#Like being lightly buzzed despite taking. nothing

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 25

Fae AU / Marvel - Winteriron / Flurry

“Tony!” Pepper’s whisper was barely a breeze, yet still carried the full force of her frustration. “We can’t go in there!”

“I’m not going in,” Tony whispered back. “I just want to peek across the Border!”

“We’re going to be caught,” Pepper predicted, “and if the Winter Court doesn’t kill us, our own queen will!”

“Will you relax? Nothing’s going to see through my cloaking magic.” His fingers curled, and a ball of brilliant blue light formed in his palm. “Take a look around, JARVIS, and make sure we’re alone.”

JARVIS winked out and flowed like a gentle breeze through the cage of Tony’s fingers to scout ahead.

“Your magic is all about being as visible as possible,” Pepper retorted. “I doubt you could cloak an actual cloak.”

“I’m hurt, Pep. Hurt and saddened by your lack of faith.” Tony crept further forward, and despite her protests, Pepper followed him.

Tony’s father had been to the Winter Lands, back during the War, but Tony had only ever seen the emissaries who came to the Summer Court once every seven years. The Winter fae fascinated him, with their sharp eyes and knife-sharp, glittering magic.

Something caught Tony’s eye and he turned to see something pale floating down through the air, like a flower petal on the wind, except there were no flowers or even leaves in the trees of this forest, with the gray sky hanging heavy above them. Another one fell, and another, and another. He reached out and let one land on his hand, and it stung, briefly, and then melted into water.

“Snow,” Pepper breathed. “Tony, that’s snow, we must have crossed the Border by mistake, we have to go back!”

The air was cold, but the ground under their feet was dark and firm and covered with fallen leaves. “It’s only a flurry,” Tony said. “We’re still on the outskirts, it’s fine. We’ll go back in just a minute.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago!”

The snow kept falling, lightly but persistently, and for all his curiosity, Tony didn’t want Pepper to get into trouble. He was about to give in and turn back when JARVIS returned, the snow in the air swirling in the eddies of his passage.

JARVIS tugged at Tony’s clothes and wings, spinning him about, to see--

A fae, completely covered from head to toe in dark clothing, only ice-blue eyes peering out of the mask over his face. A knife of starlight was in one hand and a sword of ice hung at his hip. He stood directly in the path, blocking their way back to the Summer Lands.

Pepper turned and let out a startled squeak when she saw the other fae, and immediately ducked behind Tony.

“Who are you?” Tony asked, pulling magic to himself. It felt sluggish here, reluctant to serve him.

“I am Winter’s Soldier,” the stranger said. “I patrol this Border for trespassers like you. Or perhaps spies?”

“No, no, not spies,” Tony said quickly. “Just a little out of place.”

“A likely story.” The mask’s impassiveness was unnerving. “I will take you to the Snow King, for him to decide.”

“Let’s just be reasonable,” Tony said, struggling to keep his expression even as he struggled with the recalcitrant Winter magic. “Take the mask off, okay?”

“I may not remove it.”

“Wasn’t talking to you. Now, J!”

JARVIS surged forward, twisting under the Soldier’s mask and pulling it off. “No!” Winter’s Soldier lunged forward, grabbing for the mask and missing as JARVIS swept it up high into the air. Tony released the magic he’d managed to gather in two short bursts, knocking the Soldier off his feet.

Tony grabbed Pepper’s hand and ran, his wings buzzing as he took to the air.

He felt it when they were solidly back on Summer’s side of the Border, a warm welcome that melted the ice he hadn’t even noticed forming in his hair around the collecting snow.

Tony glanced back to see Winter’s Soldier standing there, those icy eyes burning with something like confusion and hurt as he watched them leave. No. As he watched his mask leave, still carried in JARVIS’ breeze.

There was something familiar about that surprisingly handsome face, and something intriguing about that mask. Tony knew he would be back before long. He’d never been able to resist a mystery.

[some-pers0n]

Nothing is as spooky as feeling one of them shrimp emotions. Y'know the type. The ones where you can't quite categorize them and feel like it's on another plane of Feeling

[whateveriwant]

Ok I lied. Here’s some more Simon fucking himself stupid because apparently he has a chokehold on me. (prev: part 1, part 2)

You’d think a man that regularly fucks his own brains mushy would have a poor performance in the bedroom, right? For a normal man, perhaps, but this is Simon Riley we’re talking about; ‘vigor’ is his middle name.

So even after going for multiple rounds, cycling through multiple positions, and getting covered in multiple fluids, your boyfriend is as ready to go as ever… physically speaking, that is. Because as far as mentally goes, he dropped out a long time ago, somewhere between taking you on your back and then on your knees.

Now you’ve reached the part of the night you like to call your ‘wind down phase’, where you’re just looking for one last, easy release before you throw in the towel. But where you’re tired, sensitive as hell, and already feeling tomorrow’s soreness starting to creep in, Simon’s still pinching and pawing at you like he can’t get enough.

As you lazily ride him, fingers curled over his thick shoulders, Simon’s own hands are pressed hungrily into the meat of your hips. From where he’s sat against the headboard, his lower back propped up by a pillow or two, he’s in the perfect position to guide you back and forth in his lap.

It’s as you feel the slow approach of your final climax that you begin to pick up the pace a little, only to slow right back down again as a sudden noise has you distracted. It takes you a second to place the sound, but once you recognize it, you’re immediately grinding your movements to a halt.

Simon’s phone only rings when it’s you or his work calling. And seeing the current situation you find yourselves in, you know it’s not the former.

The phone rings and rings, neither one of you bothering to move for it. The call gets sent to voicemail, and for a moment you think that’s all it’s going to be, but as the phone promptly begins to trill again, you know something else is up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach over to the nightstand to grab the device. “It’s John,” you tell your boyfriend, seeing his Captain’s contact flash across the screen. You turn the phone around to show Simon, but it seems he has little interest in it, his grip on your waist unwavering as his phone buzzes away in your hand.

“Should you answer? Could be important,” you say. The boss making back to back calls speaks of urgency, if not emergency. But Simon’s focus lies solely on where your two bodies are connected, a sex-fueled tunnel vision if you ever saw one.

Though one look at Simon’s face tells you he’s in no place to have a meaningful conversation right now, as the phone darkens again, only to then light up for a third time in a row, you know this is serious. So despite the haziness in his eyes and the limpness of his jaw, you decide to answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment before you hear the deep baritone of Price’s voice calling out. “Simon?” He waits a beat. “Simon, hello?” He tries again when he hears nothing in response.

While Price is kept in limbo, you’re busy trying to rouse your boyfriend back from brain death. “Simon, it’s John,” you whisper to him, hoping to not be heard by the other man on the phone. Unfortunately, Simon gives zero indication he’s heard you, his bleary gaze looking right past you.

“You there, Simon?” Price’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Bringing your hand up, you lightly tap Simon on the cheek. “Baby, it’s John. Your boss,” you whisper again, slightly louder this time.

Again, he offers you no response, just a slow blink, an even slower trickle of drool starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

As you hear another gruff, “Simon?”, being spoken over the phone, your taps become a little more insistent, a little more forceful.

“It’s Price, Si. Price. Captain Price,” you hiss, urgently patting him against the cheek.

Somehow, whether by miracle or sheer force, you’re able to knock Simon’s last two brain cells together and coax forth a vaguely human-sounding reaction from him.

“Priiizzzzze,” Simon rumbles out, a garbled approximation of his Captain’s surname.

The line goes quiet for a beat, and you can almost imagine the man on the other side blinking in confusion. Then, “You alright, Simon?” he asks earnestly. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

Thankfully, Simon seems to have regained the smallest hint of his bearings again, and he manages to hum a solid, “Mmmf.”

Price takes a moment to consider what he means by such an ambiguous response, and deciding it translates to ‘Speak freely’, he does just that. “Well, I’m callin’ because we’ve just received word of some new developments comin’ out of Hong Kong. Laswell’ll want to give a full briefing tomorrow mornin’, but essentially–”

And that’s about as far as Simon gets before he checks out again.

As Price continues to lay down the basics for him, Simon’s focus shifts back to what he really desires: the person he’s currently buried to the hilt inside.

His Captain’s droning acts as little more than background noise as Simon reaches up and begins toying with one of your nipples. The action is unexpected (not to mention ill-timed given the circumstances), and you try batting his hand away, even as a pleasurable tweak has you choking back a moan.

However, unfazed, Simon drags his fingers down, down, downwards, slowly tracing the midline of your body until he reaches your throbbing sex. His fingers are warm and slightly rough as he begins to stroke you, applying just the barest of touches, but it’s enough to light your nerves on fire.

This time, it’s harder to stop your moans from spilling forth, and you’re forced to mash your lips together lest you reveal your presence to the Captain still chirping on and on. Your free hand darts down to grab Simon’s wrist, meaning to tug it away, but instead, you find yourself pausing, holding onto him as a shudder wracks up your spine.

You know you should push him away – or, at the very least, tell him to ease up a little – but it just feels so fucking good that you can’t bring yourself to do either.

Besides, even if you were to speak up, would Simon be cognizant enough to heed your words? A quick peek at his expression tells you all you need to know. The lights may be on upstairs, but there is no one home right now to answer the phone.

You can feel the hand between your legs grow wetter and wetter as you start to leak droplets of your arousal. The slippery fluid makes Simon’s fingers glide that much smoother, that much slicker as he rubs you.

Even the way he’s touching you now – the way he’s expertly taking you apart – isn’t the result of conscious decision making by Simon. His movements, however deft, aren’t directed by any true rhyme or reason; they’re pure muscle memory at this point.

Simon’s other hand on your hip starts to rock you against him, and you find it’s getting harder to keep yourself under control. Try as you might to tamp your voice down, your ecstasy soon gets the better of you, and before you can stop it, you’re muttering a less than subtle, “Fuck.”

Immediately, you realize what you’ve done, and you slap a hand over your mouth at your mistake. As Price’s side of the call goes similarly quiet, you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to kick yourself for your carelessness.

Just as you think the jig is up, however, you catch a lucky break, as not a second later, Price resumes, “–boots on the ground to confirm what these sat images have been pickin’ up.”

The feeling of relief that floods you is almost akin to euphoria, and you exhale deeply (but not loud enough to be picked up over the receiver) as you bring your hand back down.

That was close; way too close for comfort, honestly. And yet, despite how close you just came to exposing yourself, Simon is totally, completely oblivious to it all.

This time when you reach for the wrist between your legs, you successfully tug it away. You feel like you’ve tempted fate enough for one night.

Though Simon puts up zero fight as you remove his hand from your sex, that’s only because he then reaches up and quickly stuffs his slickened fingers into his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he savors the salty taste of your arousal, a sort of blissful wave washing over him as he sucks his fingers clean.

Somehow, though you’re not sure how it’s possible, you swear you can feel him grow even harder where he’s buried inside you. The sensation makes you squirm, wanting to bear down on the fullness within you, but you force yourself to resist the urge to tilt your hips back and forth.

This is almost torture at this point, like you’re caught in some kind of kinky Saw trap. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. But thankfully, it appears you won’t have to endure it for much longer.

“All that’s to say, it looks like our timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be shippin’ out earlier than expected,” Price starts to wind the one-sided conversation down.

Though Simon has been relatively mute this entire time, for some reason, at this moment, he takes the opportunity to let out a long, “Mmmmmm.”

While you know the noise isn’t much more than an appreciative moan at your taste, Price is unaware of that fact, and so he asks, “That’s not a problem, is it, Lieutenant?”

You both wait a few beats for Simon to respond, but with less than a handful of working neurons left in his brain, you figure that’s unlikely to happen. Knowing Price is still expecting an answer and your boyfriend is unable to offer him one, you realize you have to take matters into your own hands once more.

So puffing out your chest and straightening up your spine, you muster up your best Simon impression as you expel a deep, gravelly, “Hmm.” The several seconds that follow find you holding your breath in anticipation, praying to whatever god will listen that Price buys your impersonation.

It’s after he eventually says, “Alright, well, I’ll expect you at 0800 for tomorrow’s brief,” that you breathe again, feeling nearly on the verge of passing out.

Frankly, this whole ordeal has left you exhausted. From having to hide from Price to having to pull one over on him, you feel like your heart is liable to give out any moment now.

If only Simon had been more of a conscious participant in this conversation maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. You and him could have quietly laughed and swore together in your shared misery. Instead, he’s too preoccupied with squeezing your nipple again between his wet fingers to notice anything’s the matter.

You don’t even bother pushing his hand away this time as you can sense the call is mercifully coming to a close.

“Have a good rest of your night, Simon,” Price says through the speaker.

If you weren’t so wrecked right now, you could almost leap with joy from how utterly relieved you feel. From the moment you answered this call, you thought you’d undoubtedly be found out. Truth be told, you’re not sure how you managed to make it through the past several minutes unheard and undiscovered. All you know is that you did and you’re beyond grateful for that.

But before you can hang up the phone to celebrate, Price has one last thing to say. Just as you’re about to press the end call button, just as you’re about to fling the phone to the far side of the room, just as you’re about to collapse into a boneless heap because you’re finally, finally, finally in the clear, Price gives one last farewell that makes your stomach fall out of your ass.

“And you too, (Y/N).”

The call dies, and you wish you died with it.

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗.

mom's fiancé/bf! joel miller x f! reader • part two • part three

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, nsfw, p in v unprotected, breeding kink.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ me writing angst?? wow could never imagine it. i hope you guys like this i dunno what came over me. almost 7k (oops) words of hurt confusion and a filthy finish to dry your tears. not proofread!!

The house smelled like home, like it always had. Fresh cut grass from the lawn, the faint scent of laundry detergent, and the crisp autumn air breezing in through the windows. But the warmth that had once filled it felt absent now, replaced by the coolness of change. A change you hadn’t been able to brace for. Your mother had finally met someone after years of being alone, and that someone was Joel Miller.

You sat at the kitchen table, your fingers trailing the edge of your mug, staring at the steam rising from your coffee. The engagement ring on her finger glinted as she poured a second cup of coffee, smiling to herself. You couldn’t take your eyes off it—the gold band, the small, delicate stone. Joel had chosen it.

"Can you believe it?" she said, laughing lightly. "I didn’t think I’d find someone after your father. But Joel... he’s good to me."

You swallowed hard. "Yeah, Mom. I can tell."

You knew he was good to her. You saw it every time they were together. The way he would brush his hand over her back when he passed her, the way he’d laugh at her jokes. The way she looked at him, like he was everything she had wanted but had never thought to ask for.

But that wasn’t what twisted the knife in your chest.

Joel had always been more than just a neighbor. You’d been only nineteen when you started noticing him, the way a girl starts to notice a man—how his shoulders would flex when he lifted something heavy, the rasp in his voice when he spoke to you, low and careful. He was rough around the edges, with that Southern drawl and hands scarred from years of work. A part of you had always wondered what those hands would feel like on you, against your skin, but you never let the thoughts go far. He was older, after all, and back then, it had been nothing more than an innocent crush. But now he was here, in your life in a way you hadn’t imagined, not as some distant neighbor or a fleeting thought, but your mother’s fiancé. The reality of it made your stomach churn, and you hated yourself for the way your heart still skipped a beat whenever he came around.

"I’m glad you like him," your mom continued, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. She took a seat across from you, her eyes soft with affection. "I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this, but... it means a lot to me that you’re okay with it." You forced a smile, the tightness in your chest growing. "Of course. I just want you to be happy." She reached out and touched your hand. "I am."

You wished you could say the same.

The days stretched into weeks, each one bringing you closer to the wedding. The house buzzed with preparations, your mother caught up in a whirlwind of joy and excitement. You tried to blend into the background, to stay out of the way, but it was impossible. Every time you turned around, Joel was there, a steady, looming presence.

One afternoon, you found yourself out in the yard, helping your mom plant some new flowers along the fence. The sun was high in the sky, the heat beating down on your skin. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, focusing on digging the next hole. "Need some help?" Joel’s voice came from behind you, making you jump. You turned, finding him standing there with a shovel in hand, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. He was wearing a faded flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. His hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his face lined with years of hard work and sun exposure, but he was still undeniably handsome. Too handsome.

"No, we’re good here," you replied, keeping your voice steady as you turned back to the soil. Your mom looked up from her spot, grinning. "Actually, Joel, I think we could use a little extra muscle." He chuckled and came over, kneeling beside you, close enough that you could smell the scent of earth and sweat on him. His presence was overpowering, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your mind from drifting.

"So," he said casually, his voice low as he worked beside you, "you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alright?" You felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. "Yeah, 'm just busy."

"Busy, huh?" He tossed a clump of dirt aside, his tone teasing but not unkind. "You don’t strike me as the busy type." You shrugged. "Things change." Joel paused, his fingers still in the dirt. "That they do." There was a weight to his words, the way he said it, something that settled deep in your bones, like he knew what was deep beneath your facade. You risked a glance at him, and when your eyes met, the air around you seemed to thicken. His gaze was too intense, too knowing, and it made your heart pound in your chest. "Joel, could you help me with these pots in the back?" your mother called, oblivious to the tension that had been steadily growing between you and him.

Joel blinked, breaking the moment. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Yeah, sure thing." As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You couldn’t keep going like this.

Temptation lurks.

The engagement party was held at your house, the backyard filled with neighbors, friends, and family. You had helped set everything up, stringing lights across the trees, setting up tables with white linen. Your mother had been glowing all day, her happiness contagious to everyone but you.

You were standing near the bar, sipping on a drink when you saw him. Joel was talking to your uncle by the grill, his hand resting casually on the back of your mother’s chair. You watched as he laughed at something your uncle said, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest. He looked so at ease, so comfortable in this life he had built with your mom. But there was a crack in the facade, something that only you could see. The way his eyes flickered to you, even when he was mid-conversation. The way his smile faltered just for a moment when your gaze met his.

he feels it.

"You look lost in thought." You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. Joel was beside you now, his presence like a shadow that followed you everywhere. You forced a smile. "Just thinking." He leaned in a little closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Care to share?" You shook your head, setting your glass down on the bar. "It’s nothing."

Joel’s hand brushed yours as he reached for his own drink, the touch so brief and fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. He must have felt it too because he hesitated for a moment, his fingers lingering a second too long before he pulled away. "You seem different, sweetheart." he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to figure you out. sweetheart. it sounded so natural, meant just for you. "Not like yourself." He continues. You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. "Maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe you don't know me that well."

"Maybe," he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I think I know you better than that." Before you could respond, your mother appeared, smiling brightly as she slipped her arm around Joel’s waist. "There you are!" she said, looking between the two of you. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

Joel’s eyes never left yours. "Just catching up."

You excused yourself quickly, retreating inside the house, your chest tight with frustration and confusion. You needed air, space, anything to clear your head. But no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t escape the way Joel made you feel. The way you wanted to feel, despite everything.

everything beneath the surface.

The weeks leading up to the wedding were a blur. You kept your distance from Joel as much as you could, but it was impossible to avoid him completely. Every time you saw him, the tension between you grew stronger, pulling you in even when you wanted to push it all away. One evening, after a particularly long day of wedding planning, you found yourself alone on the back porch. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You sipped your drink slowly, trying to let the cool night air calm your nerves.

"You okay?"

You turned to find Joel standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. You hadn’t even heard him come out. You straightened up, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m fine. Just needed some air." Joel stepped onto the porch, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his hands in his pockets as he looked out into the yard. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "You’ve been avoidin’ me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough in the quiet night. Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t deny it. "It’s not like that."

"Then what’s it like?" You sighed, setting your drink down and standing up, needing to put some space between you. "Joel, this... it’s complicated. I can’t—"

"Complicated," he repeated, his tone tinged with frustration. He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "It wasn’t complicated before, was it?"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they were true. It hadn’t always been complicated. Before your mother, before the engagement, there had been something between you and Joel that had lingered, unspoken, for years. Maybe it had been innocent at first, just a crush you’d had on the older man next door. But it had evolved into something else—something dangerous.

"Joel," you whispered, shaking your head, trying to regain control of the conversation, but he was already too close. His presence overwhelmed you, drowning out the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to walk away.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was almost a whisper now, and the way his eyes bore into yours made it impossible to look away. "I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby." You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. "This isn’t fair," you managed, your voice breaking. "You’re marrying my mom, Joel." He winced, as if the words had physically hurt him, but he didn’t back away. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Goddamn it, I tried not to. But I can’t help it, baby, Iㅡ" You took a step back, trying to create some distance, but Joel followed, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached out, brushing your arm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Don’t—"

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his hand dropping, but his eyes were still fixed on you. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. Should've been ya."

"Then why did it happen?" you asked, your voice breaking with the weight of the question. "Why are you doing this, Joel? Why are you marrying her?" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not what you think."

"Then tell me," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. "Tell me why you’re with her when—"

"When I want you," Joel finished for you, the rawness in his voice making your heart ache. The admission hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard it, that it didn’t mean anything, but it did. It meant everything.

Your breath hitched as you stared up at him, the world tilting on its axis. You felt the pull between you, that magnetic force that had always been there, but now it was more dangerous than ever. It wasn’t just some unspoken tension anymore. It was real, out in the open, threatening to tear everything apart. "Joel, this isn’t right," you said, your voice trembling, even though your heart screamed at you to move closer to him. "It can’t happen. Not like this."

"I know," he said, stepping closer, his voice barely a rasp. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "But that doesn’t change how I feel." You pulled your hand away, the loss of contact almost painful. "You have to stop," you whispered, your throat tight. "You have to marry her. You can’t do this to her." The agony in his eyes was unbearable. "You think I don’t know that?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your pulse racing. "Then why are you doing this?"

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, like he couldn’t bear to face the truth. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken. "I thought I could love her the way she deserves. I thought... if I just tried hard enough, I could make it work." Your heart ached for him, for your mother, for yourself. "But you don’t, do you?"

His silence was answer enough.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay strong. "You need to go through with the wedding, Joel. My mom... she loves you. She’s happy."

"I know," he murmured, the weight of his guilt evident in his voice. "But what about you? What do you want?" The question hung in the air, suffocating you. What did you want? You wanted him, but not like this. Not in a way that would destroy everything around you. Not in a way that would hurt your mother, who had already been through enough pain. "I want my mom to be happy," you said finally, even though the words felt like they were tearing you apart. "That’s all." even if it was a lie.

Joel stared at you, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too." He stepped back then, creating the distance you desperately needed. "I’ll do the right thing," he said, his voice low and resolute. "For her." he wouldn't believe himself either.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice to say anything else. The weight of the moment settled over you both, heavy and oppressive. Without another word, Joel turned and walked back into the house, leaving you standing alone on the porch, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was all ready to collapse.

The wedding day approached faster than you had anticipated, each moment feeling like a countdown to an inevitable disaster. You tried to bury your feelings, to focus on helping your mom with the final touches, but the weight of what had been left unspoken between you and Joel hung over everything. You hadn’t spoken to him since that night on the porch, and the tension gnawed at you.

The morning of the wedding was bright and warm, the sun filtering through the lace curtains in your bedroom. You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of your bridesmaid’s dress, trying to shake the growing sense of dread that settled in your chest.

You wanted to be happy for your mom—she looked radiant, glowing in her wedding dress, and she deserved this moment. She deserved love, peace, after the years of struggle she’d endured. But underneath your forced smiles and quiet congratulations, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel. About his eyes when he looked at you, about the unspoken words still hanging between you.

Downstairs, the house sung with excitement, guests gathering for the ceremony. You could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music, the clinking of glasses as the day unfolded. But it all felt so distant, like you were watching it from the outside, detached from the joy that filled the air.

Just as you were about to head downstairs, there was a soft knock at your door.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. You already knew who it was before you even opened the door. Joel stood there, looking as conflicted as you felt. He was dressed in a suit, but the usually rugged man looked uncomfortable in the formal attire. His hair was neatly combed, but there was still that familiar edge to him—rough, worn, and undeniably Joel.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you, his dark eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. "You look beautiful."

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I know," he said, his voice low. "But I had to see you. Before—"

"Before what?" you interrupted, your hands trembling. "Before you marry my mom?" Joel’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "For all of this. For... for everything I’ve put you through." Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "You have to go through with it, Joel. You promised her."

"I know," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But I can’t stop thinking about you." The rawness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to stay strong. "You don’t get to do this now," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Not today." Joel’s hand reached for yours, but you pulled away, stepping back. "Don’t," you warned. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is." He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with regret, before he finally nodded. "I’m sorry," he said again, his voice breaking. "I’ll... I’ll go."

You watched as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall, each one like a nail in the coffin of what could have been.

Unbeneath.

The wedding was beautiful. The flowers were perfect, the music soft and sweet, and your mother’s face glowed with happiness as she walked down the aisle. Joel stood at the altar, looking handsome and calm, the picture of a man ready to commit to a life with her.

But you saw the cracks beneath the surface. You saw the tension in Joel’s shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as your mother approached him with a radiant smile. You knew he was trying to hold it together, trying to play the part of the perfect groom. But deep down, you could see it—he wasn’t entirely there.

Standing as a bridesmaid near the altar, you forced yourself to smile, to focus on your mother’s joy. But it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The weight of what Joel had said to you that morning still clung to you, heavy and suffocating. As the officiant began to speak, your heart pounded in your chest. The words felt hollow, echoing in your mind. The vows of eternal love, of commitment, of being faithful—it all felt like a lie. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stay focused, trying to hold on for your mother’s sake.

But then Joel glanced at you.

It was brief—just a flicker of his eyes in your direction, but it was enough to make your breath catch. His gaze was filled with conflict, guilt, and something else you couldn’t name. And in that moment, you knew—he was thinking about you. Even here, even now, when he was supposed to be pledging his life to your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the officiant asked Joel to recite his vows. He hesitated for just a second too long, the pause so subtle that no one else seemed to notice. But you did. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between doing what was right and doing what he wanted.

"I, Joel, take you—" His voice caught, barely noticeable, but you saw it. He cleared his throat, trying again. "I take you, to be my wife."

Each word felt like a stone dropping into a bottomless well.

Your mother smiled at him, tears of joy in her eyes. She was completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. She believed in this moment, believed in the future they were about to share. And you hated that you couldn’t give her that same belief, that you couldn’t share in her happiness.

When the ceremony ended and the guests erupted in applause, you clapped along with them, your hands numb and mechanical. The celebration carried on around you—people laughing, clinking glasses, congratulating the happy couple—but you felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath you.

At the reception, you stayed at the far end of the garden, away from the crowd. The string lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow on the scene, but the beauty of it all felt distant, unreachable. You sipped your champagne, staring blankly at the dance floor where Joel and your mother swayed together. They looked perfect, like a picture from a magazine. But you knew better.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Joel came up beside you, his presence like a storm cloud looming on the horizon. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"You disappeared on me," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music and chatter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the dance floor. "Just needed a moment." He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean for things to get this way. Please believe me, I didn’t knowㅡ didn't know she'd fall." You finally turned to face him, the rawness of his words cutting into you. "Well, they are and she did so.."

Joel looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache, the same look he’d had earlier that morning. "I can’t stop thinking about you, baby." he repeated softly, his voice rough with emotion. "Even now. Especially now."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "You need to stop," you whispered, your voice trembling. "You made your choice. You married her. I don't even know what your plan was."

"I know," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I know what I did, but that doesn’t change what I feel. It doesn’t change this." He gestured between the two of you, his eyes pleading. "I never wanted to hurt you, or your mom. But... I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you." Your chest tightened, the pain almost unbearable. "You have to pretend, Joel. You have to. For her." He stared at you, his expression torn between guilt and desire. "And what about you? What about us?"

"There is no us, Joel. Never was." You said the words like poison in your mouth. "There can’t be." Joel’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing your arm, and the familiar spark shot through you, the one you’d tried so hard to ignore. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"You’re right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There can’t be." But the words felt like a lie the moment they left his lips because despite everything, despite the weight of his new vows, you saw him lean in closer. His breath mingled with yours, and his eyes-filled with guilt, longing, and desperation bore into you. His lips inched toward yours, the world around you fading into a blur of muted colors and distant laughter. People were far enough to not see you, but that didn't make it any easier. Your heart pounded, your breath shaky as you felt the warmth of his body close to yours. You knew this was wrong, that you should push him away, but your body betrayed you. The yearning, the suppressed need that had lingered between you for years, finally pushed through the cracks.

With one last glance into your glassy eyes, as if seeking permission-or maybe forgivenessㅡ Joel closed the distance.

His lips intertwined with yours, soft and rough at the same time, filled with everything that had been left unsaid. You froze for a moment, the shock of it crashing through you like a tidal wave. But then something snapped inside you, and you kissed him back. All of the restraint, the pain, the buried feelings surged to the surface, spilling into that one kiss.

His hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender despite the intensity of the moment. The world around you ceased to exist. It was just you and Joel, a stolen moment in a sea of impossibilities. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if both of you knew this would be the only time you'd have. As if the kiss had to say everything words couldn't

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, reality crashed back in. You broke away, gasping for air, your chest heaving. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Finally, Joel stepped back, his face hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’m sorry," he muttered, though you knew the apology wouldn’t fix anything.

You watched as he walked away, back to the party, back to your mother—the woman he had chosen. The woman he was supposed to love. Your heart broke all over again as you realized that no matter what you felt for him, no matter what he felt for you, it would never be enough to change the reality of the situation.

And so, you stood there, the cold night air brushing against your skin, watching as Joel rejoined the celebration. The sounds of laughter and music filled the garden, but all you could hear was the silence between you and the man you could never have.

Was one night really that important?

You stood there, alone in the shadows, the air growing colder around you. The question gnawed at you, refusing to let go. What harm could it do? One night. One moment where none of thisㅡ none of the guilt, the secrecy, or the heartbreak mattered. No one would know. No one had to.

Would it really hurt?

The thought was reckless, dangerous even, but it lingered, growing more persistent with each passing second. Your mind kept replaying the way Joel had kissed you, the heat and desperation in his touch, the wayyou had kissed him back without hesitation, as if your bodies knew what your hearts refused to admit. You hadn't wanted to stop. And he hadn't either.

Your breath quickened as you thought of him, standing there, so close you could still feel the faint echo of his warmth, his scent, the way he had made you feel as though the world had disappeared, as if nothing else mattered but the f you, in that moment.

No. You couldn't. You couldn't do this to your mother. You couldn't betray her like that, not even for one night, no matter how desperately you wanted him. But the longing was still there, a dark ache deep in your chest, making it harder and harder to ignore. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath and looked back toward the reception toward Joel, who was now standing by the bar, talking with a few guests. The smile he gave them was easy, practiced, but you could still see the shadows under his eyes. You could still see the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.

What if nobody knew? What if this one mistake, this one selfish moment, stayed just between the two of you? What if you could find a way to make it work-just for one night, just to feel what it was like to truly have him without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders?

You swallowed hard. you could still taste his kiss on your lips. You could still feel the burn of his fingertips against your skin.

But then, you remembered your mother's face. Her warmth. Her trust. She was so happy, so completely in love. The thought of betraying her, even just for a moment, tore you apart. Could you really live with that kind of guilt?

No.

Butㅡ

You closed your eyes and exhaled, trying to quiet the storm inside you, trying to remind yourself of what was right. This wasn't a fleeting desireㅡ it was a devastating disaster waiting to happen

And yet, your body ached with the need to be close to Joel again. The yearning, the intensity of that single kiss and one pathetic touch, it was too much to ignore. You had given in once, but you couldn't go down that path again.

You took a step away from the garden, retreating into the shadows. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe one night wasn't worth it. But then you heard his voice, low and familiar, cutting through the noise. He was closer than you expected.

"Hey."

You froze, your heart stuttering in your chest. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Joel. His voice was all too familiar now. He stepped into the shadows with you, the dim light casting sharp lines across his face, making him appear even more worn, more conflicted. "Iㅡ" He hesitated, his voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn't have kissed you earlier. I know I shouldn't have."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't. You didn’t regret it. You wish it never ended.

Joel's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, but you kept your distance. He seemed to notice the space between you, the invisible barrier that neither of you wanted to cross but couldn't help but feel. "I don't know what to do anymore," he said. "I just know I don't want to lose you." His words shattered what little resolve you had left.

And in that moment, everything that had been building between you, the unspoken, the impossibleㅡ became undeniable. It was wrong. It was selfish. But here he was, standing before you, asking you for something you both knew you could never truly have. And for a moment, it didn't matter that it was wrong

You let out a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper. "One night," you murmured. "Just... one night."

Joel froze. His eyes searched yours, and for a second, it seemed as if he might say no. But then his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him, his lips catching yours in a kiss that was deeper this time, hungry, urgent. There were no more words between you, just the frantic need to close the distance between your hearts, to feel something real, even if it was only for one night.

As his hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer, there was a fleeting moment of clarity,a brief flash of the consequences. But it was swallowed up by the heat of the kiss, the intoxicating feeling of finally giving in to the desire that had been burning between you for years,

It was wrong. It was a mistake

But as Joel's lips moved against yours again, you forgot about everything else. Joel’s hand slid to your wrist before you could pull away, a firm, steady grip that tugged you gently toward him, toward the quiet behind the chaos. The party’s laughter and chatter were left in the distance, fading as you followed him, the night air thick with tension.

"We should go to a room," he whispered, his voice hoarse and urgent, almost pleading. "The party still has a few more hours before it ends. Don't worry, baby. It'll all be okay. She won’t even notice we're gone." You looked at him, heart racing, mind reeling, torn between the gravity of his words and the electric heat still burning in your chest from the kiss. He was leading you, his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you through the garden, toward the back of the house where the guest rooms lay hidden behind thick foliage and shadows.

You followed, not because you were sure, but because the pull between you was undeniable. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and maybe you didn’t want to. His pace quickened as he sensed your hesitation, his breath hitching, more desperate now, as though he needed you to understand. "We can’t keep doing this," he said, his tone a mix of anger and longing. "We can’t keep pretending like we don’t feel it. This—" he glanced back at you, "this is what we've been needing for so long."

You could barely catch your breath as you stepped into the hallway of the house, away from the party. The muffled noise of music and chatter was barely a memory now. The quiet was heavier, more intimate. And when you finally stopped, your back pressed against the closed door of a guest room, you both stood there in the dim room, hearts pounding like they were about to burst.

His hands were still on you, strong but gentle, but this time, they didn’t move to pull you in. Instead, he lingered, his fingers barely grazing the skin of your arms as though he was afraid of breaking something fragile—something that might never be repaired.

"Joel..." Your voice was soft, porcelain, and it trembled in the stillness of the room. "Please.." you can hear him mumble a soft 'fuck' before his lips crash onto the exposed skin on your neck, his hands roaming your body like he's been waiting to do this for a thousand years. he quickly manages to discard the jacket of his tuxedo and unzip the back of your dress, your hair that was neatly pulled up now down on your shoulders. "You're so beautiful, baby. Always have beenㅡ god, I was so stupid not doin' this earlier." Your mind reeled, cunt pulsimg. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath, trying to steady your pulse. the fire between you crackled and burned hotter, and for tonight, you gave into it.

"Joel, please, justㅡ touch me, please.." he nods his head. "fuck, yeah, okay. You sound so pretty when you're desperate." you shudder at his words, a soft moan slipping from your lips. " 'm gonna fuck you tonight 'n make up for all of the nights i didn't." that was a promise.

you were now almost fully naked, the only thing covering your body was a soft, laced, white set you had on. "Pretty girl." he begins to discard those items from you too, but removes only the bra, leaving the white panties on. you look up at him, his presence swallowing you whole. without words you reach our hands out, promptly placing them on the hem of his pants and starting to unbuckle the belt he had on. you fingers fumble from the tension, but you finally do it. you trail you fingers onto his abdomen, drawing small hearts before you hear him growl. he picks you up swiftly and throws you on the bed settled in the middle of the room. his pants come undone so he pulls them off fully. "Spread your legs, baby." you do, your pussy spilling over the lace that barely covered anything. his rough fingertips trace your clothed folds, making you look away. "Look at me. Look at me, tell me what you want."

"Want you, Joel.." he hums. he pulls the panties to the side, eyes fixed on the way your cunt glistened under the dim light. its not long before he gets on his knees between your legs. "sweet girl. been dyin' to know what's inside that pretty head of yours when you look at me like that." His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. "you know how much i had to hold back? wanted to ravage you, toㅡ" he trails "to destroy you. make you beg for me to stop..." joel leans down, his rough beard tickling your neck, drawing a soft moan from between your lips.

"Sure you want this, darlin?" Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits for your signal. "So sure." This is it, the moment you had only dreamed of. that's when his lips crashed against yours again, his mustache pricking your skin. you kissed back, hungry, so hungry like you've never felt before.

"want that pretty pussy wrapped around my cock." you whimper pathetically at his dirty words. dirty. dirty like his touch that left your skin tainted, dirty like how you know you'll feel after all of this is over.

but you like dirty. you love dirty.

joel pressed himself against you, his briefs now fully off. fuck, he was huge. his leaking tip was pressing against your folds. "so wet, baby. all this for me? c'mon, let me hear you say it."

" 's all for y-ou, Joel ㅡ" you choked back a moan, pushing yourself back onto his bulge. he laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. be drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down again and again, as if he didn't make you wait long enough for it. after he thinks its sufficient, he starts to push inside, causing you to bite onto your forearm and shut your eyes as tears welled up in them. "atta girlㅡ you can take it. you're a big girl, ain't ya?" he teased. "My little girl, takin' my cock so well."

by the time he was fully inside, you were a mess, tears stained your cheeks, drool at the corners of your mouth covered in smudged lipstick ㅡ you were in a dream for sure. joel moves, at first, slowly as to let you adjust. he's patient. praises trail onto you as he kisses little pecks on the small of your back. "That's it, darlin'. take it all." your body trembles from every breath and touch of his.

his pace picks up, skin hitting yours roughly, fingers tangled in your hair and his other palm flush against your belly. "feel me there, sweet girl?"

"I- yes, yes, please, p-please ㅡ " You were hanging on the mattress for dear life, your brain foggy. nothing made sense but this. Joel buried deep inside of you. he fucked you hard, and deep, your stomach churning at every hit. his calloused hands gripped tightly at you hips, his moves now more ragged.

"shitㅡ whish I married you, baby.." he says through grunts, palms still gripping your hips. "Wish it were you there in that dress. 'm sorryㅡ" you cry a little louder as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. "let me put a baby in you, sweet girl, we can run away andㅡ fuck, run away and be happy. have our own little family." your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Joel, Iㅡ"

"You'd want that? imma make you a mommaㅡ my pretty wife, god."

" 'm s-so close, Joel, please "

"I know, baby, I know. Y-You go ahead." With a few more snaps of his hips, you're both coming, bodies writhing, as his head falls upon your chest. For a long, heavy moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish. All that was left was the two of you, in that silent little room.

Joel pulls out, making you moan. He watches intently as his seed drips out of you, licking his lips as a palm rubs your lower belly. He hopes it'll stick.

[amirasainz]

I love the Ollie x Kimi x Norris!reader story. Can you write one where they are in Vegas and the three of them were seen in a chapel, all dressed up. Lando is losing his mind. You can decide the ending for yourseld😅🥰

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Vegas weeding

It was a scorching hot night in Las Vegas, and the F1 paddock was buzzing with excitement as the drivers, team personnel, and fans gathered for the inaugural Las Vegas Grand Prix. The neon lights, the towering casinos, and the iconic Strip were all within sight of the circuit, making it one of the most exciting weekends in recent memory.

Yn, Lando’s 18-year-old sister, had managed to score a spot in the paddock for the event, thanks to Lando’s influence. Despite being a huge F1 fan, she never truly cared about the spotlight or the glamorous side of it all. She was happy to simply be with her brother and enjoy the race weekend. But today, something felt different. Yn was hanging out with Kimi and Ollie , two of her closest friends.

The three of them were laughing as they left the paddock after the race, sharing a moment of happiness while Lando made his way through the crowd. His eyes caught sight of them, and his jaw clenched when he saw how close they were standing. Kimi’s hand rested lightly on Yn’s shoulder, while Ollie was standing just a step behind her, clearly enjoying the conversation. Lando had noticed the flirting all day, and his protective instincts kicked in.

“Kimi! Ollie! Don’t you think that’s a bit too much?” Lando muttered under his breath as he walked up to the group.

“Lando! Didn’t see you there!” Ollie grinned, not at all fazed by Lando’s less-than-impressed expression. He leaned in to give Yn a playful nudge, which only made her giggle.

Lando’s eyes narrowed. “Yn, are you—? Seriously, guys?” His voice was a mixture of concern and annoyance.

“What’s up, Lando?” Kimi asked, glancing over at the older Norris with a smirk. “Just having a good time. You should join us.”

“You two are too... close,” Lando said, his tone protective. He took a step toward his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’ve been friends forever, but maybe lay off a bit? She’s my little sister, alright?”

Ollie raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Lando’s being overprotective, huh? You know, she’s grown up now.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Ollie,” Lando shot back, his eyes still on his sister. Yn, for her part, looked unfazed. She was used to Lando’s protectiveness, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the attention from Kimi and Ollie.

Kimi laughed, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry, mate. We were just having a bit of fun. Nothing serious.” He then shot Ollie a sly grin, and Ollie returned the look with a shrug.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Lando said, still not convinced. The teasing between the three younger drivers made him feel uneasy. “I don’t like this.”

The others, sensing Lando’s discomfort, decided to take it up a notch. Carlos, who had been standing nearby, leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Lando to hear, “Ollie and Kimi... what’s going on there, Lando? Are we going to be seeing wedding invitations anytime soon?”

Lando shot him a glare, but the other drivers joined in, laughing and adding to the teasing.

“Yeah, Lando. You might be an uncle soon,” Max chimed in, chuckling at the thought.

Lando’s face flushed. “Shut up. I’m not joking, alright? I’m seriously not okay with this.”

“Don’t worry, mate. She’s tough. And so are we,” said Oscar, grinning as he slapped Lando on the back.

But it wasn’t just the teasing that bothered Lando; it was the idea that his little sister might be growing up faster than he was ready for. His thoughts swirled with concern for her safety, her happiness, and everything in between.

A few hours later, just as the Las Vegas lights began to twinkle against the night sky, the entire paddock was hit with a sudden flurry of photos on social media. The images spread like wildfire, with fans and journalists alike flooding the timeline.

Lando’s phone buzzed incessantly, but it wasn’t until he glanced down at his screen that he saw the photos. Yn, Kimi, and Ollie were standing in front of a wedding chapel, all dressed up in formal attire—Yn in a white dress, Kimi in a sharp suit, and Ollie looking every bit the dashing gentleman.

“What the hell?” Lando exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. “Are they serious?!”

The other drivers crowded around him, their eyes glued to the images on Lando’s screen.

“Okay, what did we miss?” Carlos asked with a smirk. “Is there a wedding on the cards or what?”

“I swear, if they got married—” Lando began, but was immediately cut off by Oscar.

“Wouldn’t put it past them,” Oscar teased. “I mean, look at that picture. They’re practically all ready for a Vegas wedding!”

Lando clenched his jaw. “I’m not letting this slide. Not on my watch.” He immediately stood up, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “Where’s the chapel? I’m going to make sure they’re okay.”

“Wait, what?” Max asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“We’re going to the chapel. I’m getting my sister,” Lando said firmly. “Come on, some of you are coming with me. We’re not letting this go down like this.”

The other drivers hesitated for a moment, before nodding in agreement, clearly amused but willing to help out. Lando, Max, and Oscar hopped into a car, with Carlos following them in another, all speeding toward the chapel. They exchanged worried glances, but it was clear that Lando’s protective streak was not something anyone was going to question tonight.

Meanwhile, Yn, Kimi, and Ollie were inside the chapel, talking to a group of fans who had invited them as witnesses to their wedding. It was a completely innocent and heartwarming gesture from the fans who adored the young drivers. The couple had asked Kimi, Ollie, and Yn to witness their vows as a fun, surprise element to their special day, something the three were more than happy to do.

“I’m so happy you guys agreed to come,” the bride, a bubbly woman with a huge smile, said, turning to Kimi, Yn, and Ollie. “We just wanted a couple of fun, cool people to make this day even more memorable.”

Kimi grinned and nodded. “Of course! It’s an honor.”

Ollie added, “And we get to be part of a wedding! Not something we get to do every day.”

Yn smiled and looked around the small chapel. “This is so sweet. You guys must be so happy.”

Just then, the chapel doors slammed open. Lando, Max, and Oscar stormed inside, their eyes scanning the room. They were clearly confused, unsure if they’d walked into a real wedding or if they had just arrived at a strange party.

“Yn!” Lando shouted, looking like he was ready to jump out of his skin.

Yn looked up and blinked in surprise. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on here?” Lando’s eyes darted between Kimi, Ollie, and his sister. His gaze softened slightly, but his concern was evident. “You didn’t... actually get married, did you?”

“No!” Kimi said quickly, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “It’s not like that, mate. These guys just invited us to witness their wedding.”

“They invited us to be witnesses,” Ollie added, smiling at the bride and groom.

Lando’s shoulders sagged in relief, though his protective frown didn’t quite disappear. “You seriously couldn’t tell me you were just... hanging out with the couple’s wedding plans? I thought you three were—”

“Don’t worry, Lando,” Max interrupted with a smirk. “Your sister’s not married yet. But maybe soon, huh?”

Lando shot Max a glare. “Don’t start, Verstappen.”

“We’re just witnesses,” Yn said with a soft laugh, still trying to process her brother’s dramatic arrival. “You can relax, Lando.”

Lando crossed his arms over his chest, still looking unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah, just making sure. No funny business, alright?”

“Nothing funny here, mate,” Kimi chuckled. “Now, why don’t you join the celebration? It’s a wedding, after all.”

Reluctantly, Lando sat down next to his sister. As the wedding ceremony began, he leaned over and whispered to her, “Just promise me you won’t get any crazy ideas, okay?”. He threw his arm over her shpulder, pulling her close to himself while shooting Ollie and Kimi a look that could kill them.

Yn rolled her eyes but smiled. “Relax, Lando. It’s just a wedding. You need to lighten up.”

As the vows were exchanged, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little better, knowing that his sister was safe. And maybe, just maybe, he was overreacting... a little.

But then again, he would always be her big brother. And that meant he’d always have her back—whether it was a wedding chapel or anything else that came their way.

[chococolte]

☼ — pietas maris

♱ : my take on sagau childe

including ☆! — him as a worshiper, and his reaction to being your lover ⛧

word count. 5.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl. ୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. now time for me to disappear back into the aether for another 6 months

The abyss is cold.

It is unfeeling, lacking warmth and passion. It is relentless, cruel, and unkind. It corrupts, ruins, and does so freely, without remorse or thought. It leaves you clinging to the hot blood in your veins, curled up and hidden in the dark reaches of its void.

Childe had always been versatile; quick to adapt, even at such a young age. He grew used to the emptiness, the swelling numbness, and the eventual gnawing loneliness left in his abdomen. They became a part of him as his lungs, as integral as air; to be without felt odd, foreign.

The glimmer of your existence kept Childe company. He did not know who you were, or how lucky he was— only that you brought him comfort, like an old lullaby, or a blanket worn from overuse. He reached for you when the darkness grew too much, too heavy a burden on his small shoulders.

He came to you with little offerings; small trinkets, tomes of unreadable text. Useless to him, but perhaps you would take pity on him in exchange, and let him take comfort in your presence for another day. Childe came to you with rubble shaped in hearts, the gentle breath of his voice as he spoke of his anxieties. He did not think of them as offerings then, merely gifts— pleadings for you to stay a little longer.

His hands, then unruined and soft, made you a makeshift altar crafted out of whatever he could find. He made sure to build it where he felt your whispers were strongest, where your light entirely overwhelmed the darkness overhead. Childe didn't think of it as an altar then, just a place to settle his findings, where he could pretend his sad, little effigy made of you was actually you.

The idol didn't look much like a person at all, and at the time, he didn't think of his behavior as odd. He desperately clung to you for survival, and with no other warm body besides his own, you were the only one he could talk too.

At times, he thought he was going insane. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears whenever he neared your doll, as if it were calling him. Despite the fact that he had made it, proven by the tiny scars on his palms, he still felt as if it was yours.

In the darkness, Childe whispered to you. He said everything his mind could think, childishly exaggerated tales in hopes of impressing you. A foolish endeavor, considering you were a God— but he still hoped that maybe you'd think of him kindly, and let him bask in your protective glow for just one more moment.

He couldn't hear your words, but he could feel them. The twinkle of your laughter was like a soft whistle in his ears. When you were pleased, the air would lightly ruffle his hair. Despite how agonizing his loneliness was, at least he had you by his side.

Childe's innocence, as all things do, eventually withered away in that malevolent black.

He thought of you as his teacher; a guiding hand that trained him, molded him to fit against your palm. When he struggled against the abyssal beasts, he could feel you— a soft brush against his hand, a firm hold on his back, keeping him focused. You taught him when to still his blade and when to strike.

In the arches of his sword and polearm, in the taut and tense pull of his bow, in the whirlwind of his catalyst— you were there, shining from beyond the thin veil separating you.

When Childe was ripped out of the abyss, so was his connection to you. Like a thread snapping, he could no longer feel you; not in the darkness overhead, not in the grip of his blade, of the depths of his soul. You were gone, and he was once again nothing but a boy, lost and alone. Friends and family surround him, thankful for his return, but his mind is still reeling, still stuck in the abyss and the sudden emptiness left in your wake.

Despite himself, Childe had hoped you would have stayed, even once he was out. He thought he was done with being naïve, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He can’t feel you anymore. Where did you go? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Questions swirl in his head like whirlpools of thought. Childe feels like he's drowning, suffocating in the mess of his mind. His breaths come out short, quick and sharp. His throat squeezes, constricting his airways, as he realizes what's unfolded.

You left him.

He should've known better. On that first day, all you had done was take pity on him by letting him linger in your light. It was his fault for ever believing that he would never have to be alone again. That even if he had no one else, at least he had you.

This was the result of his own failure. If only he had proven himself worthy.

When his family found him, they found him gripping a small, rudimentary doll. Even when they reached their home, Childe was still clutching the thing as if possessed. When they tried tugging it out of his hands, saying it would help him eat better, he ripped it from their grasp, holding it to his chest.

Childe couldn't accept that you had left him so easily. At night, back in his warm bed, Childe tries to whisper to you again. The familiar warmth sinks into his pores, but it's nothing like yours. He nuzzles closer to the doll, ignoring how it tears into his skin.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Maybe you got confused. He knows you're a God, but even the Seven are not omniscient. When he was torn from the abyss, it was possible you hadn't meant to so cruelly cut the connection between you. Maybe you couldn't find him, and so he just has to tell you where he is.

So he whispers to you in the dark, just as he has so many times before.

Only this time, he's met with silence.

In the years that pass, you linger at the forefront of his mind, haunting him like a wraith. Childe can't bring himself to be rid of you, despite how it hurts every time he thinks about you for a little too long. He's still stuck, perpetually waiting for your return, despite how he knows you've long given him up.

Childe becomes Tartaglia, the 11th Harbinger under the Tsaritsa. He takes a new name, a new mask— he executes her orders dutifully, and he does his role perfectly. He acts as if she's you, despite how desperately he wants to believe otherwise. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can pretend that the cold that seeps into his bones in her presence is yours.

But no matter how many names and identities he takes, he'll always just be your Ajax; the boy who still misses you, despite how short your time together was. And that fact is what burns him the most.

Maybe he should be angry. He knows he has every right to be. Angry that you left him, that you discarded him as if he was nothing. Maybe he should hate you— hate you for leaving him alone, as if you weren't the only thing keeping him sane. Hate you for leaving as if his love didn't matter to you.

He comforts himself by thinking of the time dilation he experienced in the abyss. You cared for him so much that you spun three days into three months. He likes to believe he meant something to you; he must've, because why else would you lengthen your time spent together?

Childe knows it isn't true. He didn't matter enough for you to stay, after all.

At night, Childe finds himself listlessly thinking of you. It's a silent mourning. Quiet tears fall down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He chokes down every heaving sob that threatens to break from his throat; clenches his jaw when they claw too close to his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he's too loud, biting his fingers until they're bloody and marred by his teeth. What would you think if you saw him this weak? Saw the boy you built up crumble, all because he can't feel even the softest traces of your presence anymore?

You would find him pathetic. All he's done is prove that you were right in abandoning him.

When the memory of you is too much to bear, he clutches the effigy in his arms, squeezing it against his chest until it's sharp edges dig into his skin. Even after all these years, he's still kept it close. He tries to feel the visage of you that was once attached to its bearings, whispering for you under the night sky, hoping it'll remind you of your time in the abyss— hoping that tonight he will feel you again, ruffling his hair with tendrils of wind.

He never does.

Childe barely sleeps, but when he does, he dreams of you. You have no body, no face— he can't even begin to imagine what you look like, and he doesn't dare too, even when he knows he has nothing to lose.

He's back in the dark, but you're still there with him, providing him light and comfort. If he knew that leaving would entail being without you, he never would have left at all. Better to be with you than to die without.

Sometimes, he dreams of you staying with him even after he escapes. Your warmth is ever-present. He gifts you riches, now. You have a voice in his dreams, and he can hear you speaking to him. You're kind, and gentle, and he wants for nothing. He has you, and there is nothing more to want.

He dreams he never lost you at all. It makes reality all the more painful.

In a way he knows is pathetic, Childe hopes you at least found him fun. He hopes you found him entertaining, despite how the thought twists his heart and guts into little knots, until he feels vaguely nauseous at the notion. At least then you would have reason to remember him. At least he could say he meant something to you.

In a hidden corner of his room, there sits an altar for you. His wealth as a Harbinger means he has no lack of resources, and so he bejewels the altar until it glimmers even without light. It's obnoxious and opulent to the point of vanity, but he figures that if you like it, he'll earn another whisper of warmth from you— in the vain hope that you hear him at all anymore.

With his hands, now calloused and worn, he carves sigils into whalebone. He doesn't know what they mean, but they were numerous in the abyss; and so he etches them into bone, hoping that whatever they mean, it reaches you.

Childe pushes himself more than he should. His back aches from all the weight he carries on his shoulders, but he trudges forward despite how it hurts. He is more fervent in conflicts, and spectacular scenes of blood and viscera follow him every time he walks onto a battlefield.

His tongue forms words of devotion for the Tsaritsa as he slays another enemy, blood staining his fingers, but in his heart, he only ever speaks of you.

When he fights, Childe can lose himself. He can focus entirely on the movement of his feet, the precision of his blade. He can ignore how badly he misses you, and how in the back of his mind, he desperately hopes that the more blood he sheds with your teachings, you'll find him satisfactory.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and once again he lets himself be drowned by the rush, letting himself forget all of his pain.

Childe is proud of the way that no one can recognize his style of fighting. It is exact and sharp— every strike hitting its target with ease, filled with vigor and intensity. He enjoys the gazes of jealousy, but remains silent when asked. My teacher taught me, he says. He sheds no further light on the matter, and any instance someone shows interest in learning from him, he instantly refuses. Childe wishes to keep you close to his chest, a guarded secret known only to him.

Childish, perhaps. He knows it is. But if he can't have you, then he will have the knowledge of you. He will keep it to himself, and there it will stay, safe in his tight grip. 

It drives him insane, the way sees you in everything. When night falls, covering the sky in a blanket of stars, he wonders if you're staring at him from above. When the tides of the sea brush against the shore, he finds himself thinking of you as the moon— you are what anchors him, despite the fact that he hasn't felt you in so long. In his eyes, there is nothing you could not be, and with every breath, he only ever misses you more.

It's during his mission in Liyue that he feels you again. Childe is unable to breathe when he meets the Traveler, sensing you watching from their eyes. His heart thunders in his chest, tempestuous as a storm over the sea.

For a moment, he's happy. You're finally back. He wants nothing more than to run to you, to ask you why you left for so long, to ask how he can make you stay, but then he feels you— a familiar pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to say anything but what he wants to.

Childe watches the Traveler's back fade as it finally clicks for him.

You abandoned him for someone else. You left him... for this. The thought sends him reeling. You left him, just to go spend time with someone else— to give them the same company you gave him, to give them the same guidance you gave him— was he merely replaceable to you?

Was he just a test for you?

He should be angry. And he is, but the heartbreak overwhelms him. He's left choking, battling for air. The agony of having been tossed to the side, of having it be affirmed in front of his eyes. He wants to scream and cry, beg for you to return; but his throat squeezes every time he meets the Traveler, and the words die on his tongue.

You don't want him to speak. He's meant to play along.

Childe had waited for you for so long. Even after all this time, he couldn't get rid of the painful hope that you'd return. He had done his best to bottle his emotions, to keep them shut and locked inside, so that you wouldn't be disappointed in him upon your arrival. Proud that he never doubted you for a moment.

But he had. He had doubted you, cried at the lack of your comfort. Afraid of what it meant to be without you. Fearful of living, never getting to gleam your existence for a second time— and now you want him to pretend as if he never knew you.

As if he can't see the slight smugness in the Traveler's eyes.

His fight with the Traveler is personal. He bares his teeth, snarling like a rabid dog. His every strike is fast, precise with the intent to kill and maim. Childe hopes his emotions reach you, that you know of his bitterness and acrimony. That you know of how long he wished for you, how long he yearned for you to come back— how his frustration has twisted into pure rage, turned into a fine point. 

He just has to simply show you how he's better. He has to show you that he's superior in every way to your choice. That you should've chosen him over them. 

They are undeserving; watch how he rips through them like they are nothing, slicing through them like they are mist over sea. They are unworthy; see how easily he beats them into submission, how easily they crumble at his feet. The matter of the Gnosis is nothing to him, now— only whether you see how he should be the one you prefer. 

It's then that he feels it. Your rage. Your anger at having been battered and bruised. The Traveler stands back up, but something is different now. Their strikes are fluid, prowess and skill increased by an outside force. 

You. 

Do you hate him that badly? Detest him so much, to go so far as to bless another with your strength so they can prove themselves to be his better? Even in his Foul Legacy form, Childe is forced to retreat; forced to bow his head in defeat, weakened by the burden of his transformation.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done the exact opposite of what he set out to do. All he's proven is that your right.

Childe feels your crushing weight bearing down on him. He spits the words out, calls them 'friend' through clenched teeth. He dances to your whims, just as he had previously. Unnatural, stiff movements and words that speak the opposite of what he means. 

And then you're gone, left along with them. He stares at their fading back. He can almost imagine you beside them, walking by their side just as you once did his. 

It hurts.

The next time he feels you, there is no sign of the Traveler. Only a tight pulling in his chest. 

He doesn't know what it means, or what it entails. But he follows, sensing you at the end, waiting for him. Childe doesn't allow himself to hope; that maybe, you have come around. That maybe you do care. That maybe, you never hated him— not truly. That you missed him just as he missed you. 

Maybe he meant something, after all.

When he reaches you, he feels it. You're happy. You're happy with him. He feels you reaching out, tickling him with strands of your will. You brush against his skin, burrow deep inside. Childe lets you, still unable to breathe.

He wonders if this is really happening. Have you come back to him, truly? Have you finally realized how much better he is? He feels you graze his soul, reaching deep within. Childe feels you envelop him, swathing him in warmth and comfort. 

You're home, you whisper. 

He only hears the ghost of your voice, a chime in the wind; but he hears the intent, the meaning behind your unintelligible words, even though he can't understand them. 

Childe breaks. 

SANGUINE NATUS ; first meeting/as a worshiper

If even just your breath could leave him weak, then seeing you for the first time makes his knees give out underneath him.

It's a foolishly embarrassing display, but Childe can't find it in himself to care. He falls to his knees quicker than his mind can catch up, unconsciously posturing himself to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible— anything to make you stay, even if it means sabotaging his image.

He tucks his shoulders inward, struggling between looking at you until his eyes burn and your image is seared into the back of his eyelids, or averting his gaze because just touching you with them feels like he's sullying you somehow.

His breath comes out short and sharp, his entire chest heaving with each shuddering, raspy exhale. Before he can even manage a sound, he's sobbing, crumpling to the floor— there's no care taken to your perception of him now, only the wailful cries of one lost in the weight of your eyes. Childe knows he's being pathetic, a mess of airy desperation and red eyes; everything he was when he felt the ghost of you leave him, and everything he wished you'd never see. But it's you, and for the first time, he can truly feel your eyes on him.

It's all too much to bear.

"I-It's you, it's you—!" Childe manages to choke, wet tears caking the apples of his face. His eyes strain, burning to see the visage of you through the blur of his vision. Nausea bites at him, his abdomen a sudden storm from the tears that lick at his cheeks.

Childe has always been austere in his worship; strict, solemn in how he acts out every religious rite. There is an icy silence unlike him as he moves, particularly whenever your sanctity is involved. His fingers still tremble despite his stiffness, the desperation loud in every twitch of his limbs. The desire to see you, after all is said and done.

Seeing you for the first time feels as though a wave has overtaken him, drowning him in brine and the cerulean of muddy waters. There is no hiding what he could barely contain before— jerky movements filled with need and the dolor of one disappointed before.

Childe no longer finds himself able to veil it by lies and rushing fights of adrenaline; now, it lies bare, and there's no burning ache to keep it hidden.

His fervor is relentless; a feverish desire to please you coalescing until it's unbearable for his skin. Your reaction to his cries could have been cruel or kind, and it wouldn't have bothered him; all that matters is whether he has finally proven himself worthy of standing by your side.

His worship is eager words spilling from his lips at night, the echo of your name a murmur from his mouth like the sigh of the ocean's waves-- his blades stained red, limp at his sides-- the burning in the back of his throat that comes from years of pleading.

You're here now, even if he can't be with you at all times; and that knowledge leaves him whispering to you, uttering every thought without a moment of reconsideration. It is a ceaseless endeavor, as every word is listless praise and endless adoration. There isn't a moment where he isn't thinking of you in some way, and the mere thought of the opposite leaves him feeling vaguely sick.

He wants to think of you all the time. Though it's such a small thing, in his mind, he has you all to himself— in the sense that there is no one else to take your eyes off of him— there, he can make you happy; there, he can make you proud of him. In that world, you have no reason to be rid of him.

Childe's always kept his habit of crafting you makeshift gifts. They're rugged, imperfect things, but laden with his fingerprints and the palms of his hands. Before, he could only set them still on his altar for you, and hope that it pleased you somehow. He was only ever met with silence, but he could pretend you were happy with him, and the idea alone was enough.

When he catches sight of a sea conch, its pale marks swirled across its smooth surface, he can only think of handing it to you. It's a beautiful thing, and so simple and crude a gift; but maybe you will find worth in such a thing, the simplicity of its nature, and praise him for it.

He gives them to you physically now, unable to shake the urge to do so. His hands always tremble when he hands them over, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him whenever your fingers brush against his. He will never fail to drown in the sensation, allowing everything that he is to become thoughts of you.

Childe has always worshiped you in bloodshed. In the past, he hoped it would leave you satisfied enough to come back; now, it's to prove how much better he is than everyone else. His fear runs deep, like cracks in the earth far below the water's surface, and the sickening feeling of dread whenever you praise someone else suffocates him.

It's unreasonable, he knows, and he has no reason to fear, not anymore— but his heart still quickens at the thought, and his stomach still twists.

It's an all too familiar feeling. When he was first torn from you, he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out of him; and the panic he feels only reminds him of it.

When he's inevitably forced away from you on another mission, he deals with it as quickly as possible, no matter how bloodied or bruised he leaves it. He is brutally unkind in his workings, his words always terse and clipped; a slight edge that never really seems to go away until he knows you're somewhere nearby.

It's when he's forced to stay away from you for a longer period of time that he breaks completely. Upon his return, he is instantly back at your side, heaving sobs and ugly tears running down his face. He can barely think, and a flurry of slurred words leaves his lips— begging to never leave your side again.

Childe knows better than to think he is deserving of your kindness, but he’s desperate to at least stay in your shadow. There, he could stay near you, even if he was swathed in black— even if his only glimpse of you was your back, he would be in bliss. To be near you in some form is all he could ever ask of you.

For all of the power you have granted him, it's only right that he use it for you. A mere word from anyone that isn't pure praise has his grip on his weapon tightening, the tendons on his hand taut and his knuckles pale. He remains entirely oblivious to any moral ambiguity in your actions— whatever you do is right and just; as you are the only one worthy of judging yourself, he does not dare too.

Instead, Childe draws his blade in judgement of others— he will act as your hand and executioner, the arbiter of your faith; it's with only vigor that he hands out punishment, a ferocity bold and true.

AMANS IN SPINIS IACET ; as your lover

Childe's dreams have begun to take a sudden turn.

It's not anything he can control, despite how hard he tries too. They pleased him at first, even though he still couldn't help the way his heart tightened at the idea of you somehow knowing. At that time, they weren't occurring enough for him to be worried, and the content themselves were innocent enough for him to think nothing of it.

You held him close to you, pressing benign kisses across his freckled cheeks, playing with his hair with soft fingers; little things that he could believe meant nothing at all, just a desire to feel your affection in the only way his mortal heart knew how.

The dreams turn nightly, and Childe finally realizes it's much more than that.

It begins at signs of your favoritism. Glances that last more than they should, summoning him to your chambers more frequently; Childe does not deny you, and he can't help the faint giddiness that clouds his mind every time he feels your gaze linger on him. It's a euphoric sensation to know that he is the one you are looking at; no one else. Only barely does he manage to rein in his emotions every time.

You speak much softer to him, and your touch is more affectionate. He turns drunk on your approval, willingly dancing to your whims if it meant having your fingers coiled in his hair for another moment. Before he can stop himself for even daring to think it, Childe lets himself believe he's special to you— and that is where the problem arises.

The thoughts don't stop. Even if he screams to drown out the noise, they still manage to be so loud. The dreams are relentless, more loving, more vivid. He can feel the warmth of your palms as you caress his cheeks, the weight of your breath when you draw your head near; they feel so real, that for a moment, he thinks you're the one sending them to him.

He feels as though he's dirtying you in some form, as if he is the one committing an unforgivable sin against you; somehow managing to desecrate you with just his thoughts alone. The idea sends him into a panic-induced frenzy, kneeling before his altar with rushed, unintelligible apologies on his lips.

Despite his self-hatred, whenever he wakes from one, Childe is left blissfully dazed, nuzzling into his pillow with hazy clarity— pretending that it's you, instead. He wonders what it would be like if his dreams were real, if he could really be so special to you in such a way; entirely irreplaceable, entirely yours.

It doesn't take long for his will to be eroded by his desperation. His desire to resist was already hanging by a thread, and as the dreams persist, any resistance on his end is lost. He falls ever deeper into an abyss of his own making, allowing himself to be undone by his own creation.

Childe has always been needy, but as his feelings rear their ugly head, it only grows worse. He has always loved you— and he had been struggling to choke his own feelings down for as long as he could, fooling himself into believing that they didn't exist in the first place. In his eyes, it's only right that you be the one to shake the foundation he lay; making him crumble until every dark part of himself is laid bare in front of you, only for your eyes.

There's a drastic increase in his desperation to be near you, and any lack of refusal on your part only exacerbates it. He neglects his duties entirely in favor of staying by you in some way or another, be it either by your side, or following you from a distance like a lost puppy.

Your admittance of feelings only makes Childe more fervent. He can barely hear himself speak, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a caged canary. He can barely believe anything you're saying, and for a moment, he wonders if he's lost in another dream of his.

At your assurance, Childe doesn't dare to doubt you any longer. He falls entirely into you, allowing you to consume his every thought. He doesn't think to fight back, letting you envelop him until his every breath is coated in your name. He is yours, and he has no desire for anything more.

His desire for your approval now emboldens him. Childe's always acted out of an interest in garnering your attention, and though he now knows of your feelings, it does nothing to satiate him; instead, it leaves him hungrier, greedy with an eagerness to please.

He doesn't take from you without asking, but he asks enough for it to be a nuisance. Your affection is everything to him, and he can't bear to go a moment without it. He asks to lay his head in your lap, for you to play with his hair— the loss of your touch is the loss of himself, and sends him reeling back to memories of when he was without you.

The first time you kiss him, his legs instantly give out underneath him, a small groan leaving his lips. Childe doesn't bother to dull his reactions; you deserve to know how easily weakened he is by your touch, with even a brush of your fingers enough to leave him breathless and wanting.

As your favorite, Childe is quick to be rid of any competition. Whether or not you see them as possible suitors doesn't even cross his mind— the fear that snakes around his heart is ever-present, and if they're better than him in some form, it only grows in persistence. He doesn't hurt them, because surely that would upset you, and any devotee of you is worthy of respect— but he is quick to showcase his superiority, and to do so broadly without shame.

Childe grows used to his new status, and uses it to stay by your side constantly. Any attention you give to others is met with instant jealousy, seething glares sent to whoever stole your gaze, even if they only preoccupied a second of your mind.

He could never be mad at you, as clearly the fault lies within himself.

Any signs of your likes and dislikes are instantly noted. If you compliment someone for their behavior, he begins to emulate it, or at least he tries too. If you like Zhongli for how well he executes your orders, then Childe will be the same; only he will do it better, quicker, and prove himself still deserving of your love.

If he were perfect, then you would have no need for anyone else. If he were perfect, he would never have to worry about whether you'll grow bored of him the moment he stops being entertaining enough.

The thought of you with another leaves Childe sick without fail. He knows he has no control over you, and that if you wished to be rid of him, he would willingly walk into whatever punishment awaited him— but now that he has tasted what it feels like to be so utterly yours, he can't bear to imagine another sharing the same treatment.

You kissing another, holding another, letting someone else lay against you; all of it only serves to further blur his vision. Even if it is sinful of him to feel, he can't stop the emotions from swirling in his chest.

You are everything; the earth laid beneath his feet, the foundation of which he relies on. To be without you is to fall, to be without you means death; and if he must carve his skin and bone to fit the picture you want him to be, then he shall.

[httpdwaekki]

migraine | b.c.

summary: you were known to have pretty intense migraines but chan is there to help you feel better.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: no warnings, just pure fluff, tad bit of hurt/ comfort, sweet channie as always, and in true ashton fashion far too many petnames lmao. very lightly proofread (p.s. i am in my wolfchan lover arc, need him immediately.)

a/n: omg ashton got lost in the sauce again? * gasp* shocker! yeah this took me way too long to write but whatever. i actually don't hate this which is crazy but this is self indulgent because i get some pretty intense, nasty migraines that can last a couple days and it sucks. but if you suffer from the same thing i hope this can bring you some comfort and also i recommend a gel cap that you put in the freezer. an actual game changer, trust. anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

*lowercase intended*

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you had some pretty nasty migraines, no secret to you or chan. they last anywhere from a few hours to a few days and while there were things to help lessen the pain and pressure, sometimes you just had to ride it out.

this was unfortunately one of those times. now usually you would call chan as soon as you felt the first telltale sign of a migraine . this time however, you didn’t, you knew he was busy with work and didn’t want to interfere with that. but you were selfishly starting to regret that decision as everything you were doing did nothing to help.

it seemed like everything did nothing but increase the pressure in your head, spreading to your face. in a last ditch effort to get some sleep you put on some migraine music, pressed a cold compress to your eyes and pulled wolfchan to your chest.

the soft plushie smelled faintly of chan’s cologne, the only thing actually helping you relax. but it also made you miss the aussie man, wishing he was by your side, rubbing your temples, softly lulling you to sleep.

you didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt a warm tear drip down to your neck. you knew you had to calm down or you risk making everything worse but you couldn’t. you were overwhelmed by the pressure in your head and frustrated with nothing helping to release it.

you felt selfish and guilty but you knew you needed chan, you felt like you were going insane without him. hesitantly you moved the compress from your eyes, grabbing your phone.

despite the brightness being on the lowest possible setting, you felt a sharp pain behind your eye as the screen turned on. you unlocked your phone, clicking chan’s contact, you quickly typed out a message.

to channie <3 :

hi, i’m so sorry to ask but i really don’t know what else to do, i have a migraine and nothing's helping. i know you're working but is there anyway when you finish up at the studio you could come over? even for a little bit, if not i totally get it, just thought i’d ask, love you bug.

you hit send, locking your phone, placing it on the soft sheets, placing the compress back over your eyes. a few minutes passed before you felt your phone buzz beside you. you move the cold compress once more, bracing yourself for the light from your phone.

from channie <3:

can you call me jagi? i don’t want you to keep looking at your phone screen, love you too sweet girl.

you click his contact once more, hitting the little phone icon next to his name causing the calming music to stop, a loud ringing replacing it. this caused you to wince and quickly lower the volume before putting it on speaker so you could place the cooling pack back over your eyes.

it didn’t take long before he picked up. “hi my baby, what’s going on?” he asked softly.

“my head hurts,” you started, words slightly slurred. “it’s really bad channie.” you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “i’ve tried everything and nothing’s working, i don’t know what to do.” you softly cried, tears making their way down your cheeks once more.

“okay angel okay, take a deep breath, i need you to relax for me okay? i know it hurts but it’s gonna hurt worse if you’re upset.” you hear rustling in the background.

“i’m just finishing up a few things here and then i’m gonna head over, okay sweetheart?” you respond with a soft whimper, followed by a quiet, “okay.” you press the pack further into your eyes, chasing the coolness that is quickly leaving the gel filled pack.

“do you want me to stay on the phone with you till i get there?” he asks softly, packing his bag.

“yes, please.” you mumbled. “okay baby, just keep breathing and focus on me, okay? i’m gonna pick up some food on the way too, okay?” you hummed in response, rolling over, pushing the soft plushie to your cheek, breathing in the familiar scent.

“everything okay?” you hear changbin ask in the background. “yeah, y/n has a migraine, so i’m going to help her.” chan responds.

“oh no, i hope she feels better, let us know if you guys need anything.” you hear han chime in, your heart swelling at the boys concern.

“will do, thank you, i’ll see you guys later.” you hear him open the studio door making his way into the hallway.

“you still with me, jagi?” he asks softly. “yeah, i’m here.” face squished into the soft fabric. “alright sweetheart, i’m gonna mute for a bit just until i get to my car, okay?” he asks, the elevator dings in the background, signaling its arrival.

“okay.” you say sleepily. “i love you baby, i’ll be right back.” you hear him press a button in the elevator. “love you too bub.” your words slurring slightly.

after chan muted, you felt yourself slowly succumb to the exhaustion, phone positioned next to you on the sheets, wolfchan tucked safely against your cheek, you, curled up in a soft blanket .

that is exactly how chan found you about 25 minutes later as he walked in your room, the space dimly lit by the oil diffuser sitting on your bedside table. he left the take-out bags sitting on your kitchen counter, fresh compress and cold water in hand. he gently places the water on your desk, making his way over to you.

he grabs your phone, ending the call before turning off the relaxing music. he sits next to your sleeping form, gently taking the warm pack off your face. he places a kiss on your forehead before placing the fresh compress on your eyes.

you tense for a moment, before relaxing as the cold begins to relieve the tension once more. you stir awake from the sudden change in temperature. “channie?” you asked, sleep laced in your voice.

he places a hand on your hips, his thumb rubbing soothing circles to the area. “hi, my baby,” he whispers. “how are you feeling hm?” he asks, continuing the soothing motion. you move the cool pack, grabbing his free hand, in this lap, threading your fingers together before placing a kiss on the back of his.

“better now that you’re here.” you murmured, giving him a small smile. he smiled back before leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“i got you some ramen, i’m gonna go grab it for you okay?” you nodded, him standing, still keeping your hand in his. he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before placing the compress back over your eyes, grabbing the warm one to put back in the freezer .

he gives your hand a light squeeze before walking away. you relax into the soft mattress below you while chan goes to grab the hot soup and some medicine just in case.

he walks in with the tray, setting it on your desk next to the cold water collecting condensation on the wood below it. he makes his way over to you, sitting next to you once again, gently lifting the pack off your eyes. “there she is,” he placed a hand on your cheek, setting the compress next to you.

“hi baby.” he smiled, softly stroking your cheek. you give him a small smile back before turning your head slightly to place a kiss to his palm. “can you sit up for me please?” you nod softly before slowly moving to lean against the wall behind you.

“careful jagi.” he whispered, quickly placing a hand behind your head. “thank you, bug.” you mumble, adjusting the pillows behind you, placing wolfchan in your lap . chan stands up once more, placing the water on the tray before bringing it over to you.

“thank you, chan, you really didn’t have to do all this.” you say, guilt creeping up on you once again. he shakes his head. “nope, none of that. i’m your boyfriend, this is my job.” he places the tray on your lap, taking his place next to you once again.

“plus, i love taking care of you. if you need me, i’m there. any time, any place, simple as that.” your heart swells, you feel a lump form in the back of your throat. “you can’t say stuff like that when i’m like this, i’ll cry.” you play with the plushie’s ears before feeling a finger lift your chin.

“i love you, and i’ll always be here for you, no matter where either of us are, okay?” he said, looking into your eyes, with nothing but love and sincerity. you nod, “i love you too.” he smilled, carefully leaning over to place a kiss on your forehead.

“now, you need to eat, i got your favorite.” he says, picking up the hot soup, opening the lid, before separating the chopsticks. he dips the wooden sticks in the soup, giving it a stir before grabbing some of the noodles.

he gently blows on the steaming noodles before offering it to you, container under it to catch any dripping soup. you giggle, “you know i can feed myself right?” he frowns, pushing the noodles and container closer to you. “eat.”

you smile before opening your mouth, accepting the food he so generously offered you. a smile made it’s way onto his face, feeding you a few more bites. he placed the container back down, chopsticks resting in the soup, before grabbing the medicine and water.

“take these.” he placed them in your hand, opening the water as you dropped the pills in your mouth. he hands you the water, watching as you greedly gulp down the cool beverage. “ how are you feeling, angel?” he asks gently.

“it still hurts but i think eating and drinking definitely helped.” you smiled, handing him the bottle. “ good, i’m glad. eat a few more bites then we’ll lay down, okay?” he says, picking up the soup once more.

you end up finishing the ramen before he grabs the tray and the now warm compress. “do you want a cold one?” he asks holding up the pack.

“yes please.” you nod slightly. “okay, get comfy, i’ll be right back jagi.” you smile laying back down as he leaves the room.

he comes back, shortly after, with a fresh compress and another bottle of water. he places the water next to your diffuser, placing the compress over your eyes. he circles the bed, climbing under the covers.

he lays down, pulling you into him, placing your head on his chest. you place your arm around his wait, hand slipping under his shirt, rubbing your thumb across his soft skin.

he brings his hand up, rubbing soft circles on your temples, placing kiss on the top of your head. “sleep jagi, we can shower when you wake up okay?’ you nod slightly against him.

“thank you, channie. i love you, more than you know.” you mumble, tightening your arms around him. “i love you too baby, i’ll always take care of you, okay?” placing one last kiss to your hair.

that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other’s arms. the pressure in your head, slowly releasing, finally able to relax.

reblogs/feedback are appreciated! i hope you guys enjoyed!

do no repost

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

[wriitingwoes79]

Careful, He Bites

Miguel O’Hara x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: You’re FWB with the ever-elusive vigilante Spider-Man (2099) who unfortunately, for you, is not too fond of being ghosted.

Content Warnings: dom!Miguel, sub!reader, face sitting, biting, overstimulation, webfluid!bondage, dirty talk (and in español también !!🤭)

WC: 645 (ik ik it’s short my bad lol)

AN: heavily unedited and my Spanish is rusty (gotta love being a no sabo puerto rican ) so I apologize for that!! part 2 maybe? who knows lol

MDNI!!!

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table, your roommate’s photo and caller ID popping up. In your current state, you would just have to let the call go to voicemail—it’s not like you would be able to answer now or any time soon, anyways.

Especially since your thighs were bound by thick muscular arms (and ropes of webfluid) while Miguel’s tongue and lips flicked and sucked over your clit hungrily. The obscenely wet sounds emanating from your thighs held much more sway than the buzzing phone to your right.

Wave after wave of pleasure lapped over you as Miguel forced orgasm after orgasm from you. Your thighs shook around his head, and you squirmed as you felt the familiar rise of arousal leading towards another release.

“Ah!” You cried as you felt Miguel’s teeth lightly rake over your clit, quivering from the sensation. It was a warning from him: take it.

Sit there and take it.

Dios mío, you absolutely couldn’t take another orgasm—your clit was beyond sensitive, overly aware of every rough flick and wet swirl of his tongue as he licked up everything that dripped from between your thighs. His soft groans didn’t help the situation either, soft vibrations from his lips and throat running along your now-aching pussy.

Miguel’s hand tightened on your thighs, hard enough that you were sure the marks would be there by the time you made it back to your apartment.

This had to be a punishment, you thought. How orgasms could even be considered a punishment you didn’t know but you knew the roughness, the little care for how much you ached (despite the overflow of pleasure) had to be some sort of retaliation.

Sure, you hadn’t talked to Miguel in over a week, and sure, you had a blind date with a coworker of your roommate’s but that was nothing! Miguel was just a nice little friends with benefits.

Well…a vigilante friend with benefits.

A vigilante who swung you into his apartment, tearing your panties off with his fanged teeth and trapped you over his face without even taking his suit off—he’d merely lifted the mask up to free his lips and tongue for your torment. You hated how much it turned you on to see his lips and the tip of his nose peeking out from the blue and red suit material.

The orgasm rising in you once more was enough cause for you to squirm more, trying to ease off the side of his face. Miguel’s grip tightened and his lips left from your clit to trace your inner thigh. In seconds, his teeth—his fangs specifically, gripped the soft fleshy part of your inner thighs and pain sparked there. He bit, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to keep you as still as you could manage.

Hard enough to leave marks for you to find later.

“No te muevas,” he growled against you, his lips finding your clit once more, “you can take it, amor.” You whined at the sensation, his lips and gruff voice against your sensitive pussy, the way the ‘r’ in “amor” rolled so delicately off his tongue and onto your clit.

“Puedes hacer uno más,” he said and continued to devour you as if it were the only sustenance he needed to survive. Within seconds, the orgasm came bursting from you, your thighs dripping desire and release which Miguel lapped up with ease. Your entire body shook from the effort and you slumped over, legs tangled on Miguel’s shoulders from the ties still taut and biting into your skin.

Your phone buzzed again and Miguel eased himself you, pulling you free from the webfluid ties without a second thought. He picked up your phone, answering it and held it to your ear,

“Tell her you won’t be coming home just yet, cosita linda. I’m not finished with you.”

[httpsdana]

can you write about reader asking kebab to star in her new music video as her male lead and him being not to confident about it plsss 😔

Spotlight~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who i write for

It started as a casual dinner conversation, the kind where ideas flowed freely, accompanied by laughter and clinking glasses. She was seated across from Kenan at their dining table, his brows furrowing slightly as she animatedly described her latest project—a music video for her upcoming single.

“I want it to feel authentic, like a real love story,” she said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “The male lead should have that perfect mix of charm and vulnerability. Someone who’s real.”

Kenan nodded along, taking a sip of his drink. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out. Who’s the lucky guy?”

She leaned forward, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile. “You.”

He blinked, caught completely off guard. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” she replied, her tone firm yet playful. “Kenan, you’re perfect for this. You already know me better than anyone else, and our chemistry is exactly what I want to capture on screen.”

Kenan leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming nervously against the table. “I don’t know, aşkim. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m a footballer, not an actor.”

“You don’t need to act,” she countered, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “You just have to be yourself. That’s what will make it special.”

Kenan hesitated, his gaze dropping to where their fingers intertwined with his. “What if I mess it up? What if I make you look bad?”

“You could never make me look bad,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “Besides, you’ve seen me in the studio, fumbling through takes and trying to hit the right notes. It’s okay to be unsure. That’s what makes it real.”

He chuckled at the memory of her cursing under her breath after a missed cue or an offbeat lyric. “You always make it work, though.”

“And so will you,” she replied confidently. “Please, Kenan. It would mean so much to me.”

His eyes searched hers, still unsure but visibly softening at the sincerity in her expression. “If it’s that important to you… okay. I’ll do it.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping out of her chair and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re going to be amazing, I promise.”

Kenan wrapped his arms around her, his nerves momentarily forgotten in the warmth of her embrace. “Just don’t laugh at me if I mess up.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, pulling back to look into his eyes. “But I might fall even more in love with you.”

His cheeks flushed, a rare but endearing sight, and he smiled despite himself. “Well, in that case, I guess I better give it my all.”

The filming began a week later. Kenan showed up to the set early, dressed casually in a white button-up shirt and jeans, looking equal parts nervous and out of place. The crew buzzed around, setting up cameras and adjusting lights, but his eyes found his girl immediately. She walked over, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling up at him. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

The first scene was simple—just the two of them walking through a sunlit park, holding hands and exchanging soft smiles. Despite the simplicity, Kenan stiffened as soon as the cameras started rolling.

“Cut!” the director called out after the first take. “Kenan, relax a little. Don’t overthink it.”

Kenan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Easier said than done.”

She stepped closer, touching his arm lightly. “Hey, don’t focus on the cameras. Just on me, okay? It’s just us.”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and the next take went smoother. She led him through the motions, her hand squeezing his reassuringly every now and then.

The next scene, she had to rest her head on his shoulder as they both sat under a tree, laughing softly at nothing in particular. Between takes, she teased him to ease his nerves.

“See? You’re a natural,” she said after a particularly good shot.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “If by natural, you mean awkward, then sure.”

A specifically hard scene came up, it was the emotional climax—set in a softly lit room, where the two of them had to act out a moment of vulnerability, gazing into each other’s eyes as if confessing unspoken feelings. The director explained the setup, and Kenan looked like he wanted to bolt.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered, brushing her hand against his. “Just think of it as... us, but with cameras watching.”

“Comforting,” he muttered dryly, but he didn’t pull away.

When the cameras rolled, something clicked. His nervousness melted as he focused on her, his eyes softening in a way that made her heart skip. The way he reached for her hand, the way his thumb brushed against her knuckles—it felt so natural, so real, that the crew barely had to give any direction.

When the director called, “Cut!” applause erupted on set.

Kenan blinked, looking around in surprise. “Was that... good?”

“Good?” she repeated, laughing as she threw her arms around him. “Kenan, that was perfect!”

He wrapped his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, pulling back to look at him. “You were incredible. You made this everything I imagined and more.”

The director then approached them both with a clipboard, explaining the next scene. “This is where you kiss. It needs to feel natural and romantic, like you’ve just realized how much you mean to each other.”

Kenan stiffened beside her, his hand instinctively finding hers. “A kiss?” he murmured, leaning closer to her.

She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s just a kiss, Kenan. We’ve done it a million times before.”

“Yeah, but not in front of cameras and a whole crew,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing.

She squeezed his hand gently. “remember it’s only us, okay?”

The set was cleared of unnecessary crew members to make the moment more private, but the presence of the cameras still loomed. The scene was set on a dimly lit balcony, fairy lights twinkling overhead as the two of them stood close, the city skyline glowing in the background.

The director called, “Action!”

She stepped closer to Kenan, her eyes locking with his. She could feel the tension in his body as he inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening slightly. To help him relax, she reached up and rested a hand on his chest, his touch gentle but grounding.

“Just you and me,” she whispered, barely audible but enough for him to hear.

His shoulders eased, and his eyes softened. Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss started hesitant, almost shy, but the familiarity between them guided the moment. Her fingers slid up to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

Kenan’s hand rested at her waist, his grip firm but comforting. The world around them seemed to blur—there were no cameras, no crew, just the two of them sharing a moment that felt far too real for a scripted scene. When the kiss ended, his forehead rested against hers, his breathing slightly unsteady.

“Cut!” the director called out, sounding pleased. “That was perfect!”

Kenan pulled back, his ears tinged red as he avoided eye contact with the crew. He turned to his girlfriend, his voice low. “That didn’t feel like acting.”

She laughed softly, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “That’s because it wasn’t.”

Kenan smiled, his confidence growing as he realized how much he had nailed the moment. “Maybe I’m not so bad at this after all. But don’t get used to this—I’m not quitting football anytime soon.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, laughing softly. “But you’ll always be my favorite male lead.”

[melodic-haze]

I JUST saw the dragon! reader x robin thing and i swear i was convulsing when i read the first paragraph ☝. So I'm asking superr super super super politely to make a part 2🙏. Even if it takes weeks, my delusional brain needs it 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I'm ngl I was INITIALLY gonna say that idk what else to say but then I realised that I'm a fucking LIAR and I DO know what to say

Yk what she could be interested in? Roleplay 😜idk if I've already said this before HAHAHAHA I don't keep track of the things I write about but methinks she'd adore losing herself in a new 'life' for a brief moment, just being someone else that isn't her and breaking loose from everything that weighs on her for a lil while.....esp when you more than help her do so 😜😜😜😜

Imagine her as the sweet sweet damsel in distress 😩😩 and you as the dragon that captured her HAHAH this may be a cliche as hell fantasy (and VERY on the nose too) but really when she looks at you with such glassy, innocent eyes despite her lightly biting her lip in anticipation, does the cringe or whatever really even matter tbh 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Make her suck you off!!!! Much as one Would think to be gentle with her, to treat her good and call her pretty as she tries her best to fit one of your dicks in her mouth, by GOD she would LOVE you forcing yourself down in her throat. Get into the role, use her like she's nothing but some expendable toy—if she didn't like it then she'd be using your agreed signal for if she couldn't speak out the safe word, but yk. She isn't. In fact, she's clinging onto your thighs, her nails digging onto your skin :3333

Oh! And! I've said before that you could use her wings as handlebars, but yk what could be fun? If you had a thick, prehensile tail to lift her up and plunge her down on you like a cocksleeve 🫶🫶🫶 personally I'd silence her faux innocent pleas by putting her face in my cleavage ty 🫶🫶🫶🫶 and w being a dragonkin would probably mean bigger tits so that's fun 😜

She'd be sobbing and crying by the end of it, but it's bc of how stretched and overwhelmed she feels :3 and by the time that post-coital buzz fades away, she'll be yearing for more. Looking like an angel but as much as she knows she has responsibilities she sure as hell would be insatiable HAHA

[edgeray]

mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!!  If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company. 

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head. 

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush. 

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.  

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you. 

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers. 

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore. 

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely. 

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile. 

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head. 

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?” 

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her. 

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her. 

You nod. “You want to try?” 

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface. 

“What is it?” 

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste. 

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes. 

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread. 

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable. 

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure. 

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.  

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter. 

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully. 

[kinascum]

MORE - M. STURNIOLO

WARNINGS: suggestive content. enemies to lovers, CURSING, FIGHTING KINDA, BICKERING, MATTS KINDA MEAN BUT READER TOO.

NOTES: minors preferably dni, but I'm not ur mother so whatever. lowercase intended.

Despite being enemies, you've noticed that Matt has been a bit more tolerant towards you lately. You're currently in the living room with Nick and Chris, but they've just left, leaving you bored and with nothing to do. You decide to venture into Matt's room, hoping to find some entertainment.

As soon as he hears your footsteps, he looks up from his phone, lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Get out," he says curtly, his tone laced with irritation.

You reach out and grab one of the stuffed log-shaped pillows lying on the couch and respond with a simple and resolute "No."

With a flick of a wrist, you toss the pillow lightly into the air, watching it twirl before catching it again.

As you toss the pillow, Matt rolls his eyes, not even bothering to look up from his phone. However, a small smile plays on his lips. After a few moments, he gives up and his phone buzzes with a new notification.

He catches the pillow mod-air and looks up at you for the first time in a minute. With a smirk, he puts his phone down on the coffee table and says, "I see you want some attention."

You ask with interest, "what makes you say that?" as you quickly take the pillow from his hands and continue to toss and turn the soft pillow, eagerly waiting for his answer.

He raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused by your playful behavior. His eyes follow you as you move around the room, seemingly lost in thought. He then speaks up, his voice filled with a hint of sarcasm.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s not like you walked into my room to get attention and stay longer. Nope, not at all.”

He stares at you for a beat, a smirk forming on his lips as he teases you. The playful tone in his voice makes it clear that he's not being serious.

“Do you need my attention that bad, baby?” he asks, still grinning.

You let out a small chuckle and playfully toss the pillow at his face before standing up from the foot of his bed.

"Well, it seems like you're just looking for a way to give me attention, and I'm feeling a little bored," I retort with a sassy smirk on my lips as I reach for the doorknob. "i want coffee, drive me there?" I ask as I swing the door open and begin to step out.

Matt, who had been lying down on the bed, catches the pillow you threw at him and sits up. He looks at you with a playful expression and asks, "Aww, you're bored?"

You nod your head in agreement, feeling a bit restless. Matt gives you a cocky smile and tosses the pillow back at you as he gets up from the bed. He starts walking towards the door and just before he steps out, he turns around and looks at you with a smirk on his lips.

"You know," he says, "I'll go get coffee with you, but I'll need something in return."

As his words hit your ears, you come to an abrupt stop and a swarm of thoughts floods your mind.

Turning slightly to face him, you raise an eyebrow and place a hand on your hip, curious about what he meant by his word choice.

"Something like what?" you ask, hoping for more information to clarify his intentions.

As you stand there, feeling a bit flustered after Matt's comment, he smirks at you, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. You wait, curious to hear what his condition for taking you on might be. Matt takes a moment to pause as if he's building up the suspense.

Then, he says with a playful glint in his eye, "Well, I'm only going to take you on one condition..." You can feel your heart racing as you wait for him to reveal his condition.

Matt gives you a sly smile, almost daring you to guess what it might be. You rack your brain, trying to come up with a guess, but before you can say anything, Matt's voice interrupts your thoughts. "You need to give me a kiss."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Matt's smirk widens, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting to see what you'll do or say next.

Your lips curled into a sly smile as you let out a small laugh, "Oh please."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of power knowing that you had gotten under his skin. you stepped into the dimly lit room and shut the door behind you, the sound of the latch echoing in the silence.

"You want me that bad?" You taunted him, your voice laced with mocking mean humor, as you walked towards him, your shoes clicked on the hardwood floor.

I could see his eyes darting nervously around the room, unsure of how to react to my words. I stopped short of him, my face inches away from his, my eyes narrowing as I took in his expression.

You could feel the palpable tension in the air as you stood there, face-to-face with him. You could almost hear his heart beating like a drum as he tried to maintain a calm and collected demeanor.

He seemed unsure of how to react. You were standing so close to him that you could smell the cologne on his skin. He stood frozen in place, his eyes narrowed as he watched you intently.

His initial smirk had faded, replaced with a slight shade of red on his cheeks. Every detail of this moment was etched in your memory, from the way his hair fell across his forehead to the creases in his shirt as he shifted slightly in place.

You position your body to block his field of vision, observing his muscles flex as he puts his hands on the bed beneath him. With agitated breaths, he leans back, trying to regain composure. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on his skin.

"What's the matter?" you ask, your head tilting to the side mockingly. "Not feeling so brave now, are we?" I let out a laugh, relishing the power I held over him at that moment.

Matt's body language changes as he shifts slightly, trying to get a better look at you. His eyes scan the room, then he catches yours and holds your gaze for a moment. You can see a hint of attraction in his expression as he raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his feelings.

You could almost hear his thoughts as he wondered if you were mocking him and why he didn't move earlier. He swallows audibly, trying to calm himself as his eyes roam over your figure, taking in your curves and features.

The air was thick with tension and each passing moment felt like an eternity. Your heart was racing and you couldn't help but bite down on your lips nervously. You couldn't shake the doubt from your mind - did he like you or was he just playing around? Was he serious about his feelings or were you just another game to him?

As you moved closer to him, your breaths grew shaky and your nerves were on edge. The tension between bothe of you was palpable and you knew that you had to find some way to release it.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and you took in every fine detail of his features. You were mesmerized by his beauty and couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

But the moment was fleeting and you knew that you had to make your move - either now or never. The weight of the decision was heavy on my shoulders, but you were determined to take the chance.

Matt's breaths grew heavier with each passing moment as his eyes betrayed his fear and attraction towards you.

He couldn't help but look you up and down and follow your every move with his gaze. As he leaned in closer, his eyes searched yours, and time seemed to stand still as the two of you were the only ones in the room.

When his lips finally pressed against yours, it was a slow and soft kiss that sent his heart racing and his breaths becoming shallow and fast. Every moment seemed to be amplified.

The moment your lips touched, you felt the tension between you two break. You couldn't help but wonder what you had been thinking before, as everything felt so right at that moment.

The feeling of his lips on yours was nothing short of amazing. They were soft and tasted sweet, and it felt like a perfect fit for both of us. You couldn't resist the urge to pull him closer, and your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, wrapping around his head.

As we leaned in for another kiss, you felt my heart rate quicken. This time it was more passionate, and you savored every moment of it. It was as if you both had been longing for this all along, and finally, the universe had aligned to bring you together.

As you ran your fingers through his hair, Matt shivered with pleasure. He drew you in closer, his hands cradling the back of your head as he tasted the sweetness of your mouth.

His breaths grew ragged and he let out a low groan, his desire for you almost overwhelming. As he slowly pulled away from the kiss, he kept his hands on your body, his half-closed eyes locked on yours. His warm breath washed over your cheeks and he let out a soft moan before speaking “Now is that a good enough reason for me to get your attention?”

As I held him close, I whispered in his ear, "What if I wanted more?" My voice carried a hint of mischief.

You leaned in and slowly traced kisses along his neck, starting at the base of his collarbone. Your heart raced as you wondered how far he could take things.

The anticipation was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the possibilities that lay ahead.

As your lips traced down Matt’s neck, he felt a shiver run through his body. Every time you kissed him, he experienced a tingling sensation on his skin that made him feel like he was in tune with your thoughts. When you whispered seductively in his ear, he could feel your warm breath against his neck. This sent a thrill down his spine and he couldn't help but grin mischievously.

"Is that what you want, huh?" he whispered back to you, his voice full of mischievousness

“I can give you more…”

1788 words!

hope you enjoyed my first serious short, pt2 (out now!)

[haddonfieldwhore]

torn - vince dunn

vince dunn x fem!reader (x platonic! matthew tkachuk)

summary: with seattle on an 8 game losing streak, it’s even more difficult to choose who to cheer for; your boyfriend or your best friend

word count: 4k

warnings: language, a sprinkle of angst, drinking, nsfw themes implied but nothing explicit, mention of cheating

you fiddled absentmindedly with your fingers in your lap as you sat in the audience, paying little attention to the practice skate happening in the rink. your mind was elsewhere, unable to focus on your boyfriend vince dunn and his team as you thought about his instead. matthew tkachuk had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, and while you should have been overjoyed at the fact that you got to see him tonight, the fact that he was on the opposing team did slightly complicate things.

while it was just a game at the end of the day, it wasn’t at the same time. it felt like a double edged sword; while you knew you would be happy with whoever won, that also meant that one of your two favourite people had to lose, and you didn’t want that.

you breathed a sigh of relief that this was their last regular season game against eachother, the panthers and the kraken not meeting up too often. you felt you phone buzz in your pocket and checked it to see a text from matthew.

you looked up at the clock on the wall, which read 10:49am, meaning the kraken were almost done and you wouldn’t miss too much if you snuck out now.

you gathered your stuff, sneaking out without drawing attention to yourself, and not noticing the green eyes of your boyfriend flickering up to notice your empty seat. it was only about 15 minutes before matthew arrived, meeting you outside the cafe by sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. you let out a shriek, earning a few weird looks from people around the room as you turned around.

“you scared me!” you punched matthews chest lightly, before throwing your arms around his neck in a bone crushing hug.

“that was kind of the idea,” he laughed, holding you tight as he laughed. it had been months since you had seen him, and you always missed him like crazy when you were apart.

“you cut your hair!” you commented on his appearance as you finally looked at his face. you had obviously seen him on tv and in pictures since you last saw him in person, but it wasn’t the same as being fave to face. “last time i saw you your curls were crazy,” you smiled, remembering how long his hair had grown out.

“yeah, it’s a lot to fit under the helmet,” he smiled, and finally let go of you.

“also,” you began. “happy belated birthday! i can’t believe we were one day off from getting to spend it together,” you pouted, thinking of his birthday that had been just yesterday.

“thank you. we can celebrate tonight- after the game. i think we’re sticking around in seattle until at least tomorrow morning so we have all night.”

“deal,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

•

after a quick shower, vince towel dried his curly hair and threw on a kraken hoodie and some shorts, taking advantage of the warmer than usual weather despite it being mid december. usually after practice you were waiting for him outside the locker room, but he had a pretty good feeling that you wouldn’t be there to greet him today; the empty hallway confirming his suspicions as he sighed.

“everything okay? she’s never not here.”

vince looked up to nod his head softly at tye kartye, one of his teammates and one of your close friends. “where is she?”

“with tkachuk,” dunn replied, not meaning to sound so bitter. “he’s her best friend; they never get to see eachother,” he recovered, not wanting to give the impression that he was upset about it. he had no issue with you having friends that were on other teams, especially since you had been friends with matthew far longer than you had been dating him.

“sharing trade secrets about our practice?” tye joked innocently, and vince punched his arm.

“you know she wouldn’t. and besides, i don’t think she was really paying attention anyway,” he laughed. he pulled his phone out of his bag, checking to see if you had messaged him, trying not to be too disappointed when he saw no notifications on the screen.

•

you and matthew were walking around seattle, not straying too far from the arena, when your phone went off.

you smiled at the message, and didn’t notice matthew had stopped in front of you until you ran straight into his chest.

“loverboy wondering where you are?” he teased innocently.

“he’s just checking in. their practice just ended.”

“any-“

“don’t even ask. i am sworn to secrecy,” you scolded, with a finger pressed to his lips to quiet him. he smirked, raising his hands in surrender.

“i see how it is. does that mean you’re cheering for him tonight over me?” he asked playfully.

“i’m cheering for both of you. i don’t want either of you lose,” you admitted, and matthew threw an arm around your shoulder.

“i know. and i’m sorry they have to lose but-“

“hey!” you laughed. “don’t be an ass.”

“sorry,” he smiled. “and i promise to try not to hit him too hard in to the boards-“

“hey!” you repeated, but you knew that he was only messing with you.

“okay okay i’m done.”

•

you had gone home to vince’s apartment once matthew had to go to the panthers practice, giving you some time to get ready before the game. you and the birthday-boy would be going out straight after the game, so you had to get a little fancier than you usually did for a game, knowing you wouldn’t have time to do your makeup or anything.

putting on an outfit appropriate for clubbing and doing your hair and makeup took a little longer than usual, and soon it was time to head down to the arena with vince. he walked out of your shared bedroom dressed in his suit for the evening, a dark purple colour with a subtle blue plaid pattern. no matter how many times you saw him get dressed up, it still made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“you really do look great in a suit,” you smiled, smoothing out his blue tie and brushing that one curl that never seemed to stay put off his forehead. he leaned down to kiss your lips softly.

“you look amazing. although i have a weird feeling this isn’t all for me..” he said hesitantly, his hands landing softly on your waist.

“i mean of course it’s for you,” you paused, kissing the side of his neck softly. “but i do have plans after the game with matthew,” you admitted, feeling guilty even though you knew he wouldn’t mind.

“i had a feeling,” vince laughed, but kissed your forehead. “you are still cheering for us during the game though, right?” he smiled.

“yes, but he’s gonna be a bummer to hang out with if they lose, so think of me if that happens,” you laughed as he kissed you again, before grabbing your bag for you and getting the door. you weren’t sure how it was time to go already, but you were only getting more nervous standing around waiting, so you were happy to get going, following close behind vince as he left the apartment.

•

you and vince arrived at the arena, but split off since he had a few things to do before the game; usual player stuff. you were in the back when the panthers arrived, and while most of them didn’t pay you any mind, a certain player with golden curls sent you a wink as he walked by and into the visitors locker room. you decided that while yes, you were hoping that seattle won the game (florida could afford the loss more than the kraken could right now), you would still be an encouraging friend, texting matthew a quick ‘good luck 🥰’.

you put your phone away, and took a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves. you and a few of the other players girlfriends went to your seats, and you tapped your fingers on your knee, drowning out the conversation going on around you. a hand in your shoulder snapped you out of your trance, and you turned to look at valerie, who was engaged to jared, one of the forwards for seattle.

“you okay?” she asked, and you smiled.

“yeah - just a little nervous if i’m being honest.”

“what’s going on?”

“my best friend plays for florida, so i’m just a little upset that one of the teams had to lose,” you laughed, and val giggled.

“aww. it’s okay honey. that’s the game; someone wins and someone loses - and i’m sure both vince and your friend know that.”

“you’re right,” you sighed, her words making you feel better. “thanks val.”

“no problem. are you and vince going out after the game? you’re all fancy today.”

“no, actually i have plans with matthew - my friend.”

“tkachuk?”

“yeah.”

“so you have a bit of a type, huh? tall, curly hair, a little dangerous…” she teased.

“shush.”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” she bumped her shoulder against yours softly. “i won’t tell anyone if you secretly cheer for florida,” she whispered in your ear.

“i still want us to win,” you took a sip from your drink. “i just don’t want the other team to lose.” you both laughed at the redundant statement, and the players came out into the ice to skate around before the game began.

“what’s tkachuk’s number again? i want to keep an eye on him for you,” val asked.

“19,” you smiled. “i’m sure he’ll make his presence known.” as if on queue, you saw matt in the starting lineup out on the ice, and he nodded his head towards you, and you smiled.

“yeah, you definitely have a type.”

•

the first period went by without too much excitement, besides vince getting a penalty for a high stick. while you would never admit it to him, you always thought he looked hot sitting in the penalty box. florida got a few more power plays in the second period, but yamamoto was still able to score the only goal so far, giving seattle a 1-0 lead. you noticed vince and matt give eachother a couple shoves as play was whistles down for a save from seattles goalie, daccord.

bellemare scored the second goal for seattle, giving us an even bigger lead, and while i was happy for the kraken, my mood fell as my eyes landed on matty. he was sitting on the panthers bench, chewing on his mouthguard instead of wearing it properly, as always. on his next shift he got a good shot, but it was deflected, and the start of a fight broke out between vince and one of the other panthers, but it was quickly broken up.

wennberg intercepted a pass and got a breakaway to score seattles third goal, and your gaze went to the florida bench again. as your eyes found matthew, you realized he was already looking at you. you mouthed a sincere “i’m sorry” at your best friend, and you knew he understood it when he tilted his head sideways with a shrug; but you could tell he was frustrated.

florida pulled their goalie with five minutes left in the game, and tolvanen scored an empty netter to secure the victory early. the girls were cheering next to you and you smiled as they announced that vince got an assist on the goal, adding to his already impressive tally of points on the season so far. the time dwindled down to nothing, confirming the win for seattle and in turn earning daccord his first nhl shutout.

the fans cheered as the kraken skated around celebrating, and the panthers headed back to the locker room.

•

you were leaning up against the wall talking with some of the teams girlfriends when you felt arms wrap around your midsection from behind, and a soft kiss being placed on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. you giggled as vince’s stubble tickled your skin, and you turned around and kissed him on the lips.

“hey,” you smiled, admiring the sparkle that always appeared in his eyes when the kraken won.

“hey yourself,” he smiled, kissing you again, before his eyes traveled up and down your body, taking in every inch of your outfit. “you’re sure you’re not gonna hang with us? we’re going to kartye’s place, it’s gonna be a good time….” he trailed off, his fingers drumming softly against your hips.

“i’m sad i’m missing it, but i promised matthew; it was his birthday yesterday and i haven’t seen him in forever,” you pouted, and vince nodded.

“i get it, don’t worry. i just thought i’d ask.”

“you could come with us?” you offered, and he smiled, but shook his head.

“i don’t wanna third wheel,” he teased. “go have fun. i get you all the time, he can have you for one night.”

i raised an eyebrow, and vince seemed to realize the error in his wording.

“not like that,” he scolded, a light blush on his face, and you laughed.

“i’m kidding. you’re the only one who gets me in that way.”

“good,” vince said, his confidence returning as he kissed you deeply, before the rest of the team started exiting the locker room.

“hey, you coming out with us?” yamamoto asked, and you shook your head, but vince answered for you.

“she’s got a date with the enemy,” he replied, and you shot him a glare for throwing you under the bus, but knew the team wouldn’t care. they hazed you for a minute, but you laughed it off before they stole vince from you, him calling out for you to text him if anything happened. you waved to the guys and said goodnight to the girls before heading towards the visitors locker room to find matthew.

the panthers were still inside when you got there, so you sat on a bench in the hallway while you waited. about 10 minutes went by before anyone exited the room, and finally a defeated looking tkachuk walked out of the door. he perked up slightly when he saw you, and you stood up, gasping slightly as he lifted you up in the air. to not fall, you wrapped you arms and legs around him like a koala bear, laughing as he spun around.

“stop you’re gonna drop me!”

“i would never,” he replied, but set you down on your feet anyway. “you ready to go?” he asked, and you looked at the white button up shirt he had on with some dark jeans. his hair was still slightly damp from his post-game shower, and he smelled like his usual cologne.

“yeah, what the plan?”

“there’s gotta be a club around here somewhere right?” he asked, and you nodded, remembering the handful of times you had gone out with the team to celebrate after a game.

“yeah, i know a place.”

“well what are we waiting for?” he smiled.

•

a few hours and many drinks later, you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor by matthew, some throwback hip hop song blaring through the speakers of the club. his hands were on your hips as you danced to the music, your back to his chest as your bodies got closer together. the club lighting was low except for the flashing stove lights, casting different colours across the people in the room.

“what are you thinking about?” matthew asked, his breath fanning across your ear as he leaned closer so you could hear him over the music, and you realized you must have zoned out.

“i’m sorry you guys lost the game.”

he laughed, using his grip on your waist to turn you to face him, his hands never leaving your body.

“it’s fine,” he shook his head, but his eyes didn’t meet yours, so you could tell he wasn’t too happy about it.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have brought it up. kinda ruined the mood.” his gaze found yours now, the bright blue of his eyes slightly hazy from the alcohol.

“and what mood was that?” he smirked.

“we’re celebrating your birthday, matty,” you smiled, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face against his collarbone. you felt another laugh rumble in his chest, as his arms encircled you, and you breathed in the way he smelled; expensive. you looked up at him, and found him already looking at you, his eyes half closed, either from intoxication or tiredness. without thinking, you placed a soft peck on his lips, and then both of your froze. his eyes were wide now, and you stuttered incoherently.

“i didn’t mean to do that,” you finally said.

“you didn’t?”

“no,” you confirmed.

“okay,” he laughed, and you hit his bicep softly.

“it’s not funny matty, i fucked up,” you said seriously, and he cleared his throat.

“okay, just breathe,” he said as you began to panic. “let’s get some fresh air okay?” he led you outside, the cool december air helping to sober you up quickly. there was no one stood outside the club except a couple people smoking a little ways down the sidewalk. you leaned against the side of the building as you continued to freak out. you had to tell vince- and now, before some paparazzi posted a photo of it and he found out some other way.

you pulled out your phone, and matthews eyes widened again as his hand gently wrapped around yours.

“what are you doing?”

“i have to tell him,” you mumbled.

“tell who what-“

“tell my boyfriend that i just cheated on him, matthew. oh god-“ you cried, tears welling in your eyes.

“are you sure you should call him right now? you’re hyperventilating.”

“he needs to know. and he needs to hear from me first before he finds out from someone else,” you insisted, somehow managing to calm for breathing down, though your heart remained pounding against your ribcage.

“okay. you’re right,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not like it meant anything, right? it was a stupid drunken kiss.”

“yes. i love you, but not like that, dude.” you both laughed, and you were glad to be on the same page about it. matty would always be your best friend, and there had never been anything romantic between the two of you.

“agreed,��� he smiled. “i’ll give you some privacy, but i’m not leaving you out here alone. i’ll be over there if you need me,” he said, and walked down the side of the building, keeping you in his line of sight under safe watch. you took a shaky breath, and scrolled through your phone to vince’s contact, and pressed the call button.

“hello?” he answered, and you could hear loud music in the background.

“vince - it’s me. can you hear me?” you replied, and you heard the sound of a door and the music getting quieter, like he had gone into another room.

“hey, babe. yeah i can hear you now. is everything okay?” he asked, a concerned tone in his voice.

“yes - well no- but yes, i’m fine. i need to tell you something.”

“what is it?” he asked.

“i accidentally kissed matthew,” you admitted, closing your eyes like it would stop you from hearing his reaction. “we got really drunk and it just happened and it was one tiny little kiss and i’m so sorry,” you blabbered, before listening to a long painful silence on the other side of the phone.

“it didn’t mean anything? it was just a mistake?” he asked calmly, and you were a little shocked. you hadn’t exactly expected him to yell at you, but you thought he would at least sound… angrier.

“god no - of course it didn’t. i love you so much and i’m so sorry.”

“does he know it didn’t mean anything?” he asked, the expected anger a little more present in his voice this time.

“yes, vince. we’re just friends; i promise,” you insisted, and you heard him sigh on the other end.

“okay. i mean i’m not happy about it but if it didn’t mean anything i i’ll get over it. i’ll kiss one of the guys and we’ll call it even, okay?” he teased, and you laughed, slightly in relief but also in disbelief.

“have you been drinking?” you teased, and he gave a genuine laugh.

“maybe a little. but seriously - if it was just an accident i forgive you. are you guys staying out for a bit? do you need me to call you a cab or anything?” he asked, and you smiled at how much of a sweetheart he was.

“i think we’ve both had enough partying for one night. i’ll get a cab home, okay? are you and guys staying out much longer?” you replied.

“okay, text me when you’ve made it home. i think we’re almost calling it a night, so i’ll be there soon.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you too.” he said, and the call ended. matthew saw you put your phone away, and walked back over to you.

“is he coming here to kill me?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, wondering how he could joke at a time like this.

“no - i have the best boyfriend in the world and he said everything is fine since it was just a drunken mistake.” speaking of vince your phone went off in your hand and you looked at the screen to see a text with a picture of larsson and yamamoto kissing him on either cheek, a big goofy smile on his face. below it was a text that just said “now we’re even 🩵” and you shook your head, smiling as you showed matt.

“i don’t know him too well but he seems like a good guy.”

“he is,” you smiled. “i’m gonna call it a night, and you probably should to, considering i’m sure you guys have to be in the road pretty early tomorrow.”

“yeah you’re right,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “i’ll see you during the holiday break, right?” he asked. the teams always got a few days off at christmas and you usually spent at least one of them together. that meant it would o it be a few weeks before you got to see each other again.

“of course,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, suddenly sad to be saying goodbye so soon.

“okay,” he smiled, returning the hug as your cab pulled up. “tell dunn i’m sorry. and congrats on the win.”

“i will. text me in the morning?” he nodded in response, and pulled out his phone to call a cab of his own. you sighed as the car pulled away, and you shut your eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.

•

you were home long enough to shower and get into your pyjamas, which was just one of vince’s t-shirts and some shorts, before you heard his keys in the door. you ran over to him and he wrapped you in his arms immediately, his familiar scent filling your nose as you buried your face in his chest.

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“i know. i forgive you,” he laughed softly. “i am a little sad i don’t get to take that outfit off you, but i might like this one even more.”

you smiled, placing soft kisses up his neck until your lips connected. he walked you backwards to the bedroom and let your fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. once he was down to his boxers, you both crawled into bed, your head on his chest as his fingers traced little patterns on your thigh.

“i love you,” you mumbled, very sleepy after a long day.

“i love you too.”

“i love you more than anyone else on earth,” you clarified, and it was the truth. vince smiled, though you couldn’t see it, and kissed the top of your head.

“i know. goodnight baby,” he said softly, and you were out before you could say anything back. while he wasn’t exactly happy about what had happened, he felt better knowing that at the end of the day, it was his arms that you were falling asleep in.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[mint-yooxgi]

Permanent - Wooyoung X Reader

Tattoo Artist!Au - Part of the CODN Spring Event - The Language of Flowers

Genre: Fluff, Non-idol!AU

Pairing: Wooyoung X GN!Reader

Words: 1,408

Rating: E for Everyone :)

Warnings: Mention of needles, tattoos, unconventional proposals.

A/n: Something short and sweet! I just thought the idea of Wooyo as a tattoo artist was really nice to think about lol As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Expect the unexpected, especially when it comes to your boyfriend.

Bluebell - Grateful

Lavender - Faithful

Lily of the Valley - Sweet

The soft buzzing of the needle fills the air, your hand tightening lightly over the tattoo gun. Wooyoung’s skin is soft and pliant beneath your touch, a soft sigh exhaled through his nose as the needle touches the side of his ribs.

“You okay?” You hum, sparing a glance upwards to his face.

He smiles back, his one arm tucked neatly beneath his head as he watches you. “Never better.”

“This was your idea, you know.” You reply, wiping over the artwork blooming over his skin. A matching print which already rests over the side of your own ribs, curtesy of the man currently laying on the chair before you.

“Do you regret it?” He tilts his head slightly, blinking at you curiously.

You take a moment to finish outlining the final bud before lifting your gaze to his. Nothing but sincerity can be found within your eyes as you smile softly at your boyfriend. “I could never regret you.”

His lips pull upwards bashfully, a giddy giggle escaping his lips.

“I love you,” He coos, reaching out with his free hand to brush his fingertips over the side of your cheek.

You turn your head, pretending to nip at his fingers.

“I love you, too,” you chuckle as he whines, watching as he pulls his hand away from your face. “Now, stop distracting me. I don’t want to mess this up.”

All you receive in response is a hum, another comfortable silence falling around the both of you. You work meticulously on the design, making sure the colours are blended thoroughly into his skin. It has to be perfect, especially if you want it to match your own.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to this.” Wooyoung’s voice is soft, his gaze shining in adoration at he watches you work over his body.

“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest it sooner.” The corner of your lips twitch upwards, wiping the excess ink from his skin once more.

Despite being a tattoo artist, Wooyoung isn’t covered in tattoos. It takes a lot for him to decide to permanently ink his skin; it has to be of great importance to him, and he needs to know that he wants it. He already has a few, sure, but each holds a very specific meaning to him. Just like you.

The moment he suggested the both of you give each other matching tattoos, you went wild. Thoughts of what you could give him, and of what he could give you swirled within your mind until finally, you settled on something meaningful for the both of you. It’s his design that rests on your skin, and your design that rests on his own, drawn in each of your own art styles to make it all the more special. Two of the same, but still unique in their own ways.

The design itself is simple: three individual sprigs of flowers which symbolize you, him, and your relationship. 

On one stem, bluebells reside, handpicked by you to represent what he means to you. You’ve always been grateful to have him in your life, and now you can always show him without having to tell him. 

The centre stem is a sprig of lavender, meant to symbolize the both of you in the relationship. It took some discussion between you both, but neither of you are anything less than faithful to the other, and this flower represents that. It will always represent that.

Finally, you get to the final flower that was personally picked by him to represent you. The lily of the valley is bright upon his skin, and you notice him smiling down at you as you stare at it a bit longer than the others. You can still recall the very words he said to you when he showed you the flower he had chosen.

Because you are the sweetest thing that has ever come into my life, and stayed.

Thinking back on it now, your heart warms.

Tying the three stems together with a neat little bow is a thin red string. You’re still unsure who came up with that idea, whether it was him or you, but you know as soon as it was suggested, it was a given. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to guarantee keeping him in your life, just as there is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you. You both work well together, and have grown significantly since meeting all those long months ago in the spring.

How fitting to have such delicate flowers be the symbol of your love.

With another swipe over his skin, you pull the needle away. A flick, and the buzzing stops, taking a moment to admire your work. Though, in reality, you’re simply admiring him.

“Done?” He asks eagerly, attempting to look down at the design on the side of his ribs.

You hum, lips tugging upwards in a satisfied smile. “Done.”

Wooyoung grins, sitting up eagerly in his spot only to hop off of the chair and waddle excitedly over to the full length mirror you have resting at the side of your shop. His eyes flit over his side, admiring the new tattoo as he shifts back and forth lightly on his feet.

He lifts his gaze to yours in the mirror. “It’s beautiful.”

Gently, you place your tattoo gun to the side, reaching to grab the materials you’ll need to wrap it properly before you can truly say you’re finished for the evening.

“You’re beautiful, Wooyoung,” you respond casually, your expression soft as you watch him continue to admire the new tattoo.

He turns to you, a serious expression suddenly painted on his features. “Marry me.”

The words are so unexpected, you nearly drop the bottle in your hand.

You look up, blinking at him in shock. “What?”

Wooyoung begins to walk back over to you, each step firm and determined.

“Marry me.” His gaze is just as intense as the first time he says those words, coming over to kneel before you. Gently, he takes your hands into his own, holding them softly as he stares into your eyes. “You’re the only one for me, and I love you. I only ever want you. So, marry me.”

Your breath catches lightly in your throat, blinking down at him a few times as you study his features. You can see how his eyes shine with nothing but love and adoration for you, his throat working slightly as he waits with bated breath for your response.

Your lips part. “Okay.”

Now, it’s his turn to blink in shock at you. That is, until a brilliant smile is lighting up his features. “Really?”

“Really.” A low chuckle escape you, and you lean forward to place a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. “Now, get back up here so I can wrap you properly.”

A devious grin tugs at his lips as he stands back to his feet, moving to sit back on the chair. His eyebrows wiggle suggestively, hands gripping the sides of the seat as he leans towards you.

“Want to get a head start on practising our vows?”

You smack his arm lightly. “Wooyoung!”

“What?” He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he positively beams. “I’m just enjoying the perks of marriage early!”

You shake your head, beginning to treat the freshly inked tattoo on his side.

A loud gasp escapes him, causing you to nearly stumble out of your stool.

“Does this mean I finally get to call you wifey?”

You can practically see him trembling in excitement as you huff out a breath in amusement. “You already call me that.”

“Yeah, but context!” He beams, wiggling his eyebrows once more. “Oh! I wonder if Hwa will be your maid of honour.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” You snicker, knowing damn well Wooyoung is going to be smacked for so much as inquiring such a thing.

“And then we have to decide on a cake, and flowers-“ His excited ramblings fill the space, only causing a loving smile to pull at your features. 

Once you’re done wrapping his tattoo, you look up at him, heart swelling with warmth at how excited he seems to be. Your eyes settle on the side of his ribs. You have a feeling you know exactly which flowers are going to be used, and if you’re being honest with yourself…

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

[atlasthegreatest]

Into the Wild / Laura Kinney x Sibling! Male Reader

Laura rescues her brother from a lab, and they escape to a secluded cabin. There, she teaches him how to survive in the wild while helping him adjust to freedom. Despite their shared feral instincts and trauma, they form a protective, unspoken bond, relying on each other to navigate their new lives.

Word count: 3042

A/n: This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it!

The cold, sterile air of the lab stung his lungs as he fought to keep his eyes open. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly green hue over the metal walls and the glass cage he’d spent his life in. He was barely more than a shadow in the reflections — gaunt, hollow, and forgotten. For as long as he could remember, there had been nothing but the sound of machines and the sharp voices of scientists who saw him as nothing more than an experiment.

Until tonight.

The first sign of her arrival was the sudden silence — the calm before the storm. Then, a deafening crash shattered the air, followed by panicked shouts and the clatter of gunfire. The alarms blared, but he stayed still, eyes fixed on the locked door in front of him, heart racing in his chest.

Then, she appeared.

Laura.

Her hair was a wild tangle, and her eyes glowed with a feral intensity that matched mine. But beyond that, there was something familiar — a shared rage, a shared pain. She stepped through the door like a force of nature, her twin claws still extended, gleaming in the dim light. Her expression softened the moment she saw him, though, and for a brief second, they were just two lost souls, two siblings reunited after being torn apart by the cruel world they were born into.

“Come on,” she said, her voice rough but urgent, cutting through the chaos outside. “We’re getting out of here.”

Y/n didn’t need to be told twice. The moment the glass of his enclosure shattered under her claws, He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward her. The rush of adrenaline drowned out the pain in his limbs and the questions in his head. They moved quickly, a blur of motion as Laura cleared a path through guards and scientists alike.

She was lethal, unhesitant, her claws slicing through anyone who dared to stand in their way. But when she glanced back at him, there was something else in her eyes — a quiet determination to protect him at all costs. And that was all he needed. Y/n followed her blindly, trusting her instinct, trusting her to lead both of them to safety.

The last door to the outside world fell before her claws, and suddenly, they were free.

The crisp night air hit his face like a slap, and the overwhelming smell of pine, earth, and rain filled his senses. For a moment, Y/n just stood there, taking it all in, while Laura kept watch. The forest loomed around them, dark and endless. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Laura’s hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him.“Breathe,” she said quietly. “You’re safe now.”

The days that followed were a blur of survival and adjustment. Laura had taken him to a small, hidden cabin deep in the wilderness, far from prying eyes and the lab that had once been his prison. She taught him how to live, and how to survive in the world beyond the sterile walls of the facility.

It wasn’t easy.

Everything was strange to him— the softness of the bed, the warmth of food cooked over a fire, the quiet of the forest. Even the light felt too bright, the sounds too loud. Every part of him was on edge, feral instincts he didn’t know how to control threatening to take over at every turn.

But Laura understood.

She didn’t coddle him, but she didn’t push him too hard either. When Y/n had nightmares — flashes of needles, cold metal, and the weight of my shackles — she sat by his side, her hand resting lightly on his arm, silent but present. When he lashed out, overwhelmed by frustration or fear, she let him have his space but always stayed close enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.

Slowly, Y/n began to find his footing. They would hunt together in the mornings, Laura moving silently through the trees like a predator, teaching him how to track, and how to use his senses in ways he hadn’t before. They ate their meals in companionable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with every passing day. They didn’t need many words; they had an understanding that went beyond language, born from shared pain and blood.

One night, after a long day of hunting, they sat by the fire in front of the cabin. The glow of the flames flickered over Laura’s face, casting her features in shadow. She looked more relaxed than Y/n had ever seen her, her legs stretched out in front of her, her claws retracted.

“You’re doing good,” she said quietly, her voice low. “Better than I did when I got out.”

Y/n looked over at her, surprised. Laura didn’t often talk about herself, about her own escape from the lab and the hell she’d endured. But tonight, there was something softer in her tone, something vulnerable.

“I didn’t have anyone,” she continued, her eyes focused on the fire. “Not at first. I didn’t know how to be… normal. Still don’t, really.”

Y/n nodded, understanding more than I could put into words.

“Thank you,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the first time he had said it, the first time he had let himself feel gratitude for the sister who had risked everything to save him.

Laura looked over at him, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t mention it. We look out for each other.”

And in that moment, sitting by the fire, the sounds of the forest surrounding us, Y/n knew she was right. They were feral, wild, and broken — but they had each other. And that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

—————————-

The morning after their first real conversation, Y/n woke to the sound of birds chirping outside the cabin, a sound he still wasn’t used to. The sun filtered in through the small window, casting streaks of light across the rough wooden floor. For a moment, Y/n lay there in the bed, trying to remember a time when he wasn’t trapped inside a cage.

But nothing came to him. Just flashes of white walls, needles, and voices speaking in cold, clinical tones.

Y/n pushed the thoughts away, threw off the blankets, and stretched. His muscles still ached from the constant tension of trying to adjust to freedom, but it was getting better. Slowly.

Laura was already outside, sharpening her claws on a nearby tree. Y/n stepped out into the crisp morning air, barefoot and still a bit clumsy with the feeling of earth beneath his feet. She glanced over at him as he approached, then nodded toward a small clearing not far from the cabin.

“Come on,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “We’re sparring today.”

Y/n frowned. “Sparring?”

“You’ve got to learn how to defend yourself. The world out there isn’t kind. It’s going to come for you eventually, and when it does, you need to be ready.”

Y/n didn’t argue. Laura was always right about things like this. She had lived through it. She had seen the world for what it was, while he had been locked away, waiting to be someone else’s weapon.

They moved to the clearing, and she turned to face him, hands on her hips.

“First things first,” she said. “You’ve got instincts, but you need control. You’ve spent too long chained up — your body’s probably forgotten how to fight like it’s free.”

She circled him, her sharp eyes watching every twitch, every movement as if she was already dissecting how he moved.

“Don’t overthink it,” she said, her voice low. “We’ve got the same blood in us. You’ll figure it out.”

Y/n nodded, taking a deep breath, and let his claws extend. The familiar snikt sound rang in the air, and he clenched his fists, feeling the sharpness of the metal glinting in the sunlight.

Laura didn’t hesitate. She lunged at him, fast and precise, her claws flashing. Y/n barely managed to duck in time, rolling to the side as she landed where he had been just a second before.

“Too slow,” she muttered, turning on her heel to come at him again.

They danced like that for hours, her relentless attacks forcing him to move, react, and think on his feet. Y/n’s muscles burned, and his head pounded, but there was something exhilarating about the way they moved together. She pushed him to his limits, and just when he thought he couldn’t keep up, some primal instinct would kick in. Y/n would dodge or parry, matching her with a feral grace he hadn’t known he had.

After what felt like an eternity, Laura finally stepped back, retracting her claws with a satisfied nod.

“Not bad,” she said, her breathing steady, as if the entire session had barely winded her. “You’re learning.”

Y/n collapsed onto the ground, panting, feeling the soreness spreading through his limbs. “You’re insane,” He muttered between breaths.

She let out a short, rare laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

Days turned into weeks, and life with Laura became a new rhythm Y/n was slowly starting to understand. Sparring sessions, hunting trips, quiet nights by the fire — it was a strange, almost peaceful existence, but there was always an undercurrent of danger. The world hadn’t forgotten about them, and now and then, Laura would disappear into the nearby town for supplies or news, always returning with a grim expression.

“They’re still looking for us,” she’d say, tossing a few cans of food onto the table before retreating to sharpen her claws.

But even with the threat of being hunted down, they found moments of calm. Moments where they could be siblings.

One evening, after a particularly brutal sparring session that left both of them with cuts and bruises, they sat by the fire again, their usual spot after a long day. Laura had a small first-aid kit spread out in front of her, and she was carefully wrapping gauze around Y/n’s arm where one of her claws had caught him during the fight.

“You know,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, “when I found out about you, I didn’t know if I was ready for this. For… a brother.”

Y/n glanced at her, surprised. She rarely talked about how she felt.

“But then I realized…” She tightened the bandage, then leaned back, looking at him with something softer in her eyes. “You’re all I’ve got. And I’m not letting them take you like they tried to take me.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say to that. He had always thought of himself as a burden, as something that had only caused her more pain by existing. But now, hearing her say it like that, he realized just how much she cared.

“You didn’t have to save me,” He said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you did. Why?”

She met his eyes, her gaze steady and unflinching. “Because we’re family. And family doesn’t leave each other behind.”

There was a long silence between them after that, the crackling of the fire the only sound filling the space. But in that silence, there was an understanding, a bond stronger than the claws they both carried. They were survivors, both of them and now they had each other.

“I’m glad you found me,” Y/n said eventually, the weight of those words settling between them like a promise.

Laura didn’t respond right away, but a small smile tugged at her lips, the kind that came and went so fast you’d almost miss it if you weren’t paying attention.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Me too.”

For a moment, we just sat there, two feral siblings in the wild, no longer alone.

Bonus chapter:

The day had been relatively quiet, a rarity in their new life. No sparring, no hunting, no trips to town for supplies. Just a calm afternoon spent lounging outside the cabin, the sun casting a warm glow over the forest. But as the light began to fade and the evening chill settled in, Laura stood from her spot on the porch, stretching with a purpose Y/n had come to recognize.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, glancing at him. “Your hair’s getting out of control.”

Y/n ran a hand through the mess on top of his head, feeling the tangle of unruly strands. It was true — he hadn’t had a proper haircut since she busted him out of the lab. The thick, dark hair had grown wild, much like everything else about him since he’d tasted freedom.

“I guess it’s a little long,” Y/n admitted.

“A little?” Laura scoffed. She nodded toward the cabin door. “Come on. I’ll take care of it.”

Y/n blinked, hesitating. “You know how to cut hair?”

She shrugged, already heading inside to grab something. “How hard can it be?”

Y/n had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

A few minutes later, Y/n sat on a wooden stool just outside the cabin, a towel draped over his shoulders. Laura stood behind him, a pair of scissors in hand, looking down at his hair with the focus she usually reserved for fighting or hunting. Y/n wasn’t entirely sure whether he should feel reassured or nervous.

“Hold still,” she said, gripping a section of his hair and pulling it taut. “This won’t take long.”

The first snip echoed through the quiet of the forest, and Y/n immediately tensed.

“Relax,” she muttered, moving on to another section, her fingers working quickly and methodically. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

Y/n tried to relax, but the sensation of the scissors slicing through his hair had him on edge. It wasn’t like fighting or surviving out in the wild. This was different. Intimate, almost. The only other time he had felt something similar was when they tended to each other’s wounds after a sparring match or an especially rough day.

Laura worked in silence for a while, cutting away the matted, tangled locks. Her movements were quick and precise, though Y/n had to admit she was a little rough around the edges. He could feel her tugging at knots, pulling harder than necessary, but he didn’t say anything. She was trying, and that was what mattered.

“You know,” she said after a long stretch of silence, “I never did this for myself. Didn’t have anyone to do it for me, either.”

Y/n could hear the faintest trace of vulnerability in her voice, the kind she didn’t let show often. He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You mean… before?”

“Yeah,” she replied, not meeting his gaze as she continued cutting. “After I escaped, I didn’t have time for stuff like this. I didn’t trust anyone to get that close, either. It’s a weird feeling, you know? Letting someone do this.”

Y/n nodded, understanding what she meant more than he could express. After spending so long in the lab, having someone touch him for anything other than needles and tests was strange. But Laura was different. She wasn’t a threat. She was his sister.

“I trust you,” Y/n said quietly.

She paused for a moment, her hand stilling in his hair. Then she resumed, a little more gently this time. “Yeah. I trust you too.”

—————

About halfway through, Y/n could feel Laura’s patience wearing thin. She started muttering under her breath every time the scissors snagged on a knot or when a particularly stubborn piece of hair wouldn’t cooperate.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled, stepping around to the front to get a better angle. “How did you let it get this bad?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Y/n said, trying not to flinch as she tugged at a particularly stubborn section. “I was a little busy being locked in a cage.”

Laura huffed, a rare laugh escaping her. “Fair point.”

She leaned in closer, her brow furrowed in concentration, and Y/n could see the faintest hint of frustration in her eyes. Despite her usual confidence in most situations, this was new territory for her — and, he realized, for them.

“You know,” Y/n said, trying to distract her, “you’re not half-bad at this.”

“Shut up,” she said, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

The next few snips were quieter, and less aggressive, as she found her rhythm. They fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sounds the snipping of the scissors and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. It was a strange feeling — to be vulnerable like this, to have someone care enough to help with something as simple as a haircut. But with Laura, it felt… normal. Like it was supposed to be this way.

After what felt like an eternity, she stepped back, tilting her head to the side as she assessed her work.

“There,” she said, sounding almost satisfied. “Done.”

Y/n reached up, running a hand through his newly shorn hair. It was shorter, cleaner, but still had that wild, messy look to it — fitting, he suppose, for someone like him.

“Well?” she asked, arms crossed, waiting for his verdict.

Y/n turned to face her, grinning. “Not bad. I think you missed your calling as a hairstylist.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re lucky it didn’t end up worse.”

He chuckled, standing up from the stool and shaking off the stray bits of hair that had fallen onto the towel. “Thanks, Laura. Really.”

She shrugged, looking away, but Y/n could see the faintest flush of warmth in her expression. “Don’t get used to it,” she muttered. “Next time, you’re on your own.”

But despite her usual gruffness, he could tell she didn’t mind. Not really.

As they headed back inside the cabin, side by side, Y/n felt something settle between them— a sense of normalcy, or at least the closest thing to it that they could ever have. They were still feral, still fighting to survive in a world that wanted to break them, but at least they had each other.

And, apparently, a decent haircut to go with it.

A/n: I wrote this while listening to If We Had Each Other by Alec Benjamin. Great song.