‘tsk.’

“We’ll have time for that later,” he winked, tossing you your clothes. “Training starts in two minutes.”

Jaw slack, you prepared to argue with him when you heard the doors open, Nesta and Cassian’s voices echoing as you scrambled to get into your leathers before they could see.

“Gods, it reeks of sex in here,” Nesta groaned, silvery eyes scanning until they landed between you and Azriel. A brief smirk graced her lips before she muttered something that sounded like “finally,” smacking a chuckling Cassian on the shoulder and settling in on the other side of the training area.

You looked to where Azriel stood in the spot where he’d just worshipped your body, gaze not shying away in the slightest from his satisfied smirk as you calculated the time until training was over.

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mythicalmaven · 1 month ago

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omg i saw your prompt list and I'm a sucker for oscar lately, so i thought 45 (God, I am so in love with you) with him? fluff please :)

i love your writing btw!

First Kiss - Oscar Piastri (requested)

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader ↳word count: 0.8K ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & finally kisses you for the first time ↳prompts used: 45 - "God, I am so in love with you"

Oscar had been in love with you for years, a secret he’d kept tucked away in the corners of his heart, afraid of what would happen if he ever let it out. He’d watch you laugh, your eyes sparkling with a light that made everything else fade away, and he’d feel his chest tighten with the words he could never quite say.

You’d been his best friend since forever, the person who knew him better than anyone else. Every victory, every defeat—you were there, cheering him on or comforting him in the quiet moments when the world seemed too much. But as much as he cherished your friendship, he was terrified to risk it by confessing his feelings, convinced that you saw him as nothing more than a friend.

It was a thought that haunted him every time he caught you looking at him with that warm smile, every time your hand brushed against his, sending electric shocks through his body. He couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, so he swallowed down his love, settling for being your best friend even if it meant his heart ached every time you were near.

But everything changed the morning of the Baku race. He was in the paddock, nerves buzzing under his skin as he tried to focus on the upcoming race, terribly failing as he catched himself staring at you once again. But then Lando came up to him with a knowing smile.

“You know she’s in love with you too, right?” Lando said casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on him.

Oscar blinked, his brain struggling to process the words. “What?”

“Yeah,” he continued, oblivious to the way his heart was suddenly racing. “She’s been head over heels for you for ages. Honestly, it’s kind of obvious. I thought you knew.”

He stood there, stunned, his mind spinning as everything he thought he knew shifted. You were in love with him? All those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, the lingering touches, the way you looked at him—had he been blind to it all?

"Are you sure?" Oscar asked, completely dumbfounded. Afraid that Lando might got the wrong signals, that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Couldn't be more sure" Lando smiled at him, patting his shoulder "Mate, she legit told me, 'I wonder if Oscar has any idea how crazy I am about him.' That clear enough for you?" he chuckled, mocking your love sick tone "Didn't wan't to be the one to spill the beans, but I'm pretty sure the both of you otherwise would have been too shy too ever confess to each other"

His heart soared, hope blossoming in his chest, but there was no time to process it. The call for the race was going out, and he had to get to the grid. He barely remembered the moments that followed, his body moving on autopilot as he climbed into the car, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

And when he crossed the finish line, his first instinct wasn’t to celebrate the victory—it was to find you, to tell you everything he’d been holding back for so long. Because now he knew. And he wasn’t going to let another moment slip by without you knowing, too.

He glanced around, searching the crowd with an urgency you’d never seen before. When his eyes locked onto yours, a grin split his face. Without a second thought, he handed his helmet to a nearby mechanic and practically sprinted toward you. Your heart leaped into your throat as he reached the barrier, reaching out to lift you over it with ease. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intense look in his eyes.

“Oscar—” you began, but your words were cut off as he crashed his lips onto yours, his kiss filled with a raw, unspoken longing. You gasped against his mouth, stunned, but the surprise quickly melted into warmth as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their shouts echoing around you, but it all faded into a blur. It was just the two of you, standing there in the middle of the chaos, wrapped up in each other. The kiss was everything you’d ever dreamed of—soft yet demanding, sweet but full of a simmering passion that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the joy and relief radiating from him, his lips moving against yours with a mix of exhilaration and tenderness that made your legs weak.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, Oscar rested his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with unspoken words. His thumb brushed over your cheek as he searched your gaze, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered, his voice slightly breathless but steady.

A giggle bubbled up from your chest, pure happiness spilling over as you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. The cameras were still flashing, the crowd still cheering, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his hands and the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Oscar’s gaze never left you, his grin widening with each passing moment. Finally, he could hold you the way he’d always longed to. He’d admired you for so long, captivated by your beauty. But now, seeing you up close, you looked even more stunning. He was completely smitten. “God, I am so in love with you.”

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iris-qt · 5 months ago

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𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚘

🫧 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🫧 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🫧 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🫧 ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪᴄ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜʏꜱ’ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ!

🫧 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴜɴᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ɪᴛᴀʟʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʀᴜɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ

Azure blue skies and endless summer breeze tails you through the rolling green countryside of San Gimignano, Italy. This was true, pure bliss. A flow of relaxation that you haven’t felt since…Merlin knows when. The stress of endless exams and finals, everlasting prefect duties, and bickering with your horrid nemesis really left a mark; as represented by your unrelenting dark circles and deep forehead lines.

But at least all of that was giving way to the Italian atmosphere and it left behind a happy girl that would donate a kidney to spend her entire summer here. Unfortunately you were only visiting for a week before school began once more; your final year. This brought a sense of dread to your heart as you would miss the enchanting castle. Your second home.

You pushed that aside as you zoomed through the countryside of this ravishing country on your cute little teal Vespa. Truth be told you’d never driven a muggle vehicle before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

And so your lack of experience with muggle vehicles was the cause of you not being aware that gas has to be filled. You thought the meter getting closer to 0 represented the dissipation of your happy mood as you were, per usual, plaguing yourself with paranoid and pessimistic thoughts. The sudden shuddering of the Vespa made you lose balance and you began veering off track, you and your precious vehicle zooming down a hill with the sheer force of gravity. You screamed for dear life, and, at last, landed in a shallow pond with an enormous splash.

You bobbed up, gasping for air, and scrambled out of the lake quite ungracefully, summer outfit ruined and soaking wet. And suddenly, you heard a scarily familiar, devilish chuckle that just so happened to find your tragic predicament amusing: your mood as drenched as your clothes.

As you slowly glanced up trembling, not knowing if your shaking was from the water, shock, pure rage, or all three, you made direct eye contact with a certain boy musing at your tragedy. His eyes were overflowing with humor as he was leaning against a tree, his tanned legs crossed over each other. He seemed to be reading a book which he put down as he had found something better worth his attention. He gracefully stands up, a complete contrast from how you scrambled out of the pond, much to your annoyance.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, angioletto mio?” He smirks.

“Nott,” you scoffed. “Small world…or cruel fate,” you stand there, dripping wet, arms spread out like a martyr.

Of course you knew the insufferable Theodore Nott was Italian and often visited family here, but you didn’t think you’d be subjected to his presence in such a big country, especially in the less populated countryside. It was truly just cruel fate that brought this spawn of satan before your eyes.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate to see me,” Theodore cocks his head to the side, quite enjoying this arrangement. “Risking your life on a muggle vehicle zooming to my town.”

You roll your eyes, and if you were in a cartoon universe, trust that there would be steam coming out of your ears.

“Trust me Nott. I had no intention to run into a walking headache on my vacation.”

The insufferable git kept smiling, moving closer now, standing right in front of you so you could smell the usual dizzying scent of sandalwood and pine. Summer edition Theo had a hint of citrus mingled in with his intoxicatingly annoying scent.

“I already got you soaking wet, now you just have to get naked,” he laughed with the most disgustingly smug look on his face that you almost slapped off.

“Are you done?” You glared at him, ready to storm off and free yourself from the torment of his presence.

He shrugged, looking you over.

“Need help drying off?”

“I need help out of this conversation.”

“Oh stop, y/n, you can do better than that,” he grinned

You sigh very well aware you had no other option. You hold out your arms and shut your eyes waiting for his casting of the Hot Air Charm. Since you had resolved to live the simple muggle life for this vacation, your wand was locked in a vault at your hotel room.

Theo laughs, “Are you waiting for a kiss, principessa?”

You open your eyes, confused. “No, I’m waiting for you to dry me off like you said, idiot.”

He laughs again shrugging and says, “I don’t carry my wand around my domain, there’s no need.”

“Then, pray do tell me, Nott, what was your plan in helping me?”

He gives you the most shit-eating grin and grabs your hand, scaring you a bit, then begins pulling you up another grassy, verdant hill: one that isn’t hiding a body of water behind it. You have the urge to resist, but just give in. The drop from your adrenaline-rush you’d been maintaining for the past 3 days had collapsed, causing you to come down with an attitude of resolve. He dragged you up the hill, your wet sandals making squelching sounds, each one demeaning you more and more. You hated this shift in power where the perfect git was overshadowing you. You hated it. You hated him. I think.

“So why were you in the countryside? Other than wanting to see me so badly, of course.” He looks behind him and shoots his watercolor poison into your soul as he makes that unblinking eye contact. Another thing on the meter-long list of things you despise about him.

“I was in a self-deprecating mood and decided to ruin my record streak of relaxation by finding you,” you deadpanned as you rolled your eyes for extra affect.

“Y/N relaxing? You must be lying.”

He chuckled a bit as you two stopped at the top of the vast hill, looking down to a meadow of wildflowers. They glowed like colorful jewels in the blinding, comforting summer sun.

“What’re you gonna do, push me off?” You smirked, half wishing he’d do so. Maybe this was all a nightmare. A beautiful, lush, tinged with the familiar scent of Theo nightmare.

What you didn’t expect, however, was him saying:

“Precisely.”

And with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you down on the top of the hill, pushed you back in a laying position before you could protest, and quite literally pushed you down the hill. You screamed as you, for the second time that day, gave all free will up to gravity, rolling down the hill at a crazy speed. You knew Nott was your unproclaimed but painfully obvious nemesis but you never thought he’d attempt murder. You finally stopped and lay there, sprawled on your back, heaving from the rush. It was kind of…fun?

Theo rolled down right next to you, laughing, as he sat upright. There was grass in his curly, brunette hair that you couldn’t help but reach out to pluck. He looked away quite shyly. Did your eyes deceive you, or did he just blush? You must have heat stroke. Good thing you had your wet clothes to keep you cool: they were significantly drier now.

You stand up and Theo starts laughing in a way you’ve never heard him laugh before. It was almost…endearing?

You put your hands on your hips teasingly and ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Mio angioletto, you have something…everywhere.” He bursts into laughter again. “Beware grass woman rising from the Italian hills,” he gasps through his fits of laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile so wide; his happiness was almost as contagious as his teasing.

You look down and realize the grass was sticking all over your outfit, covering you in verdant greeness. There was an itching sensation bubbling to your skin, but you ignored it. You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter as you could imagine you looked like green Chewbacca.

“Is this your sick way of tar and feathering me, Nott?”

He recovers from his laughter and stands up with you, peeling a wet blade of grass from your cheek.

“Alas, you have uncovered my motives,” he teases, grinning.

“Well, your actual motives didn’t work. I’m still sopping wet.” You wringe out the side of your shirt for dramatic affect as it produces a downpour of water.

“There’s more to my motives, mio angioletto. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” He grasps your hand again with a beautiful look on his glowing face and pulls you up to do it all over again.

And again.

Until the sun is caressing the distant hills, getting ready for its nightly departure. The sky is painted shades of teal and purple; still bright but just so. The breeze is still gentle, and so is Theo’s hold on your hand, as he guides you back to his tree by the wretched pond.

Don’t ask yourself what you and him were at the moment. Don’t ask yourself how years of rivalry and pranks. Of stress related to the both of your never-relenting efforts to beat the other. Don’t ask how that all faded away, as you sat in the setting sun.

Unfortunately, it isn’t in your nature to just ignore logic. And Theo knew it. So he distanced himself from you in light of the passing moment of rolling down flower dotted hills, letting go of your hand. It was as if an igniting flame in your heart had been stifled. He sat across from you by the tree. A silence falling between you two.

The slight itching you had felt earlier had been slowly increasing, and as the fun fell away, it began grabbing your attention. The feeling was in your throat now…something wasn’t right. And that’s when you remembered something that Theo’s warm presence had melted away from your mind. As if your brain had tricked itself to forget about this important fact to permit you and Theo’s fun. You were allergic to wildflowers. If exposed to them for a long time? Horribly allergic.

You started coughing and then choking, pointing to your neck to alert Theo to the problem. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening…he had noticed your uncharacteristically red skin, but he had dismissed it by thinking it was the sun’s doing. How could he overlook this?

Your choking grew louder as you fell onto the grass, Theo scrambled around crazily not knowing what to do in his initial panic.

But then he remembered

He pulled out his wand and cast a healing spell which would diminish every affect of an allergic reaction. You started being able to breathe again and your throat cleared, along with your skin returning to its original color and texture. You were gasping in shock, slightly embarrassed that you had been in such pathetic situations in front of Theodore twice today. You were both holding each others’ arms and breathing deeply. You recovered slightly, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

“Well, if your true motive was to kill me, Nott, I’d say you almost succeeded.” You let out a weak, unconvincing laugh.

“I..I am so sorry, y/n, I genuinely didn’t know..” he looked crestfallen. More shaken than you in fact. Wait a minute…

“Hold on,” you raised an eyebrow, your shock of almost dying completely gone and replaced with a new shock. “I thought you said you didn’t have your wand?”

Theo’s eyes widened sheepishly and he grinned, looking as guilty as ever.

“Ok listen before you throw a fit-“

“I don’t throw fits, I diplomatically argue.”

“Before you throw a tantrum, let me explain.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair looking nervous, and, for the first time, failing to make eye contact.

“I just…I knew you’d leave if I just dried you off. You only stayed because you needed help and, well…” he sighs.

“Well?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about you all summer, y/n. I lay awake all night and I day dream all day. I swear I even saw you in the stars..” he gives a nervous, strained laugh.

“You never leave my thoughts, but I was sure it was just because I had to prove myself. To beat you. But you didn’t even leave my brain after school ended. You haunt me every day. When I saw you I thought I was hallucinating, like, genuinely.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking the most vulnerable he’s ever looked.

You look at him, eyes blazing with emotions you had denied yourself. Emotions that fought to be seen but you always pushed them back. You couldn’t fight back anymore. What were you even fighting against? God, you had some serious issues.

“And so you lied to make me stay?”

Theo nodded, looking to the side, up at the darkening sky.

“Maybe it was the universe that brought me here, because what are the fucking odds?”

You both laughed at that, eyes shining despite the escaping light around you.

“Theo, in my last 3 days I’ve been in your beautiful home country, I’ve visited so many places. The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Uffizi Galleries. So many amazing places, and I’ve experienced the most inspiring ordeals. But today was, by far, my favorite day.”

Theo regains his composure after hearing that, playfully judging her with his shoulder .

“Because of me, hm?”

You roll your eyes, looking away.

“Say it, principessa..” he prompted, gently holding your face and focusing it towards him.

You dramatically sigh and admit, “Yes, Theodore Nott. Because of you.”

He smiled the most breathtaking smile. If only you could capture a picture of it, but unfortunately your camera went down with the Vespa. You lay your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, so that his bright smile could be engraved into your mind. Definitely a core memory.

After many moments of comfortable silence, Theo perks up.

“Oh! By the way, dolcezza, I realized I said the pickup line wrong when you struggled out of the swamp.”

You rolled your eyes at his impertinence and said, “First of all, it’s a pond, Theo. And second of all I did NOT struggle. I emerged like Aphrodite in a shell.”

“Ok my little swamp monster,” he annoyingly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you fought to hold back a giggle.

“Okok let me say the line.”

“Go ahead, Theo.”

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Because you have the face of un angelo.”

He grinned his shit-eating grin as you pretended to retch at the line. Jumping up with the fireflies around you, you tagged Theo, reigniting that competitive streak you both so closely shared. You both laughed like maniacs as you raced up the hill again, fireflies dancing around you in a waltz.

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott one shot #theodore nott x reader

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neiptune · 4 months ago

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you give me bad ideas

cw: 1.5k wc, female reader, reader has a vagina, NSFW, handjob, dry humping, slight fingering, pet names, established relationship, sanemi is as needy as an inappropriately horny boyfriend in the middle of the night can be and you're just gonna have to deal with it i guess

thank you a million times @erexart for this GORGEOUS WORK OF ART OF A BANNER i will stare at it for the rest of my life and then some more!!!!! thank you @katsulock for reading this and sharing your precious opinions i'm truly so lucky to know you and have your support

“Sanemi, no” you hiss but it’s quiet, you don’t even peel your eyes open to further underline how serious the ban is. He huffs into your hair from behind and it’s not long before he resumes his ministrations, lips gently tracing your spine with featherlight kisses that eventually rise up to your neck.

“No, what?” he whispers, faux innocence laced into his tone “I’m not doin’ anything” and just like that, his hands skim under your shirt, gently caress your tummy with a touch so warm and familiar it makes you sigh.

“Behave” you lazily grab one of his wrists, knowing all too well it’s going to do absolutely nothing to stop him “Genya is literally sleeping in the next room, I’m not risking your brother hearing us”

“So be quiet” Sanemi’s free hand rises up ever so slightly, thumb tentatively grazing the portion of skin he’s so used to grabbing “I’ll make sure none of your usual pretty whimpers slips past those lips” his warm breath on your neck elicits a shiver that only makes him smile.

“I cannot believe you” it’s nothing but a weak, annoyed yet fond groan. A soft chuckle vibrates in the wide, solid chest pressed to your back.

“Well, I think you owe it to me”

That’s when you open your eyes and fidget into his hold to turn to look at him, amused lavender gaze reciprocating your outraged one.

“I beg your pardon?”

Sanemi hums, seizes the opportunity to press his lips to your forehead as his arms further close around your waist and you’re pulled in tightly. “Don’t play coy. Can’t feel what you’re doing to me right now?” a familiar hardness is now pressing against your ass and it takes everything in you not to push your hips further into him “this is all you. I’m so hard it hurts”

As if to underline his point, he grinds against you ever so slightly, just enough for you to feel more of him.

“Sounds like a you problem” you whisper and Sanemi rolls his eyes at your stubborness, pretends not to notice how you’re now absolutely still. Pliant, malleable.

“And if I want to make it our problem?” he presses against you once more, rocks his hips slowly but with intention while keeping you in his iron embrace.

“Fuck” you quietly groan, familiar heat flooding your core “Nemi, we really can’t—”

“Please” he whispers, lips and teeth grazing your ear, hold growing stronger on your hips “need it so bad. Will be quiet, won’t even put it in if you don’t want me to”

“God— fine” you surrender, exasperated, and roll to your side once more “take what you need, then. Quietly”

“That’s my girl” the curve of a smirk where your neck meets your shoulder, his rocking gaining a steadier rythm now “my perfect girl. C’mere” Sanemi cups your jaw with the hand not busy kneading the plush skin of your breast, tilts your pretty face to claim a slow kiss that turns messy, sloppy. It’s rare for him to be this needy, in search of relief for himself. Poor thing. The thought of his gorgeous cock smearing precum against his briefs, bulge pushed over and over into the curve of your ass, the sound of his breathing morphing into raspy pants against your neck… it’s all enough for you to decide to help him out, ass wantonly wiggling over his hardness eliciting a hiss.

“Oh? What’s that?” the lilt lingering in his voice is still infuriatingly amused, in contrast with his hips still desperately bucking upward for friction “changed your mind, princess?”

“You never know when to shut up” you reach behind your back and sneak a hand in between your bodies, fingers curling easily around the ridge of his clothed length “and count your blessings” he curses into your hair when you start stroking him, torturously slow, the way you know it drives him insane.

“Fucking— shit” he ruts into your fist and it makes you hide a proud grin into the pillow.

“What is it? Not so smug anymore, are we?”

“I never need to be, ah, smug about this” he mutters before gently biting down on your neck, tongue warm and sensual easing the stinging pain right after “about how much I need you”

“Tell me how much you need me” you whisper, hand finding its way underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, his cock harder, heavier and quite literally leaking by the time it’s set free. You could get drunk on the moan bubbling up from his chest when you circle the flushed tip with your thumb, a good natured keep it low leaving your lips as you increase your pace ever so slightly.

“Nothing compares” he mutters, voice soft and so close to breaking “not my fist, not your pictures. Need your touch, your mouth, shit, even your voice alone is fucking enough to—” Sanemi is interrupted by his own groan, unable to focus as he shamelessly throbs into your skilled hand as it gathers more precum before squeezing his head once more.

You let him bury the pads of his fingers into your jaw again, kiss him just as desperately while a familiar throb between your legs has your thighs rubbing together. Desire mercilessly licks at your stomach but you don’t give in, not when all you’re focused on is him, getting closer and closer to his peak.

“So good for me” you murmur into his mouth, soft voice dripping with honey making him twitch “my beautiful, strong man. I love you, Nemi” and just like that, with another breathless moan buried into the crook of your neck in an attempt at keeping his promise of being quiet, ropes of hot cum make a mess of your hand.

A series of profanities is hissed into your skin and you relish in the way he still jerks into your touch when you teasingly caress his spent tip, makes you a little sad that you didn’t have the best view of his pretty features drunk on pleasure while stroking him.

“You will be the death of me” his breathing grows steadier at last but you can feel how painfully hard his heart beats against your back, arms possessively tightening around you as he shivers, hands sneaking underneath your shirt once more “I love you” it’s sincere, a declaration that never fails to make your heart flutter despite hearing it so many times each day.

You playfully hum as you retract your hand, chuckle when he groans as you carefully lick your fingers clean, gaze locked to his half lidded one.

“Sleep now” you kiss along his jaw when you’re done, only to then peck his lips to give him a chance to taste himself. Sanemi presses his body against yours with purpose once, still half hard, before gently maneuvering you to roll onto your other side and face him.

“My perfect girl” he repeats, tone gone soft oozing with sheer devotion when he brings you as close as humanly possible to kiss you. It’s slow but deep, tongue entering your mouth and grazing yours over and over again, low groan vibrating against your chest as you card your fingers through his hair and pull at the snowy strands.

“Let me take care of you” it’s a plea barely whispered into your mouth “don’t think I don’t know how wet you are”

“There’s no need, I can—” he swallows your airless gasp with another needy kiss when one of his hands easily slips beneath the waistband of your sleeping shorts and panties, fingers zeroing on your clit by muscle memory and pressing against it. You bury your face into the crook of his neck when he starts making steady circles, a whimper inevitably slipping past your lips.

“You can’t. Not on my watch, not if I’m here” Sanemi nestles his cock between your thighs, painfully close to your still clothed entrance. He’s barely keeping himself from ripping those stupid shorts apart, especially as you grind against him in search for more friction.

“Nemi” you mewl, eyes rolling back when the circles against your sticky clit grow faster, harsher “fuck, please, need you”

“Need me? Where?” he pushes, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth when you scoff.

“Sanemi”

“Answer the question, baby” you jolt against him when he teases your dripping hole with a single finger, barely dipping it in.

“Inside me” it’s a hiss more than a whisper “I need you inside me, you fucking prick”

That’s when he halts his movements, rough fingers taken away so abruptly you emit a pathetic whine. He grabs you by the hips instead, dampness sinking into your heated skin as he forcefully rolls you along his cock, heat stirring in his groin at the thought of just how slippery your folds must be by now, smug grin so close, so discernible even in the darkness of you shared bedroom, you could easily kiss or slap it off his handsome face.

“Why are you askin’ for it?” Sanemi tilts his head to the side a little, impertinence swarming in a darkened violet gaze “come claim what’s already yours”

#sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x you #kny x reader

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kat-mobile · 4 months ago

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Hey love ❤️ hope you’re doing good

Can I request Tommy with a gentle, empathetic and sensitive reader please. It was an arranged marriage and he found out his new wife would cry herself to sleep over a book she read or just a cat. His reaction to someone who is completely opposite of him

Thank you in advance ✨

Tommy with a wife who's his complete opposite

A/N: Hey baby, thanks for the request!! I'm doing good and I hope you are too ❤️ I forgot to put on the requests post to specify if you want it as a fic or headcanons so I've made it sort of a mix of the two, hope that's okay anon. I made this blog to try and improve my writing skills and as this is my first attempt it isn't the best, so sorry about that lol. Hope you like it!! (this is set sometime around series 1-2 cause those are my fave)

It was an arranged marriage and to be honest... you weren't particularly thrilled by the notion of being married to Birmingham's most known and feared gangster. But you would do anything for your family and if your father decided that this is what would be best for securing the future of the family then you'd follow through on your part of the deal, even if it seemed like you and Tommy had absolutely nothing in common.

This was a couple months ago now and you had somewhat settled into your new life in Small Heath and with Tommy by your side, the two of you living in comfortable tandem. You had settled into a routine and life was good, or as good as it could be with the risk of being married to a Shelby.

He would buy you any book that you so much as happened to glance at and in turn you would patch up and sew back together any unfortunate pieces of clothing that got in the way of Tommy and his dangerous life style and work, fighting back tears and worrying at your lower lip as you did so. You may not quite understand why he was constantly putting himself in danger but he was your husband all the same and you had grown to love him as your marriage progressed

you would also force him to go and see an actual trained medical professional whenever he came home with said ruined clothing, as a dead husband is less than ideal and you have grown attached these last couple months

Your empathy and tendancy to cry over him when he got hurt was a shock at first but he quickly got used to it, he even tried to avoid getting hurt just so as to not have to see you cry over him

He may not say it outright but he appreciates everything you do and how much you care for him

He doesn't like to keep secrets from you but he doesn't share all aspects of work life with you as he doesn't want you to worry too much, but if being kept in the dark would worry you even more he'd make an effort to keep you in the loop

Your gentleness and compassion is a welcome contrast to his life from before you were apart of it, Tommy didn't know that he needed it before you

If there's one thing about Tommy Shelby, it's that he protects what's his and as his wife he treats you with the utmost care (especially if you have a tendancy to seek out the good in all people)

One night when Tommy (finally) came to bed he found you curled up in a ball on your side with your back to the door, tears gently running down your smooth cheeks

Unsure of what to do when confronted by your distress but still wanting to help, he'd rush to your side and scoop you up onto his lap, holding you close with your tear-stained cheek pressed against his chest and an arm thrown protectively around your shoulders. He'd cautiously rock back and forwards whilst his hand moves slowly up and down your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion. He's a little awkward and stiff but damn if he isn't fucking trying

He'd use his forefinger and thumb to tilt your chin up and force your eyes to meet his own before softly questioning you on why you were crying

"What you crying for, hmm love? Ruining your pretty face"

He'd say, wiping away your tears with his thumb

Upon hearing that the reason for your tears was a sad ending to one of the books he bought you he'd be a little taken aback and he would honestly have to suppress the urge to laugh

It all seemed rather silly to him that you'd cry over some words on paper

"Tommy it isn't funny, it was really upsetting" you'd hiccup out through your tears

he'd just shake his head and sigh, apologising, before pulling you closer, finally laying down on the bed with your legs intertwined

Tommy had hoped it would be a one of chance but when he caught you crying in bed again over the ending of Of Mice and Men, he very quickly figured that he'd have to adapt

Tommy developed a system for when you had your... shall we say moments, he'd sit down on his side of the bed with his back pressed against the headboard before he lifted you up and placed you in-between his legs

Sitting you so that your back was resting against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat

You would then explain to him the sad moments in your books as he softly hummed and nodded his head along to your words

And when he got tired from your quiet voice lulling him to sleep he'd pull you down with him as he laid on his side, caging you in against his chest with an arm around your waist

Those were the nights that he slept the best

#tommy shelby x reader #tom shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon

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yuquinzel · 8 months ago

Text

from this list of prompts!

“here comes the airplane!” “i can feed myself.” “too bad.”

“what... are you trying to do?” sae shoots you the look of a raised eyebrow and lips twisted in confusion, eyeing the spoonful of porridge in your hand and the mischievous smile he’s come to adore.

currently he sits on his bed, tucked in all the fluffliest and warmest blankets you could find in his apartment. which weren’t a lot, so he’s also wrapped in his own hoodies. you even made a comment about him looking like deflated baymax — he had glared at you, you laughed even more.

sae doesn’t get sick a lot, and when he does, he’d most likely brush it off as normal cold that would go away on its own or whatever, which is also the reason behind his bad habit of never telling you about the times he is sick.

although you find out anyway, and sae guesses it’s because his manager is working double ways. well, he doesn’t really mind it either. because each time it leads to our current situation — which, although he never has and never will admit — is something he always looks forward to. and if he's being honest, he wouldn’t mind getting sick on purpose for the very reason.

“isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to handfeed you.” you say, in a manner of declaring an obvious fact.

“no, don’t do that.” he deadpans. ( he’s hiding his smile. )

“here comes the airplane!” you ignore him, slowly bringing the spoonful towards him.

“i can feed myself.” although he makes no visible effort to back away, he scrunches his nose. his eye travel to the porridge, then to you and back to the spoonful. he sighs.

“too bad,” you say, and sae isn’t given much choice but to oblige, “i’m gonna do it anyway.”

of course you will.

he rolls his eyes, you peer down at him expectantly, “well??”

“...well what?” his cheeks are puffed out like a hamster. but you would never say that out loud and risk your chances of seeing him like this again. you have to bite back a laugh. although you can’t resist the smile tugging at your lips.

“is it any good?” your smile grows.

“it’s... porridge. is it ever good?” he says dryly.

“yeah, but I’m handfeeding you! doesn’t being taken care of this way by the love of your life sway your heart?” you gasp dramatically, and sae lets out a weak chuckle.

“meh,” he laughs at the way your face drops from grinning like an excited child to that of a serious middle aged man. ( :D to :| )

“fine. then, enjoy it yourself.” you try to hand him the bowl, but he holds down your hands instead.

sae looks at you with a precise gaze, keeping yours on him. it’s serious and unwavering, although to a stark contrast to his cheeks and mouth. both sweetly pouted like that of a child’s. then he parts his lips, slightly so, mirroring your expectant expression from before.

“you’re really going to leave the love of your life by himself when he’s sick?” his eyes shine. a playful chuckle leaves his lips when you roll your eyes.

it’s the side effects of the medicines you’ve been forcing him to take. that must be it. but for now, sae can’t bring himself to give half a damn.

“well, i thought the love of my life didn’t need me to take care of him.” your thumb traces the corner of his mouth, sae bites it playfully. he kisses it just seconds later when you frown.

“i’m actually so sick i could die right now.” he laughs. side effects of the medicines, really.

you roll your eyes at him, bringing the spoonful to him again. “how’s the porridge now?”

“it’s meh,” he says again, ignoring the self assured smirk you wear, “but i’ll work with it.”

“i thought you could feed yourself?” you bring another spoonful to his lips, and he obliges instantly this time.

“i am the love of your life. it’s the least you could do.”

you bite back a laugh at that, sae is a little more unguarded than usual when he’s sick. it’s cute.

“baby”

“yes?”

“baby as in you’re a baby. it’s derogatory.”

it’s his turn to roll his eyes, “yeah, yeah.” he parts his lips once again.

@luvether saw ur answer on my alt bae here u go I’m dumping my bllk drafts just for u :3

@kyoghurts daddy’s home

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#haha 🧍‍♀️#posting this w/o an explanation after disappearing for more than half a year #itoshi sae i hate you (affectionate)#itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae drabble #sae x reader fluff #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #blue lock x reader #blue locl x you #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Text

Another Man’s Treasure

Max Verstappen x Reader + Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Charles made the worst mistake of his life when he threw away his relationship with you. Max … well he’s learned to take advantage of others’ mistakes both on and off the track

Warnings: cheating (not the main pairing) and pregnancy

“Please, Charles, why can’t we just talk about it?” you implore, the two of you standing on the balcony overlooking the glimmering lights of Monaco. The city shines brilliantly but your eyes are clouded with frustration and disappointment.

Charles exhales deeply, his jaw clenched as he avoids your gaze. The silver lining of the night —the glimmer of stars overhead — contrasts sharply with the tension between you two. “I told you already, it’s not the right time.

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “Every time I bring up having children, you just push it away. Why can’t you see how much this means to me?”

Charles runs his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to have a family with you someday,” he begins, his gaze distant. “But right now, with my career at its peak, I can’t risk distractions.”

“Distractions?” Your voice breaks, the hurt evident in your tone. “Our children would be a distraction?”

He flinches, clearly not expecting that response. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I need to focus on the championship. The pressure is immense. Racing is my life. Ferrari is my life.”

“I understand your dedication to your career, but ...” You pause, your gaze searching his. “Don’t you think we can find a balance? Am I not part of your life too?”

He looks at you, those hypnotizing eyes you’ve always loved flinching away from yours after no more than a second. “I wish I knew how,” he murmurs. “But every time I think of the late nights, the early mornings, the endless travels ... I’m afraid I won’t be there for our children.”

You reach out, holding his face in your hands. “We can figure it out together. But not if you keep shutting me out.”

Charles leans into your touch for a brief moment, his warmth radiating under your fingers. But then he pulls away, taking a deep breath. “I just need time,” he whispers.

“You always say that,” you reply, voice almost inaudible. The weight of the situation presses down on you both. The future, once so clear and bright, is now clouded in uncertainty.

But one thing is clear to you. You love Charles Leclerc. Despite the pain, the hurt, and the disagreements, you still believe that one day, you’ll both find common ground. So, you nod, taking his hand. “Alright, I’ll give you time. But please, don’t take too long.”

He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

But deep inside, a gnawing feeling of dread starts to grow, leaving you wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

***

The soft hum of the espresso machine at your favorite café in Monaco is the only thing that brings comfort these days. You take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the momentary solace as you sip on your coffee. But today, the calm is quickly disrupted by the muted buzz of your phone.

An unknown number flashes across the screen. Hesitating for only a moment, you decide to pick up. “Hello?”

A hesitant voice responds, “Is this ... is this you? I’ve seen you with Charles.”

Confused and on guard, you ask, “Who is this?”

The voice falters, “It’s Elise.”

You wrack your brain, trying to figure out who she might be. But before you can respond, Elise continues, “I think we need to meet. There’s something you should know.”

Agreeing to meet up, you find yourself waiting at the edge of the Fontvieille Park, the minutes feeling like hours as you try to decipher what could be so important.

Elise finally arrives, her demeanor nervous, eyes darting around. She’s visibly pregnant.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” she begins, looking down at her swollen belly, then up to your eyes, searching for understanding. “This is Charles’ child.”

The world seems to spin, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What? How? Why?” The questions blur together, each one as painful as the last.

Elise sighs, taking a moment before she speaks, “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I thought he loved me ... but then I found out about you.”

You’re at a loss for words, feeling a mix of betrayal, anger, and pain more complex than you can describe. The very foundation of your relationship with Charles feels like it’s crumbling beneath you. “He said he wasn’t ready for children,” you whisper, more to yourself than to Elise.

Elise looks genuinely pained. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve never—” she stops herself, tears forming. “I’m so sorry. I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur. Elise shares her story, and you listen, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Charles she describes isn’t the man you thought you knew.

By the time you part ways, the Monaco sunset paints the sky in shades of gold and purple. But its beauty does little to lift the darkness that has settled over your heart. Charles had been unfaithful, and now a child — a constant reminder of his betrayal — was on the way.

***

With every step you take towards the apartment you share with Charles, your emotions churn and crash like tumultuous waves. You have practiced the confrontation in your mind countless times, yet as you reach the door, your hands tremble. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you push it open.

Inside, Charles looks up from the couch, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he starts, attempting a smile but his eyes give away a hint of nervousness. Perhaps he senses the storm brewing.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

Charles swallows hard, pushing himself up to stand. “About?”

“Elise,” you state simply, watching as his face pales.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you hope for an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret. But when he speaks, his words are cold and detached. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” You shoot back, trying to hold back tears. “Is it true?”

Charles avoids your gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he finally admits.

“And the baby? Is it yours?”

Again, he hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”

The weight of the revelation feels like a physical blow, and you stagger back slightly, gripping the back of a chair for support. “All those times … when you said you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time …” Your voice cracks, pain and betrayal evident in every word.

Charles finally meets your gaze but there’s no warmth, no apology in his eyes. “I didn’t plan this,” he says but it’s not a justification, merely a statement.

“That’s supposed to make it better?” you scoff, voice rising in disbelief.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you recognize as one of discomfort. “I never wanted to hurt you. But things just ... happened.”

“You think that justifies anything? Things just happened?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I gave up so much for us, Charles. I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to be with you. And you threw it all away like it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but his apology feels hollow. His eyes betray the truth.

The room is thick with tension and heartbreak. The man you loved, the life you envisioned — both seem like illusions now. You didn’t even know if they were ever real.

“You know what?” You say, a new determination rising within. “I deserve better. I deserve someone who truly values and respects me.” With that, you turn, making your way to the bedroom to pack a few essentials.

Charles doesn’t stop you. And that, more than anything, cements the truth. Your future lies elsewhere. The chapter with Charles is closed.

***

Rain begins to drizzle over Monaco, each droplet reflecting the city’s luminescence. With a bag slung over your shoulder and a broken heart, you wander aimlessly. The streets that once felt like home now seem foreign and cold.

As the rain intensifies, you duck under an awning, the gentle hum of a nearby bar providing a temporary reprieve. You’re lost in thought when a familiar voice breaks through, “Is everything okay? You look a bit ... lost.”

You look up, surprised to find Max Verstappen looking genuinely concerned. His bright blue eyes study your face, searching for an answer.

“Max ...” Your voice trails off, unsure of how much to reveal.

He gestures to the bar beside you. “Want to come in? We can talk or not. Up to you.”

Gratefully, you nod, and the two of you find a quiet corner. The dim lighting offers a cocoon of privacy, away from prying eyes.

Over a glass of wine, words start to tumble out. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty of the future. Max listens intently, his gaze never leaving yours. His silence offers a comforting presence, allowing you to unburden your heavy heart.

“I can’t believe Charles would do that to you,” Max says after you finish your story, his voice laced with anger. “You deserve so much better.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I thought we had something special. But I guess I was just naive. And stupid. So stupid.”

Max reaches out, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “No. He was the fool for not seeing what a treasure he had.”

The evening wears on and you find solace in Max’s company. The conversation shifts from heartbreak to hopes and dreams. He opens up about his childhood, the pressures of racing, and his aspirations for a family — one where he could offer his children a better upbringing than he had.

The connection between you two grows, the raw vulnerability drawing you closer than you could have ever anticipated over just a few hours.

“It’s getting late,” Max observes, glancing at his watch. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

You hesitate, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I ... I hadn’t planned anything.”

Max looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “I have a penthouse not far from here. You’re more than welcome to stay. No expectations, just a place to rest.”

Gratitude swells within you. “Thank you, Max. I really appreciate that.”

The two of you leave the bar together, the rain now a soft drizzle. As you make your way to his place, the weight of the day begins to lift, replaced by an unexpected feeling of hope. You couldn’t have predicted this turn of events but perhaps, just maybe, the universe has a plan for you.

***

The penthouse apartment is a sanctuary, perched high above the city’s twinkling lights. The soft glow of lamps bathes the room in warmth, contrasting with the coolness of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer an unobstructed view of Monaco’s beauty.

Max hands you a plush robe and gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to freshen up. I’ll make us some tea.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding and hospitality. The hot shower washes away the day’s troubles, and when you emerge, wrapped in the robe, you find Max in the sleek kitchen area, preparing mugs of tea.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you a steaming cup. “Chamomile. Good for relaxation.”

You take a sip, the warm liquid soothing your frayed nerves. “Thank you, Max. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”

He smiles gently, his eyes meeting yours. “Sometimes, unexpected moments bring people together for a reason.”

The two of you settle onto a surprisingly comfortable leather couch, gazing out at the night sky. Silence envelops you but it’s a comfortable one.

“You know, I never expected to connect with someone like this,” Max says, his voice soft. “Especially not after what you’ve been through.”

You look at him, seeing a depth of sincerity that surprises you. “It’s been a strange and difficult day,” you admit. “But talking to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

Max’s gaze holds yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has conspired to bring you to this very place, to this very person.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. A loving home, something I didn’t really have growing up. I want to give my kids the stability and happiness I never had.”

Tears well up in your eyes, touched by his vulnerability and his willingness to share his dreams with you. “That’s a beautiful aspiration.”

He shifts closer, a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And what about you? What do you dream of?”

You lean back, contemplating the question. “I dream of a family too, a partner who’s truly invested, children who grow up knowing they’re loved and supported.”

Max's fingers brush against yours, a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve that. You deserve to find happiness.”

As the night deepens, the emotional intimacy between you grows. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared connection, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. The chapter with Charles might be closed, but perhaps, with Max, you can start to write a new one — one filled with shared dreams and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow over Monaco as it begins its ascent into the azure sky. You wake up, wrapped in the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, with memories of last night’s conversation playing on a loop in your mind.

Exiting the bedroom, you find Max in the open-plan kitchen, whipping up a breakfast spread. “Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

As you eat, Max discusses his plans for the day, mentioning an upcoming summer break in the F1 calendar. “A few friends and I have organized a yacht trip during the summer shutdown. It’s a tradition,” he explains. “A way to escape and recharge.”

You nod, picturing the glittering sea and warm beaches. “That sounds wonderful.”

He hesitates for a moment, then, as if taking a leap, says, “Why don’t you join us? It could be a good distraction. Get away from all this ... chaos.”

The offer catches you by surprise. The prospect of a holiday is tempting, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. Plus, the idea of spending more time with Max, getting to know him outside the confines of Monaco, is equally appealing.

After a moment’s contemplation, you reply, “You know what? I think I will. Thank you so much.”

The days leading up to the trip are a blur, filled with shopping for swimsuits and sundresses and a growing sense of anticipation.

When the day finally arrives, you find yourself aboard a lavish yacht, surrounded by Max’s close friends. Laughter and conversations flow easily, the crystal-clear waters providing the perfect backdrop.

As the yacht sets sail, you and Max find a secluded spot on the deck. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you talk, laugh, and occasionally, just sit in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment.

During a sun-soaked afternoon, Max teaches you how to steer the yacht. Your fingers brush against each other, and there are shared glances, stolen moments, and an electric charge between you that’s impossible to ignore.

Each day deepens the growing bond between you. There are sunrises watched from the deck, dinners under the stars, and long conversations that last into the early hours of the morning.

One night, as the yacht anchors near a secluded cove, Max takes your hand, leading you to a quiet spot. The moonlight dances on the water, creating a magical atmosphere.

“You know,” he begins, his voice soft, “this trip has been special. Not because of the destinations but because of the company.”

You smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A tender moment passes between you, one filled with promise and the potential for something more. The yacht trip might be coming to an end but both of you sense that this journey, this new chapter in your lives, has only just begun.

***

The gentle lull of the waves against the yacht rocks you as the moon hangs low in the sky. The night air is warm and fragrant, carrying with it a sense of peace. Tomorrow, the yacht will dock back in Monaco and reality will catch up with you once more. But for now, you’re content to savor these final moments of the trip.

You find Max leaning against the railing, gazing out at the sea. As you approach him, he turns, his expression softening into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, standing beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other.

“I can’t believe the break is almost over,” Max muses, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.

You nod in agreement, casting your gaze out to the horizon. “It still feels like a dream.”

Max glances at you, his eyes holding a certain intensity. “You know, I’ve had an amazing time with you.”

A flutter of warmth ignites in your chest at his words. “Me too. The best time.”

The moment is charged with unspoken feelings, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing day. Max’s fingers brush against yours and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t want this to end,” he confesses, gaze never leaving yours.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, so understood.”

He cups your cheek with his hand, his touch tender and affectionate. “I feel the same way. And I don’t want this to end.”

The tension in the air is palpable, heavy with anticipation and longing. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the emotions that have been building between you, a kiss that bridges the gap between friendship and something more.

As the kiss deepens, Max’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths mingling. Max’s voice is a gentle murmur against your lips. “I don’t want to rush anything. But I also don’t want to pretend that this connection we have isn’t real.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the same sincerity. “I don’t want to pretend either. Max, I want to give this — give us — a chance.”

A genuine smile graces Max’s lips and he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

***

“Where to now?” Max asks, his hand lightly touching your arm as the yacht crew busies themselves with docking procedures.

You hesitate, the reality of your situation setting in. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I … I moved here from my home country to be with Charles.”

Max looks concerned. “You can’t stay with him, not after everything.”

“No, definitely not.” You exhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe find a hotel for a few days.”

Before you can say more, Max interjects, “Stay with me.”

You look at him, a bit taken aback. “Are you sure? We’re still navigating whatever this is between us.”

He nods, his gaze steady and sincere. “I know. But I also know you shouldn’t be alone right now. You can take the guest room or,” he pauses, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “the master bedroom, if you prefer.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his teasing tone but his offer feels genuine. “Alright but only if you promise not to snore.”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off the yacht. “Deal.”

The familiarity of Max’s penthouse greets you as you step inside. It's comforting and safe, an oasis to escape the shattered memories that line the Monaco streets.

While you unpack, Max makes dinner. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a soft glow through the apartment.

“Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing around the dining room, the food, the moment. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.”

Max meets your gaze, his blue eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

The night unfolds, a sense of peace settling between you. Whether it's the soft hum of the city below or the comforting presence of Max beside you, you drift into a deep, restful sleep.

Waking up the next morning, the events of the past weeks feel like a distant memory. But the man beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, is a calming reminder of new beginnings.

With Max by your side, you feel ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that no matter what, you’re not alone.

***

“Are you ready for the madness?” Max asks, offering you a hand as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd at Zandvoort Circuit immediately evident.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the paddock, drawing attention from fans, crew, and media alike. Whispers spread like wildfire but neither of you flinch. Together, you are a united front.

Suddenly, Charles appears from around the corner, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. “So this is the big reveal?” he asks, dripping with condensing sarcasm.

Max steps protectively in front of you. “It’s none of your business anymore.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes darting to the Red Bull VIP pass around your neck. “Jumping ship already? You always were fickle.”

Ignoring the jab, you retort, “You lost any right to an opinion about my life the second you threw away our relationship.”

Charles’ eyes flare with anger. “And you,” he snaps, turning his attention to the reigning world champion, “you think you can just swoop in—”

Max cuts him off sharply, “I think you’ve said enough.”

“You two deserve each other,” Charles hisses before storming off.

Max wraps an arm around you, his touch reassuring. “Ignore him. Today is about the race, about us. Nothing else.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The race itself is thrilling. From Red Bull garage, you watch as Max masterfully maneuvers his car, leading the pack with unparalleled skill. Every turn, every overtake steals your breath. And when he crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd painting the grandstands orange is deafening.

As Max emerges from his car, he’s immediately surrounded by his team, celebrating yet another victory. And then, spotting you in the crowd, he breaks away, making a beeline towards you. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. As you pull apart, Max’s eyes shine with triumph and love. “For you,” he murmurs, holding up the trophy.

Laughing, you pull him close once more. The challenges and confrontations of the day pale in comparison to the joy of this moment. Together, you and Max are unstoppable. And as you celebrate his victory, you know that this is just the beginning of many more triumphant moments to come.

***

The familiar sounds of roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the vibrant energy of the paddock have been a part of your life for years. But being around the Red Bull team feels like a different world compared to your previous experiences with Ferrari.

Christian Horner welcomes you with open arms. “It’s great to have you on board,” he says during a quiet moment in the Red Bull motorhome. “Max seems happier than he’s been in a long time.”

You smile, thinking of the nights spent laughing with Max, the whispered conversations, and reflected dreams. “I’m grateful to be here. And to be with Max.”

Helmut Marko, although initially intimidating with his sharp gaze, soon warms up to you. “Just take care of our champ,” he jokes one evening after another successful race.

As the weeks pass, the bond between you and the Red Bull team strengthens. Daniel Ricciardo becomes a close friend, often joining you and Max for dinner or movie nights. Sergio Perez, with his playful humor, keeps everyone laughing, while the mechanics and engineers teach you the deeper intricacies of the sport.

Yet, it’s not all smooth sailing. The media, always hungry for a story, constantly probes into your relationship with Max. Rumors swirl, some true, most fabricated. Yet, through it all, Max remains your anchor, always supporting and defending you.

One evening, as the two of you relax in his suite after a grueling race weekend, Max turns to you, his eyes serious. “I know this world can be intense, the scrutiny constant. But I hope you know that you’re not alone in this.”

You nod, feeling a swell of emotion. “Being with you, being part of this team, it’s incredible. Like finding a family I never knew I needed.”

Max smiles, pulling you close. “That’s because you are family. And I promise, no matter what, we’ll face everyone and everything together.”

The season progresses, and as Max inches closer to clinching the championship title once again, the excitement within the Red Bull team reaches a fever pitch. Through every high and low, every victory and setback, you stand beside Max, cheering him on.

***

“Easy there!” Christian says, catching you just as the world starts to spin and your vision blurs.

The sound of concerned voices surrounds you as you struggle to stay conscious but it’s too much. Everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re lying on a couch in Red Bull hospitality, Max’s anxious face hovering above yours. “Hey,” he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. “You scared me there.”

“What ... what happened?” you ask, your voice weak.

“You fainted,” Daniel chimes in from nearby. “We’re getting a doctor to check on you.”

True to his word, a doctor soon arrives, performing a series of tests and asking various questions. He recommends a more thorough examination and you find yourself being whisked away to a nearby clinic.

As you await the results, Max holds your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m right here,” he assures you. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

The doctor returns, a knowing smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he says, looking at both of you. “You’re going to be parents.”

The room goes silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You turn to Max, searching his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t expect this. It’s so soon.”

Max pulls you close, his eyes glassy with tears of joy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he murmurs. “But I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”

Your emotions swirl, a mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Are you sure? What about your career? The media?”

Max silences you with a gentle kiss. “None of that matters. The only thing I care about is us. Our family.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, touched by his words. “I love you,” you whisper, heart full to overflowing.

Max grins, his blue eyes shining. “And I love you. This might be unexpected but it’s the best surprise of my life.”

***

“Three-time World Champion! How does that feel?” A journalist thrusts a microphone towards Max moments after his astounding win in Qatar.

“It’s surreal,” Max responds, his gaze seeking you out among the crowd. “Every championship is special but this one ... it’s different.”

The winter months are a haven of privacy for the two of you in your own little bubble. As the world speculates about the upcoming racing season, you and Max nest away from prying eyes, savoring the anticipation of your growing family.

However, when the 2024 season kicks off, it’s impossible to hide your baby bump any longer. Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk through the paddock with Max for the first day of preseason testing.

“It’s so obvious now!”

“They look so happy together.”

“She’s glowing.”

But one voice rises above the rest from the sea of murmurs, filled with venom. “So this is your grand plan? Trap Max by getting pregnant?”

You turn to find Charles, his face contorted with anger. You take a deep breath, preparing to face the storm. “Charles, this really isn’t the place—”

Max steps forward, partially blocking you from Charles’ view, his voice colder than ice. “What do you want?”

Charles scoffs, looking you up and down with disdain. “Just wanted to see the spectacle for myself. You always did know how to play the game.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger, his posture tense. “Let me make this clear. You don’t get to disrespect Y/N or our relationship. You lost that right a long time ago.”

“You think this will make him stay with you?” Charles sneers towards you. “That he won’t get tired of you just like he did with all the others?”

Before you can respond, Daniel steps in, his presence commanding and the joking smile that usually graces his face nowhere to be found. “Enough. Show some respect.”

Christian, overhearing the commotion, joins the fray. “Is there a problem here?” he asks, voice firm.

Charles hesitates, glancing around at the united front against him. “No,” he finally mutters, turning on his heel and walking away.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens, his expression stormy. “You know you’re never alone in this, right?” he asks.

You nod, your voice soft but resolute. “I do. And I know you’ll always have my back. Just like I’ll always have yours.”

He squeezes your hand. “Always. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Our family is the most important thing in my life.”

***

The soft hum of chatter surrounds the preschool’s main entrance. Parents eagerly await their children, discussing the excitement of the first day. You stand beside Max, his hand resting protectively on your protruding belly.

“Look, Mama!” A little voice exclaims and two giggling children rush towards you — your daughter, Sophie, and a boy with familiar dark hair.

Before you can respond, another voice joins the fray. “Henri! Over here!”

You turn, finding Charles standing there, Elise by his side, her arm entwined with his. Their eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition.

Sophie hugs her little friend, Henri. “This is my new best friend!”

Max bends down, ruffling Sophie’s hair. “That’s great, liefje.” He then stands and addresses Charles, his tone neutral, “Seems our children have taken a liking to each other.”

Charles nods, attempting a smile. “It appears so.”

There’s an awkward silence, the past hanging heavily between you all.

Finally, Elise speaks, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry ... for everything. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

You meet her gaze, seeing genuine remorse. “Life is full of surprises. But it led me to Max and he is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

Max adds, “What’s important is that we’re all here for our kids. Let’s not make our past their burden.”

Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. I regret many things but right now, Henri is my world and I want the best for him.”

You place a hand on your belly, feeling the tiny kicks. “Our children have a chance at a fresh start, a friendship untainted by the history of their parents. Let’s not stand in their way.”

The two children, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment, tug at your arms. “Can we go to the park? Pretty please.” Sophie asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

You smile down at her, “Of course.”

As your two families part ways, there’s a sense of closure. The past, with its pain and betrayal, has been acknowledged, but the future, the innocent laughter of your children, holds promise. Life has moved on, leading each of you down different paths, but in this moment, there’s newfound unity in the shared hope for a brighter tomorrow.

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callmewisteria · 6 months ago

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Norm is absolutely one of my favourite characters in the Fallout universe. The fact he loves his family and wants what's best for them being what drives him to look for the truth of what has happened to them and why is fantastic. The ultimate difference between him and Chet, too, is a great show of his character. It began with him choosing to help his sister find their father and ends with him coming to the same realisation as she has – their father was not the man he said he was and much of their life has been a lie. Watching him decide to take the hunt for the truth into his own hands, even when it could be the end of him, is incredibly compelling.

What makes Norm so enjoyable to watch, too, is just how human he is. All of the characters in the show are that way, which is part of what makes it great (yes, even the ghouls as they were at one time human). The distress he feels at seeing what happened to Vault 32 being swept under the rug, and the anger he feels towards Betty and the others for doing it seemingly out of a desire for control and power more than anything else is tangible. The fact it drives him to take the risk of sneaking into Vault 31 shows his bold and couregous side, and also that it's driven by not only his own curiosities but his desire for the truth. It’s a great parallel trait he shares with Lucy and, as she comes to find out, their mother. The anger he feels towards his father and also the desperation he feels to survive are a great contrast of his truth seeking and his baser humanity.

All things considered, Norm's competing feelings of a desire for truth, a desire for safety, curiosity, and a love for his family are what make him a great character. The fact he shares those traits with Lucy but expresses them in different ways creates a strong parallel narrative for their characters, and also does a great job showing the two sides of courage. The fact neither he or Lucy are impervious or shy away from moments of weakness and subsiming emotion latch onto the naivety from their upbringing and also their humanity. With them both now having to reckon with the truth about their father, a reunion between them will I'm sure be great and also remind them that not all of their family members are bad. Reckoning with the truth about their mother and Lucy's love for her being what compelled her to end her suffering before breaking down at the gravity of it is another layer of complexity to their family dynamics that both of them will need time to sit with. The contrasting feelings of how they knew their father versus what they've come to learn about him serve well to separate them from others like Chet; where he, their cousin, chooses to remain wilfully ignorant, they chose to put aside their fears and look for a truth they knew was out there.

Chet is a coward because he chooses to ignore the truth he has seen with his own eyes.

Lucy is brave because she is willing to go to any and all lengths to find her father and is then willing to end the suffering her mother is under because of him; she is openly emotional and driven by that and the love she feels for her family and is horrified and shattered by her father being a different man than the one she had always known.

Norm is brave because he is willing to do anything for his sister and father and, when faced with the choice to stay in blissful ignorance, because he chooses to seek out the truth even when it could hurt him; he, too, doesn't shy away from the pain the truth about his father causes him and, like Lucy, has to learn to live with the competing memories of their father and the reality of who and what he is.

Hank is a coward because, while he goes to the extremes to attempt to preserve himself and his family, he refuses to accept the fact his actions have consequences for the way his children (and, previously, their mother) had seen him and instead tries to force things to go back to the way they were before his children could learn of his ability to be selfish.

And Rose was brave because she loved her children so much that she would and did do everything for them, even when she had to put her love for their father aside and risk herself so that she and her children could have a chance to live in truth rather than lies. Her children share that with her, even though they didn't know it, just as much as they share her love, empathy, and desire for the truth even when living in wilful ignorance could have been easier.

Tl;dr – the entire MacLean family being driven by love for each other but expressing it in different ways that ultimately drive them apart is not only great at showcasing the different sides of courage and cowardice but showing the way Lucy and Norm are so similar and are driven by their love for their family just as much as their desire for the truth and that neither Lucy or Norm shy away from their emotional and impulsive reactions to it presents them as not only fully human but two sides of the same coin; they are both couregous even though they take two different paths to the truth.

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not-neverland06 · 6 months ago

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How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: Part three is going to be when it gets juicy, this is just them becoming reacquainted. You’ll get the good angst in the next parts. Summary: Your dreams of stardom and fame have been blown away. Your old life is lost to the sands of this new world and you find yourself utterly confused. There’s a man who looks an awful lot like Cooper yelling at you, but it’s not the man you remember loving. Not anymore.

For two days he’s been following the sound of sirens. With no new bounties, he hasn’t got much else to do with his time. Plus, he’s hoping that maybe if he figures out what’s been causing all this noise he can shut it the fuck up. Didn’t matter how far he walked, the blaring wail was echoing across the whole damn wasteland.

A cough started up in his chest, itching into his throat and rattling his whole body as it ripped its way out of him. He tried to walk through the discomfort but it wouldn’t let him. He leaned over, hands braced on his knees, and coughed so hard he could feel ass jerky coming back up from his “dinner” last night. He clamped a hand over his mouth and forced the bile down. Frantic hands dug through the bag on his side, shaking as he ripped the box open and grabbed his inhaler.

It took a minute before the drugs had the desired effect, and even then he was still fighting back nausea. He’s got to find a new dealer, that bitch in Filly was watering down her supply and he knew it. Not just that, she was overcharging too, on account of his being a ghoul.

Even in the apocalypse money still managed to rule the world. Even if it was in the form of Nuka caps. He walked a little further before leaning against a boulder for a break. He wiped spittle off his lips and surveyed his surroundings.

There was a faded old billboard sunken into the sand, only half of it sticking out. The paper was curled and browned from age and the sun, but he could make it out well enough. Quench Your Thirst, it wasn’t one of hers, though. It was the girl they’d replaced her with. He contemplated shooting it, just so he wouldn’t have to stare at the girl anymore, but it was a waste of bullets.

Instead, he pushed off the rock and forced himself to keep going. The noise was unbearable now, rattling around his brain and making his ears bleed the closer he got. He must be right on it, only a little while longer and he’d finally turn the damn thing off.

He lifted a leathered hand to block the sun out of his eyes. He kept squinting, disbelieving in the sight before him. Vault 111 was sitting pretty among the skeletons and dunes of sand. It’s big white numbers upside down as the door was slid open, alarms ringing out and red flashing lights dancing around within the vault.

He couldn’t believe it. Vault dwellers were practically extinct in the Wastelands, nevermind actually getting into their vaults. But here this one sat, open and ready for the taking. Normally, he wouldn’t risk it, even just to turn off those fucking alarms. But he had just used his last vial and if he didn’t get his hands on some good shit soon, well, best not to imagine it.

Hand on his holster he started forward, eyes darting back and forth to make sure this wasn’t some sort of trap set by raiders. He didn’t imagine they were smart enough to do that, but apparently Muldaver’s been on the move, this could be her people’s doing. He’d rather not have to listen to someone whining on about a better life and a kind society.

He’d believe it when he saw it. All people were capable of was greed and lust, it’s been the same before the bombs and it will be the same after.

He stepped inside, eyes pained as they adjusted to the stark contrast of the glaring sun outside and the soft fluorescent lights within the vault. He spotted a big red button and slammed his palm down on it. The sirens, thank fuck, shut off, but the lights kept going.

There was a gap between his platform and the next. The control panel clearly needed a Pip-Boy to be operated but he didn’t see any nearby. He sighed and took a running leap, just barely making it to the other side.

He took another suspicious look around, still not quite sure he was completely safe. His chest tightened with the irritating feeling of an oncoming coughing fit. “Fuck it,” he muttered, starting through the open doorway without a glance back.

Whatever had happened in here had been messy and recent. He kneeled down next to a puddle of blood and dipped an ungloved finger in, still warm. He popped open his holster and tugged out the gun, better to be safe than dead.

He had been following the direction the lights had been pointing this whole time, hoping maybe he’d stumble across an infirmary. These vault fucks had to have left at least one bag of radaway behind. So far, though, he didn’t have high hopes. Everything was ransacked. The bodies that were left behind had been stripped naked and beaten to unidentifiable pulps.

So far, the vaults had at least been air conditioned. If nothing else he was getting a break from the sweltering heat that trailed him on the surface. He’d already tested out one of the sinks down here, their water was still functioning. Maybe he could get some of the blood caked under his nails cleaned out.

While the air conditioning had been nice, the breeze that was coming from the door across the way would have had goosebumps rising on him if he was still capable of that. His head tilted in contemplation as he stared at it. Above every door was meant to be an indicator of what went on in there.

There wasn’t for this one, though. And despite knowing better, he had to admit, he was pretty curious. He strode forward, tucking the gun back in his holster and slamming the button on the right side of the door. The second it slid open, whatever had been sealing the noise inside broke.

He flinched away from the sounds of sirens and covered his ears, cussing up a storm as he slammed the button once more. It clicked uselessly but didn’t send the door down again. “Fuck,” he hissed, stepping inside and grunting as the cold bore down on him ten times worse than before.

Cryogenics, well, the temperature made sense now.

He stared at each of the pods, the windows frosted over with cold and making it impossible to see the people within. He took his time examining them, trying his best to see if anyone he knew was in one of them. Despite it all, he held a little hope that he might see Janey, maybe even Barb.

Without any luck he headed towards the terminal, he could probably get the sirens to shut the fuck up this way. Or maybe just get this door closed again.

In neon green a warning sign flashed over and over across the screen.

LIFE SUPPORT: CRITICAL FAILURE.

He glanced back over his shoulder and scoffed. Rich fucks hadn’t thought to have a back up, or did they really think their buddy Vault-Tec would keep them safe? He shook his head and clicked away the warning. He peered through the list of commands but couldn’t find anything except a list of who was in the pods.

He figured he might as well see if he spotted a familiar name. If they were alive he might be able to get some information off of them. It wasn’t until the bottom of the list that he saw anything helpful. Your name stood out bright and bold and beside it the message:

LIFE SUPPORT FAILING

RISK OF ASPHYXIATION:

The colon blinked a few times and he drummed his finger impatiently on the sides of the terminal. Finally the risk analysis loaded and he let out a rough exhale.

RISK OF ASPHYXIATION: IMMINENT

REMOVE SUBJECT IMMEDIATELY

His eyes widened and without thinking he clicked the little button. A moment later he heard something creak open, the seal of the pod broken as air rushed out. He turned around and faced your pod, of course it was the one right beside him.

He ran forward, catching you just as you slumped out of the seat. Your skin was like ice, your lips blue and face purple from choking. It was all swollen, like you’d been struggling to get air in for a while before he came. He frowned down at your limp form, shaking you slightly as he waited for you to take in a breath.

“Hey,” he brought a rough hand down on your cheek, the leather striking loudly against your skin.

Your lips parted and you took in a deep breath, gasping as your hands flew up to your throat. You turned over, falling out of his arms and landing roughly on the metal grates of the floor. He took a step back, watching as you hacked yourself back to life, your lungs nearly coming out with how hard you were coughing.

His head tilted as he observed you. You looked damn near the same as the last time he saw you. The only real difference being the slutty little black slip you had on. He scoffed and shook his head. So that’s where you’d disappeared to, sold yourself out to Vault-Tec for some apocalyptic protection.

Lot of good that did you.

You clawed at your throat, air feeling like razor blades as you greedily inhaled. You’re not sure where you are, you can barely feel your extremities, you’ve got an uncomfortable draft on your backside. You wince as you sit up, wiping your blurry eyes in the hopes they’ll clear up, metal digs into your skin as you do.

It’s like when you get too cold during winter and your eyes frost over a little bit. Except, this doesn’t feel like a little bit. You can’t even see your own hand right now. All you can make out is faint outlines of everything, blurry little clouds of color.

“Hello?” Someone was here, you could tell that much. You just didn’t know who. Metal creaked in front of you and you scrambled back. They weren’t saying anything. Why weren’t they saying anything?

You wracked your brain for the last thing you could remember and felt tears building along your lashes. Oh god. “Tom?” You called out hesitantly. Maybe they’d changed their minds. Maybe the men who’d grabbed you had dumped you off somewhere.

You didn’t want to think about what they’d done while you were asleep. You were slowly becoming more aware of your surroundings and very aware of the skimpy slip you had on right now. Not even close to what you’d been wearing when they grabbed you. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a meager attempt at comfort.

“That who you fucked, sweetheart?”

Your brows turned down. “Cooper?” He sounded a little rough, his accent more pronounced, but you’d know his voice anywhere. It was as familiar to you as your own. “Cooper, where am I?” The tears were spilling freely now the longer he stared at you in silence. At least crying was starting to thaw out your eyes.

You could more clearly make out his form now, looming overtop of you like some sort of dark omen. You always felt safe with Coop. When someone pushed you too much or got a little too aggressive, you could go to him.

Right now, though, you felt like prey in front of a wolf. There was no kindness in his words and only a cruel accusation in his tone. Dear god, where were you? And why would he think you would ever fool around with any of these sick fucks behind his back?

“Cooper, please, what happened?”

He barked out a laugh and you flinched back, “What happened? Well, lets see what the fuck happened.” You heard more than saw him pace across the metal floors, the spurs on his boots clanking loudly. Had he been at a party and come looking for you?

“You told me you’d be back for lunch and I didn’t see you for another two hundred years.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor, “What?” You whispered.

He knelt down in front of you. “Your eyes still foggy?” You nodded your head mutely. “Well,” he chuckled but it wasn’t the one you knew. This was something mean and sharp. “When those clear up, I’m not gonna look like you remember me, darling. Should probably get out of here before you realize what you’re talking to.”

He made to get up but you shot forward, blindly groping at the dark form of his torso until you latched onto his duster. “Cooper, please, I’m confused. I-” you looked around blindly, hoping to find something to explain how the last thing you remembered was eating pancakes with him. There’s no way in hell it’s been two hundred years.

“I went to Tom’s to get the script. He made me come in for drinks. There- there were all these men there, they grabbed me and I don’t remember anything after that. Cooper, please, I wasn’t wearing this when they snatched me. What the hell happened to me?”

There was a moment of silence before he let out a sigh. “You didn’t leave to find some safety in Vault-Tec?”

You frowned and let him go, shoving him away from you with as much force as your frozen muscles could muster up. “Fuck you, you think I’d do that to you? How little do you think of me?”

You reached out for the pod beside you, using it to get to your feet. You felt about as graceful as a newborn foal right now, all gangly limbs and stilted movements. You leaned over, catching your breath as you tried to walk forward.

“If I were you, I’d get back in that pod and let the world rot away. You’re not gonna do well on your own out here, honey.”

You heard his spurs moving past you and then made out his form as he walked through the doors of the room. “Cooper?” You called out, but you knew it was pointless. He was gone. The man you knew was gone and you had no clue what the fuck had happened.

He managed to finally find the infirmary, lucky enough that a few bags of Rad-Away had been left behind. They’d only had IV bags, so he’d spent a while trying to find a spot where his skin wasn’t so tough a needle could actually get through.

She had to be lying.

He felt himself trying to look at the door, like she’d step through, and forced his head down. He flicked at the IV bag, hoping that maybe it would speed it the fuck up. He needed to get out of here. The longer he stayed, the more he wanted to talk to her.

He’d changed a lot since they’d last seen each other. Whatever he had once felt for her was gone. The man he had once been was dead. There was no point in hurting the girl by giving her false hope. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to relax some.

He’d finish this bag, pack the others, and then he’d leave this vault behind. She could figure out what she wanted to do on her own. He didn’t have time for strays or old flames.

You stumbled around for a while before you finally got your bearings. You managed to make your way into what looked like an office and sat behind a curved desk. A terminal on top sat blinking bright green letters at you. You went through each of the logs, your dread only getting worse the longer you read.

Tom wasn’t in this vault, that’s for sure. The other names you only recognized from the credits of some movies you’d watched a while back. The men who had taken you from Tom’s house.

According to the scientist using this terminal, they’d wanted to ensure they had some fun before they went underground.

You weren’t the only one Tom had sold out. Your entire cryogenic chamber had been filled with other women, each of them dead because of a life support failure. You were meant to be their entertainment while they waited for the world to be ready for the taking.

You took a break, forcing your eyes away from the screen and staring down at your hands.

Well, Cooper hadn’t been lying at least. Two hundred years you’d been frozen, you hadn’t even known it. It was bizarre, what felt like only a few hours ago was over two millennia. You’d only just kissed Cooper goodbye and now he was acting like some asshole who wouldn’t even stay to help you to your feet.

Feeling yourself getting angry and panicked you went back to reading. There was nothing you could do. You’d been screwed over by someone you trusted, you were stuck here. No point in pouting about it.

The scientist wrote more about the men’s intentions and you forced the bile down as you read. Then he got to what Vault-Tec’s real intentions were. Something about experimenting with cryogenics, seeing how long a body could last, what all it could preserve. You didn’t understand most of it, the language far above your education.

The men were just guinea pigs, same as you. It brought you a modicum of satisfaction. Barely, though.

The lead of the whole project gets more cryptic and paranoid the further he writes. Something about Vault-Tec never sending the all clear signal to get the fuck out of here. Security was getting antsy the longer they stayed and supplies were running low.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together when you looked at the blood splattered walls and the white coated corpse across the room.

Underneath the last entry was a fail safe. In case the experiment was going wrong and there were no other options but to abandon it.

TERMINATE?

The green pointer blinked as you stared at the question. Your mind traveled to the way they’d swarmed you. How ruthlessly they’d taken you like you were nothing more than cattle. The other women they did it to. You could only imagine what had happened while you’d been knocked out.

That familiar feeling of anger, disgust, and shame welled up in you. You had always been typecast. The sexy bombshell with nothing else going for her. It bled into other aspects of your life, people treating you like you were nothing more than a walking doll, for their enjoyment and nothing else.

You’d be damned if you let these men survive what the other women couldn’t.

You hit the button and listened as the sirens quieted down the hall, the hiss of oxygen as the pods killed their inhabitants. You didn’t allow yourself to linger on what you’d just done for very long, you went clicking through the rest of the terminal.

Most of it was password locked, you only gleamed enough information to figure out what had been going on while you slept. Bombs dropped, the world went to shit, just like you always thought it would. You’d never considered that you might survive it.

Maybe those men had done you a slight favor, just barely.

He sighed as he ripped the needle out of his arm, pulling his sleeve down he moved away from the wall he’d been leaning on. He’d definitely been getting cheated out of his caps. Next time he saw that bitch Ma June, he’d show her what he thought about her watered down bullshit.

A shadow passed by the doorway and his hand drifted down to his holster. He slipped out of the room and took a peek around the corner. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere, even with that ridiculous vault suit on.

“Hey!”

She jumped and whirled around on him. For a moment he forgot that this was a completely new reality for her. She didn’t know what a ghoul was, she’d never seen one before. Her last memory of him had been his prime. When he’d had a fucking nose.

Her eyes widened and his grew cold while he waited for the inevitable disgust. He was used to it by now, but he was pretty sick and tired of hearing about it. Especially when the few people who managed to get their hands on his old movies would recognize him.

The disgust never came, just obvious shock and disbelief. She took a few hesitant steps closer, her eyes darting across his face while she did. He nearly missed her hand coming up, like she wanted to touch him. He caught it at the last second, bringing his hand up to swat hers down.

She winced and backed up a step, the wonder on her face gone and replaced with hurt. “Cooper-”

He darted forward and snatched her chin in between his gloved fingers. “Now, darling, I’m gonna need you to get this through your fucking head,” he hissed, eyes boring into her terrified ones. “That’s not my name anymore, I’m nothing but a ghoul. I’m not the man you know and I’m never going to be. Let it go and if you know what’s good for you, move the fuck on.”

He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and grinned, she had always been pretty when she cried. “Understand?” When she didn’t respond fast enough for his liking he shook her roughly, “Speak!”

“Yes,” she shouted, clawing at his arm and wincing when her nails scraped across the leather of his skin. “I understand.” He took a moment, looking into her eyes, before he nodded and released her.

She stumbled back, choking on a sob and glaring up at him. “So, what? Am I just supposed to call you an asshole?” He scoffed, barely laughing. Everything that happened to her today and she could still get a fucking attitude. It was nearly impressive, if not stupid. She didn’t watch who she spoke to and she was going to get killed before the day was up.

“You’re not gonna call me anything. We’re not working together, you’re on your own.”

She glared at him and rubbed her jaw where he’d grabbed her. Her cheeks were already changing colors, bruises blooming where he’d snatched her. His eyes darted away from her hands and back to her. “Why’d you stop me then?”

He looked her up and down and grinned at the way she shivered, seemed he hadn’t lost all his charm just yet. “That tight little suit of yours is gonna get you killed. People up there don’t take too kindly to people from down here.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “So, what? I’d be safer walking around in what they had me in?”

He shook his head and started walking back towards the door of the vault. “No.”

He heard her huff and race after him. “You’re fucking infuriating, you know that? What the hell am I supposed to do, Co-” He shot her a warning glare but she’d clamped her mouth shut before she could finish the sentence. She still had that stupid hurt look on her face, like he’d kicked her puppy. It kind of made him want to just shoot her.

“I don’t have any supplies, all I have is this stupid suit. Please, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

He sighed and stopped. She stumbled forward, nearly ramming into his back in the process. “Go to Filly, I’m sure you’ll find something there.”

“I’m supposed to just know where that is?”

He didn’t bother responding to her, there was no point in it. She would be dead soon, anyway. This world wasn’t made for pretty girls like her, especially not on her own. If she was smart she’d just starve herself down here, at least she’d have running water.

You watched him walk off and felt like your chest was going to cave in. You couldn’t handle this, he was just Cooper an hour ago. Making you breakfast and kissing you goodbye. And despite the odd deformities, you could still see him. Sure, he was missing a nose, but he was still there. Your Cooper.

Except he wasn’t.

You couldn’t quite believe he would be so cruel earlier. He was always mean when he was hurt. You figured maybe he was still sitting with the fact that you hadn’t actually left him behind for Vault-Tec. But his eyes gave him away.

They were cold, devoid of anything you used to know. The man you had known was no longer there. And if he was, he was buried far deeper than you were interested in digging. You watched him walk away and felt your chest squeezing painfully.

This was not the fucking time to start panicking. If the carnage around you was anything to go by, then the surface had to be so much fucking worse. Cooper seemed to think vaults were safer, but right now you were staring into the gouged eyes of a corpse who’d been killed by a friend. Clearly, nowhere was safe.

You couldn’t afford to pity yourself or cry. You’d have to keep moving, process it all later. You pushed off the wall and leapt over the corpses blocking your path. Cooper must’ve stepped in a pile of blood because you could clearly make out his footprints. He seemed like he was going to leave, you bet if you followed him you would find the way out.

You followed the prints up a set of stairs, but they had faded out completely by the time you got up to the vault door. You winced, blocking your eyes from the bright glare of the sun. Barely a second out of the vault and you felt like your skin might already be peeling.

Whatever had happened while you were out, this was not the world you remembered. The sun seemed bigger, brighter, more violent. If the skeletons littered throughout the sand were anything to go by, everything was more violent now.

You tripped over a particularly deformed skull of a beast and scrambled up to your feet. You glanced around, spotting a figure in the distance and ran after it. You hoped it was Cooper you were following, but he was already so far ahead of you that he was barely a dot on the horizon.

You followed the footsteps he left in the sand and prayed he didn’t notice you trailing him. You couldn’t very well stay down there with all of those corpses. There had been no supplies to protect yourself with except a bloodied scalpel. You wouldn’t make it down there on your own and you certainly wouldn’t make it up here.

You planned to just follow Cooper until you found something resembling civilization. He didn’t want you around him and you got the message, you’re not exactly eager to share his company. He’s a stranger, the only part of him you recognize is his name, and you’re not even allowed to use that.

You kept your distance as long as you could. Keeping him as far away as possible so if he turned around he wouldn’t be able to realize he was being followed. But you’re already struggling. He’s not showing any signs of slowing anytime soon and you can barely see anymore.

Your lips are peeling, throat raw and aching for water. Your eyes are completely coated in sand and being damaged by the sun. You wished you had been better prepared for this but it’s been at least four hours and you’re about to keel over.

You wheeze, dragging yourself over to a fallen billboard and slumping against it. You’re not paying enough attention to your surroundings, or you just don’t care anymore. You find yourself drifting off and you don’t stop it. You’d prefer if the heat stroke took you while you were asleep, at least then you wouldn’t be aware of it.

Your eyes drift closed and your head slumps forward, the sun bearing down on your neck and burning away at the skin there.

You cough and splutter, frantically brushing sand off your face and spitting it out of your mouth. Cooper’s standing over you, frowning and glaring, which seems to be his go to expression now. You glance down at his outstretched foot and realize he kicked the sand in your face. “What the fuck?”

“You know,” he tilts his head and rests a hand on his holster, grinning at the way you shrink away from his gun. “I thought you would have lasted at least another hour.”

You wipe your face off and struggle back onto your feet, nearly teetering over as you did. “You knew I was following you?” You groused, glaring up at him. You’re not sure your anger translates well, though. You can barely hear your own voice, your throat too dry to produce any proper words.

“‘Course I did, sweetheart. I’d be a pretty shit bounty hunter if I didn’t recognize when someone was trailing me.”

You finally manage to get to your feet and glare at him. “Congratulations, you want a prize?”

His smile drops and he darts forward before you can move away. His hand clamps around your arm and he drags you behind him. You’re stumbling, barely able to keep in stride with him. Mercifully, you notice the sky is starting to turn pink in the distance. Soon, the sun will be down and you’ll get a moment's reprieve.

“Where are you taking me?” You demand, tripping over a rock and wincing as he jerks you back to your feet. He turns around to glare at you like he isn’t the one dragging you around.

“Filly,” he grunts. He finally comes to a stop, you ram into his back wincing as your nose slams into him painfully. He doesn’t even flinch and you wonder if he felt it. If he can feel anything with how crisped his skin is.

“I thought you weren’t going to help me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be pushing your luck. If he is helping you, and that’s a pretty hesitant if, you’re sure he’ll be quick to change his mind. Still, you can’t help but push him. You’ve always had that problem, except before he took it in stride and teased you right back.

Now, your eyes dart down to his gun, you’re not sure he wouldn’t just put a new hole in you.

“Changed my mind.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, I’m aware. I’m asking why,” you cut yourself off sharply, mouth clamping shut because you almost called him Coop again. Your jaw is still aching from the last “warning” he gave you. You’re not looking for another.

He whirled around on you and you didn’t even realize his gun was in his hand until it was digging into your throat. “Why don’t you stop asking me so many fucking questions, hm.” He sneered and you winced at the sight of his yellowed teeth. Finally you nodded and backed away from him, he kept his eyes on yours for a moment before he holstered his gun again. “Let’s go,” he started walking and you couldn’t do anything but follow him.

At least this time you weren’t trying to track a dot in the distance.

The sky was getting dark quick and the temperature was dropping even faster. You hunched into yourself and ran your hands up and down your arms to try and keep warm. It seemed everything was done in the extremes now, even the damn weather.

Cooper whistled and you hurried to catch up with him. He stood in front of a decaying old house, nearly all of the roof gone. The walls looked like they might cave in soon and it had clearly been unoccupied for a very long time. He opened up the door and walked inside, letting it slam back into your face.

You caught it and huffed. You followed after him and saw that he was already setting up his spot for the night. He leaned against the half-rotted couch, his hat over his eyes and his arms tucked under his coat. You glanced around for a clean spot to curl up and laid down on the ground. You winced at all the dirt on the floor but figured it was better than sleeping out in the sand.

Despite your oh-so comfortable sleeping arrangement, you found it hard to pass out. Maybe it’s because you’d just taken a two hundred year nap or the man across from you. Your eyes refused to stay shut and you couldn’t stop staring at him.

You told yourself you would process your emotions later but apparently your mind had decided now would be the best time. You could feel the tears trickling down your cheeks again and you tried to wipe them away.

Too much had happened for them to be so easily dismissed. You were struggling with the thoughts of what those men did to you. You’re certain your imagination is worse than anything that happened, but not knowing was killing you. You felt violated, just being knocked out like that and being left vulnerable to them.

And Cooper.

Cooper was practically dead as far as you both were concerned. You felt like you were grieving for someone who was lying right across from you. You were staring right at him and he was just out of your reach.

You sniffled and wiped your nose. A loud sigh came from the man in front of you and he spoke without bothering to tilt his hat back up. “I’m gonna take you to Filly and you’re gonna help me with some business there and then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“What?” Your voice was an embarrassing croak and you winced.

“They don’t take too kindly to my folk down there-”

“You mean zombies,” you interrupted, propping your head up on your hand.

He finally lifted his hat up and glared, though it was half-hearted at best. “It’s ‘ghouls,’ sweetheart. Never knew you to be racist.” You rolled your eyes and he dropped his hat back down again. “You’ll get me what I need and I’ll have delivered you to, well, not safety, but as close as you can get out here.” He leaned forward, arm outstretched and grinning at you. “Deal?”

Well, it wasn't like you had any other options. You leaned forward, grasping his gloved hand in yours and shaking, “Deal.”

SERIES TAGLIST: @pixelatedprofilepic @o0mellowdramatic0o @bisasterbisexual @julianmarie @v3n1x @weakling-grace

#the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #The ghoul #fallout x reader #cooper howard #fallout tv series

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whxtedreams · 3 months ago

Text

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love.

A Jackson!Joel x f!reader oneshot

Summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Jackson!joel, mentions of ellie and her AMAZING puns, Tommy providing comfort, pain, heartache, fear, anxiety, love, apologies, kissing, desperation. reader has she/her pronouns as i write in third person POV, reader has hair Joel can play with, reader has no other descriptions- photos for aesthetic purpose only.

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With pain and heartache, she watched him live without her.

Her eyes watched every move he made. Every step he took. Every smile he blessed those around him with.

It was an aching reminder of what could have been. The weight of their unresolved past seemed only visible to her. Every breath she took a battle in the heaviness in her chest.

She longed to reach out, to bridge that gap between them she did not realize had begun to form until it was too late.

But the fear of making what little they had left worse held her back. So, she stood in silent agony, her heart breaking as she watched Joel from across the bar.

Tommy had found his way to her, a smile of sympathy and drink in hand. His eyes filled with sadness and understanding, a silent acknowledgment to the suffering.

He knew, after all. Knew how prone his brother was at breaking those he cared for. Tommy had been broken too.

He held the drink out to her. “Thought you could use this,” he said softly. His voice was gentle like a comforting embrace.

Her eyes slowly pulled away from Joel as she accepted the drink. She watched the liquid within swirl around in the glass and she found herself hypnotized by its movement. The memory of Joel's drunken state when he pushed her away resurfaced, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The sight of the drink in her hand now felt like a cruel reminder of his harsh rejection.

“He’ll come around, always does,” Tommy said, his hand gently placed on her shoulder.

The words were meant to comfort her, but they felt hollow and insincere. She knew the truth, deep down. This time it felt different, a finality to Joel’s actions.

His absence stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. She forced a small nod, struggling to feign optimism. "He said he could never love me." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tommy sighed. His hand fell from her shoulder. He cast a glance at Joel, then back at her, conflict and concern etched across his face.

Her eyes trailed back to Joel, drawn by Tommy's gaze. There he was, laughing heartily at Ellie, her pun book in hand as she hunched over in laughter.

The sight of him happy and carefree, the sound of his laughter filling the air, made her heart ache. She tried to hold back the pain, to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help but yearn for the past.

"He's scared of losing you," Tommy said.

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing the silent weight that rested on her shoulders. She knew he was right, that fear had been a driving force behind Joel's actions. But it didn't make it any easier to bear the hurt and disappointment his fear had caused. She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on Joel and Ellie, their joyful exchange a bittersweet contrast to her own internal turmoil.

Her eyes left Joel and locked onto Tommy's. "If he's so scared of losing me, then why did he push me away?" she asked, her voice quivered as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The desperation and confusion in her voice hung in the air, seeking an answer that she knew might never come.

Tommy's expression softened as he looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

"He's lost a lot, I suppose he'd rather push you away on his terms than let fate do it for him.”

The pain of Joel’s past losses echoed through her mind. She knew the weight of his pain had shaped him, had forced him to build walls around himself. He'd rather sever ties than risk the hurt of losing someone he let himself love, even if it meant losing them in the process.

Her eyes slowly returned to Joel and as their gazes locked, she saw the intensity in his eyes. It was clear he had been watching her, their gazes drawn to each other like magnets. There was something different in his eyes, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze for a moment, questioning the thoughts and emotions that flickered across his face.

Did he regret it? she thought, her mind filled with uncertainty. Did he miss her like she missed him?

Did he still lie in bed, reaching for her in the early hours of the morning? Like he had on those nights under the stars during their journey to Jackson.

Did he still clench his fists by his side or fidget with the watch on his wrist when he didn't know what to say? Did he miss her taking his hand in hers to distract him?

Did he wish that he loved her?

Or did he regret it all?

"It might not seem like it anymore, but he cares for you," Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I saw it when he carried you in, see it now." She turned to him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but there was none.

Only honesty and concern reflected on her.

Her gaze returned to Joel, drawn by his movement as he stood from the table.

His eyes were on her, only her.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she handed the glass back to Tommy. Ignoring his call for her, she turned and walked out of the bar, desperately needing some fresh air and space to collect her thoughts.

The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cold and crisp, and it provided a respite from the oppressive atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and tumultuous emotions.

Oh fuck, she thought. She fucking missed him.

And as if her heart seemed to call for him, she heard the door open once more. She turned to see Joel step out, the soft light of the moon bathing them in a silvery glow. It was as if the night itself tried to bring them together.

She looked at him from behind watery eyes, her emotions threatening to overflow. In turn, he watched her with eyes that mirrored her own pain, a reflection of the suffering that had come between them. They stood there under the night sky, silent and yet speaking volumes, each knowing the depth of the other's heartache.

Only difference was, he had caused all of this.

The unfairness of it all, the weight of the isolation and pain he had inflicted upon her, pressed down on her like his own heavy hand. He stood there, the cause of her heartache, while she endured his consequences alone. The anger and anguish in her heart flared, but it couldn't overpower the deep love and longing she still carried within her.

Joel didn't utter a word, and she didn't expect him to. Instead, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. His hand rested on her head, his touch gentle and comforting as he cradled her against his chest. His nose to her hair. Her hands trembled as they clutched onto the fabric of his jacket, holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He pulled back slightly and lifted her face gently. His fingers traced her cheek as if his touch would break her. Their gaze met, and she saw the well of pain reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper that hung in the night like a fragile thread.

From anyone else, the apology may have felt hollow, meaningless. But from Joel's lips, it held a weight and significance that she understood. For an apology from him was rare and precious, like discovering clean, fresh water in the middle of a vast wasteland. The impact of his words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within her heart. She could feel the significance of each syllable, was a lifeline in her sea of despair. A flicker of hope in the darkness that had enveloped her heart.

"I should never have told you to leave." He spoke again, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes never left hers.

The words hung heavily in the air, a confession of regret that cut deep. A single tear slipped down his face, a testament to the depth of his remorse. It was a crack in the stoic facade he often wore, a glimpse into the depths of his own hurt and guilt.

She had never seen him cry.

The tear, a crystalline droplet that glistened on his cheek.

"Why did you push me away, then? As if I never meant anything to you," she said, her heart shattered by his own hands.

Joel shut his eyes, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her face. His other hand clenched tightly at the fabric of her waist, while the one holding her face remained gentle and tender, a stark contrast to his tense grip.

His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with truth. "I'm so scared I'll let you in, only for you to die on me," he confessed. "I can't lose you too."

His fingers trembled against her skin. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, bringing it to rest over her heart. It beat a steady rhythm under his palm, a silent reassurance that she was there, alive and breathing.

“You are losing me Joel.”

Joel opened his eyes, so full of pain as he took in her words.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was a mere whisper against her lips. And then, a breathless moment.

His lips delicately touched hers, a whisper-soft kiss filled with tenderness and vulnerability, as fragile as a butterfly's wing. It was as if he were afraid to press too hard, to cause her any more harm than he already had.

As quick as it began, it was over. He pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before he tucked her head back into his chest. His fingers played with her hair as he looked up at the starry night sky and she could feel his body relaxing as he held her close.

"If the Lord gave me another chance, I would go back and make things right," he said as his heartbeat quickened beneath her ear. Her hand found its way to his chest as it laid over his heart soothingly, if only to calm the anxiety that had taken root within him.

"All I do is miss you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I was so stupid to push you away," he confessed, his chest shuddered with a soft sob. She pulled back slightly, only to witness a torrent of tears streaming down his face. The single tear had multiplied as it turned to a river of sorrow that spoke louder than any words could.

She gently wiped the tears from his face as her own fell silently in tandem.

His bottom lip trembled, and without a second thought, she did what came naturally to her. Her lips found his in a tender kiss and she could feel the tension in him slowly melt away as he released a shuddering breath.

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. He poured months of pent-up emotions into the kiss, a mix of regret, yearning, and a love so powerful it threatened to consume them both. Teeth scrapped against teeth, a primal collision of passion and desperation. It was a moment of intense connection, a release of the feelings that had been locked away for far too long.

Her back shoved against the hard surface of the wall. His hands roamed over her body in a desperate attempt to re-familiarize himself with every contour, every dip and curve. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, as if he were afraid she would disappear from his grasp once more.

The pain she had carried with her began to fade away under the onslaught of his lips against hers, his touch hungry and urgent. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric tightly as if she was afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, he too would slip through her grasp once more.

Their mouths explored each other fiercely, the taste, the feel, the essence of each other an intoxicating drug that they had been deprived of for too long.

So desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

The sound of the bar doors opening shattered the intimate bubble that had enveloped them. Noise spilled into the night air from inside as they hastily tore themselves away from each other. Their gazes locked with Tommy's as he stood frozen in the doorway, surprise etched across his face.

Tommy's eyes flicked down to where Joel's thigh had found its way between hers. "Jesus Christ, can you two make up somewhere else?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Joel's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he chuckled, out of breath. His calloused hands held her face tenderly; the rough pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks. He looked down at her with tenderness and amusement, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Tommy mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside.

“What do you say, come home?” he asked. A hint of hopefulness in his voice, tempered by the fear that shone in his eyes.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

“I want to try.” He said without a beat.

“I think I can live with that.”

The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the soft whisper of the wind as it blew in through the open window. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the stars outside, their light danced through the gaps in the curtain that fluttered in the breeze.

Joel's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his body wrapped tightly around hers. He inhaled deeply; his breath warm against her neck. His arms encircled her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to let go. He was seeking comfort in her presence, finding solace in her warmth and familiarity.

She was too afraid to sleep. Worried that when she woke, he would be gone once more.

As the first light of day crept through the window, her eyes slowly opened and she expected to find an empty space beside her. However, his grip on her remained firm as he pulled her closer into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he slept peacefully, forever reaching for her. A wave of relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She made a silent vow to herself as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. No matter how far he tried to push her away, no matter how much pain spilled from him and to her, she would never let go of him again. She would fight, crawl, and struggle with every ounce of her being to get back to him.

With comfort and love, she watched him sleep by her.

Notes

this was meant to be around 0.5k but it just kept going??? also Flora writes about kissing as someone who’s never been kissed so as always, take it with a grain of salt as i have no idea what i’m talking about lol - should honestly be a warning itself had a yucky day so here's some hurt & comfort also the starting line and ending line match and im proud of that lol.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tlou tommy

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