#do you get me. do you get [gestures vaguely]

[ylangelegy]

the way of the work husband 📋 chan x reader.

going back to work after the holidays sucks, but at least you've got your 'work husband' lee chan to get you through it.

★ office worker!chan x f!reader. ★ word count: 1.8k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: office, alternate universe: co-workers, fluff/romance. vernon is a menace (affectionately). not proofread. ★ footnotes: been itching to write chan lately and this was the result. dedicating this to my favorite corporate girlie!dinonara @chanranghaeys, who i have been threatening a chan fic with for a little over a week now ෆ sana all may lee chan sa office. 😔 + a special shoutout to @diamonddaze01 for educating me on the how work spouses operate. 🙏

“Is Lee Chan, like, your work husband or something?” 

The look on Vernon’s face is perfectly innocent, but his arched eyebrow gives some indication of just how amused he is. You shoot him a scathing glare before turning back to your work-sanctioned laptop. 

You don’t answer Vernon’s question. Not at first, anyway. Instead, you opt to wryly ask, “Why do you always have to use his full government name whenever you’re talking about him?” 

“Eh. Just ‘Chan’ is too short,” Vernon responds noncommittally. He should be focusing on the grant that he has to write, but he seems intent on quizzing you on your relationship with the company’s newest program assistant. 

Vernon leans a little further into his computer chair. He’s always been a pretty amicable seatmate; he just liked to poke the bear every so often. 

“So?” he prompts. “Are you and Lee Chan… you know.” 

When Vernon makes a vague, crude gesture with his hands, you groan out loud. “Don’t make it weird,” you snap. “And no. Chan and I are just friends, asswipe.”

“But you guys display peak work spouse behavior.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be grant writing?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

Vernon’s rebuttal has you glancing at the digital clock on your desk. Shit. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say as you grab your wallet and get to your feet. You hate to admit it, but Vernon is right. You’ve started dedicating your fifteen-minute afternoon breaks to cafeteria trips with Chan. 

All in the name of friendship, you insist.

“‘Course it doesn’t,” Vernon sing-songs. Just when you think he’s done, he throws in a final jab. 

“I’ll have an itemized list of my observations,” he calls after your retreating back. “Just you wait!” 

You don’t turn around to dignify Vernon’s taunt with a response. Instead, you flip him off over your shoulder as you contemplate what coffee to get with Chan today.

Rarely are you late to work. Some mornings are just harrowing, littered with minor inconveniences like your alarm not going off or the bus making one too many stops. 

When you finally make it to the office, you can already imagine the CEO’s backhand comment about punctuality. Something like ‘early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,’ probably. 

That’s why you feel an immense pang of relief when you notice a vacant seat near the back of the room, one that you undoubtedly know is yours. 

You make your way to the chair as discreetly as you can. The bag atop it is taken off the moment that you arrive, and you flash an appreciative grin at the one who made it possible. 

Chan— who is already shifting his bag onto his lap— gives you an exaggerated wink in return. 

You mouth a wordless ‘thank you’ at him. He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

The meeting grabs your attention soon enough, but not before you notice Vernon inconspicuously typing something into his phone. 

☑ You always sit next to each other at meetings

“Who’re you texting?” 

“Hm?” 

“Hellooo! Pay attention to me!” 

There’s a guilty expression on your face as you finally glance up at Seungkwan. “Sorry,” you say meekly. “What were you asking?” 

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. 

Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

“Yah,” you begin to protest, ready to justify the way you’ve only been half-present throughout your entire lunch break. 

Your attempt falls flat when your phone pings, and the screen lights up. 

One (1) new text from Channie. 🦖LOLOL I have the perfect reel for this!! Wait a minute~~ 💖💙

Seungkwan scoffs. Vernon snickers. 

Your eye twitches, and you shoot back a text underneath the table in a bid to avoid your friends’ teasing. 

☑ You message each other all day long

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that. 

Despite the fact that there’s a whole brainstorming session going on— preparation for the company’s next fundraising event— the two of you can’t help your silent communication. 

Especially when Soonyoung starts running his mouth about the fundraiser potentially being tiger-themed. 

One glance is all it takes. Chan’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and you know he’s also trying his darndest not to laugh. It’s a mammoth effort to hold back yourself, but you manage— not wanting to suffer from your eccentric boss’ line of questioning. 

It’s all free game once the session ends, though. 

You make a beeline for Chan. He takes one look at your quirked lip before jerking his head towards the door, urging the two of you to have this discussion somewhere you won’t be lynched.

Still, you and Chan can barely resist your peals of laughter as you leave the meeting room with your heads bowed together. Vernon watches with bemusement as the two of you trade incoherent mumblings about Tigger and Pompompurin. 

Not that Vernon has any idea what those have to do with anything. 

☑ You exchange knowing glances from across the room ☑ You share inside jokes about work and life

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” 

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

A corner of Vernon’s lip twitches upward. Aha. 

Chan seems to pick up on Vernon’s smug silence. The younger boy’s head snaps up, his expression quickly becoming guarded. “Not my work wife,” Chan sputters. “Just— I knew where she was, okay?” 

“Riiight.” 

There’s a redness in the tips of Chan’s ears as he goes back to the Google Doc he’d been slaving away on. Vernon doesn’t say anything more, but he does feign like he’s texting someone instead of adding to his ever-growing list.

☑ Your other colleagues wonder where the other’s at when you’re not together

It’s a bit of an epilogue in its own right, how Chan is the one to know why you’re out for the morning.

The CEO had asked it mostly as a rhetorical question— has anyone seen her?— but Chan’s easy answer has the meeting coming to a stuttering halt. 

“She got stuck at her dentist’s appointment,” he says. 

Several pairs of eyes turn to Chan. The look on his face is comically caught.

He fumbles for his phone and waves it around awkwardly. “We were texting,” he adds hastily. “That’s why I know.” 

How that was supposed to help Chan’s case, Vernon has no idea. 

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing. 

Chan manages a mumbled “Will do.” 

The meeting pushes through. Vernon watches Chan from the corner of his eye. Aside from looking absolutely mortified, there’s just a bit of dullness to the latter’s demeanor. A slower uptake, a dimmer grin. 

Gee, Vernon muses as he types away on his laptop. Wonder why. 

☑ You’re kind of bummed when they’re out of office ☑ You cover for each other when one is MIA

Vernon’s running list is a fun little gig, but it all comes to head on the evening of the company’s monthly night out.

The table at the speakeasy is full of boisterous laughter and greasy finger food. Everyone’s in high spirits for the upcoming weekend, and Vernon has to hold back on teasing those who he thinks are having just a little too much fun. 

You and Chan have spent much of the evening acting like you’re in your own world. Sure, you’re not touching each other— this is technically a work event, after all— but you’ve shared laughter and whispers throughout the night that nobody else is privy to. 

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

It’s obvious to anybody with two eyes that you two are fond of each other. That much is certain.

That’s what gives Vernon the boost of confidence to play wingman by the end of the night. 

“You know,” he says coolly as your group spills out onto the sidewalk. “I think the two of you live in the same neighborhood.” 

What Vernon is scheming is plain as day to you. You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s undeterred. He only smiles at you and Chan like the menace that he is. 

Chan, for his part, raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. He glances at you with a quizzical expression. 

“You’ve never mentioned that.” He raises his hand to his chest, as if feigning hurt at being kept in the dark. 

A snort of laughter escapes you. “Didn’t feel like it was particularly important information,” you say dryly. 

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two. “‘Cause that means we can carpool together, or, like, y’know—” 

Vernon interrupts with a sage, “You can probably book the same cab for tonight, actually. Make it a double stop.” 

Chan’s face lights up. “Great idea, man!” 

Before you can protest, Chan is already whipping out his phone to pull up his ride-hailing app. This is not a battle that you’re going to win. 

All the while, Vernon grins triumphantly. 

☑ You go home together after happy hour 

“Can we—” 

“Shhh. No, not yet.” 

“But nobody’s looking!”

“Wait until we’ve rounded the corner, idiot—” 

And so he does. 

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The feeling is mutual, though, so you reach out to rest your hand on his knee.

“Commendable self-control tonight,” you note. “All the whispering was a little too obvious, though.” 

Chan huffs in protest, but the sound loses its edge as he cuddles up to you in the back of the cab. “No one suspects us. It’s just Vernon,” he complains. 

“And Seungkwan,” you say. “And Jeonghan, and Minghao, and Wonwoo—” 

Your boyfriend gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter.” His hand rests on top of yours, just barely resisting the urge to intertwine your fingers. “They don’t know a thing about us, sweets.” 

The smile threatening to fill your face finally breaks. When you laugh, your shoulders shake against Chan’s body. You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy. 

“Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

[gf2bellamy]

concerned — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you have to go undercover and spencer doesn't like it content warnings: mention of unsub and his victims a/n: i'm definitely back in my spencer era <3

The conference room in the Arizona field office buzzed with tension, the weight of the serial killer case heavy on everyone’s shoulders. You had been working tirelessly alongside the team for days, pouring over profiles and victimology. The unsub had a clear pattern—targeting young women in bars, women who exuded just the right mix of confidence and vulnerability.   

Hotch stood at the front of the room, outlining the plan. As he reached the part about luring the unsub out, his gaze shifted to you.   

“You’ll be the target,” he said simply, like it was the most logical conclusion.   

Your stomach did a small flip, but you nodded, pushing aside any hesitation. After analyzing the victims’ profiles, it made sense. You fit his type.   

But before you could fully process the plan, a voice broke the silence.

“Wait—what?”   

You turned, startled, to see Spencer Reid, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The entire team paused, their attention snapping to him.   

Hotch’s brow arched slightly, his expression unreadable. “Is there a problem, Reid?” he asked, his tone measured but pointed.   

Spencer froze, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He clearly hadn’t meant to speak out loud, and now he was trapped under the weight of everyone’s gaze.   

“Uh—uhm, I just… I thought maybe she could…” He stumbled over his words, gesturing vaguely toward the case files as if searching for an excuse. “...help me with… uh… something else? Or maybe—”   

He cut himself off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.   

Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. His sharp gaze flicked between you and Spencer, and you knew instantly that he had caught on to what was happening.   

Hotch didn’t look amused. His focus returned to you, dismissing Spencer’s flustered protest.

“Get ready,” he nodded at you, before returning to the briefing as if nothing had happened.   

As the team dispersed to prepare for the operation, Emily sidled up beside you, her expression sly.   

“Looks like someone’s a little worried about you,” she said with a teasing smile, her voice low enough that only you could hear.   

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth rising in your cheeks betrayed you. “He’s just being... Spencer,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.   

Emily chuckled as she patted your arm. “Sure. Whatever you say.”   

She walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart thudding a little harder than it should have.   

You glanced over at Spencer, who was still at the far end of the room, pretending to busy himself with paperwork. He wasn’t looking at you now, but the pink flush on his cheeks hadn’t faded.   

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. Maybe Emily wasn’t entirely wrong.   

Spencer was hunched over the file, his eyes darting across the page, but you could tell he wasn’t actually reading it.

Every so often, his gaze flicked up toward you and then quickly back down, like he was trying to be subtle and failing miserably.   

“Spence,” you said softly as you walked over to him.   

He stiffened slightly but looked up, meeting your gaze for the briefest of moments. “Hmm?” he hummed, his voice nonchalant, though you could see the unease written all over his face.   

You stopped in front of him, offering a small smile. “I’ll be okay. You know that, right?”   

His hand went to the back of his neck, scratching it nervously as he avoided your eyes. “I know that,” he mumbled, though his tone wasn’t convincing.   

“Do you?” You tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze.   

Spencer finally looked up at you, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “He just seems dangerous,” he said, his words spilling out quickly. “And fast. And I’m concerned that we won’t be quick enough, that something could happen to you before—”   

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm to stop the ramble before he could spiral further. The touch was brief—mindful of how Spencer felt about physical contact—but it was enough to catch his attention.   

“Spence, stop,” you said softly, cutting through his anxious train of thought.   

His eyes met yours fully now, the worry in them clear as day.   

“How about I ask Hotch if Derek can be in the bar too?” you suggested, your tone light, though you were serious. “As extra backup? Will that make you feel better?”   

He hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing the idea. Then, with a small exhale, he nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.   

“Good,” you said, grinning softly. “See? Problem solved.”   

Before you turned to leave, you gave his arm a light squeeze, the warmth of the gesture lingering for just a second.

“I’ll be fine, Spencer,” you said again, your voice calm.   

He watched you walk away, his eyes following you as if to reassure himself. Though he didn’t say it aloud, the small, grateful smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. 

[echo-riot]

Uh, I’m borderline obsessed with jock!Vi so..heres another Drabble? Short story? Yeah. (I need it)

Sweat and All That Comes With It

Summary: You won’t kiss a sweaty and smelly Vi after her game

Warnings: None (besides fluff ig)

•||——————————————————————||•

You were waiting outside the rink, leaning against the familiar chain-link fence, your phone in one hand and a water bottle in the other. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above you buzzed against the muffled cheers and clamor coming from the building behind you. The final whistle had blown fifteen minutes ago, and you knew Vi would be out any second now.

You hadn’t even looked up when you heard the distinctive scuff of heavy boots on the pavement, followed by a familiar voice calling out to you.

“Hey, babe!”

You glanced up, and there she was: sweaty, flushed, and grinning like a goddamn idiot. Her magenta hair was plastered to her forehead, the longer strands sticking out at odd angles as if she’d spent the entire game running her hands through it. She had her gear slung over one shoulder, her jersey still on, but unzipped to reveal the white tank top underneath. That tank top, by the way, was soaked with sweat.

Vi looked every bit like the athlete she was—exhausted, bruised, and absolutely disgusting

“Hey, you,” you said, smiling despite yourself. There was something endearing about how she always seemed so full of energy, even after what had to have been an exhausting game.

“Did you see that goal in the third period?” she asked, dropping her gear bag with a heavy thud. “Snuck it right past the goalie, top shelf!” She mimicked the motion, her grin widening as she stepped closer to you.

You nodded, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, I saw it. You were on fire out there.”

Vi puffed out her chest proudly, clearly soaking in the praise. “Damn right I was. The other team didn’t stand a chance.”

As she reached you, she leaned down, clearly aiming to plant a sweaty kiss on your lips, but you raised a hand between you before she could.

“Whoa, hold up,” you said, laughing nervously as you stepped back.

Vi blinked, confused. “What?”

“You’re disgusting,” you replied, matter-of-factly, wrinkling your nose. “There’s no way I’m kissing you when you’re like this.”

She stared at you, incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘like this’? I’m fine!”

You gestured vaguely at her. “Vi, you’re drenched. I can smell you from here.”

“Okay, rude,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s that bad,” you insisted, trying to stifle a laugh. “You smell like a locker room.”

“Babe, I am a locker room,” she said with a smirk, spreading her arms wide as if to say, Take me as I am

You took another step back, shaking your head. “Absolutely not.”

Vi sighed dramatically, dropping her arms and slumping her shoulders. “You’re really gonna do me like this? After I poured my heart and soul into that game?”

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “Because I have standards.”

“Standards,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes at you. “You’re telling me you’ve got standards, but you’re dating me?”

“Exactly,” you said, crossing your arms. “And those standards include not kissing my sweaty, gross girlfriend right after practice.”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re killing me, babe.”

“I’m saving myself,” you shot back, smirking

She stared at you for a moment, her lips twitching as if she was trying to keep a straight face. Finally, she broke, a grin spreading across her face as she shook her head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, grabbing her gear bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Fine, no kisses. But you’re making it up to me later.”

“Oh, am I?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said, leaning in close—just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her, along with the very distinct smell of sweat. “Because I’m not showering until I get my kiss.”

You shoved her away, laughing as she stumbled back, grinning like the little shit she was. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love it,” she called over her shoulder as she started walking toward her car.

You couldn’t argue with that.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of her car, the windows rolled down because, as you’d warned her, she did smell like a locker room. Vi, to her credit, didn’t seem bothered by it.

She had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on her thigh. The soft hum of the radio filled the silence between you, and every now and then, she’d glance over at you with that same cocky grin she always wore when she thought she’d won.

“You’re really not gonna kiss me?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Nope,” you said, staring out the window.

“Not even a little one?”

“Not even a little one.”

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “You’re brutal.”

“You’ll live,” you said, glancing at her. “And maybe next time, you’ll shower before trying to kiss me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she muttered, but there was a playful glint in her eye that told you she wasn’t actually mad.

By the time you got back to her place, Vi had given up on trying to convince you to kiss her and had instead resorted to dramatically lamenting her fate as a “neglected” girlfriend

“You’re gonna look back on this and regret it,” she said as she unlocked the door. “You’ll be like, ‘Wow, I really should’ve kissed Vi when I had the chance.’”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” you replied, stepping inside.

Vi dropped her gear bag by the door and kicked off her boots, turning to look at you with a mock-serious expression. “Alright, fine. If you won’t kiss me now, you at least owe me a cuddle after I shower.”

“Deal,” you said, smiling

Vi grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek before you could stop her.

“Vi!” you exclaimed, swatting at her as she darted toward the bathroom, laughing.

“Relax, babe,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be fresh and clean in ten minutes. Then you’ll have no excuse.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you flopped onto the couch, shaking your head. She was ridiculous, sure, but she was your ridiculous. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[zeroxxlhero]

Remembrance 2 • Vi

Warnings: 18+ characters, angst w no happy ending, cowgirl, confessions, blowjobs, crying after sex, Fem! Reader, season 2 spoilers, serious pining, major character death, hallucinations

Pairings: (Vi x You), mentioned (Vi x Caitlyn)

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Just like all the times before, Vi is drawn in to your company, paying you for your services and bringing you to the best as usual. But this time, there’s something different about her and the harsh reality of Vi’s life hits her.

The room is quiet now, the last of the patrons having long since retreated to their corners of the night. Your feet ache, and the dim glow of the lanterns makes your eyes heavy, but you stay at the bar, cleaning absentmindedly. The scent of incense lingers in the air, masking the mix of sweat and cheap perfume that clings to the walls. This place is a cage, a sanctuary, a necessary evil—and tonight, like so many others, you wait for her.

Vi.

You hear her before you see her, the heavy thud of boots against the worn wooden floor. She steps into the room like she owns it, and in a way, she does. There’s something about the way she carries herself—tall, proud, bruised, and battered—that commands attention. Even when she’s exhausted, like she is tonight.

Her black hair is a mess, damp and sticking to her forehead. A dark bruise blooms along her jaw, and her hands are wrapped in haphazard tape, the blood seeping through the fabric evidence of her latest fight. She looks like she’s been through hell, but her eyes soften when they land on you.

“You’re still up,” she says, her voice low and rough, like gravel. There’s a hint of something warmer beneath it, something softer reserved just for you.

“Could say the same about you,” you reply, setting the cloth down and leaning against the bar. “Rough fight?”

She smirks, dragging herself onto a stool across from you. “Is there any other kind?”

You arch a brow, gesturing to the state of her knuckles. “You’re going to lose those fingers if you keep wrapping your hands like that.”

Vi chuckles, shaking her head. “I’m not here for a lecture, doc.”

“I’m not a doctor,” you retort, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. You slide it across the bar toward her. “But someone’s gotta take care of you.”

Her hand brushes yours as she takes the glass, and the warmth of her calloused fingers lingers longer than it should. She drinks without argument, and you know that’s her way of saying thanks.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It never is with her. Vi isn’t one for words when they aren’t necessary, but tonight there’s something different in the air, something heavy she hasn’t said yet.

“You make it easier,” she says suddenly, her voice quieter than usual.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“This,” she says, gesturing vaguely with her free hand. “Life. Everything. Coming here, seeing you. It keeps me from losing it.”

Her words settle in your chest, warm and heavy. Vi doesn’t say things like this often—hell, she barely talks about her feelings at all. When she does, it’s always raw, unfiltered, and it always hits you harder than you expect.

“You’re doing the hard work,” you say softly. “Not me. You’re the one out there, taking the hits, getting back up every time.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she might argue. Instead, she looks at you, her eyes sharp but filled with something vulnerable. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t keep getting back up if I didn’t have someone like you to come back to.”

The weight of her words sinks into you, and all you can do is reach out, placing your hand over hers. Her fingers are rough, strong, but they tighten around yours like you’re the only solid thing in her world.

Vi clears her throat, pulling her hand back and letting it rest on the counter. Her knuckles brush against the edge of the glass, and she gives a little half-smile, her eyes darting away.

“Sorry,” she mutters, her voice a low rumble. “Didn’t mean to get all… mushy on you.”

You tilt your head, studying her as the ghost of a grin plays on your lips. “You think that’s mushy? You’ve been holding out on me, Vi.”

Her ears turn a little pink, and she rubs the back of her neck. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I think I just might,” you tease lightly, leaning forward on your elbows. “So, what’s the deal? Were you just here to talk tonight, or were you hoping for a session?”

She freezes for a second, caught off guard by your bluntness. Her blue eyes flicker to yours, a mix of hesitation and that signature confidence you know so well. “I, uh… wasn’t sure,” she admits, her words slower, more careful. “I knew you’d probably be tired, but… I thought maybe we could sneak in a quick one?”

You let the silence hang in the air for a beat, letting her squirm just a little. Her gaze drops to her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the bandages. It’s not like her to second-guess herself, but with you, she always seems to lower her guard just enough to be unsure.

“Well,” you say, standing upright and stretching out your arms, the exhaustion in your muscles making itself known, “I won’t lie—I am tired.”

Her face falls slightly, and she shifts in her seat, about to apologize or wave it off when you smirk. “But for you? I can make an exception.”

Her head snaps up, surprise flashing across her face before it softens into something warmer, more genuine. “Yeah? You sure?”

You lean forward again, resting your chin on your hand as you meet her gaze. “I’m sure. But you better not waste my time, Vi.”

That cocky grin of hers finally returns, lighting up her features like a spark reigniting a fire. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “Besides, I don’t think I could, even if I tried.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you lead her toward the quieter, more private part of the brothel. The weight of the day falls away with each step, replaced by the easy, familiar comfort of having Vi by your side.

As soon as you’re both behind the door, you pull Vi close, your hands sliding down to grab her face as you walk her backwards towards a door. Once inside, you press her up against the wall, kissing her deeply. Your lips move against hers slow and sensual at first, but quickly growing more urgent as passion ignites between you.

Vi's strong hands roam your back, nails lightly scraping against your skin even through the fabric of your clothes. Her fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip underneath to caress the bare expanse of your lower back, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

You gasp into her mouth, arching into her touch as you grind your hips against hers. The friction is maddening, the layers of clothes between you only stoking the flames of your desire higher. Your kisses are messy and desperate now, open-mouthed and hungry. Vi tastes like whiskey and sin and every forbidden thing you should never want but can't help craving.

You grind against her once more before pulling back, a smug grin tugging at your lips. "My, my, it usually takes more than some kissing to get you so worked up." you tease, palming the growing bulge in her pants.

Vi's hips buck into your touch, a low groan rumbling in her throat. Her pupils are blown wide, the blue irises nearly swallowed by black. "You just have that effect on me," she pants, her hands gripping your waist almost painfully tight. "Always have."

You chuckle, leaning in to nip at her neck, your fangs grazing her racing pulse." Aww, shucks. I didn't know I was so irresistible." Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling sharply at the strands.

"You're a damn tease," Vi growls, the words half protest, half plea. "Fucking irresistible."

You palmed her straining erection through her jeans, rubbing slow, teasing circles around the head. Vi groaned, her hips twitching forward, seeking more friction. "Beg for it," you whispered, your breath hot against her ear. "Beg me to suck this fat cock. Let me hear how much you want it."

Vi's answering snarl was equal parts arousal and frustration. Her fingers dug into your scalp, yanking your hair until tears pricked at your eyes. "Fuck me," she hissed, even as her cock pulsed under your touch. "Fucking tease. I need your mouth on me. Please." The last word was torn from her throat, raw and desperate. You smirked, your hand stilling its maddening caress.

Vi's eyes flew open, fixing you with a pleading stare. "Please," she repeated, all traces of fight gone from her voice. "Suck me. Now."

You sink to your knees on the plush carpet, Vi's hands sliding from your hair to rest on your shoulders. Her fingers flex, kneading your muscles through the thin fabric of your shirt as you lean forward, nuzzling your face against the bulge in her jeans. You mouth at her through the rough denim, dragging your lips up the length of her straining cock until you reach the waistband.

Vi's breath hitches, her abs tensing beneath her shirt. "C'mon, baby," she urges, her voice a low rasp. "Get it out. Wanna feel those pretty lips wrapped around me." You chuckle low in your throat, popping open the button of her fly with practiced ease.

Her zipper follows, revealing her black boxer-briefs and the wet spot spreading across the fabric at the tip of her dick. You hook your fingers into the band, peeling them down her thighs slow and steady.

Vi's cock springs free, slapping against her stomach with a wet sound. It's already hard, the skin flushed a deep, angry red. You can see pre-cum beading at the tip, the head slick and swollen. Your mouth waters at the sight, a fresh surge of arousal flooding your veins. Wrapping your hand around the base, you give her a few slow pumps, watching her abs clench and ripple with every pass of your fist.

"Fuck," Vi grits out, her head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. "Gonna kill me, teasing me like this." You just smirk up at her, dragging your tongue along the underside of her cock until you reach the weeping slit at the head.

You wrap your lips around her, taking her deep into the wet heat of your mouth. Vi curses, her fingers tangling in your hair as you start to bob your head, setting a steady rhythm that has her hips bucking forward, seeking more of your talented tongue. Her tastes good, salty and musky on your tongue, the flavor of her pre-cum a addicting nectar you can't get enough of.

You relax your throat, taking her to the hilt, until your nose is buried in the coarse hair at the base of her cock and your chin is resting against her balls. The stretch is delicious, a burning sensation that borders on painful but only serves to make youwant more. You pull back slowly until just the tip is resting on your tongue, your lips stretched wide around her girth.

You bob your head a few more times, each upstroke carrying you further down her length until the head of her cock is bumping the back of your throat. You can feel her pulse against your lips, strong and steady and making you dizzy with want. Vi's hands tighten their grip in your hair, her nails scraping against your scalp in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

She's not pushing you, not forcing you to take more than you can handle. But there's an underlying tension in her body, a coiled sort of energy that screams at you to give her release. You oblige, hollowing your cheeks as you suck her deeper into the velvet cavern of your mouth. The angle is awkward, your jaw starting to ache with the effort, but you don't stop.

Can't stop.

Not when Vi is panting above you, her voice wrecked and desperate and filled with the filthy praise you've always grew to listen to.

"Yes, just like that," Vi pants, her hips starting to twitch, shallow little thrusts into the tight heat of your mouth. "Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good. Could fuck this sweet mouth all day long." She's babbling now, lost in the sensations coursing through her, and the incoherent words only fuel your own desire, make you want to take her apart piece by piece with your lips and tongue until she's nothing but a writhing, mewling mess begging for you.

You moan around her, the vibration sending a full body shudder racing through her veins. Her thrusts grow harder, more erratic, until she's flat out fucking your face with abandon. Tears spring to your eyes as she hits the back of your throat over and over again, but you don't pull away. Can't pull away.

You can see the telltale tightening in Vi's legs, the way her abs are quivering as she nears her peak. Knowing she's close, knowing you're the one bringing her to the edge, makes your own clit throb with need. You double your efforts, flattening your tongue and sucking in a way that has her seeing stars.

With a final thrust, Vi buries herself to the hilt and stills, her shout of completion muffled by the heavy flesh filling your mouth. You swallow around her, the hot spurts of her release hitting the back of your throat as you milk every last drop from her pulsing cock. Only when she starts to soften do you pull away, letting her slip from your swollen lips with a lewd pop. You lean back on your heels, licking your lips with a satisfied hum. Vi is slumped against the wall, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

You stand, pulling Vi with you into a deep, filthy kiss. She moans into your mouth, tasting herself on your tongue and wanting more. You kiss her until she's breathless and shaking, until the last aftershocks of her orgasm have faded into sweet tingles down her spine. Then you're pulling her towards the bed, your fingers tangling with hers as you tumble onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Vi collapses onto her back, dragging you down with her until you're sprawled across her chest, your nose buried in the crook of her neck.

Her arms wrap around you, holding you close as you nuzzle into her, breathing in the heady scent of sex and sweat and satisfaction. "Fuck, that was good," she mumbled against your skin, her voice low and rasping.

"Didn't think you had it in you to cum so fast, though.” That was an insult Vi never took lightly.

Vi grins, a wicked, playful smirk that promises all sorts of deliciously debauched things. Her hands find your hips, nails digging in hard enough to bruise as she yanks you up until you're straddling her thighs. You can feel the thick length of her hardening cock pressing against your core, the heat of it searing you through the thin fabric of your panties.

A needy hiss escapes your lips, your hips grinding down on her involuntarily as your body begs for more. "Oh, I can do better than that," she purrs, her hips bucking up to meet yours. "How about I fuck you stupid instead? Pound this pussy until you're screaming for me?”

You sit up, looking down at her with a haughty smirk as you grind your hips against her, painting her shaft with your arousal. The fabric of your panties is soaked through, the evidence of your own desire coating her length with every pass of your body against hers. "You might be the big bad Pitfighter," you taunt, tracing the line of her collar bone with one perfectly manicured nail, "but let me remind you, I'm still the one in charge here, sweetheart. We’re moving at my pace.”

Vi chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest. Her hands slide up your thighs, fingers digging into the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises. "And if I have to remind you," she says, her voice low and rough and dripping with dark promise, "I get to do exactly this again. So really, you're just making it easy for me, baby." You roll your eyes, but the flutter in your gut is all the answer she needs.

Vi's hands leave your hips, sliding down to grasp the waistband of your panties. In one swift motion, she rips them away, the delicate fabric giving way beneath the strength of her grip. You gasp, your cunt clenching around nothing as a fresh gush of arousal coats her waiting cock.

You rise up, positioning yourself above her, the thick head of her shaft kissing your swollen lips. You tease her with light, barely-there touches, painting her with your juices as you play.

"Fuck Vi," you hiss through clenched teeth, your body trembling with need. "I need you. Need this fat cock inside me now. Fill me up until I can't feel it anymore. Until I can't remember my own fucking name." Her answering groan is pure, feral sound - the primal rumble of a woman who wants to devour you wholen.

Vi's eyes roll back in her head as you start to move, your cunt swallowing her length inch by inch as you sink down. "Fuck, baby," she groans, her hands flying to your hips as if to guide you but she doesn't move you. She just rests her palms there, fingers splaying wide. You set a brutal pace, bouncing on her cock with enough force to rattle the bed beneath you.

The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, the slap of skin on skin punctuated by your high, breathy moans and Vi's low praises. You rise up until just the tip is nestled inside you, then slam back down, taking her to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Your inner walls flutter around her, gripping her so tight it's almost painful. But oh, it hurts so good.

You can’t get enough.

Need more.

Always more.

You set a brutal pace, bouncing on her cock with enough force to rattle the bed beneath you. The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, the slap of skin on skin punctuated by your high, breathy moans and Vi's low, growled praises. You ride her hard and fast, your hips never stopping their punishing rhythm. Her hands grip you so tight, nails biting into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

Those marks are a badge of ownership, a brand that declares you hers and hers alone, at least for tonight. The knowledge only spurs you on, makes you want to mark her in turn, to sink your teeth into the meat of her shoulder and hold on for dear life as she fucks you through the mattress. Your clit drags against her pubic bone with every downstroke, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. You chase that feeling, grinding down on her like a woman possessed.

"God, Vi," you moan, your voice breaking on as an orgasm builds in your core, threatening to drag you under. "You’re so beautiful. I'm gonna cum on this gorgeous dick all over again." The filthy words fall from your lips in a stream of fucked-out praise, the cadence of your voice driving her higher just as surely as your cunt gripping her tight.

"Love this cock," you pant, rocking your hips in shallow circles as the tension in your body winds tighter and tighter. "Love how you fill me up. Gonna cum so hard, baby. Fuck yes." You're babbling now, lost in a haze of endorphins and the sheer bliss of being so utterly and completely stuffed full of Vi's cock. She responds by snapping her hips up to meet yours, pounding into you with a strength and force that steals the air from your lungs and makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Each thrust sends you flying, your tits bouncing with the impact of her fucking into you like she's trying to split you in two. But god help you, you wouldn't have it any other way. You want her to wreck you, want to feel her for days after, want to be so sore and used up that even walking will be a chore.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, the words little more than mindless drivel. Your nails rake down her chest, leaving angry red welts in their wake. Vi hisses in a breath, her abdomen clenching beneath your palms as her thrusts start to falter, growing erratic as her end approaches.

Vi's hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force as she pistons into you. The head of her cock kisses your cervix with every thrust, the sensation blurring the line between pleasure and pain so thoroughly you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

It's maddening, this ache building in your core, the coil of tension in your body wound so tight you feel like you might snap. But you hold on, gritting your teeth and burying your face in her neck as she fucks you into oblivion. Her lips find yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, her tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. You let her, giving back as good as you get until the only sounds in the room are your harsh breaths and wet moans. Your release barrels into you like a freight train, dragging you under with no warning.

You cum first, your cunt clamping down on Vi's cock like a vice as you cry your pleasure into the room. She follows seconds later, her orgasm crashing over her with the force of a tidal wave. You can feel her pulsing inside you, her cock jerking as she empties herself into your waiting cunt. It's an obscene amount, her seed painting your insides, marking you in the most primal way possible.

You ride out the aftershocks together, your bodies moving in tandem as if possessed by something outside of yourselves. It's intense, bordering on overwhelming, and for a moment, you swear you can see stars behind your closed eyelids. When it's over, you collapse against her, both of you gasping for air as you try to come down from the height of your shared climax. Your legs give out, sending you toppling to the side as Vi's softening cock slips free of your abused hole.

Vi laid on the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body slick with sweat. Her muscles ached from the fight—both the physical one she’d just endured and the emotional one she fought every day. She let her arm fall over her face, hiding her expression as her breath hitched. The weight of the sex and the lingering silence between you both settled heavily in the air.

She hadn’t meant to say it. She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even fully realized it until the words slipped out.

“I… I think I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking, barely audible over her ragged breathing.

The words hung in the stillness of the room, fragile and raw. For a moment, she thought she might hear your response—a soft laugh, a gentle reassurance, something to ease the knot tightening in her chest. But there was nothing. Just silence.

Her brow furrowed as unease crept in. She shifted slightly, her heart pounding harder now, the anticipation growing unbearable.

“Hey,” she called out, her voice louder this time but still tentative, the vulnerability behind it foreign to her. “Did you hear me?”

Still nothing.

She frowned, letting her arm drop to the side as she opened her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw it—the empty room.

The spot where you should have been was vacant. No warmth, no presence, just cold sheets and the faint scent of you lingering in the air. Her heart sank, confusion giving way to an overwhelming wave of dread.

And then it hit her.

You weren’t there. You hadn’t been there for a long time.

The memory came crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning her in the brutal truth. You were gone—had been for weeks, months, maybe longer. She’d lost you, and in her desperation, she’d somehow convinced herself you were still here.

Her chest constricted, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as the realization tore through her. She clutched at the sheets, her fingers trembling, as if holding onto them could anchor her to the illusion for just a moment longer.

“Damn it,” she choked, her voice breaking as tears began to blur her vision. “No… no, no, no.”

The memories came flooding back, unrelenting. The nights you stayed up with her, calming her storm when she was too angry, too lost to find her way. The way your hand always found hers, grounding her when she thought she might fall apart completely. The warmth in your eyes when you told her she wasn’t as broken as she thought.

You had been her lifeline, her sanctuary when the world was too much to bear. You had been the one who made her laugh when she didn’t think she could, the one who called her out on her bullshit with a wry grin and a knowing look. You had been the only person she trusted to see the parts of her she kept hidden from everyone else.

And now, you were gone.

The tears came fast and hard, hot streaks carving paths down her cheeks as she curled into herself, clutching the pillow where your head should have been. Her sobs were loud, and raw, shaking her entire body as she buried her face in the fabric, your scent barely clinging to it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered between broken gasps, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I should have been there—I should have done something.”

Her mind raced with images of you, the warmth of your smile, the sound of your voice, the way you looked at her like she was worth saving, even when she didn’t believe it herself. You had been there for her worst moments, the times she thought she’d hit rock bottom, and for a while, you’d been the only light in her life.

And now, that light was gone.

“I love you,” she whispered again, her voice cracking as the words spilled out. “I loved you so much… and you’re gone.”

Her chest ached, her heart shattering into pieces all over again. She thought of Caitlyn—the love she had lost before you, the love that had left her heart fractured. And then there was you, stepping into the cracks, not replacing Caitlyn but healing her in a way she never thought possible.

But now you were gone too, and the void you left felt unbearable.

Vi pressed her face deeper into the pillow, her tears soaking through the fabric as sobs wracked her body. The grief was suffocating, the silence deafening. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

But even through the pain, one truth remained, sharp and unyielding: she had loved you. She still loved you. And she always would.

[dedfly]

Hii! I was wondering if I could request headcanons for Shadow milk cookie x reader? Just about how he would act when he realizes he loves you and how his actions and stuff changes when he starts to have a crush on you? <3

I can't believe i writing again. Requests are still closed(only writing related ones i still prefer drawing stuff.), I just couldn't help myself with this one. New trailer made me all nostalgic

Disclaimer:

This is about Shadow Milk, if we talking real people here rember if someone loves you they would not play mind games. They are not cookies of deciet, it's not their quirky trait. Your partner or friend should be clear with you from the start

Remember there always would be people who loves you. And you always deserve better

Cw: Mentiones of gaslighting

___________________________________

Shadow Milk cookie x reader

♪ Can't say it would be long realisation. Maybe few days not the love from first sight but not the slow burn you know?

♪ But it surely would be "Oh yeah... This one" with creepy ass smile

♪ Alright, let's go and look past his thick hair right into his messed up head.

♪ We still would see the same pragmatic cookie just this time all his schemes about making...no, actually

♪ He would not try and get out of his way to make you fall in love with him.

♪ Why would he? It's inevitable.

♪ All his "little" courtship focused on one simple thing - leaving an impression

♪ You will rember him and what's is most important

♪ All your little partners didn't bring you as much effort as he did

♪ And by efforts I mean focusing all his attention on you

♪ Making you speak more than he usually let anyone

♪ Doing his sweet voice while he speaking to you

♪ Gifting you flowers some flashy gifts with ribbons, but nothing too resembling of him...yet

♪ But I don't think he would change drastically it's still him. He would be lying and deciving feeding you with half truths just like everyone

♪ It's in his nature, really

♪ His flirting is fleeting with you. Blink and you miss it

♪You can say but he's a total flirt with Wind Archer and Pure Vanilla why not me?

♪ Well it's me who writing this okay? I think he just being annoying to them on purpose. It's not actual flirt he would use in a serious courtship

♪ Just kidding, he would act differently just to look how far your boundaries stretches

♪ I mean he's also a performer which is making it way worse

♪ He so dramatic and his courtship, he's too reminiscent of a bird

♪ You will notice his act in no time. His attitude to you would be special that's for sure

♪ You might think uh aren't you just contradict yourself? No why would I? :)

♪ His actions still making you doubt his intentions

♪ WORSE of all he would not be reassuring in a traditional way so it not helping. He's still vague about his true intentions

♪ Not in a tsundere way more like a "Me? Flirting with you? Hm... How odd. You sure my gesture of gratitude isn't messing with your head?" "What? Do YOU want it to be something more?" And more of the "Are you sure? I don't recall that"

♪ Oh yeah and it's all in a lovey dovey period... Don't think he would be the one confessing first.

♪ His attitude would draw you insane that's for sure

"Ah? Asking me out on a date??? Hm... Tsk tsk tsk. Took you long enough."

♪ His mask would quickly fall off as soon as you get in a relationship tho.

♪ You will choke on his love in the best way possible

___________

Okay I'm not surprised thr only cookie who made me want to sit down and write this there Shadow Milk

[ghoulodont]

10mg

Dewdrop has a particular hunger while under the influence.

Relationship: Raindrop Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Words: 1k

Biting, Blood (just a little), Intoxication, baby's first edibles

Read below or on AO3

Rain blinks. He’s in Dewdrop’s room, sinking into his mattress. Lying next to him, Dew is observing him with lidded eyes, head propped on one hand.

Memories start to crawl back to him, following a long, winding path to the present. The last thing he can recall is trying unsuccessfully to climb onto the bed, and Dew rolling him onto it like a log.

Before that, Dew leads him down the hall by the hand. He feels like a kite on a long string, air rushing all around him as he moves. He billows in Dew’s laughter, his bright, toothy smile when he looks back.

Before that, Dew drags him off of the couch in the common room. The TV is casting vivid washes of color on the walls, reflecting in miniature on Dew’s corneas. Right now, a nature documentary; before that, a movie — he can’t remember the plot.

Before that, Dew feeds him a sugar-coated square that tastes like watermelon, plucks it from a round plastic jar with his fingers and places it directly into his mouth. He puts the jar back on a high shelf in the closet.

Right. That explains it.

“How are you feeling?” Dew’s voice is musical, enchanting. There’s an amused smirk on his face.

Rain’s thoughts are miles behind his hands, which are, of their own accord, in desperate pursuit of contact with Dew’s torso. The heat of his skin is magnetic, drawing him closer, up under the hem of his shirt, over his stomach, across his ribs, up to his sternum.

Dew sits up and pulls his shirt off over his head. He tosses it to the floor, out of sight. Rain tries to do the same, but the task proves impossibly complicated, suddenly consisting of far more steps than it used to. Dew helps him to free his arms and discards the offending garment.

Rain flops back onto the bed. The world swirls peacefully around him.

Dew lies down next to him, tucked against his side. He rolls over on top of him, drapes himself over Rain like a blanket. His body is so warm. Every single place that their skin is pressed together is like a tiny pinpoint heat, a single candle flame. The sheer volume of sensation makes Rain feel like he’s vibrating, submerged in TV static, numb and tender at the same time. Vaguely, he’s aware of Dew’s lips on his skin.

Something sharp cuts through the fuzz, a bright zing of sensation on the side of his neck. He presses his hand to the spot, then pulls it away. His fingers are smudged with red.

“Hey,” he whines.

“Sorry,” Dew coos, drawn out. He doesn’t sound apologetic at all. He grins, flashing inhumanly pointy canines.

Rain pouts in Dew’s general direction, which is no longer a single point in space but something far more encompassing.

Slowly, Dew lathes his tongue over the stinging echo on his neck in a wide, hot stripe. When he lifts it away, its heat leaving his skin, the wake it left goes cold and then colder as the ambient air dries away the wetness of it and leaves him naked. He shivers.

Dew giggles. He repeats the gesture — hot, cold. The sting is already gone, lost in a whirlwind of sensation.

“Better?”

It is, physically, but the memory is stuck spinning through his mind.

Dew tilts his head to one side. “Here, get me back.”

Rain tries to lean up to reach him, but his body is too heavy. He brings Dew to his mouth instead, pressing a clumsy hand on the back of his neck and pulling until his blunt incisors hit skin.

He bites down, a meager prize of flesh pinched between his teeth. The roar of his flexing jaw muscles resonates in his skull. He lets his head fall back; his teeth click together in absence of captured skin when it escapes. Left behind are by two near-parallel marks, rows of indentation, blanched bloodless at first and then flushing pink. The skin is unbroken — disappointing.

This angle won’t work. In a monumental effort, Rain rolls their bodies over so that he’s on top, and his neck can reach down instead of craning up with the impossible weight of his head. Limbs tangle and interleave. His leg slips off the bed; he pulls it back.

“Stop,” Dew squeaks out from underneath him, “you’re heavy—”

Like being tossed to the ground by an ocean wave, the whole world flips end over end and suddenly Dew is back on top.

Rain leans up again, open-mouthed, aiming for Dew’s throat. The edges of his teeth drag down toward his collarbone as he struggles for purchase. He comes to rest at the base of his neck, the junction where it attaches to his torso. He tips his head to the side, adjusting his contact to match the slopes and angles of Dew’s body, and bites down.

There’s a sudden release of pressure, an audible pop, as the point of his canine pierces Dew’s flesh. Sure enough, the metal tang of blood hits his tongue. His pulse thrums against his lips; the heat of it is incandescent. He wants more — closer, deeper.

Dew squirms, but Rain holds fast, jaw clamped shut with a singular goal. He sucks hard against the wound, his tooth holding it open like a knife, and hot blood oozes into his mouth. The taste of it rushes over him, spreads into his fingers and toes.

When he lets go, his head drops down to the bed like a rock. His chest heaves with an exertion he wasn’t aware of until now. So does Dew’s, pressing into him as it expands. He closes his eyes. The room is spinning again, but Dew’s weight holds him steady.

A familiar sting resounds above his collarbone, where Dew’s head is bowed. Rain, infinitely heavy, is powerless to stop him.

[soulmatesinc-if]

Nsfw!

What are the preferences of the ROs in bed? (top, bottom, vers... and if they prefer to be more dominant or submissive)

Also, do you intend to have explicit scenes in the game? Or will it be PG-13? :)

I didn't mean to take this long with this ask, but you have unfortunately asked me to put a rating on my work, and I historically Struggle With It, sorry 😭 I always want to just slap a mature rating and be done with it, but again, the game is supposed to be light-hearted, so I cannot get away with vaguely gesturing to "mature themes" (although I probably will anyway)

Just how explicit the scenes will be remains to be seen. I'm yet to finish a certain scene, and I think it will dictate the rest of them. Probably nothing on ao3 level though 😅

Wyatt has a tendency to surrender the reins frequently because they want to see how badly they are wanted, you know? Generally, they are all about the soft power of seduction rather than sheer dominance.

Sam is happy to be there, they are a very accommodating partner. So vers?

Romero is impatient and dominant/a top for certain.

[cythiraeth]

beneath soft pillows and wool pt. II ─ i. e. you are struggling to sleep but your genshin lover is there for you

✧ ─ ⌑ pairing: gn!reader x xiao, ganyu, ayato, yelan (separate)

✧ ─ ⌑ short summary: while you are having troubles with sleeping, your lover tries to find a way to comfort you! let's find out what would they do, if they found you not sleeping late into the night

✧ ─ ⌑ about the work: lowercase, fluff, reader overworking themselves

✧ ─ ⌑ notes: as i promised, i present to you second part of this small series! i hope you enjoy it, as always <3 stay tuned for my next works!

+ link to first part ☆ (featuring al-haitham lyney, neuvilette)

✧ ─ ⌑ word count: 2.8 k in total

they would find you not sleeping by an accident, and would put you back to sleep themselves — yelan, xiao

yelan

the night was cool and still, the faint hum of liyue harbour in the distance mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. you leaned against the balcony railing of your room, gazing out at the twinkling lights of the city below. sleep had eluded you tonight, your mind restless despite the hour.

the sound of a faint, almost imperceptible footstep behind you broke the silence. you whirled around, your heart leaping to your throat, only to see a familiar figure emerge from the shadows.

"yelan?" you blurted out, your voice a mixture of surprise and confusion. "what are you doing here?" she crossed her arms, one brow arched in a way that was both amused and mildly reproachful. "'no,'" she countered softly, her tone sharp yet playful. "what are you doing here?"

for a moment, you were at a loss for words. "i... couldn't sleep," you finally admitted, gesturing vaguely at the cityscape. "i thought some fresh air might help clear my head." yelan stepped closer, her movements as fluid and deliberate as ever, still dressed in her usual attire - dark and smooth, perfect for blending into the night - but her expression was softer than usual.

"you know," she said, her voice low and tinged with concern, "roaming around at this hour isn't exactly the best way to deal with insomnia, especially on a balcony where you could catch a cold." you rolled your eyes slightly and leaned back against the railing. "i wasn't exactly 'roaming', yelan. and besides, what are the odds of you showing up here of all places? were you spying on me or something?"

she grinned and tilted her head. "i wasn't spying, no. but let's just say i have my ways of knowing when someone i care about is up to something they shouldn't be.” even though her words made you feel a little warmer out in this cold night, you couldn't help but tease her back. "so, what, you decided to come and give me a lecture about bedtime?"

yelan chuckled, the sound deep and melodic. "something like that. though," she added, her eyes narrowing slightly, "i didn't expect to find you brooding out here in the cold. what's on your mind?"

you hesitated, the weight of her attention making you feel both comforted and exposed. "just... couldn't stop thinking about things. nothing specific, really. it's like my brain refuses to turn off."

she nodded thoughtfully, moving closer until she was standing next to you. "i know the feeling," she said softly, her voice losing its teasing edge. "but staying up all night won't help. trust me." you turned to look at her, her face lit by the moonlight, her sharp, confident demeanour seeming softer for the moment, her usual air of mystery replaced by genuine concern.

"i suppose you're right," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"i usually am," she said, smirking again, though it lacked her usual sharpness, and then, without warning, she reached out and took your hand, her grip firm yet gentle. "come. let's get you back into bed."

you blinked, startled by the sudden contact. "you're going to put me to bed now?"

"someone has to," she quipped, her grin widening. "and you obviously can't be trusted to do it yourself."

despite her playful tone, there was something undeniably tender about the way she led you back to your room, not letting go of your hand until you were sitting on the edge of your bed, her presence somehow both reassuring and commanding.

as you settled under the covers, she pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, her gaze steady and unwavering. "now close your eyes," she said, her voice softer than before.

"you're staying?" you asked, surprised. "just until you fall asleep," she replied, leaning back in the chair with a faint smile. "i have to make sure you don't sneak back out on the balcony."

you couldn't help but smile at her persistence, your heart swelling with affection for the woman who could so easily command a room - or your restless mind - with just a few words. 

"thank you, yelan," you murmured, your eyes growing heavy under her watchful gaze.

"anytime," she replied softly, and for the first time that night, you felt truly at ease.

her presence was so comforting that it wasn't long before your eyes began to close uncontrollably and yelan's silhouette began to blur.

"don't forget to close the door," was the only thing you whispered to your friend, half asleep. the little smirk on her face went unnoticed, unlike the wide-open door that was the first thing you saw in the morning with a runny nose.

hey, after all, they say it's better to sleep in a cold room, right?

xiao

the air was crisp on the terrace of the wangshu inn, the faint hum of nocturnal creatures filling the silence of the night. the inn was quiet, its usual bustle replaced by the stillness that only comes in the early hours. you sat on the edge of the terrace, your legs dangling over the side as you gazed out at the moonlit expanse of the dihua marsh.

the night had always felt peaceful to you, a time to think and breathe without the weight of the day pressing down on you. but tonight, that peace eluded you. your thoughts were restless, keeping you from the sleep you so desperately needed.

a faint gust of wind blew past you, and a familiar presence settled behind you, and you didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"xiao," you said softly, your voice carrying easily in the still night.

"what are you doing here?" his voice came, sharp but tinged with concern. you turned to see him standing a few paces away, his golden eyes fixed on you with that intense gaze he always seemed to carry.

you sighed and turned back to the view of the marsh. "i couldn't sleep, i don't know why exactly," you sighed, "i guess it's just a human thing."

xiao's footsteps were almost silent as he approached, stopping just behind you. he remained quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between you. then his voice came again, softer this time. "the night is not meant for mortals to linger, it is when dangers arise, even here."

you glanced over your shoulder at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "i think I'll be fine with the mighty conqueror of demons around."

he frowned, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at humour. "i’m serious," he said, his tone firm but lacking his usual edge. "your body needs rest. staying awake like this is... unwise."

you sighed again, your shoulders slumping slightly. "i know, but i just can't. it's like the more i try, the harder it gets."

xiao's frown deepened, but instead of reacting, he came closer, lowering himself to sit beside you on the edge of the terrace. his presence was grounding, a quiet strength that seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

"mortals and their endless worries," he murmured, almost to himself. "you carry so much, even when you don't need to."

you looked at him, surprised at the softness in his tone. "it's not like i can help it," you admitted. "it's just... life, i guess."

he was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the marsh below, then he spoke again, his voice low and almost hesitant. "if it helps... you're not alone. even if i'm not around, i'm watching."

the weight of his words settled over you, a warmth blooming in your chest. xiao was not one to offer comfort lightly, and his presence alone spoke volumes.

"thank you, xiao," you said softly, leaning a little closer to him. he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the moonlight. for a moment he said nothing, but the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat.

"come," he said finally, standing up and offering you his hand. "you need the rest." you hesitated, glancing at the railing as if debating whether to stay. but the gentle insistence in his eyes left little room for argument. you took his hand, his grip firm and steady as he helped you to your feet.

back in your room, xiao lingered by the window, his back to you as you settled into bed. his presence was a silent reassurance that you weren't alone. "will you stay?" you asked softly, the words slipping out before you could question them.

he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment you thought he might refuse, but then he gave a small nod. "i'll stay until you sleep."

you smiled and closed your eyes as the sounds of the night filled the room, and as sleep finally claimed you, you felt safe, knowing that he was there, watching over you like the ever-dedicated guardian he was.

they would stay up with you for a little longer — ganyu, ayato

ganyu

the soft glow of a lantern illuminated the desk in your study, casting flickering shadows across the neatly stacked papers and open books. the night was deep, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows. you leaned over your work, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids, but unable to outweigh the sheer volume of tasks that still demanded your attention.

just as you reached for your quill again, the faint sound of footsteps caught your attention. turning towards the doorway, you found ganyu standing there, her soft blue hair illuminated by the dim light. she looked at you with a mixture of surprise and concern.

"you're still awake?" she asked quietly, stepping into the room.

you smiled, trying to sound more awake than you felt. "i could say the same about you."

she chuckled softly, closing the distance between you. "you know, i tend to overwork myself sometimes, but you... i didn't expect to find you burning the midnight oil."

"i have a lot to finish," you admitted, gesturing to the scattered papers on the desk. "i thought i could get it all done before tomorrow, but... well, here i am."

ganyu's eyes swept over the desk, taking in the clutter with a practiced eye. her expression softened, and she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "you've been working too hard, you should rest.”

"i know," you said with a sigh. "but if i don't finish this tonight, i'll be even further behind tomorrow. i'll sleep when i'm done, i promise."

her lips pressed into a thin line, her concern evident, and then, after a moment, she nodded, though her hand remained on your shoulder. "if you're determined to finish this tonight," she said gently, "then let me help you."

you blinked, startled. "no, you don't have to..."

"but i want to," she interrupted, her voice firm yet kind. "i know what it's like to feel overwhelmed by work. sometimes it's easier if someone is there to share the burden."

her words fell like a warm blanket over you, and for a moment all you could do was stare at her. ganyu's dedication had always been one of the things you admired most about her, but her willingness to extend that dedication to you - to stay up late and help you simply because she cared - made your chest tighten with affection.

"then thank you, ganyu," you said quietly.

she offered you a small smile, one that carried more warmth than the entire room. "where should i start?"

you quickly organized the papers, explaining what needed to be done. ganyu took a seat beside you, her delicate fingers moving deftly as she worked through the tasks. her presence was calming, her quiet focus making it easier for you to concentrate.

for a while, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional shuffling of documents. you glanced at her every now and then, marveling at how serene she looked even in the midst of tedious work.

finally, you leaned back in your chair and stretched your arms over your head. "i think that's the last of it," you said with a tired but satisfied sigh.

ganyu looked up from her own pile of papers, a hint of relief in her expression.   "i’m glad we could finish it together," she said quietly, putting down her pen.

you smiled at her, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "i don't know what i’d do without you."

a faint blush rose to her cheeks and she looked away shyly. "i haven't done much," she murmured.

"you've done more than enough," you insisted, reaching out to take her hand. "you stayed with me when you didn't have to. that means everything to me.”

she hesitated for a moment, then squeezed your hand gently, her eyes meeting yours. "you mean a lot to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i just want to make sure you take care of yourself."

your heart swelled at her words, and you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "i'll try. as long as you promise to do the same."

she smiled, the kind of smile that lit up her whole face, and nodded. "i promise."

as the first rays of dawn began to creep through the window, you and ganyu made your way to the bed, exhaustion finally catching up to both of you. she stayed close, her warmth a comforting presence as you drifted off to sleep. and in that quiet moment, with her by your side, you knew you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

ayato

the inkwell was nearly empty, and the paper under your hand was beginning to blur from the strain in your tired eyes. the silence of the night wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, broken only by the occasional rustling of papers or the faint scratching of your pen. you knew you should be in bed, but there was so much to do, and the hours slipped away before you realized how late it was.

you didn't hear ayato's footsteps at first. his movements were as graceful and quiet as ever, the only warning of his presence being the soft rustle of his robes as he approached. you looked up, startled, to see his gentle smile framed by the warm light of the lantern he carried.

"you are still awake," he said softly, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern. "what could require so much of your attention at this hour?"

you sighed, putting down the quill and rubbing at your temples. "there's just too much to do, ayato. i couldn't sleep knowing this was unfinished."

his eyes flickered to the papers spread across the desk, then back to you. his smile didn't falter, but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made you feel both cared for and slightly scolded. "and i thought i was the workaholic in this relationship," he teased lightly.

you gave him a tired laugh, and his expression softened further. without another word, he put down the lantern and pulled up a chair beside you. "then i’ll help you," he said simply, taking one of the documents from the pile.

"ayato, you don't have to..."

"i insist," he interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "if you're determined to stay awake, i'll make sure you don't have to shoulder this alone. besides," he added with a playful touch, "i’m quite efficient, you know."

and he was! as you worked, ayato's sharp mind and quick hands proved invaluable, easing your burden more than you thought possible. but more than his help, it was his presence that soothed you - the soft hum of his voice as he made the occasional comment, the comforting weight of his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over to hand you something.

time seemed to pass differently with him there, and before you knew it, the last of the work was done. you leaned back in your chair, exhaustion settling in, but the relief was palpable.

ayato looked at you, his smile tinged with satisfaction. "there, you see? together we can do anything.”

you laughed softly and shook your head. "thank you, ayato. really."

he stood and offered you his hand with a flourish. "my pleasure. but now, my dear, there is one more task we must complete tonight."

you raised an eyebrow and took his hand. "and what's that?"

"to make sure you get the rest you deserve," he said, his voice warm as he led you to the bed.

he pulled back the covers for you, waiting until you were comfortably tucked in before sliding in next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "next time, let me know if you're overwhelmed," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. "i’d rather spend the night by your side than let you face it alone."

you nodded sleepily, the weight of his words and the warmth of his embrace lulling you into a peaceful haze. with ayato holding you close, sleep came easily, and you drifted off with the soft hum of his voice still echoing in your mind.

⌞⌑ cythiraeth - 14.01.2025 please, do not copy, claim as yours or share outside tumblr! ⌑⌝

[nickeverdeen]

Hi! Could I request an Ekko x reader fic/headcannons where reader is adorably short (like, 4’10-4’11) but they fear they won’t be taken seriously, so they tend to overwork themself to prove that they’re strong? And they often throw themself into the frontlines recklessly to prove they can protect people?

Small But Mighty | Ekko x short gn!reader

Pairings: Ekko x reader (romantic/platonic)

Type of fic: Comfort, Comedy at the end

Warnings: Overworking, self-doubt

Summary: Being short in a community full of fighters and kids being your height isn’t always the easiest thing to go through, determined to prove yourself that you can pull your own weight you overwork and become highly reckless… Ekko doesn’t like that.

————————

The firelight danced across the room in the heart of the Firelights’ hideout. Laughter and chatter filled the space as everyone unwound after a hard day’s work. Except for you.

You sat hunched over a makeshift workbench in the corner, fingers nimbly repairing a damaged drone. Your short frame was practically swallowed by the oversized hoodie you wore, but your focus made you seem larger than life—or so Ekko thought, watching you from across the room.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Ekko said, leaning casually against the wall beside you.

You didn’t look up. “Not hard enough,” you muttered, your voice firm despite the exhaustion in it.

Ekko sighed. This wasn’t the first time he’d found you like this. Ever since you’d joined the Firelights, you’d been working overtime, throwing yourself into missions and tasks with reckless abandon. He admired your determination, but the way you pushed yourself worried him.

“Come on,” he said, crouching to meet your eyes. “Take a break. You’ve earned it.”

You finally glanced up, your expression guarded. “If I stop, who’s going to pick up the slack? I have to prove I can pull my weight, Ekko.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “Nobody’s doubting you, least of all me.”

You scoffed, setting down the drone. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re tall, strong, and everyone listens when you speak. I’m—” You gestured vaguely at yourself. “Me.”

Ekko tilted his head, his gaze softening. “Yeah, you’re you. And you’re one of the bravest people I know. But throwing yourself into danger to prove something? That’s not strength, that’s…” He hesitated, searching for the right word.

“Reckless?” you offered dryly.

He smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, that.”

You leaned back in your chair, the fight slowly draining out of you. “You don’t get it, Ekko. People see me and think I’m a liability. Too small to be a real threat, too weak to protect anyone. If I don’t push myself, who’s going to take me seriously?”

Ekko moved closer, his voice low but steady. “I take you seriously. And so does everyone else. Not because you push yourself to the brink, but because you care. You fight harder than anyone I’ve ever met, not because you’re trying to prove something, but because you believe in what we’re doing.”

You looked away, your fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of your hoodie. “It’s not enough,” you murmured.

“It is,” he insisted. “You’re enough, just as you are.”

For a moment, you just sat there, the weight of his words sinking in. Ekko reached out, placing a hand gently on your shoulder.

“Promise me something,” he said. “Next time you’re about to throw yourself into the frontlines, think about the people you’re trying to protect—including yourself. We need you, okay? All of you. Not just the parts that feel like they have something to prove.”

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

He grinned, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “That’s all I ask.”

As he stood, he added with a teasing smirk, “Besides, you’re already intimidating enough. I mean, you’ve got the height advantage—on ants.”

You snorted, throwing a wrench in his direction, which he dodged effortlessly.

“See? You’re terrifying!” he said, laughing as he backed away.

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. Maybe Ekko was right. Maybe you didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.

But even if you did, you realized you weren’t alone in the fight. Ekko, and the rest of the Firelights, had your back—whether you stood tall or not.

[throwaninkpot]

There's something I need to get off my chest...

I'm getting top surgery! In the morning! Tomorrow, Monday the 13th! I wasn't telling a lot of people, even close and supportive friends, bc it's been a struggle get this surgery covered by an insurance and I did not want to get hopes up in case this fell through. And. I'm not a superstitious person generally, but I also had this vague, odd fear that I would jinx it somehow if too many folks knew.

I has no plans to tell my decidely unsupportive family until after it was done, but in a gesture of trust I told Lil' Sis 2 on Friday (during a conversation about why did not trust certainly family members anymore after some very hurtful actions they took in October).

She told the entire family, and since then I've muted all their cell phones and blocked my parents' landline to stop them from continuing to blow up my phone with arguments on why I shouldn't do this, why this is hurtful to them, and pleas for me to meet with them in person beforehand so they can reason with me.

Kinda weird for a guy to be so preoccupied with his sibling's boobs, but okay...

Folks who remember my gofundme post from when I thpught I would be paying for surgery out of pocket know that I have been working hard to have this surgery for years. Almost three years now. I am beyond excited and happy. I would love it if some people could be happy and excited for and with me about this.

I have a good friend staying with me after the surgery to help with post-op. But prayers for a safe operation and a smooth recovery would be appreciated! If you aren't the praying kind, joyful words and good vibes will also mean a lot to me!

Praise God!

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: You find a familiar stranger waiting outside your house, asking for your dad, and eventually, a car. Reluctantly, you agree to help, but what seems like a simple task quickly turns dangerous as you face infected and navigate the town outside your familiar neighborhood. The mission becomes a fight for survival, testing your trust and endurance.

warnings: violence against infected, lots of action in this chapter.

a/n: long chapter, sorry! so much going on. closer to game canon.

The stupid truck broke down the next day.

“Damn thing,” you mutter, slapping the wheel as the blue truck sputters to a halt outside the small storefront. So much for painting the house today. There was no way you’d make it back with everything you needed. The only reason you even cared was because Frank would’ve rolled in his grave if he saw the chipped paint on the front door or the shutters, more green than gray after weeks of rain.

With a resigned sigh, you grab your bow and quiver, hop out, and pop the hood. One glance tells you the problem: the battery’s shot. Of course. You can almost hear your dad’s voice, gruff and irritated, reminding you to store it in the fridge. You didn’t. Now you’d earned yourself a long walk home in the midday sun.

By the time you turn onto your road, sweat clings to your forehead, and your legs ache. You barely have the energy to curse the heat anymore when something stops you dead.

There’s someone in your yard.

They’re just standing there, staring up at the house. Adrenaline spikes as you scan the area. The fences were secure this morning. None of the traps had gone off—you’d have heard them. So how the hell had they gotten in?

Gripping your bow tighter, you nock an arrow and step forward, heart pounding. But as you close the distance, you realize, with some relief, it’s not an infected—it’s not even a stranger.

You blink, stomach twisting. The only person you ever knew, apart from Frank and your dad, is standing on your lawn. He’s broader now, his frame heavier with age. His beard is thicker, streaked with gray, but that scowl on his face hasn’t changed a bit.

Joel fucking Miller. 

And with him, a girl.

“Joel?” you croak, your voice catching as you lower the bow, though your grip remains firm.

He turns, startled, and his dark eyes sweep over you. Recognition settles in slowly, like it takes a moment for him to piece it together. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters, his voice quieter than you remember. “You’ve grown up.”

“Yeah, well,” you deadpan, swallowing the tightness in your chest, “time does that to a person.” You narrow your gaze, lowering the string fully but keeping the bow in hand as you step closer. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Joel looks at you with a deadpan expression, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Your dad gave me the code. Years ago.”

“Definitely doesn’t sound like something he’d do.” you mutter, suspicion creeping in. Your eyes dart to the girl beside him. She fidgets, glancing between you and Joel like she’s trying to read the tension in the air.

Joel shrugs, ignoring your tone. “What’s it been? Six, seven years?”

“Closer to seven.” You take a slow breath, your fingers flexing around the bowstring. “So, what are you doing here, Joel?”

He shifts his weight, gesturing vaguely toward the gate. “Came to ask your pop for a favor. Where is he?”

The question hits like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you can’t answer. “Um, he and Frank...” you say finally, the words thick in your throat as you try to form them. “They’re… gone.”

Joel’s expression softens, a flicker of something—regret, maybe guilt—crossing his face. The girl beside him shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the ground.

“Sorry to hear that, kid,” Joel says after a beat, his voice low.

You nod stiffly, forcing the ache in your chest to settle. “Right. Well… you hungry?”

The girl perks up instantly. “Starving!” she blurts, her face lighting up in contrast to the tension.

You can’t help a soft laugh, the awkward moment breaking slightly. Joel turns to glare at her, but she’s still smiling at you.

“Come on,” you say, moving past them toward the house, the gravel walkway crunching under your boots as you lead the way.

You maintain that this is just downright weird. Having people in your house. Talking, even. To someone who… responds.

“You’re welcome to shower, too. We still get hot water,” you say, motioning up the stairs.

The girl’s eyes light up, wide with amazement. “Awesome,” she whispers, scanning the house like she can’t believe her luck—lingering on the lights, the hum of the generator, and the sound of running water as you rinse your hands at the sink.

“Go on, get cleaned up,” Joel orders, his voice clipped. He takes her bag, and she shoves it into his hands without hesitation, bolting up the stairs two at a time.

“I’ll get her some clothes,” you say quietly, already moving toward the closet where you kept some of your old clothes that no longer fit. A simple red shirt with a black long sleeve, a pair of jeans that would probably fit her with a belt.

As you walk past Joel, you feel his eyes on you—not warm or curious, but assessing, like he’s sizing you up. It makes your skin flush in a way you can’t explain.

“You’ve got this place locked down pretty tight,” he mutters when you return from laying the clothes out for the girl upstairs. Not a compliment, not really. More of a statement of fact.

“Yeah,” you reply, keeping your voice even, “Someone had to.”

He grunts in response, leaning his weight against the counter as you move into the kitchen. You wonder if he knows how much he reminds you of your dad. That same gruff exterior, the same sharp eyes that seem to see too much. You’re not sure if you’re unsettled or comforted by it.

The silence between you and Joel grows heavier, almost suffocating. You busy yourself, lighting the stove, pulling out a pan, doing anything to avoid looking at him too much. But he doesn’t move, just stands there, arms crossed, watching you with that same unyielding intensity.

“So,” you say finally, just to break the quiet, “you and the girl… traveling together?”

“Yep,” he replies curtly, offering nothing more.

“She yours?” you ask, glancing at him. You don’t remember him ever mentioning a kid with Tess.

“Nope.”

Another beat of silence stretches between you. You study him for a moment, the lines on his face deepened by the dim light, before he finally says, “Just cargo. Her name's Ellie. Takin’ her to the Fireflies.”

“The what?” you ask, your brow furrowing at the unfamiliar name.

He exhales sharply, like he doesn’t have the energy for a full explanation but knows he has to give one. “Rebel group. Started out tryin’ to save the world—'find a cure’." he scoffs, "Freedom fighters against FEDRA. You know FEDRA, right?”

You nod, your gaze lingering on him as he speaks. His jaw tightens, his eyes clouding over as if he’s remembering something he’d rather not. There’s more to the story, you can feel it in the tension radiating off him, but you know better than to ask.

“And Tess?” you venture cautiously.

His frown deepens, his arms folding tighter across his chest. He shifts uncomfortably, his gaze skirting away from yours. “She’s fine,” he mutters, his tone clipped and final.

You don’t push, but his reaction lingers in the air, heavy and telling. Whatever “fine” means to Joel, it’s not the full truth. You smile weakly and eventually give in to the quiet. The smell of roasting chicken and garlic fills the air, and you catch Joel glancing toward the oven, his expression softening just a hair. He doesn’t say anything, though, just stays rooted in place like a sentry.

Ellie thunders back downstairs a little while later, her hair damp and sticking to her cheeks, wearing the clothing you left out for her, “This place is insane!” she announces, plopping into a chair. “Hot water? Electricity? Real food? You’ve got it all.”

Joel grunts, but his expression remains as unreadable as ever. You set a plate in front of Ellie—bread, chicken, and a fresh salad with everything from your garden—and then one in front of Joel. He doesn’t thank you, just mutters, “Smells good,” before digging in.

You sit across from them, picking at your own plate as you watch Joel eat. He chews with the same grim determination as everything else he does, like the act of enjoying food would somehow cost him something. Ellie, on the other hand, is practically inhaling her meal, moaning softly as she tears into the bread.

“This is amazing,” she says around a mouthful of chicken. “Like, seriously. I forgot food could taste this good.”

You huff a small laugh, but Joel doesn’t even look up. “Slow down,” he mutters to Ellie, his tone sharp. “You’ll choke.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but does as he says, albeit reluctantly.

You push your food around your plate, not sure how to keep the conversation going. After a moment, you speak up, feeling the awkwardness in the air. “So why are you here, Joel?”

He chews thoughtfully, then meets your eyes, holding your gaze for a long beat. He leans back in his seat, wiping his mouth with the dark green napkin you’d set out for him.

“Well,” he begins, sucking his teeth, “I was hopin’ to ask your dad for a car.”

You nearly choke on your food. “A car?” The only one you had that still worked was that damn truck, and it’s sitting a mile away, just waiting to be picked clean.

Joel glances at you, waiting for your response. “So… that’ll be a ‘no,’ then?” he asks, his tone hesitant.

You swallow, collecting yourself. “I only got one working truck left, and it broke down this mornin’ before I saw you. But…” you trail off, thinking. “Dad kept extra parts around, across town. Pretty sure there’s a garage by the high school where he kept stuff. If we head over, we can grab a battery and get it in there by tonight, no problem.”

Joel looks at you for a moment, eyes narrowing. “You don’t need it?”

You shake your head. “I do.”

The room falls quiet for a moment, both of them waiting for you to elaborate. Finally, you put down your silverware, taking a breath before you continue. “Look, you're actually doing something good. With her, I mean,” you nod toward Ellie, your voice softening as you meet Joel’s gaze, “So I’ll get the truck fixed up for you, and I’ll figure something out for myself once you’re gone. There’s a couple other cars I could work on, get ‘em running with some effort.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t wanna take your only mode of transportation.”

You look at him, your tone steady. “You need it. I can tell.”

He studies you for a moment, brown eyes searching yours before he finally nods.

“So when do we go get that battery?”

You lean back, the question heavy on your mind. “We could go today, be back before sundown. But…” You hesitate.

“But what?” Joel asks, his voice low, his interest piqued.

You let out a long breath, looking at the two of them before speaking again. “It’s in a bad area. My dad didn’t like me going there, and he barely ever did himself. Only went if it was an emergency. He always said it was the safest place to store stuff if we ever got raided, but…”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “What’s the problem with it?”

“There’s a nest.”

“A…nest…?” Ellie asks, her eyes widening.

You nod, “Dad thought it’s like some sort of hideout for them, they’re everywhere.”

Neither Joel or Ellie had to ask what you meant by “they”.

You lead both Joel and Ellie down a narrow steps of the basement, the faint creak of the old wood above almost drowned out by the steady rhythm of your breath. At the end of the stairs, a thick steel door opens with a loud groan, revealing the bunker—your dad’s old workshop and storage. The smell of oil, metal, and rust hits you instantly, the air thick with the remnants of a life long gone. You pause by the wall of heavy machinery, your hand lingering over the cold metal as you assess the weapons lined up in front of you.

“If there’s any supplies you need, this would be the place to stock up. Help yourself.” you offer.

Joel steps in beside you, his gaze immediately locking on the shelves where various guns, knives, and ammo are neatly arranged. His eyes narrow as he surveys them, clearly weighing what might be useful.

“You okay?” Joel asks, his voice low when he turns and sees you examining the wall.

You nod, but the tension in your shoulders is still there. You grab a backpack and a rifle, its weight unfamiliar in your hands, not feeling quite right. You grimace, adjusting the strap as you shoulder it. “I prefer the bow,” you mutter.

Ellie, meanwhile, is practically bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide as she looks at the guns. “Seeing as it's just us...” she says, her voice almost playful, but there’s an edge to it, the unmistakable excitement of someone eager for a weapon.

“No,” you say, your voice firm, and it takes you a second to realize Joel said it at the same time, his tone just as sharp. Ellie holds up her hands in mock surrender, rolling her eyes, “okay, okay…”

After a moment, you turn to the wall, pulling a box of ammo from one of the shelves and loading the rifle. The metal feels heavy in your hands, and the weight of the decision to carry it makes you uneasy.

Joel is already grabbing a long range shotgun with a scope and a box of ammo, his movements steady and practiced. As he slides the gun around his chest, he loads his smaller pistol into the holster at his side, his gaze flicks to you, his brow furrowed. The silence stretches for a moment as Joel watches you. Then he nods, and without another word, he turns and heads toward the door.

“Let’s get moving,” you say, tone as steady as ever, walking out the front door.

Once you're out of the safety of your gates, the air smells stale, the scent of rot mixing with the distant remnants of the world that used to be. The neighborhood is quiet, too quiet, and every step you take feels like it could be the last.

You take a deep breath, pushing down the creeping paranoia that seems to grow with every second you’re out here. You’ve been through this town before, sure, but not in a long time, not without your dad, and never like this—everything feels unfamiliar, even though it’s a place you thought you knew.

“We just gotta push through a couple houses up here, down through the church, and out the back. Then we’ll be in the schoolyard. Be ready for anything,” you whisper, your voice low but steady.

Joel gives a sharp nod, his eyes scanning the area as he moves into position. Ellie’s behind you, her footsteps a little too heavy for your liking, but you can’t exactly blame her—this place is unsettling for all of you.

You glance over your shoulder, catching Ellie’s eye for just a second before you slide through a broken window into the house. The frame is twisted, the edges jagged, and it takes some effort to climb through without cutting yourself. You land lightly on the other side, your boots sinking into the dirt and overgrown weeds. The place is a mess—abandoned long ago, windows boarded up, and furniture toppled.

Frank would’ve had a fit about this. You can almost hear his voice in your head, nagging about how this place could’ve been cleaned up. He always wanted everything in its place, kept tidy, even when it seemed pointless. 

But that was before. When he was here.  Not that you care enough to waste any of your resources on this ruin.

You make your way through the house, stepping over debris with practiced ease, and signal to the others to follow.

Once Joel and Ellie are inside, you give a quick nod, pointing toward the back door. “This way.”

Joel’s already moving, his hand hovering near the gun at his hip. His eyes never stop scanning the space around you, and for a second, you wonder if he feels the same unease you do. But he doesn’t show it—just keeps moving, calm, like he’s done this a hundred times before.

You all move through the house, making your way toward the back door. The wood creaks under your weight, and the faintest sound of something scratching at the walls makes you freeze for a second. Your heart hammers in your chest, but you don’t say anything. You’ve learned not to overreact to every little sound—it could be nothing.

But it doesn’t stop the feeling crawling up your spine.

Finally, you make your way out onto the roof on the other side of the house, pausing to survey the courtyard below. You gesture with your hand, your voice low but clear.

“Alright, through this area, there’s gardens before we hit the church. It’s a bit of a maze, so stay close and keep your ears open. You’re lucky we haven’t run into any of them yet.”

You start to descend the overgrown fauna below, moving cautiously. Then, just as you’re about to reach the ground, the noise pierces through the air. That click. That unmistakable, haunting click. The sound that’s been in your nightmares for weeks. The one that freezes your blood and makes every muscle in your body tense.

You stop dead in your tracks, quickly turning around. With one hand, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for silence, and with the other, you gesture toward the other side of the overgrown brick wall. The wall is tall, covered in moss and vines, flowers dotting the cracks between the bricks.

Clicker, you mouth. Ellie’s eyes widen, but Joel takes a deep breath, nodding.

Getting low, you crouch and move forward, peering around the gate. There they are—two Clickers. Their faces, nearly consumed by fungus, are unrecognizable, with only their limbs resembling something human. Green, pink, and yellow growths where their eyes and noses once were now serve as a grotesque reminder of what they’ve become. They can’t see, but god, they can hear. Echolocation, using the clicks and guttural noises that bounce off walls—make even the slightest sound, and they’ll be on you.

You glance at Joel, then back at the Clickers. The air feels stiflingly heavy with the sound of their inhuman clicks, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Slow. You move slow, agonizingly slow, as you inch through the gate, keeping your body low. Your fingers graze a piece of brick that’s fallen from the mossy wall. You pick it up carefully, eyes never leaving the Clickers as they move in circles, completely oblivious to your presence for now.

When you see the perfect moment, you throw the brick, the sound of it hitting the far end of the courtyard loud enough to catch their attention. You draw your bow in one fluid motion, an arrow nocked and ready. If you just make this strong enough, you could potentially aim it through both of their heads at once. Might lose an arrow over it, but worth it for you. 

Joel’s eyes are locked on you now, his focus unwavering. You can feel the weight of the moment—the pressure to get it right. You breathe in, your aim steady as you watch the two Clickers rush to investigate the noise. As they move into position, you release the arrow.

The shot is clean, precise. The arrow drives straight through the first Clicker’s head, sending it tumbling forward, the momentum carrying it into the second, pinning both of them together.

“That…” Ellie’s whisper meets your ear, “Was…. Awesome.”

You can’t help the ghost of a smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, but you stay focused. “Right, well, there’s definitely more of those assholes.” You turn back to Joel, lowering your bow. “And I’m not wasting all my arrows on them than needed. You got a knife?”

Joel’s still watching the downed Clickers, his eyes flitting between them and you. Then, without a word, he pulls out his homemade shiv, the blade worn but sharp enough.

“Better than nothing.” you say looking at it, and he rolls his eyes, scoffing.

You move swiftly through the courtyard, your boots barely making a sound as you pass the stone fountain in the center. The once-pristine structure is now a jungle of overgrowth and rot, a sad reminder of a world long gone. You don’t stop to look at it, though—there’s no time for distractions.

Ahead, the gate looms. You pull out the keys, keeping them pressed tightly in your hand to avoid any jingle, and rise up to unlock it. The metal groans as you push the gate open, but it’s Once Joel and Ellie slip through, you close it behind them, the sound of the latch clicking into place strangely loud in the stillness. You’re not sure how much longer you’ve got before something hears you, so you don’t waste any time.

Ahead, two Infected are hunched over, twitching in some half-rest, their bodies contorted and unnatural. The sight makes your stomach turn, but you can’t afford to hesitate. You wouldn’t be getting any sleep the next few nights if you made it through this. 

You turn to Joel, your eyes meeting his with a silent understanding. You mime your plan quickly, knowing he doesn’t need a full explanation, just confirmation. You hold two fingers down into your open palm, directing him to sneak up on the creatures ahead. Then, pointing to his shiv, direct him to use it on the one on the right. Then, you gesture to yourself, drawing your knife with practiced ease, and point to the Infected on the left.

Joel watches your hands carefully, his expression unreadable. He glances up at you one last time, meeting your gaze for a split second before giving a small, nearly imperceptible nod. You return it, then drop into position.

The two of you move forward without a sound, careful not to let the ground betray you. You’re close now, the heavy foresty, damp earth smell of the fungus wafting off of them, almost suffocating. Their twitching bodies are oblivious to your presence, but that won’t last long.

You reach them before Joel, though he’s only a step behind. His shiv is ready, and you feel the faintest pressure in your chest as you watch him close the distance. One clean move, and it’ll be over for it.

On your side, the Infected on the left twitches again, its face a grotesque mess of fungus and decay, but it doesn’t hear you coming. You’re almost there.

You exchange one final glance with Joel, a silent confirmation between the two of you that it’s time. You strike at the same moment, both knives sinking deep into the Infected’s skulls in one fluid motion. No sounds. No mess. Just done.

You stay crouched over the bodies once they hit the ground, chest still tight with adrenaline, eyes scanning the area for any more movement. There’s no time to linger. You motion for Joel and Ellie to keep moving.

You move through the garden with practiced silence, each step deliberate as you take out the Infected one by one. Sometimes it’s a clean strike with a knife, other times you skirt around them, keeping to the shadows and staying out of their reach. The quiet is unnerving, but it’s necessary. One wrong sound, and this all goes south.

You breathe a little easier when you reach the other side of the garden, the familiar structure of the church looming ahead, its colorful windows glinting almost like a sense of safety. Almost.

You pause, letting the silence settle before you speak, your voice low but steady. “My dad kept some things in here for explosives—Molotovs, nail bombs, you name it. I’m gonna grab a few things, and then we’ll head out again. You guys good?”

You give them both a quick look, and when they nod, step inside the church, your boots echoing slightly in the still air. The shelves and corners are lined with the supplies your dad left behind—bottles of alcohol, nails, makeshift explosives. You grab a few Molotovs and a couple nail bombs, tucking them carefully into your pack.

As you finish up, Ellie’s voice breaks the silence, her tone quieter than usual. “Those things... they’re freaky, huh?”

You look over at her, catching her eyes for a brief moment. There's no fear there, but you can see the unease lingering in the way she stands. "Yeah, they're something else," you say, your voice low. "But we made it through, didn't we?"

Ellie gives a small, tight smile, nodding. “Yeah. For now.”

Joel looks between the two of you, his face unreadable as always, but you know he’s just as relieved as you to be moving on. “Let’s get going then,” he says, his voice calm, steady.

With the supplies secured, you head back toward the door, ready to face whatever else comes next.

You turn to them, keeping your voice low but clear. “Okay, through here, there’s some cars. We’ll use them to hide behind—there’s a lot of them that can see here. They get more riled the closer we get to the school, at least from what I remember. Might have to make some noise, but we’ll be fine if we keep our wits about us, yeah?”

Joel swallows, then nods. “I got your back.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, feeling the weight of his words. “And I got yours.” After a beat, you glance at Ellie. “Stay close.”

Ellie nods, her face set, and you adjust the strap on your bag before moving forward. You enter the large schoolyard, the familiar sight of broken-down buses bringing back memories of years ago. You spent hours siphoning parts with your dad, before the yard got overtaken by the nest inside the school.

You crouch behind a wall, nocking an arrow. The creature ahead is unaware, its back to you. But before you release, you feel a tap on your arm. You drop your bow and glance at Joel.

Going over here and I’ll go meet you on the other side, he partially mimes with his hands and says softly under his breath. You follow his gaze, then nod in silent agreement. 

You adjust your grip on the bow, hearing Joel’s footsteps fade to your right. You wait, focus sharp as you pull back and release. The infected goes down easily with little to no sound and you peer around at the others nearby. Two more are to your right, and the other three are on the other side of a chain link fence, if Joel manages to take out the two he’s aiming for with stealth.

You see him move—silent, calculated. His biceps strain in the sunlight as he grabs one of the Infected by the neck, twisting and pulling it to the ground with practiced ease. One down, with no noise, no fuss.

With that, you move forward, quick and silent. You pull your knife from your belt and plunge it into the head of the Infected in front of you. It drops without a sound. You spin and hide behind a bus just in time as the second one hears you.

You wait, breath steady, before the creature rounds the bus, oblivious. You pounce, knife flying, embedding into its skull before it even has time to react.

Finally, you meet up with Joel, your back pressed against the side of a short yellow bus. Your breath comes in quick, heavy gasps, but you force yourself to steady it, letting the adrenaline subside just enough for a moment. Behind the vehicle, you can hear the faint, strained breaths of more of them, riled and restless. You don’t have much time. You can handle a few if you make a run for it, but you don't want any nearby hearing you.

Ellie’s eyes flick between you and Joel, her body tense, waiting for the next move.

“Alright,” you say, your voice low but firm. “If we take a right here, and go over that truck,” you point to the chain-link fence opposite, pushed in by another vehicle with a climbable bed in the back, away from the remaining Infected, “we can avoid these guys. But we need to be fast. That’ll get us around the school and to the house where the garage with the extra supplies is.”

Joel, catching his breath, nods. “Sounds like the best option we’ve got. Let’s move.”

You move fast, heart pounding, feet shuffling the ground with urgency. The distance to the car is almost within reach, but as soon as your foot steps into the clearing, you hear it—aching yells, guttural growls, and shrieks echoing across the yard. A chorus of pain and hunger.

You freeze.

The Infected—more than you thought—are already turning toward you, spotting you within seconds of stepping out behind the bus. The sound of their calls fills the air like a warning siren to the rest that are hiding. The moment their eyes lock on you, they scream—loud, desperate calls that bounce off the walls of the schoolyard, alerting every creature in the vicinity. You feel your breath catch in your throat. The plan—hell, any plan—just fell apart.

“Go, go, go!” You shout, panic surging through you.

Ellie’s already moving, but you can hear the desperation in her footsteps, the same frantic rhythm in Joel’s as they rush toward the car. You run, but your gut twists with the feeling that they’re closing in too fast, the air heavy with the sounds of them coming after you.

You’re not going to make it to the car. You know it, feel it in your bones. Your eyes dart to the left, where the chain-link fence lies ahead.

“Joel!” You grab his arm, tugging him sharply as panic spikes through you. “Left! Now!”

You don’t wait for his answer. You can’t. The Infected are closer, already running toward you. The sound of their screams only grows louder, the shrieks and clicks mixing into a maddening symphony of death.

Joel reaches the fence first. He grabs Ellie’s leg, hoisting her up so she can climb over quickly. Then, he grabs you, shoving you up the chain-link with a firm push. You climb, your hands finding the gaps in the fence for grip as Joel follows, doing the same.

Ellie lands on the other side, already moving forward, while you scramble to get a grip going up. You scramble, adrenaline pushing you faster, and Joel boosts you over the top of the fence, his hands steady on your waist as he lifts you with surprising strength.

Once you get your legs over to the other side, you jump, hitting the ground hard, but there’s no time to recover. There’s already more on this side of the fence, and so you push yourself up, pulling Ellie along as you both run toward the nearest window, Joel right behind you.

The sounds of the Infected are deafening now, the shrieks of their painful calls only growing louder. You don’t dare look back. You round a corner of the side of the high school's classrooms, spotting a dumpster with a window open above it.

“Through the window!” you shout, urgency clawing at your throat.

Ellie’s already moving, squeezing through the small opening, her body sliding in with ease. You follow close behind, but the second your torso is through the gap, you feel something sharp grab onto your ankle.

A screech escapes you as you turn to see the twisted face of a man who is no longer human–fungus growing through his eyes and ears and splitting his scalp– its hands clamped tightly around your leg, pulling you back toward the ground. Panic surges through you. You kick out, trying to break free, but its grip is strong.

Before you can make another move, you hear the sound of a shotgun cocking, and a split second later, Joel’s shot rings out. The Infected’s head explodes, the force of the blast sending you flying forward.

Inside, you collapse to the floor, chest heaving, heart racing. You hear Joel’s quick footsteps behind you, the window slamming shut as he pulls himself through, his face flushed but focused. The classroom's walls rumble with the slamming of more infected against the window.

This was the last place you wanted to be stuck in.

"They’ll be able to push through that glass in any minute," Joel mutters, catching his breath, scanning the room.

You nod, still breathless. "We keep moving. We don't stop."

Ellie’s already on her feet, eyes wide but determined. "Let's go."

In the back of the room, you spot a set of double doors. Without hesitation, you push through, the cold metal of the door scraping against the frame. You shut it behind the three of you as quietly as possible, heart racing in your chest. Every sound, every creak feels like it could echo across the room, drawing attention to your every move. You don’t need to hear any more of those shrieks.

You knew what you were walking into, and you’d be damned if you let any more of those things hear you coming. The air in the hallway is thick, and the silence feels suffocating. You knew what you were walking into, and you’d be damned if you let any more of those things hear you coming. The air in the hallway is thick, the silence suffocating. You hold your breath for a moment, listening for any sign that you’ve been followed. The low, unsettling clicks and the sound of labored, painful breathing drift from up ahead.

You glance at Joel and Ellie, a quick, silent check-in. They’re close, eyes alert, waiting for your lead.

You give a small, subtle nod toward the hallway, your eyes scanning for any sign of safety. The school’s checkered floors are cracked and stained with time, the lockers rusted and open, papers and textbooks scattered across the floor like forgotten memories.

Up ahead, a Clicker paces back and forth, its clicks reverberating off the walls. You move fast, pulling your bow from your back, nocking an arrow with practiced ease. The shot is quick, clean. The arrow drives into the Clicker’s head with a soft thud, the creature collapsing silently to the floor.

Joel moves forward next, his eyes scanning the hallway as he spots a stray Infected wandering into the center. He doesn’t hesitate. His hands move with swift efficiency, grabbing the creature by the throat, choking it into submission until it drops to the floor.

You don’t miss a beat, drawing another arrow and letting it fly. It finds its mark, taking out another Infected in one smooth motion, the body crumpling without a sound.

The hallway feels heavier now, the tension thick in the air as you move forward, staying close, staying quiet. The school might be falling apart, but for now, you’re still fighting to stay one step ahead of the chaos that’s hunting you.

Through a classroom to your right, you hear more of them, this time a clicker and two fucking runners, so you had to both be silent and out of sight. Great. 

Joel snags a beaker from the ground, tossing it across the room. The sound of shattering glass distracts the Infected, and you mentally praise him for his quick thinking. Without wasting time, you notch another arrow, taking careful aim. The Clicker’s head snaps back with the impact of your shot. It drops instantly, silent as the others continue to shuffle.

Moving forward with practiced stealth, you skirt around the desks, careful to avoid the broken glass scattered across the floor. As you approach one of the Infected, you draw your knife, throwing it with precision. The blade sinks into its head with a sickening thud, and it collapses without a sound. Meanwhile, Joel takes care of the other, his own knife flashing as it drives deep into the creature’s skull.

They’re down. You stand, your breath steady, and collect a few bits of resources from around the classroom including the arrow you managed to keep intact from the clicker's head. It’s been years since you’ve been in here, maybe you missed something useful. Anything.

You reach for another beaker, preparing for any distractions you might need later. Then, you rifle through the drawers, checking for anything you can use—chemicals, alcohol, sulfur. Luckily, you find a couple bottles and bag them quickly.

Joel turns to you, his face set with determination but marked with the same adrenaline that’s running through your veins. "Which way?"

You point to the back classroom door into another hallway, chest still tight, eyes scanning the room one last time before you lead the way out. It’s not safe yet, but for now, you’re still alive. And that’s all that matters.

You move down the hall further, each step quieter than the last, heart pounding in your chest. It’s clear—too clear. The silence around you grows thick, making every sound feel louder than it is. It’s almost unsettling.

Then you reach the end of the hall. A double door stands before you, but it’s not just shut—it’s blocked by a large cabinet. Your stomach twists.

That’s never a good sign.

You step closer, eyes narrowing at the cabinet, your pulse quickening as a sinking feeling creeps up your spine. This wasn’t just some random obstruction. No. This cabinet was meant to keep something in. Something worse.

You glance at Joel, his face darkening as he recognizes it too. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension between you both is palpable.

A beat passes, and you can almost hear your heart in your ears.

"Not good," you mutter under your breath, eyes flicking to the cabinet, then back to Joel. "Whatever’s in there, it’s not gonna be pretty."

Joel’s hand hovers near his weapon, eyes locked on the door. "We don’t have a choice," he says, his voice grim. "We clear it, or it clears us."

You swallow, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. You know he’s right. You don’t have the luxury of waiting, not with everything that’s been chasing you. You sheath your knife, pulling around your rifle to point forward.

Ellie looks between the two of you, her voice barely a whisper. “What are we waiting for?”

Without another word, Joel moves forward, slowly pushing the cabinet aside. The sound of the heavy wood scraping against the floor is deafening in the silence, each movement deliberate, measured.

The cabinet shifts, inch by inch, revealing the faint crack between the doors. You hold your breath, every sense on high alert.

And then, from beyond the door, you enter into the old basketball courts of the highschool.

The door is holding back something that’s not just dangerous—it’s horrifying.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Cynic Pt.3

Here's part 1, part 2 (they kind of work independently)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  RB! Sebastian Vettel x Engineer! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

The party buzzed around them, the air electric with the team’s victory. She stood near the bar, her champagne glass in hand, her cheeks flushed—not just from the alcohol, but from the warmth of the celebration. She laughed easily at something one of the mechanics had said earlier, the bubbly loosening her usual stoic demeanor.

Sebastian spotted her from across the room, her smile catching his attention like it always did when she let her guard down. He weaved through the crowd and sidled up next to her.

“Having fun?” he asked, leaning casually on the bar.

She glanced at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why wouldn’t I be? Free drinks, a win, and you’re not in a mood today. Perfect trifecta.”

He chuckled, nudging her playfully. “Wow, I’m part of the winning formula now?”

“Oh, don’t get a big head,” she teased, tipping her glass toward him before taking another sip. “You’re tolerable tonight, that’s all.”

Sebastian smirked, tilting his head as he watched her. “You’re extra talkative tonight.”

She shrugged, a grin tugging at her lips. “What can I say? Champagne makes me chatty.”

He laughed, and she couldn’t help but join in, the sound light and unrestrained. But then, mid-laugh, she waved her hand vaguely in his direction, her grin turning into a lopsided smirk.

“You know what’s annoying about you?” she started, her tone playful but tinged with mock exasperation.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, this should be good. Enlighten me.”

“You’re… too much,” she declared, pointing at him for emphasis. “You’re charming and nice and talented and—ugh—it’s infuriating. You walk into a room, and suddenly everyone’s looking at you. It’s like you have your own gravitational pull or something.”

His grin widened, though there was a softness in his eyes as he listened. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s so,” she insisted, her words flowing faster now, her usual filter completely absent. “And you make people—me—feel things. Like, why do you have to be so…” She paused, gesturing vaguely. “You?”

Sebastian leaned closer, clearly enjoying her little rant. “I’m sorry for being… me?”

She huffed, though she was still smiling. “Don’t apologize. That would just make you even more annoying. And stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked, his tone innocent but his smirk anything but.

“Like you’re winning,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Well, technically, I did win today,” he quipped, earning an exaggerated groan from her.

She shook her head, laughing despite herself. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. You’re impossible.”

Sebastian reached out, gently taking the nearly empty glass from her hand and setting it on the bar. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I don’t mind being impossible if it means I get to hear this side of you.”

Her laughter faltered slightly, replaced by a softer, more vulnerable smile. “You’re still annoying,” she murmured, though her tone lacked any real bite.

Sebastian tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “Wait a second,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Did you just confess something? Because it kind of sounded like a confession.”

She froze for a beat, her expression caught somewhere between indignation and amusement. Then she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself. That wasn’t a confession. That was… an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced, his smirk growing wider. “So, calling me charming, talented, and saying I make you feel things—purely observational, right?”

“Exactly,” she said firmly, though the telltale blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

Sebastian chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the bar. “Alright, alright. Just an observation, then. But for the record, I think your ‘observations’ are pretty revealing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, though the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’ve already said that tonight,” he quipped, his tone light. “Twice, I think. I’m starting to think it’s your way of avoiding admitting things.”

“Admitting what?” she shot back, arching a brow.

“That you like me,” he said, so casually it nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, she was completely at a loss for words. But then, she shook her head while faking a smirk. “Wow, you’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

He grinned, undeterred. “Maybe. But am I wrong?”

She shook her head, still smirking, and placed a hand on his arm as if to steady herself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, echoing her earlier words, “here we are.”

She groaned, but the grin on her face made it clear she wasn’t really upset. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up, I’ll admit that you’re… tolerable. Occasionally. When you’re not being smug.”

Sebastian tilted his head, his expression softening just enough to catch her off guard. “Well, that’s a shame,” he said, his tone quieter but no less steady. “Because if you had admitted it, I could’ve said I feel the same way about you.”

Her grin faltered, and she stared at him, searching his face for a hint of teasing. But there was none. He was still smiling, but it was softer now, almost vulnerable, and her heart stumbled in her chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. “Seb, I—”

He cut her off with a playful grin, clearly unwilling to let the moment get too heavy. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything now. Just… think about it, alright?”

After that semi-confession, highly helped by the alcohol, they started dating. It wasn’t that Seb was the most romantic person in the world. Yes, he was romantic; however, it was her apparent lack of romanticism—the part she kept for herself—that made him seem like he was doing wonders. She was smitten, very smitten, but she tried really hard not to show it, despite sometimes being caught staring at him too endearingly or blushing in ways she couldn’t conceal.

One day, as they cuddled peacefully after a race, both too exhausted to do much. Sebastian’s fingers lazily traced circles on her arm as they lay sprawled on the couch, her head nestled comfortably against his chest. The hum of the TV filled the room, though neither of them was paying it much attention. For her, the rhythm of his heartbeat was far more captivating, though she’d never say it out loud.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “you’re kind of perfect.”

She immediately groaned, turning her face into his chest to hide the blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks. “Seb, don’t start.”

“What?” he asked innocently, though the grin in his tone was unmistakable. “I’m just stating facts.”

“Your ‘facts’ are ridiculous,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against him.

He tilted his head down, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. “Ridiculous?” he repeated, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m an expert on this topic. I’ve conducted thorough research. You’re definitely perfect.”

She pulled back just enough to give him a half-hearted glare, though the softness in her eyes betrayed her. “Stop being so corny,” she said, trying to sound stern.

He grinned, completely unfazed. “Why? It’s true. You’re smart, funny, beautiful—”

“Seb,” she interrupted, shaking her head but unable to stop the small smile creeping onto her lips.

“—and you’ve got this cute little habit of pretending you’re not completely smitten with me,” he continued, undeterred.

Her jaw dropped in mock indignation. “I am not smitten.”

“You are,” he teased, his grin widening. “I catch you looking at me all the time, like I’m the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s adorable.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, though the effect was ruined by the way her lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “If I weren’t so tired, I’d shove you off this bed.”

“But you are tired,” he pointed out, wrapping his arms around her more securely. “Which means you’re stuck here with me and all my corny compliments.”

She sighed dramatically, but there was no mistaking the contentment in her voice when she said, “Fine. I guess there are worse places to be.”

Sebastian chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Admit it,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a playful whisper. “You secretly love it when I’m like this.”

She didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch just long enough to keep him guessing. Then, with a small, mischievous smile, she said, “Perhaps.”

His laughter rumbled through his chest, and she couldn’t help but smile wider, feeling the warmth of it settle deep within her.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[echo-riot]

Just a lil thought I had-

(NSFW) Sevika sitting on your face 🫡

“You want me to do what?” Sevika’s voice was sharp, cutting through the dimly lit room like a blade. Her grey eyes, faintly glowing with the shimmer in her veins, pinned you in place as she leaned back against the worn couch, one leg propped up on the coffee table. The faint hum of Zaun’s undercity buzzed through the cracked windows, but it couldn’t drown out the tension between you.

“I said,” you smirked, leaning forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you met her gaze head-on, “sit on my face.”

Sevika barked out a laugh, rough and unapologetic, her lips curling into a grin that showed off her lip piercing. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You think I’m just gonna—” She gestured vaguely at herself, her copper prosthetic hand catching the light, its shimmer-enhanced surface glinting dangerously— “climb on top of you like some delicate little flower?”

“Delicate?” You raised an eyebrow, letting your gaze rake over her towering frame, the muscles of her arms and thighs clearly visible even under her utilitarian clothing. “Not the word I’d use for you, Sevika. But yeah, I’m serious. Why not?”

She snorted, shaking her head, the red poncho draped over her shoulders shifting slightly with the motion. “Why not? Because it’s fucking ridiculous, that’s why. And unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a low, teasing purr. “Or are you just scared I might actually make you lose control for once?”

Her eyes narrowed, the faint shimmer in them flaring ever so slightly. “Careful, sweetheart,” she growled, leaning forward now too, her face inches from yours. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not unless you’re ready to back it up.”

---

It had started earlier that evening, when you’d found her brooding by the bar in the Last Drop, her usual haunt. Silco’s empire wasn’t kind to anyone, least of all his lieutenant. The weight of her responsibilities—and the scars of her past—hung heavy on her shoulders, though she’d never admit it. You’d slid into the seat beside her, ordered her favorite drink without asking, and waited.

It took a while—it always did with Sevika—but eventually, she’d tilted her head toward you, her expression softening just enough to let you know she was listening. “Long day?” you’d asked, sipping your own drink casually.

“Every day’s a long day down here,” she’d muttered, taking a swig from her glass. Her prosthetic arm rested on the bar, fingers drumming idly against the wood. “What do you want?”

“Can’t a girl just check in on her girlfriend?” you’d teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“Cut the crap,” she’d said, but there was no real bite to it this time. Just exhaustion. “You’re here for something. Spit it out.”

So you had. You’d told her you wanted to take her home, away from the noise and the chaos, if only for a little while. To remind her that she didn’t have to carry everything alone. That night, after some stubborn resistance, she’d finally relented.

---

Now, here you were, in the small apartment she kept tucked away in the lower levels of Zaun, far from prying eyes. The air between you crackled with tension, the kind that came from weeks of stolen glances and hurried touches in shadowed corners. You’d been dancing around this moment for what felt like forever, and tonight, you weren’t going to let her brush you off again.

“Back it up, huh?” You smiled, slow and deliberate, as you stood up, closing the distance between you and the couch where she sat. “Alright, then. Let’s see if you can handle it.”

Sevika watched you warily, her body coiled tight like a predator ready to strike. But there was something else in her eyes too—something darker, hotter. Curiosity, maybe. Or desire. Either way, she didn’t stop you as you climbed onto the couch, straddling her lap with your knees planted firmly on either side of her hips.

Your hands found her shoulders, gripping the fabric of her poncho before sliding it off her frame. She didn’t fight you, though her jaw tightened as you tossed it aside, leaving her in just her sleeveless top and cargo pants. Her muscular arms flexed instinctively as your fingers traced the scars that crisscrossed her skin, each one a story of survival, of battles fought and won.

“You’re not as scary as you think you are, you know,” you murmured, leaning in until your lips brushed against hers. She didn’t kiss you back—not yet—but her breath hitched, just barely, and her hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

“And you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” she shot back, though the edge in her voice was softer now, almost playful.

You laughed softly, pressing another kiss to her lips, this time lingering. “Maybe. But you’re still here.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her grey eyes searching yours as if trying to unravel some hidden truth. Then, without warning, she surged forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt. Her tongue swept against yours, demanding and possessive, and you groaned into her, your hands tangling in her cropped hair.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breathing ragged. “Fine,” she growled, her voice low and rough. “But if you so much as think about laughing, I’ll break your fucking nose.”

Before you could respond, she shifted beneath you, her strong hands guiding you backward until you were lying flat on the couch. She made quick work at getting her pants off, along with the boy shorts she wore underneath.

She hovered over you for a moment, her eyes locked onto yours, before giving you a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. Then, slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself onto your face.

The first thing you noticed was the weight of her—solid, grounding, real. Her thighs pressed against the sides of your head, trapping you in the best possible way. The second thing you noticed was the heat radiating from her, seeping into your skin and filling your senses. But the third—the third was the scent of her, musky and unmistakable, driving every coherent thought from your mind.

You didn’t waste any time. Your hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer as your tongue found her. She let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing above you, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The taste of her was intoxicating, and you chased it hungrily, your tongue working in long, slow strokes that made her shudder.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her voice trembling in a way you’d never heard before. Her hands tangled in your hair, tugging hard enough to sting, but it only spurred you on. You sucked gently at her clit, earning another groan, and then flicked your tongue faster, harder, until her thighs were clenched around your head and her breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps.

“You—” she choked out, her grip on your hair tightening— “you’re not half bad at this.”

You grinned against her, reveling in the way her hips rocked against your mouth, seeking more. More pressure, more friction, more everything. And you gave it to her, your tongue working in tandem with the rhythm of her movements until she was practically grinding against your face, her moans growing louder, more desperate.

“That’s it,” you murmured, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving back in. “Let go, Sevika. I’ve got you.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her body stilling above you. But then, with a growl that was equal parts frustration and surrender, she let herself fall completely into the sensation. Her hips moved with abandon now, her pleasure building with every stroke of your tongue, every brush of your lips. And when she finally came, it was with a cry that echoed through the room, her body trembling as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

As she slumped bonelessly against the couch, her chest heaving and her face flushed, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. “Told you,” you said, your voice muffled but smug, “you’d like it.”

Sevika glared at you, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the dazed look in her eyes and the sweat beading on her brow. “Shut up,” she muttered, though there was no real anger behind it. “You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass for that.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, grinning up at her. “Is that a challenge?”

[hoondolls]

COMPLICATED, AS USUAL — SIM JAEYUN

O1 ) YOU’RE NOT Y/N! PREV_NEXT

WARNING : mentions of drastic weight loss, profanity, I don’t there’s anything else

WC : 1584

credit to @adornedwithlight for header

TAGLIST : @jakeslvt

The Lee family was as predictable as they were efficient. The moment they stepped off the plane from London and returned to their old home in Gokseong, they got straight to work. Suitcases were unpacked, floors were scrubbed, and every corner of the house was inspected with military precision. Rest was a luxury no one could afford until the house gleamed, though Y/N was certain it already looked fine. She hated the routine, not just because it was exhausting, but mostly because Horang, always managed to charm her way into the easiest tasks that sly brat y/n thought to herself as she scrubbed the tiles on the toilet harder, as the eldest by a technicality of two minutes, she was saddled with the worst jobs—dusting cobwebs from the ceiling corners and scrubbing the kitchen grout like her life depended on it even cleaning the front porch in the middle of night, she knew her parents were missing a few screws in their heads.

By the time the mrs lee declared the house livable, it was way late into the night. y/n had collapsed onto the couch all sweaty wearing one of those scandalous tank tops and some sweats, too tired to care about her rumbling stomach or the faint scent of cleaning supplies that clung to her skin or the fact her mother would publicly execute her for sleeping on the couch. It was home, for better or worse, though she wasn’t sure how she felt about being back in the village that haunted most of her childhood memories.

The next morning began like any other. Her mother barked orders about her being slimy and needing to get up and ready while Y/N groggily tried to ignore her pressing her face into the pillows of the voice . She was still debating whether it was worth getting up she’d been utterly exhausted from jet lag and the scrubbing she did last night felt like she was in exploited worker with no wage so naturally when the doorbell rang she groaned .

“y/n, get the door since you’re already on the couch,” Mrs. Lee called from the kitchen, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“they can’t be back already .” She said to herself Horang and Mr Lee went out to get groceries she dragged herself off the couch and shuffled toward the door and swung it open, only to freeze at the sight of the boy standing on their front step.

Sim Jaeyun.

He had the same messy brown hair, the same cocky smile, and the same irritatingly perfect posture he’d had when they were kids. But there was something else now—he looked older, taller, and maybe even more annoying, annoyingly pretty.

Jaeyun’s reaction was even more dramatic. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, as though he’d just seen a ghost. For a moment, neither of them spoke, until he finally broke the silence he shifted the fruit basket in his hands.

“Uh…” He squinted, his eyes raking over her face. “ Who are you? Don’t the lees live here you know Heeseungs aunt and uncle ” he said his accent thick and tingled with some unease

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean, who am I? It’s me.” She scoffed

He tilted his head, still scrutinizing her. “You’re Horang, did you get something done to your face ? Like filler or something ” he said pointing at her lips , y/ns lips had always been fuller than Horangs.

Her irritation flared instantly. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped her British accent empathising the god and Jaeyun knew instantly what she was about to say .

“I am y/n.”

His eyes widened slightly as he stepped back, his gaze dropping to her arm where a small mole near her wrist confirmed her identity. But even then, he looked unconvinced.

“No way,” he said, more to himself than to her. “That’s not you. The y/n I know had…” He gestured vaguely to his own face in mock insult . “Chubby cheeks. And, you know, was a little…”

“a little what ?” she dared, crossing her arms stepping outside to immediate him

“Rounder,” he finished, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. stupid cunt she thought to herself

Her glare could’ve burned holes through him. “Wow, Jaeyun. Thanks for the confidence boost. Really appreciate it.”

His grin only widened. “What happened to your cute little cheeks?” He leaned forward slightly towering over her, poking his own hollow ones for emphasis.

“What happened to your manners?” she shot back.

Jaeyun ignored her question entirely. “Are you sure you’re y/n? Like, 100% sure? The y/n I know had a hard time breathing after taking a few steps”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside so he could enter. “Aren’t you getting a little too comfy, Jaeyun? I don’t know what Heeseung sees in you”

“That’s it.” He smirked as he stepped into the house giving her a little condescending ruffle to her hair . “That’s the y/n remember.”

Before she could snap back at his audacity, Mrs. Lee emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over her shoulder. “Jaeyun! It’s been so long,” she said warmly, taking the fruit basket from his hands and giving him a tight hug

“Hello, Mrs. Lee,” he said with a polite bow, his tone smooth and practiced.

“Look at you. You’ve grown so much, My gosh and so handsome too!” she said, inspecting him with a smile. “I hope you’re staying out of trouble.”

He grinned, his eyes flicking to y/n who was standing further away with a stoic expression on her face. “Of course, ma’am.”

Mrs. Lee nodded approvingly before turning to her daughter. “Here, take this kimchi to his mother,” she said, shoving a container into y/ns hands.

“What? Why me?” y/n protested, already regretting opening the door and sleeping on the couch, last things he wanted was to see Jaeyun family

“Because I said so,” Mrs. Lee replied sharply, before glancing at Jaeyun. “ the sims are your aunts in laws now you should try and be respectful ”

Jaeyun raised his eyebrow his eyes darting to y/n and then at her tight tank top before looking away once Mrs Lee caught his eyes

Mrs. Lee ignored him, turning back to Y/N. “Go change first. You’re standing there looking homeless.”

y/n blinked, stunned. “Homeless?” she echoed cleaning annoyed.

Her mother gave her a pointed once-over, gesturing to the sauce-stained white tank top she’d been wearing since the night before she shook her head disapproving at how it emphasised her chest . “At least try to look presentable. Horang wouldn’t be caught dead in that.”

y/n clenched her jaw, muttering something under her breath as she stomped up the stairs.

Jaeyun laughed quietly, watching her retreat. “Still as dramatic as ever,” he said.

Mrs. Lee sighed. “Honestly, that girl. I don’t even know why I brought her along.”

Jaeyun shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Mrs. Lee didn’t seem to notice, her expression brightening as she changed the subject.

“I’m sure you’ve already met Heeseung,” she said, and Jaeyun nodded.

“Yeah, we had breakfast together earlier,” he replied trying to hide the fact he was uncomfortable with only being with Mrs Lee without a third person .

Mrs. Lee smiled. “Good. I hope he learns from his friend. That boy is hopeless in the kitchen. What’s his name again? The one that can cook well ? He was just here yesterday night , Jong… Jeon?” She said trying to remember.

“Jongseong,” Jaeyun corrected with a tight and uncomfortable smile .

She nodded. “That’s it, Jongseong. Such a nice boy. Maybe both Y/N and Heeseung could learn a thing or two from him.”

Jaeyun glanced toward the stairs, where Y/N was probably sulking in her room and cursing him out . “I don’t think Y/N’s the type to take advice,” he said, his tone teasing.

Mrs. Lee let out a shrill laugh . “You’re not wrong about that.”

Moments later, Y/N reappeared, her expression stormy but her outfit slightly more presentable. She shoved the kimchi container into Jaeyun’s hands without a word, glaring at him as though it was his fault she’d been humiliated.

“let’s get this over with,” she muttered, brushing past him toward the door.

Jaeyun followed, a smug grin tugging at his lips. This summer was already shaping up to be more entertaining than he’d expected, oh he’s going to push her buttons so much.

[memorabxlia]

All I Want for Christmas Is You ━ 홍중

genre: fluff (just a tad), smut summary: after getting stranded in your car during a winter storm with Hongjoong, you find other means to pass the time warnings: est relationship, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), car sex (defintely forgot something) pairing: nonidol!hongjoong x fem!reader wc: 1.9k a/n: DAY 4!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The wind howled outside, slamming against the windows of your car like a wild animal trying to break in. Snowflakes swirled in chaotic spirals, obscuring the road ahead and coating everything in a thick blanket of white. You tugged your coat tighter around you, but it was no use—the cold had already seeped into your bones. The heater sputtered weakly, barely holding its own against the storm.

“Hongjoong,” you murmured, your teeth chattering as you glanced at him in the driver’s seat. His hands were still gripping the wheel, even though the car hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. “How long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?”

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I don’t know. The tow truck said they’d come as soon as they could, but…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “This isn’t exactly ideal weather for rescuing stranded idiots.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who thought driving through this was a good idea.”

Hongjoong shot you a look, his dark brows knitting together in mock offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Remind me again who begged to stop for ‘just one more coffee’ before we left?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the grin tugging at his lips stopped you. Even in the middle of a snowstorm, half-frozen and completely stranded, he had a way of making you forget everything else. Your fianc��’s sharp features were softened by the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his black hair tousled from running his fingers through it in frustration. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but notice how the faint sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling warmer than you had a moment ago. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m partially to blame.”

“Partially?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Try fully.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing now. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the tension thickening like the snow piling up outside. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he caught your hand in his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside faded away, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the faint thrum of the engine. Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you felt a familiar heat stir deep within you. It wasn’t just the cold making you shiver anymore.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm.

“So are you,” he countered, his thumb tracing slow circles on your palm. His touch was maddening, deliberate and unhurried, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “What are you thinking about?”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “That maybe… we should find a way to pass the time.”

“Oh?” His eyes darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “And what did you have in mind?”

You didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips were just a breath apart. Hongjoong’s sharp intake of air was the only warning you got before he closed the distance, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

It was all fire and need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the other found your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your jeans. You gasped into his mouth, your hands flying to his chest to steady yourself, but that only seemed to spur him on. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Tell me what you want,” before reclaiming your lips with a fierceness that left you breathless.

Your mind raced, torn between the rational part of you that knew this was madness and the part that didn’t care. The storm raged on outside, but inside the car, the only thing that mattered was the way Hongjoong’s body pressed against yours, the way his touch set your skin ablaze.

“God, Hongjoong,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I want—”

Before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. His hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of your sweater to explore the bare skin underneath. The contrast between his warm palms and the icy air sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when his lips were trailing kisses along your jaw, not when his hands were roaming your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Instead, you let your actions speak for you, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until your hands met the hard planes of his chest. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Hongjoong groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you into his lap. The steering wheel dug into your back, but you barely noticed—not when his erection was pressing insistently against your thigh, not when his lips were skimming over the curve of your ear.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “That’s all for you.”

You whimpered, grinding against him instinctively. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “Joong—”

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. “Tell me you want this.”

You nodded frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled your jeans down just far enough to expose your wetness to the cold air. “Yes, yes, please—”

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers slipping between your folds to tease you with maddening precision. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as he added, “Now let me hear you.”

You arched into him, desperate for more friction, more heat, more of him. The car windows were fogged up from your ragged breaths, the world outside forgotten as the storm raged on. All that mattered was the way his fingers curled inside you, stroking just right to make your hips jerk uncontrollably.

“Joong—” you gasped, clutching at his arm. “I can’t—please—”

“Can’t what?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, and you moaned at the sensation. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you relentlessly. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You whined, your head falling back against the seat as pleasure coiled tight in your core. “I need you,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I need you inside me, Joong—please.”

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Since you asked so nicely…” He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss, and shifted in the cramped space of the car. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle, the sound of it unbuckling sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

When he finally pushed down his jeans, freeing his hard length, you couldn’t help but reach for him. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking lightly, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, you’re impatient,” he muttered, though the way his hips bucked into your touch betrayed his own desperation.

You smirked up at him, even as your pulse raced. “You like it.”

He growled, catching your wrist and pinning it above your head. “Careful,” he warned, his tone playful but edged with hunger. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly spoiled for space here. Thought you might appreciate me taking my time.”

You bit your lip, squirming under his hold. “Take your time later,” you urged, dragging your free hand down his chest. “Right now, I just need you.”

Hongjoong groaned, releasing your wrist to brace himself against the car seat. He positioned himself between your legs, his tip brushing against your slick entrance, and you shivered at the contact. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern despite the tension thick in the air.

You nodded, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sure.”

With a low growl, he sank into you in one slow, torturous thrust. The stretch was exquisite, filling you completely, and you gasped out his name as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Always so perfect for me.”

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. The pace was steady at first, each stroke deep and deliberate, but it didn’t take long for his restraint to fracture. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the howling wind outside. The car rocked slightly with the force of them, but neither of you cared.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every touch, every kiss, every word from his lips driving you closer to the edge. His mouth found yours again, kissing you hungrily as he fucked you with relentless intensity. You could feel the coil inside you tightening, winding tighter and tighter until—

“Joong, I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. “Please—don’t stop—”

He chuckled darkly, slowing his pace just enough to drive you mad. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me how much you want to come.”

You let out a frustrated whine, your hips jerking up to chase his. “Please, Joong, I need it—want to come for you—need you to make me—”

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. His touch was electric, and combined with the way he filled you, it was too much. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Hongjoong swore under his breath, his own release hitting him hard. He buried himself deep inside you, his movements growing erratic as he followed you over the edge. For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the faint creak of the car settling.

He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the seat, but you didn’t mind. His lips brushed against your neck, trailing lazy kisses as he murmured, “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You were right,” you admitted, though your smile faded as you glanced out the fogged-up window. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the thought of someone finding you both like this sent a rush of embarrassment through you. “What if—?”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, his tone reassuring. “We’ll hear them coming.” He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before adding with a mischievous grin, “Besides, I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath caught at the promise in his words, and before you could respond, his hands were already moving again, exploring, teasing. “Joong—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

[hyuukais]

18. y/n's malewife cooking class

warnings: malewife jokes obvi, swearing, kinda cringe ngl

word count: 2.5k

a/n: i'm so sorry for the late update i hope ya'll still enjoy it !! i wrote like half of this while watching jjk and the other half while watching sonic so sorry if this is wack 💀

The silver steel doors loom over you, a hazy projection of yourself reflecting on their surface. Your finger trembles, hovering over the small buzzer. You’re not shivering anymore—the warmth of the lobby shaking off the last bits of cold—however, your body is wracked with nerves like you’ve never felt---A twisting, nausea-inducing tremor running a marathon along your spine. 

You’ve literally met and talked to them before! This shouldn’t be an issue! But your brain has never been one to listen to rationale. Mustering the last dregs of your senses, your finger presses into the button. A short, tight buzz rings out then once again, stifling silence.

Crackles break through the small speaker. “Hello?” A voice hums.

“H-hey, kai.”

“Oh, Y/n!” His voice perks up, finding an airiness muddled in the static of the intercom. “Hold on just a sec, Taehyun’ll be down in a minute!”

The line cuts before you can respond, yet you're still caught on the sound of his voice. Even through the warped radio buzz, the sound of your name on his lips danced like sugar through your mind. His palpable excitement curled over its edges, cradling it like porcelain. Much could be found in a name and Kai seemed set on unwrapping every layer to yours. Intent on searching every nook and cranny to give it new meaning from his lips. Or, perhaps, you were suddenly in far deeper than you had initially thought.

Before you, the elevator doors part and give way to the man in its midst. Taehyun’s eyes light up as they land upon you, brows jumping and eyes curling in a bright smile. Your heartbeat thumps in your throat and those nerves tug hard at your gut.

His arm gestures widely to the space next to him. “Come on in.”

“Oh, right, of course.” You scamper onto the elevator beside him, staring down the doors as they enclose you two, alone. Avoiding Taehyun’s gaze, the reflection in the walls calls your attention. Much clearer than the one from before, their wide eyes find yours with curiosity. 

How do you look? Do you look okay? Is this good enough? Is it too feminine? Or too masculine?

Behind you, a soft cough breaks the air, “Did you have any trouble getting here?”

“Hm? Oh, no, no.” You tug a stray fabric on your shirt nervously. “The train here is pretty convenient.”

“Ah, yeah.” From the corner of your eye, you catch his nod, his eyes, too, cast aside. His hands weigh down the pockets of his jeans.

A soft ding echoes through the elevator, opening the doors and interrupting your awkward conversation.

“Here we are.” Taehyun steps out of the lift, before turning back to you and motioning with his head. You follow him down the plain hallway, watching door after door pass. Finally, he stops in front of one of the nearly identical doors and knocks. Muted footsteps rush behind the door, which is quickly opened afterward.

Huening’s bright smile greets you as he moves to let you both in, “Welcome! Come on in!”

Beyond the threshold, the short foyer slows into the kitchen and living room. Cozily decorated, the large space feels full and homey, well-lived in. Slipping your shoes onto the rack by the door, you can’t help but take note of the matching keychains hanging beside the front door. Two small, plush, cartoon creatures—one vaguely cat-like and the other with one small angel wing—hang on the key rack, magnetically connected at the hands.

“Cute.” It was a thought whispered to yourself.

“What?” Taehyun peers over at you from where he is also exchanging his outside shoes. He seems to follow your line of sight, a smile growing on his cheeks. “They reminded me of Huening when I saw them. I couldn’t stop myself.”

Though a little embarrassed that he’d heard you, you can’t help but smile back. “That’s sweet.”

“Well, we had just moved in, so I thought I might as well. It’s a good way to never forget to grab your keys.”

“I bet.”

Kai looks back into the foyer at you two, “Plus, they have little squeakers in them. So cute!” Then he turns around and heads for the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen you see the counters laid out with all your ingredients. Right across from the island is a suitable camera and stream set-up, almost ready to film. Taehyun is fiddling with one of the monitors and Hueningkai is checking for all the correct kitchen equipment. You help him make sure he has the right pans and oils as he keeps fretting over it all. 

“Really, Kai, you have everything we need, I swear.”

“Okay, but–”

“No, please,” You hesitate, then place a comforting hand on his arm with a smile. “I keep saying, and I guess I’ll probably have to until I die, but…you two have done practically everything for this. It’s perfect, all of it. I promise.”

His shoulders soften under your touch along with his eyes. Gaze shifting over you, leaving a warmth in its wake blooming under the skin, he sighs. “Yeah, okay.” However, in just a second,  he jerks away, startling you. “Wait! I almost forgot…”

He scurries down the hall off the kitchen. You hear a door click and squeak and presume he may be a minute or two. Turning to Taehyun, still adjusting the set-up, you walk to his side.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Um…yeah. We’ve got about fifteen minutes and, since we’re streaming from your account, could you set that up?” He points to the monitor beside him.

“Yup!” It’s already open to the platform so you type in your credentials and make sure everything is right. “There you go. So…what do we want to name it?”

“Well, it’s your stream…”

Your head tilts in thought, digging deep for something to perfectly encapsulate the experience ahead. Collabs were rare for you beyond your standard friend group, so this was special—in more ways than one. It had to feel right.

“What about—”

“I got the aprons!” Hueningkai comes sliding back into the room, three fabric pieces draped over his arm—you can almost see Walter White's head peeking over the folds. He seems to assess the interrupted atmosphere, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was just thinking…how do we feel about calling the stream ‘Y/n’s Malewife Cooking Class’?” You give the title a lovely flourish with your hands.

Taehyun erupts beside you with a soft laugh along with Kai. The latter makes his way over, passing over your white apron, still chuckling at your suggestion.

“That sounds amazing.”

Tying his apron behind his back, Taehyun sports a hearty smile while asking, “Does that mean we’re malewives?”

“I mean, maybe. Anyone can be a malewife. Malewife is a mindset, y’know?”

Kai laughs boisterously—a heavy, hearty sound—before continuing, “Well then, I’m ready to become the malewife I was always meant to be!”

You start the stream as energetic as usual, watching views and comments flood in. Each of you happily shows off your aprons and greets the viewers Kai and Taehyun had both posted to their socials alerting their audiences to their presence; the view count has practically doubled in size from the number you alone tend to pull in. It’s almost nerve-wracking, but you keep up your on-camera attitude well.

Leading the men through the steps of your recipe, you three slip back and forth around the kitchen. Huening, claiming his cooking ineptitude, mostly tasked himself with gathering and measuring out the ingredients. He listened quite diligently as you told him what was next.  Taehyun was more hands-on in his assistance and proved to be very skilled as he moved around the kitchen. However, when you had him dice some of the cabbage, you lent a hand with his technique.

Without thinking, you step up behind Taehyun and carefully stretch your arms around his back. Glancing up for some confirmation that this touch was okay, you caught the twinkle dancing over his eyes and took his smile as an okay. You placed your hands over his, slowly guiding them through the correct cutting method. His skin ran warm beneath your touch with roughened skin—your hand brushing over the long-built calluses. Taehyun quickly understood, hands picking up the motion on their own. Reluctantly, you let him go, finally processing the proximity. Your body floods with inextinguishable fire as you swiftly move away.

Still, it followed you. Later when you had gone to wash a spoon that still had small bits of food on it to reuse it. Once again, you didn’t think before doing so, until a blast of water sprayed back up at you. Coating flecks of water over your face and, though the apron caught quite a bit of it, it soaked through to your shirt. 

“Shit! I–I didn’t think that through.” You try to laugh off the increasingly uncomfortable feeling sticking to your chest.

Kai turns from assisting Taehyun with filling the dumplings, eyes widening at your doused front. “Oh! Hold on, I can–”

“No, no, Kai it’s–”

“I’ll be right back.” He runs off before you can finish speaking, back down the hallway. A heavy sigh leaves you and your fingers work at the apron tie to relieve some of the wet fabric from your body. After it’s off you try patting off the stain with paper towels. That helps but it’s not the best. Luckily, Kai returns quickly with a sweatshirt in hand.

He holds it out to you, smiling, “Here. Just to cover it if you’d like.”

“Uh–thank you.” Hesitantly, you take hold of the fabric, eying it like it may explode. There it is again. That raging flame in the pit of your stomach—filling up your gut, running all through your veins.

You shrug on the hoodie, brushing the soft fabric. As it settles over your shoulders, you catch the clean mix of vanilla and sandalwood lingering in the stitching. The fire pushes at your heart as the scent mingles in your head. You want to sink into it, swim in it, live in it forever.

You shake away the fog in your senses and return into view of the camera, ready to keep going.

Most of the rest of the stream goes off without a hitch, minus a few minor incidents. As you go, there’s this undeniable energy between you three. Something easy to fall into. You connect in an almost subconscious way; coming about as naturally as breathing. They are so easy to fall for.

The first batch of dumplings finished in near-perfect condition. Huening took one, fresh out of the pan, to try; biting in despite the steam radiating from it. You watch intently as he chews through the heat before a sharp hum rumbles up his throat.

“That’s so good!” His words get mumbled by the food and the hand blocking his mouth. “God, and hot!”

Kai desperately fans his mouth. You and Taehyun can’t help laughing even as Taehyun goes to get the man a cup of water. He accepts it gratefully and begins chugging it down. Taking Kai’s mishap to mind, Taehyun diligently blows on the dumpling he’s picked up before taking a bite. He too lets out a soft moan as the taste coats his tongue.

Looking between the two of them, “It’s good?”

Tae nods excitedly, still chewing, and Kai sets down his water to give two thumbs up to the camera.

“Well then, I’m proud to announce that you two are officially one step closer to becoming true malewives.”

That sends out another round of giggles, infecting one after the other with the giddy little sound. Their laughs bounce against the counters and light-colored tile in a disjunct harmony; a melody stirring up inside your chest. There couldn’t be one without the other, for there would be no song at all. The feeling now pounding in your chest was incomplete alone; your rapidly beating heart came in two inseparable parts. Those two pieces stand before you in the bliss of their laughter.

The notion swoops in quickly from the back of your mind, stuttering as you work to tie your apron. You can’t acknowledge the thought as it passes, instead shoving it away to settle your heart. You can’t unpack that when you’re standing in their kitchen, surrounded by the essence of them.

“Well, chat!” You avert your eyes to the tablet set up on the counter with the chat box. “Did we all have fun? I know I did!”

“So did we!” Huening leans on the counter beside you, cheeks spilled with an eye-curling smile—gums on bright display. “I’m really liking this whole malewife mindset.”

“Me too.” Taehyun stands on your other side with his own bright smile, a picture of overwhelming sweetness despite how his rolled-up sleeves reveal the muscles along his arms. “Maybe I’ll retire and pursue this full-time.”

“But if I’m the malewife and you’re also malewife then who’s the female-husband?” Kai jokes.

“That can be the next collab. Y/n’s female-husband—uh…I don’t know, guide to getting a job?”

“Saying that while we are all employed and currently doing our job is kind of crazy.” Taehyun rests his elbows on the counter and glances over at you.

“This wasn’t work, this was just an excuse so I could come to your house and steal your dirty socks. I’ve got a small business to keep running.”

“Okay, you’re getting kicked out.” He jokingly wraps an arm around your waist to start dragging you out of frame. Your skin burns at the fleeting touch, the weight hovering over your skin through the thin fabric. He lets go all too soon to walk over to the monitor.  Kai watches on happily, giggling while reciting your usual outro and his own as Taehyun ends the stream.

“Yippee, we did it!” Huening runs around the counter to give his friend a solid high-five.

“Thank you both, so much. This was amazing.”Doused in uncontrollable flames, your heart hammers in your chest under the weight of your thoughts. Your hands wring with nerves. “Thank you for inviting me to your home and, just, doing everything, really.”

“Thank you for coming!” Kai grins.

“And, for future reference, you’re always welcome here,” Taehyun adds.

“Right.” You turn away from them, back towards the small mess along the counters, Well–uh–it’s pretty late so we should probably clean up and I can head out. Oh! And so I don’t forget—” Your arms retract into the baggy sleeves of the hoodie Kai had lent, slowly taking it off.

“No, keep it! I can just get it from you next time.”

“Oh, okay.” The jumper rests back on your body. That sweet scent surrounds you once again. The flames in your body jump and dance over your chest and you can’t help the small grin that grows as you begin to clean.

Next time. They want a ‘next time.’

WHAT YOU DESERVE

: ̗̀➛ Y/n is beloved by thousands on the internet, being a popular streamer. However, they’ve never been able to find nearly as much affection in their love life, despite searching for years. Just when they’re close to giving up on love all together, they suddenly find their romantic prospects on an upturn.

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