#i love the look on his face as it slowly dawns on him

[capquinn]

hi love, could you maybe tell us a bit about what quinn is doing for mom and bug for valentines?🩷

happy valentine's day, lovers!!!! <3

Quinn’s always been big on Valentine’s Day. Not in a grand, showy way, but in the way that matters. In the little details, the small things that make his girls feel loved.

This year, it starts early. Before the sun is even up, he’s padding through the house on quiet feet, careful not to wake anyone as he sets everything in place. A small pink envelope sits on the kitchen table, addressed to Bug, decorated with a handful of slightly lopsided hearts he doodled himself. Inside is a card, his big, careful letters spelling out just how much he loves her, how proud he is, how she’ll always be his best girl, with "love, daddy," signed at the bottom. And beside it? A tiny heart-shaped necklace in a jewellery box, delicate and sweet, because she’s been obsessed with your jewellery lately, always asking when she can have her own.

For you, there’s a bouquet of your favourite flowers already waiting on the counter, petals still dewy and fresh. A cup of coffee sits beside it, just the way you like it, the aroma filling the kitchen, a silent invitation for you to start the day slowly, without rush. But more than that, the real gift is time.

He takes over the whole morning routine, wanting you to just rest, to soak in the quiet while he takes care of things. He’s the one who soothes Cub when his tiny cries break the pre-dawn silence, lifting him from his crib with a soft, murmured “I got you, Cubby.” He’s the one who wakes Bug up, rubbing gentle circles into her back as she stirs, her little body warm from sleep.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Buggy," he murmurs.

She blinks up at him, hair mussed, and then grins, stretching her arms out, and Quinn scoops her up with no hesitations, carrying her into the kitchen like he’s been doing since she was tiny.

And then, she sees it.

Her little gasp is instant, breath catching in her throat as she spots the envelope on the table.

“Is that for me?” she asks, already reaching for it before Quinn even gets the chance to answer.

“All yours, baby,” he tells her, setting her down in her chair, ruffling her curls before setting her up with a a plate of heart-shaped pancakes and strawberries.

Cub babbles from his high chair, smacking his little hands against the tray in excitement when Quinn nears with his own plate of heart-shaped pancakes. He kicks his feet, eyes locked on the food like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, while you lean against the counter, coffee in hand, watching with a soft smile.

Bug fumbles with the envelope, fingers working to pull the card free, and when she does, her whole face lights up. She doesn’t go straight for the words — she’s too young to read them just yet — but the little, lopsided stick figure drawing catches her eye immediately.

"Daddy, look!" she giggles, holding it up like he hasn’t been the one to draw it. Two little figures, side by side, both clutching hockey sticks. One small, one tall. Her and daddy.

But it’s the necklace that gets her. The second she lifts the lid of the tiny box, her breath catches, and then — a gasp. So genuinely delighted.

“Daddy!” she breathes, holding it up like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “It matches mama's!”

Quinn just grins, kneeling beside her chair, hands gentle as he takes it from her to clasp it around her neck. He smooths her hair back, presses a kiss to her forehead.

“You like it?”

Bug nods hard, her curls bouncing. She touches the tiny pendant with careful fingers, eyes wide, awestruck.

“It’s so pretty.” Then, her big, serious eyes flick up to his. “Thank you, daddy.”

Quinn’s chest feels too full. He brushes his hand over her cheek, thumb smoothing gently.

“Anything for you, Bug.”

And the rest of the day? It’s all about you guys. The whole family.

Lunch at your favourite family spot, Bug swinging her legs beneath the table, pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on her nose as she stirs her drink with the little plastic straw. Quinn watches her animatedly chatter away, hands moving as she tells a story, while Cub babbles from his high chair, slapping his little hands on the tray like he’s part of the conversation. He’s got a tiny fist full of food that he’s more interested in playing with than eating, and Quinn just smiles, shaking his head as he wipes his son's chin with a napkin.

“Daddy, is this a date?” Bug asks suddenly, pushing her sunglasses up her nose, eyes bright with curiosity.

Quinn shares a quick look with you before nodding.

“Yeah, Bug. A family date," Quinn confirms, lifting his water to his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Bug considers that for a second, her tiny brows furrowing. Then she nods, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s good. ‘Cause you should take mommy on dates.”

You bite back a smile, watching Quinn raise an eyebrow at her, like he’s not entirely sure where this is coming from.

“Oh, yeah?”

Bug nods firmly.

“Yep.” Then, more serious, like this is a business conversation, she tilts her head. “Do you take her on enough?”

Quinn’s arm stretches across the back of your chair, fingers finding your shoulder, tracing absentminded little shapes against your skin. “Yeah, Bug,” he assures, chuckling.

"Lots?"

"Heaps."

She watches him for a long moment, sipping her juice slowly, straw making that little squeaky sound as she thinks it over. Then she nods once, decisive.

“Okay. Just checking.”

And at night, when both kids are finally tucked into bed, full of sugar and love, he finally gets you to himself. Nothing fancy, just the two of you curled up on the couch, your favourite takeout spread out on the coffee table, soft music playing in the background. There’s wine, lazy conversation, his fingers tracing mindless patterns against your thigh.

“You happy?” he asks quietly, voice low, intimate in the hush of the room.

You nod, leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“So happy.”

His hand moves from your thigh, up over your stomach, settling warm against your ribs. A slow inhale, his nose brushing the crown of your head.

“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss there. “That’s all I want.”

When the food is gone, when the house is quiet and still, Quinn pulls you in, presses soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, your neck, murmuring against your skin about how much he loves you.

And then it’s slow, unhurried. Just him, just you, warm and close and taking his time, trying to keep quiet, muffling his groans into your throat so he doesn’t wake the kids. Because the whole day was about them — but this part? This is for you.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Homemade Lunch

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language, Arguments, sad feelings, fluff,

Word Count: idk but she aint too too long

A/n: based on a tiktok i saw but cannot for the life of me find to link. enjoy! <3

~*~

You huff out a sigh when the door closes behind you.

Shucking off your coat, you hang it up and tug off your mitts and hat next, putting them all away while you listen for your boyfriend.

He's quiet on a good day. On a day like today? When the two of you have been fighting more than you haven't been?

You begin to wonder if he's even home.

Carefully, you venture upstairs to confirm your boyfriend is, in fact, still in the house, sleeping in the bed the two of you share.

Silently, you close the door and head back downstairs, wiping your hands over your face a few times before pinching the bridge of your nose.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you head into the kitchen and grab Simon's lunch bag off of the counter, pausing when you feel the weight of it.

Brows drawing together, you open it up slowly, your heart dropping when you see he's packed himself a lunch.

A pack of instant noodles and a few protein bars are shoved carelessly in the bag, and it breaks your heart to see.

It's become a ritual now, you making his lunch for him every night so that he can head to work and not have to worry.

When he's actively deployed it saddens you to see the lunch bag sitting on the counter, awaiting his return.

But that sadness pales in comparison to what you feel when realization dawns on you.

He packed his own lunch.

Your argument from earlier seems pointless now, you can't even remember what you were fighting about. Not when your man, the man you love with your whole heart, truly thought you'd be too mad to pack his lunch.

Washing your hands, you get to work on making him lunch, your anger disappearing as you focus instead on putting together all of his favourite foods and snacks.

You work as quietly as you can, packaging everything with love and care.

Once his lunch is made, you give the kitchen a quick clean then get everything ready to make sure his morning is as smooth as possible.

Does he piss you off beyond comprehension? Yes, absolutely. In ways you didn't know a person could piss you off.

Do you love him more than you've ever loved anyone before in your life? Without question.

As you settle into bed facing his back, you can't help but lean forward and give him a gentle kiss.

Ever the light sleeper, he peels his eyes open at the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, his anger settling a bit at the tiny yet profound action.

~*~

Simon wakes up the next morning in a sour mood.

With his eyes opening not five minutes before his alarm is set to ring, things aren't off to a good start.

His mood only worsens when he realizes that all he's got to eat today for lunch is a pack of instant noodles, a few protein bars, and the stale crackers you like to leave in the bottom of the box.

It's nothing but willpower and discipline that gets him out of bed, into the shower, and dressed.

His gloomy mood gets worse still when he heads into the kitchen only to not find his lunch bag on the counter where he left it.

The kitchen is clean, by your hand no doubt, and he grinds his teeth together as he begins hunting for his lunch bag.

After almost five minutes, he yanks it out of the fridge, only to pause at the added weight.

Dry noodles aren't this heavy.

He sets the bag down on the counter and slowly opens it, his heart filling with warmth at the contents.

Instead of his bland noodles, there are several containers full of food, along with two of the juice boxes you like to keep hidden in the back of the fridge where you think he won't look.

On top of all of it, though, is a note scribbled in your handwriting with a dried tear drop tainting the paper.

He has to fight the stinging in his eyes as he reads over the words you've written.

He sets the paper down after a moment and squeezes his eyes shut, then carefully folds the paper up and tucks it into one of his many pockets before heading upstairs.

Skillfully silent, he makes no noise as he enters your shared bedroom, even less when he kneels on the bed behind you.

You inhale sharply when his hand dusts over your shoulder, looking over your shoulder only for him to immediately shush you.

"S'alright, love. S'just me. Go back to sleep."

You hum, resting your head on the pillow once more and snuggling into him when he climbs into bed behind you.

He wraps a strong arm around your waist and pulls you tightly against him, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you."

You peel your eyes open once more and glance over at him.

"I love you too."

[callmemonster68]

SUNGHOON - The Curse of the Mermaid ( smut )

" Her fangs extended, sharp and deadly. Her body, which once bore delicate features, now exuded a dark power, an aura that made even the shadows bend. "

Weekly challenge: Under the Spell of the Moon secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68

A mermaid of angelic beauty. A vampire of insatiable desire. What began as a game of seduction became an eternal bond of blood, pain, and lust. When the sweet creature reveals her true darkness, he claims her irreversibly.

Pairing: Sunghoon Vampire X FemReader Mermaid (Masterlist)

Genre: Smut

WARNING: text a little longer than I usually write

Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, murder, blood, mutilation

The full moon hung high in the sky, its silvery glow reflecting on the surface of the lake like a crystal-clear mirror. Winter was slowly yielding in that part of the forest, allowing a cold mist to dance over the water. Sunghoon shouldn't be there. The lake was forbidden, sacred to the sea creatures.

But he felt the call.

His silent footsteps touched the shore, and then he saw her.

In the center of the lake, slowly emerging from the water like a celestial specter, there she was.

The most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Almost translucent skin, an ethereal glow radiating from every curve of the body. Her white hair flowed like strands of wet pearl, framing her face with delicate features. The gray eyes, cold as the dawn mist, held him in a subtle hypnosis. And the tail...

White. Perfect. Like untouched snow.

Sunghoon, an immortal being, a prince of ice, felt his chest tighten. As if that moment were something beyond time, beyond destiny.

Y/N tilted their head slightly, analyzing him with a curious smile.

Y/N: A vampire? (her voice was soft, but carried a dangerous mystery)

Sunghoon didn't respond immediately. He couldn't.

He had never believed in love at first sight. But that... That seemed close enough.

Sunghoon: Who are you? (he asked, his voice sounding hoarse)

She laughed softly, swimming in lazy circles, her long hair floating in the water like silk.

Y/N: I am many things. But, for you, I can just be... Y/N.

He stepped forward, his dark eyes fixed on her.

Sunghoon: This lake is forbidden. You shouldn't be here.

Y/N: And should you? (she retorted, raising an eyebrow)

Sunghoon closed a corner smile.

Sunghoon: I don't think so.

Y/N rested their arms on the edge of the shore, leaning in closer. He smelled the fresh scent of the water mixed with something sweet and intoxicating.

Y/N: Why did you come, vampire? What are you looking for?

Sunghoon didn't blink.

Sunghoon: You.

The silence hung between them. For the first time, Y/N seemed momentarily surprised. But soon the teasing smile returned to her lips.

Y/N: Do you fall in love that easily?

He smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Sunghoon: No. Only for impossible creatures.

Y/N analyzed every detail of him. The perfect pale skin, the elegant and mysterious features. The sharp, predatory eyes. He seemed made for the darkness, while she...

It was a mistake. Because, no matter how clear her appearance was, Y/N was as dark as he was.

Y/N: A vampire in love with a mermaid (she murmured, playing with the water between her fingers) That seems dangerous.

Sunghoon crouched down, coming to her height.

Sunghoon: I like danger.

Y/N smiled, their eyes shining with something he couldn't decipher.

Y/N: So, Sunghoon... Let's see how far you can go.

And, in that moment, he knew.

I was doomed.

The meetings at the forbidden lake became frequent. Sunghoon always appeared at dusk, when the moon reflected on the water like liquid silver. And Y/N always waited for him—sometimes in plain sight, other times hidden in the depths, just to observe the vampire before revealing her presence.

The tension between them was growing, like a stretched rope about to snap.

On one of those nights, Sunghoon was sitting on the shore, his dark eyes watching every movement of the mermaid in the water. Y/N swam slowly, aware of his gaze, knowing how much he desired to touch her, but never dared.

Y/N: You look at me as if you want to devour me. (her voice was sweet, but her gray eyes shone with a veiled challenge)

Sunghoon smiled slightly.

Sunghoon: What if I want to?

Y/N laughed, swimming to the edge. Her hands rested on the ground, bringing her face dangerously close to his.

Y/N: You can't touch me, Sunghoon.

He raised an eyebrow.

Sunghoon: Who said?

The vampire's icy fingers slowly glided over her face, brushing against her damp and soft skin. A shiver ran through Y/N's body, but she did not pull away. Instead, she leaned in even more, feeling his cold breath against her lips.

Y/N: If you do that... it might be the last thing you do. (her tone was a seductive whisper)

Sunghoon chuckled softly, leaning in just enough to almost brush his lips against hers.

Sunghoon: I like to take risks.

But before he could kiss her, Y/N abruptly dove into the water, disappearing from his sight. Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, a smile of frustration and amusement playing on his lips.

She was a game he didn't mind losing, as long as he kept playing.

Another night, Sunghoon was leaning against a tree, watching the mermaid bathe under the moonlight. She looked ethereal, with her long white hair flowing like silk over her bare shoulders, the water shimmering against her fair skin.

Sunghoon: I've never seen anything like you. (his voice was hoarse, laden with repressed desire)

Y/N smiled, sliding slowly to the edge of the lake. Her arms rested on the ground, allowing her body to emerge more, revealing her curves, her exposed neck, her slightly parted lips.

Y/N: Does that mean I'm special? (her voice was pure provocation)

Sunghoon knelt before her, his eyes locked onto hers.

Sunghoon: This means I'm completely doomed.

Y/N bit their lip, liking the response.

Y/N: You are condemned... why do you still resist?

Sunghoon ran his fingers along her jawline, slowly descending to her neck. He felt the subtle pulse beneath her skin. His thirst grew, the desire to have her in every way.

Y/N: Because when I finally give in, there will be no turning back.

Y/N held his wrist, their eyes sparkling with a predatory glint.

Sunghoon: And who said I want to go back?

Sunghoon's gaze darkened. His self-control was strong, but she was breaking every part of it.

Without another word, Y/N pulled his arm and made him fall into the water.

He emerged quickly, panting, his wet hair falling over his eyes, his shirt clinging to his body, exposing every defined line of his physique.

Y/N laughed, swimming around him like a predator toying with its prey.

Y/N: Now you are in my world, ice prince.

Sunghoon grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close. Her body collided with his, cold skin against icy skin, and this time he didn't hesitate.

Sunghoon: No matter where we are, mermaid... I will always have you.

His lips touched hers, first softly, then intensely, like a repressed storm finally unleashed.

Y/N moaned against his mouth, their hands sliding over the vampire's wet shoulders, pulling him further into the water.

And there, between the darkness of the forest and the silver light of the moon, ice and sea finally merged.

Sunghoon never thought he could desire someone as much as he desired Y/N. With each meeting, she pulled him deeper into an ocean with no return, trapping him in its tides.

But something in him always knew...

She was hiding something.

There was a secret behind those gray eyes. Something beyond ethereal beauty, beyond sweet smiles and the game of teasing.

And that night, under the red moon, he finally discovered.

The night was dense, humid, laden with a strange silence.

Sunghoon walked towards the lake, sensing something wrong in the air. He stopped at the shore and noticed that the water was different—darker, agitated, as if it were hiding something in its depths.

Sunghoon: Y/N?

His call echoed, but there was no response.

He smelled it before he saw it.

Blood.

That's when something emerged from the waters.

It wasn't the Y/N he knew.

The creature that appeared before him no longer had pearly skin and angelic gray eyes.

Her hair, once as white as snow, was now as black as the very darkness itself. It clung to her shoulders, dripping in heavy strands, oozing like ink.

Its tail, once bright and translucent, was now black, scaly, undulating in the water like that of a predator ready to attack.

And the eyes...

The eyes were no longer mist and gray.

They were red. Bright. Hungry.

Sunghoon stood still, the blood freezing in his veins.

She was standing before him, holding a dead body—a foolish hunter who had probably tried to capture her. Y/N's nails were embedded in the man's flesh, her mouth stained red.

She smiled.

Not a sweet smile.

Not a charming smile.

A sadistic smile. Savage. Monstrous.

She dropped her body into the water, her red eyes shining as she faced Sunghoon.

Y/N: Aren't you afraid of mermaids yet, vampire?

Her voice was different. Rougher, denser, laden with something dangerous and seductive at the same time.

Sunghoon did not back down. He just watched. The heart, if it still beat, would be on fire.

He should fear. He should run.

But all I could feel was...

Fascination.

Sunghoon: So this is what you were hiding.

Y/N tilted their head, the long black hair floating in the dark water.

Y/N: You don't seem surprised.

Sunghoon ran his tongue over his lips, observing every detail of her true form.

Sunghoon: Maybe because I always knew there was a monster in you.

She laughed softly, swimming closer until their faces were just inches apart.

Y/N: And that doesn't scare you?

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow.

Sunghoon: I am a vampire, Y/N. I live among monsters.

The mermaid blinked slowly, as if she were waiting for something. As if testing how far he would go.

He raised his hand and touched her face.

Her skin was still cold, but in a different way now.

Sunghoon: You are beautiful (he murmured, his thumb sliding over her mouth, wiping away a drop of blood) Anyway.

Y/N's red eyes sparkled with something new.

Surprise.

Desire.

A different kind of hunger.

She slid her nails down the back of his neck, pulling him closer, her mouth hovering over his.

Y/N: You are a dangerous man, Sunghoon.

Sunghoon: You like this.

Y/N smiled against his lips.

Y/N: Maybe I really do like it.

Sunghoon held his face tightly, pressing his body against the shore, feeling the rough texture of the black scales of his tail.

Sunghoon: Then prove it to me.

She bit her lip, and this time, it was her who kissed him first.

It was a wild kiss. Deep. Full of darkness and desire.

And for the first time, Y/N realized…

She didn't need to hide.

Not from Sunghoon.

He accepted everything she was.

And that made her want to devour him even more.

The kiss between them was rough, hungry, as if one wanted to devour the other. The taste of blood still lingered on Sunghoon's tongue, mixing with the addictive taste of Y/N.

He held her face firmly, his fingers intertwined in her black hair, feeling the cold and slippery body of the mermaid pressed against his.

It was insane.

It was dangerous.

And he has never wanted something so much in his entire immortal existence.

Y/N let out a low moan against his lips as Sunghoon slid his hand over her body, feeling the wet and hard scales of her tail.

But he wanted more.

I wanted to have her.

I wanted to feel her completely.

He pulled his mouth away from hers for a second, his breath heavy, his eyes burning with desire.

Sunghoon: I want to be inside you.

Y/N smiled against his jaw, her sharp nails digging into the vampire's shoulders.

Y/N: That wouldn't be possible... (she whispered, provocatively, her red eyes shining)

Sunghoon closed his eyes, frustrated and excited at the same time. Her tail was an insurmountable barrier.

But then...

Something changed.

Y/N let out a louder moan, their body trembling against his. Her breathing became irregular, her fingers gripping him as if something were taking over her body.

And then...

The tail has disappeared.

Sunghoon's eyes widened, watching with fascination and incredulity as, in place of the long, black, scaly tail, legs appeared.

Human legs, toned, bare, emerging from the water slowly as Y/N rose before him.

Sunghoon frozen.

His chest rose and fell irregularly, his dark eyes devouring every detail of the perfect body completely exposed before him.

She was... a sin before him.

The wet skin reflected the silver glow of the moon, the black hair sticking to the body, outlining her flawless curves. Her red eyes sparkled, full of power and desire, as she took a step forward, emerging from the water and stepping onto the damp earth.

She stared at him, a mischievous smile on her lips swollen from the intense kisses.

Y/N: Do you still desire me, vampire?

Sunghoon felt his throat dry up.

He had never experienced such an absolute, overwhelming desire.

Every instinct in him screamed to take her right then and there, to mark her, to make her his.

He approached slowly, his eyes scanning every inch of her, his fingers moving from her waist to her breasts, feeling the heat that her newly transformed body exuded.

He brushed his lips against her ear, his voice low and hoarse.

Sunghoon: You have no idea what you've awakened in me.

Y/N smiled against his skin, biting his lower lip before whispering:

Sunghoon: Then show me.

Sunghoon didn't need another invitation.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, their bodies colliding in unbearable heat, the desire growing like wild fire between them.

That night, between shadows and the moon, a mermaid was reborn in human form.

And a vampire was about to claim what was his.

Sunghoon's mouth found Y/N's again, this time without hesitation, without brakes, without fear. The kiss was wild, desperate, as if he needed her more than he needed his own blood.

His fingers glided over the mermaid's bare body, tracing each newly revealed curve, feeling the unexpected warmth of her skin.

Sunghoon: You are hot... (he murmured against her lips, his eyes burning with a hunger that went beyond the thirst for blood)

Y/N laughed softly, provocatively.

Y/N: You made me this way.

Sunghoon held her waist firmly, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh as he slid his mouth along her jawline, her neck, leaving wet kisses dangerously close to her quickening pulse.

He could hear her.

It was mesmerizing.

He pushed her back, guiding her until her back met the trunk of a tree. Her body arched with the impact, her breasts rising and falling under the vampire's hungry gaze.

Sunghoon slid his tongue along the line of her neck, tasting her skin, intoxicating himself with her heady scent.

Y/N moaned softly, their fingers sinking into his wet hair.

Y/N: Do you want me that much, Sunghoon?

He lifted his head, his black and intense eyes burning into her.

Sunghoon: I want to devour you.

A shiver ran down Y/N's spine, their excitement growing even more.

Sunghoon held her thigh, lifting it and fitting himself between her legs with ease. The direct contact between their bodies made Y/N let out a trembling sigh, her head tilting back as he traced a path of kisses down to her breasts, his tongue slowly circling the hardened nipple before sucking it hard.

Y/N: Sunghoon... (she moaned, pulling his hair more intensely)

He smiled against her skin, loving every sound he drew from it.

His lips continued descending, tracing a path of desire across her body. His hands slid along the curve of her waist, over her hips, descending down her soft thighs, feeling every shiver he provoked.

When his fingers finally found the wet and throbbing center between her legs, Y/N gasped, her red eyes shining even brighter.

Sunghoon: You are so wet for me... (his voice was pure lust)

She smiled, biting her lip, her nails sliding over his chest, lightly scratching the cold skin.

Y/N: Then do something about it.

Sunghoon growled low, her provocation only inflaming his need even more.

He slid a finger inside her, feeling the warm and tight entrance open up for him. Y/N moaned loudly, her body arching against the tree, her legs spreading wider for him.

Sunghoon picked up the pace, his fingers entering and leaving her, teasing, playing, dominating. The wet sound echoed in the silent night, blending with Y/N's interrupted sighs.

She clung to him as if she needed his touch to survive.

Y/N: Sunghoon... (she moaned again, her voice laden with need)

He stood up, his eyes locked on hers as he replaced his fingers with something much more intense.

When he fit between her legs and began to enter, Y/N let out a drawn-out moan, her nails digging into his back.

Her grip around him was so warm, so wet, so perfect that Sunghoon had to stifle a guttural growl.

He held her thighs, plunging deeper, his body moving with force, each thrust eliciting delicious moans from the mermaid in his arms.

The bodies collided in an intense and primal rhythm, as if one were trying to merge with the other.

Sunghoon: You are mine, Y/N ( he growled against her skin, biting her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark )

She moaned loudly, her legs tightening around him, urging him to go deeper.

Y/N: I have always been yours...

Sunghoon kissed her again, his tongue exploring hers as their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

Lust and need took over both of them, and when the climax came, it was explosive, leaving them breathless and satisfied, their bodies glued together under the moonlight.

He was still inside her, still feeling the siren's spasms around him, still lost in the sensation of having her completely.

Y/N smiled, their eyes shining with a mix of pleasure and amusement.

Y/N: And to think that all I needed to have you was a pair of legs...

Sunghoon laughed against her lips, lightly biting them before whispering:

Sunghoon: You would have me anyway, little mermaid.

The pleasure still reverberated in their bodies.

Y/N panted against Sunghoon's chest, his skin covered by a thin layer of sweat, the muscles relaxed after the ecstasy they had shared.

She felt... complete. As if in that moment, nothing could touch her, nothing could pull her away from him.

But she was mistaken.

It was when she least expected it, when her red eyes were half-closed, when her guard was down...

Sunghoon attacked her.

The arms that once held her tenderly became iron prisons, and before she could react, he buried his sharp fangs in her neck.

The pain was unbearable.

Y/N screamed, their eyes widening in pure shock as they felt the blood being violently sucked out.

She tried to push him, tried to fight, but Sunghoon held her firmly, his body pressed against hers, preventing any resistance.

Y/N: S-Sunghoon…! (her voice came out weak, suffocated by the torment spreading through her veins)

But he didn't stop.

He didn't want to stop.

Y/N's blood flowed down his throat, hot and intoxicating, filling him with something addictive, something that made him want more... and more... and more.

She felt her body grow cold, her strength fading away. But along with the weakness, something worse came.

A burn.

A burning and cruel fire spreading inside her, consuming every cell, every drop of her existence.

The transformation had begun.

His heart beat one last time... and then, it stopped.

The pain was immeasurable, a hell she had never felt before. It was as if she were being torn apart from the inside, her soul being ripped out and replaced by something dark, something monstrous.

She arched her back, a cry of anguish and fury escaping her throat as the transformation completed.

When he opened his eyes, they were no longer red like before.

Now, they were black. A bottomless pit, an abyss of darkness and destruction.

Her fangs extended, sharp and deadly. Her body, which once bore delicate features, now exuded a dark power, an aura that made even the shadows bend.

She was a monster before...

Now, it was something much worse.

Sunghoon observed his new creation, a satisfied and sadistic smile drawing itself on his blood-stained lips.

He held her face with brutality, forcing her to look at him.

Sunghoon: Now... (his voice was a dark whisper, full of possession and desire) You belong to me forever.

Y/N's black eyes narrowed, their chest rising and falling with fury.

Y/N: You... condemned me.

Sunghoon tilted his head, running his thumb over his slightly parted lips, satisfied to feel the sharp fangs beneath his skin.

Sunghoon: I made you eternal.

He pulled her into a brutal kiss, devouring her as if he wanted to merge with her.

Y/N hated him.

I hated what he had done to her.

But, at the same time…

She wanted more.

And that's how the mermaid, who once ruled the oceans, became an even worse monster.

A monster made for him.

Forever.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[evamame]

12:08 am | osamu miya

osamu always takes care of you after you come home drunk from a long night of partying

cw: sfw, fluff, alcohol/mentions of being drunk, fem!reader x osamu miya, established relationship, pet names

wc: 853

masterlist

coming home drunk after a long and eventful night out with your girlfriends to osamu miya, who already has your bed ready with a glass of water on your nightstand. as he hears you fiddling with your keys outside the front door, he hops up from the sofa where he was watching tv and waiting for you to finally arrive home. you stumble through the door in your drowsy state and he quickly leans down to assist you in taking off your heels so you don’t trip over your own feet.

“welcome back hon’,” he greets you softly. he places his hand on the small of your back and guides you to the bathroom, where he already has a fresh pair of your favorite pajamas ready and laid out on the counter. he lifts you up and sits you down on the edge of the smooth granite top, getting micellar water and a cotton pad to take your makeup off. what was once a beautifully put together look now dawns your face with runny mascara and caking foundation, but he still finds you stunning nonetheless.

“did ya have fun?” he questions as he begins gently removing all of the gunk off your face.

you close your eyes and let him work his magic. by now, he’s remembered your skincare routine, and always makes sure to lay out your bottles before you return home so he can get you ready for bed as quickly as possible. maybe it’s just extra relaxing in your drunken state, but it feels like he does it better than you. “yeah, i had lots of fun! we danced a ton, and i got tons of compliments on my outfit from my friends!” you respond happily, but your voice lacks articulation and has an underlying hint of grogginess from your exhaustion, making it a bit hard for him to understand your words.

he smiles amusedly, a barely audible chuckle escaping his lips. “that’s good, ya do look gorgeous.”

he finishes wiping off your makeup with the micellar water, placing the bottle on the counter and discarding the cotton pad in the trash. he moves on to washing your face thoroughly with face wash before moisturizing your skin.

“i can take care of myself. you must be tired having to stay up for me,” you comment.

he shakes his head, voice soft but firm, “i wanted to make sure ya got home safely. plus, yer clearly too worn out to properly take off yer makeup. i doubt ya would’ve done it yourself. and ya should never go to bed with it on, ya know?”

“i know, i know.”

he gives you a nod, satisfied with your answer. he lifts you up and back onto the ground, “turn around for me hon’.”

you comply, and he slowly unzips your dress, letting it fall to the floor. you step out of it, and he helps you put on your pajamas.

“feelin’ better now? a lil’ more refreshed at least, i hope.”

“yeah, i feel much better.” his lips tug into a small smile at your words. he grabs the brush on the counter, holding it up, “come sit. i’ll brush yer hair.”

osamu guides you to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the space in between his legs. you sit on his lap, staring tiredly at the wall ahead as he begins to soothingly run the brush through your hair. the way he ever so gently runs the bristles through your locks is calming. even simples acts of domesticity like these show how much affection and love he has for you, and the way he takes care of you on any and every day conveys more than any words can.

“all done,” he murmurs quietly as he finishes, placing the brush down on the sheets beside him. he runs his fingers gently through your brushed hair for a minute, a comfortable silence falling through the room.

you let out a tired yawn, and then he’s reminded of the task at hand, “let’s get ya to bed now. ya need all the rest you can get.” and with that, he pats your back to tell you to stand up, guiding you to your side of the bed. he helps you to crawl under the covers, tucking you in and making sure you’re comfortable. he tenderly hands you the glass of water he had prepared, making sure you’re holding it steadily before letting go. “take these. and drink all the water. it’ll help ya with yer hangover in the morning,” he instructs, picking up two painkillers and handing them to you.

you pop them in your mouth, downing the glass of water with them. he takes the empty glass from you and sets it back down on the table. then, he smooths out the blanket and presses a quick kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper, “goodnight sweetheart. sleep well, m’kay?”

you nod incoherently, clearly drained. he walks around to the other side of the bed and joins you under the sheets as you drift off to sleep.

a/n: i just know he makes you a full course meal for breakfast when you wake up with a pounding headache.

taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[arget-star]

As Complicated As We Are

Sakura Haruka x F!Reader

Summary: Celebrating your first Valentine's Day with Sakura! (Reader and Sakura have graduated high school! They are around 20/21)

tags: fluff, surprise v-day gift

a/n: I did NOT intend for this to be anything longer than a short drabble, but once more, I think about Sakura receiving love and affection and black out and when I come to this happens. This piece is a bit rushed and messy but it's still written with love.

wc: 2.5k

You treat the day like any other.

Wake up beside Sakura, offer a whispered good morning as he slowly rouses. (He’s been working on Keisei Street until dawn for the past few days; the upcoming holiday brings more trouble than it’s worth.) Make omurice he’d once told you is even better than Kotoha’s, then subsequently made you swear to never, ever share such information.

You wouldn’t dare betray his confidence like that. The memory of his flustered face and the quiet way he’d complimented you make you smile every time you crack open the eggs. Sakura appears in the kitchen, summoned by the scent of fried rice, dressed in his beloved white t-shirt and black sweatpants, yawning and scratching absently at his chest. Slowly, he makes his way to the kotatsu, folding his legs underneath him with another yawn.

“Just a few more minutes,” you assure him, tossing in a handful of scallions into the pan. He hates vegetables he can see; mixing in a few here and there to be buried underneath more overwhelming flavors usually works. You even managed carrots once, though he’d caught on to your scheme and quietly picked them out, leaving them in a small pile at the edge of his plate.

He’s quiet as you work, propping his elbow on the low table and resting his head against a closed fist, watching you through hooded eyes. He perks up once you deposit the plate of steaming omurice in front of him. “Looks amazin’,” he murmurs, fingers curling around his spoon.

“Thank you!” You beam, sitting down with your own plate. He’s already chomping away by the time you take your first bite—and it is delicious, if you do say so yourself.

Halfway through, he speaks around a mouthful of rice. “They gave me the night off for patrol.”

“Oh?” You take another careful bite, grateful for the excuse to hide your reaction. Nakamura-san deserves the biggest box of giri-choco for this favor alone.

Sakura sets down his spoon. Stares at you, briefly, then looks away. “Ya ain’t plannin’ some big thing tonight, are ya?”

You’re planning something, but nothing grand. As much as you’d love to spoil him, make up for all the years he went without being loved, smothering him would only scare him. You swallow your food and shake your head. “Nope. I promise, Haru.”

Red spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. You use his nickname sparingly; mostly when emphasizing some emotional point or to remind him that with you, he’s safe. (And, selfishly, you enjoy the knowledge that name is for you alone.)

He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like good as he swipes his spoon from the table. Pressing your lips together, you reach for your water, afraid your expression may give you away.

Sakura doesn’t mention the holiday for the rest of the morning as you get ready for work. For your part, you chat aimlessly about the latest drama between market owners on the street, grateful the florist you work for stays out of the petty antics.

It’s the kind of conversation you’d normally have while prepping dinner together, followed by Sakura suiting up for his patrol. With all the extra foot traffic, however, he’s been leaving about the time you come home.

You miss those evenings together. Things should settle down after tonight, thankfully.

Drowsy, Sakura nods in all the appropriate places, scoffing when you describe the band of young kids—high school first years, you assume—thinking they can stir up trouble. All they’ve managed so far is knocking over some display signs and stealing merchandise from the grocer.

“The new generation of Bofurin has it well in hand,” you laugh, catching the way his reflection rolls his shoulders in the bathroom mirror. “You know you’re the first person I’ll call if I’m ever in trouble.”

“Bunch’a lame idiots.” Sakura huffs, stretching his neck first on one side, then the other. The crack is audible even from across the (small) room.

You hum in agreement, rummaging through a drawer for your hairbrush. Item in hand, you turn from the mirror to Sakura, watching fondly as he stretches his arms overhead. “Hey. Promise me you’ll try to get some rest today.”

He startles, that crease forming along his brow. An involuntary reaction, you’ve learned, ingrained into his very soul by an unfeeling world. He’s better at hiding it these days, unless you manage to catch him off guard.

“Wha—I ain’t sick!” Immediately, he presses a palm to his cheek to check his temperature. He only naps when he’s under the weather (or recovering from a particularly nasty fight.)

“I didn’t say you were.” You point your hairbrush at him. “You are exhausted. This is the first night you’ve had off in a week, and I’d like to avoid you falling asleep at the dinner table.”

Realization flashes across his expression. You miss him. He misses you, too, as a matter of fact, and now he understands why he’s been feeling extra irritated on recent patrols. It’s not just lack of sleep getting to him.

He lowers his hand. “…I’ll be fine.”

Your entire plan culminates in a small, wrapped box tucked neatly inside your purse. Sakura working all evening did have some advantages—namely, leaving you free to come up with something for your first Valentine’s Day together.

Initially, you’d waffled on the idea of a gift at all. This is a holiday lauding love and relationships, after all, which is not a topic Sakura’s all that fond of having shoved in his face. Yours is a quiet love affair. Safe. Neither of you need elaborate gestures or grand proclamations showing the world how in love you are. (Genuinely, you’re happy for those who do that kind of thing. The romance of it all is easy to get swept up in. But it also sounds a little exhausting, and you are more than content with more subtle gestures.)

Sakura’s contradictory nature wasn’t lost on you, however. You know how desperately he wanted to be included in said lauded holiday, if only because it meant he was accepted by his peers.

After voicing your concerns to Kotoha, she’d encouraged you to proceed with a gift. Something simple. Traditional. And wasn’t it a stroke of luck she had a kitchen you could use? And furthermore, with Sakura working from dusk ‘til dawn, you had plenty of time to perfect your gift! In return, you promised to help her try out a new recipe or two for Pothos’ menu.

All that was left, then, was asking Nakamura-san if he could spare Sakura on what would undoubtedly be a busy night. It spoke to everyone’s belief—everyone who knows your boyfriend, at least—that he deserves to enjoy these special moments, as Nakamura-san agreed without hesitation.

Now, every step closer to home fills you with a giddy sort of nervousness. Your fingers wrap tightly around the strap of your purse. Will he like the gift?

What a silly thought. You know he will, no matter how his temper rises. It’s just another involuntary reaction, one you’ve seen slowly but surely soften.

The last few blocks on your route home pass by in a blur. You’re unlocking your apartment door before you know it, slipping your keys back in your purse with a cheery call of, “I’m home!” Bracing a hand against the wall, you remove your shoes, then neatly place them next to Sakura’s.

“Welcome back,” comes his delayed reply, followed by the sound of water splashing. You peek around the corner to find Sakura standing over the sink, holding a small pot presumably full of rice, gently swirling it the way you’d once shown him. He’s taken to cooking quite well; if you had to hazard a guess, you’d say he even enjoys it.

Padding over to him, purse hanging from your fingertips, you gently brush your arm against his. “Thanks for the starting the rice.”

Sakura ever so slightly leans into you, his body heat a welcome change from the chill outside. A smile blooms along your face, and as if in response, the beginnings of one soften his features as well. He’s absolutely radiant when he allows himself to relax like this. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re askin.’ Just walked around a bit.” Slowly, he tilts the pot over the sink again, watching as the last of the water trickles over the rim.

It’s then you notice he’s in a fresh t-shirt and actual pants. He must have showered, too, because you catch the faint scent of soap as he moves. Satisfied the rice is clean, he again turns the tap on, filling the pot with water.

You take a moment to really assess him while he focuses on the water levels. His eyes are more alert than they were this morning, his cheeks returned to their natural color compared to the sleepless pallor they’d been sporting. Warmth curls in your chest; he’s the type to push himself until he can’t give any more, never advocating for his own well-being. He took it easy today only because you said so, and he hates disappointing you more than he hates being idle.

Sakura shuts off the tap. Lifts the pot from the sink, placing it gently in the rice cooker. He looks at you funny once he turns the device on. “What’s wrong? Didn’t ya wanna make chicken katsu?”

That is the plan—you’d mentioned as much before heading out the door.

(”Unless there’s something else you’d like me to make,” you said, buttoning up your jacket.

Sakura, hands shoved in his pockets, shrugged. “’S your favorite. And today��s….it’s fine, alright?” Flushing, that was the second and last acknowledgement he’d made about the holiday.)

“You look well-rested. I’m glad. And yes, I still do. However,” you reply, pulling the small box out of your bag and turning to face him, “I can’t wait any longer.” The festive red wrapping crinkles in your hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Haruka.”

The box hangs in the space between you both. Sakura, stunned, stares at the box, then slowly lifts his mismatched gaze up to you. Color rises in his cheeks. You don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do anything beyond gently smile and wait patiently for his thoughts to settle. He’s grateful for it, once the blaring alarm bells of ‘romantic intent’ cease ringing.

Sakura snatches the box from your hand with a harshness he doesn’t mean. You retract your arm while he murmurs an apology. “It’s alright. I know this is a surprise.”

He’s fixated on the box again, clutching it with both hands, fingers digging into the wrapping. “Thought ya said you weren’t plannin’ anythin’!”

“Well, to be fair, you asked if it was some big thing, and it’s not.” Your purse thumps dully when you set it on the counter. Sakura frowns.

“Sha—shaddup,” he retorts, thumb tracing a rapidly forming tear. “….Can I open it?”

“Please.”

The sound of paper ripping fills the space, until the last of it flutters to the tatami. He glances at you, as if still seeking permission. You dip your chin and he pries open the lid of the box, tossing it carelessly next to the rice cooker. He tilts his head. Six circular chocolates stare back up at him. “Chocolate?”

Well. You counted on him not knowing the finer points of today’s tradition, but him not knowing anything sends a pang through your chest. “Mhm. Girls give gifts to the men in their lives—”

“I know that!”

“—and traditionally, it’s chocolate. For romantic relationships,” and now your face heats, “tradition dictates it should be homemade. While you’ve been away, I spent the evenings at Pothos with Kotoha. She helped me find the recipe and ingredients.” You rock back on your heels. Fidget with the buttons on your jacket. Explaining it all makes you suddenly nervous; you’re surprised Sakura hasn’t cut you off and removed himself from the situation entirely.

Sakura’s mouth parts. “Ya did all that for me?”

“I know they’re not gourmet or anything. Some of them are a bit lumpy.” Regret comes sweeping in; why didn’t you just buy some fancy chocolates instead? He wouldn’t have felt obligated to pretend to like them. You could just laugh it off, say you attempted normal couple things and then forget about it.

“…fine.”

You didn’t realize Sakura was talking. “Huh?”

“Said they look fine.” He’s holding one up, examining it in the kitchen light. All your self-doubt comes to a screeching halt. Sakura doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. If he doesn’t see any flaws in them, then this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

“Really? The molds took some getting used to. Oh! I know you prefer savory things, so they’re all dark chocolate. Three of them have a raspberry filling.” You point to the row on the left side of the box. Sakura considers this a moment, then pops the one he’d been holding—a pure dark chocolate—in his mouth.

You can’t bear to stand quietly while he chews. You open the cabinet next to the sink, removing a cutting board. A bowl follows. Sakura swallows just as you step towards the fridge.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft, full of wonder and adoration.

“You’re welcome.” Your voice is equally soft. Sakura has set the box on the counter by the time you spin around to face him. He’s staring at it with something close to reverence, a fingertip tracing along a corner.

He whips his head up at your approach, eyes wide, like a child caught in the act of breaking a rule. If only you could ease that latent fear so deep within him. Slowly, you reach your hands out, cupping his still-pink cheeks between your palms. He tenses. You gently stroke your thumbs along the curve of his cheekbone, waiting for his shoulders to ease.

They do, after a handful of heartbeats. He blinks, easing back to the present. Only when you’re sure the shadow has faded completely from his eyes do you lean up and press a soft kiss against his lips. Sakura never reciprocates right away. He always hesitates, like his mind just cannot process the fact he’s being touched so lovingly.

He kisses you back gently. Chaste, nothing more than a faint pressure before he pulls back. The faint taste of chocolate lingers on your mouth. You remain in place, still idly smoothing your thumbs on his skin. He’s on the verge of saying something; courage pools underneath his skin, determination flashing in two-toned irises. “I missed havin’ dinner with you.”

“So did I,” you whisper, as if admitting a long held secret.

Steam hisses out of the rice cooker. You both jolt, shocked out of your little bubble. Laughing, you release Sakura from your hold, feeling like you’re floating as you retrace your steps to the fridge. “Guess we should actually make it then, hm?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and something in his voice makes you look back at him over his shoulder. Another chocolate is held delicately between his thumb and pointer finger. A raspberry one, if you’re not mistaken. The corners of his lips are turned upward. “Mind if I have another before dinner?”

“Not at all.”

[graceisinthelibrary]

No. 6 for the prompt?

I'm sorry this took a while, but work came in between me and my keyboard.

The prompt was "Food is burning on the stove" and I hope you like it!

She smelled it in her sleep. The awful stench reached her in the depths of her hectic dreams. She wrinkled her nose. Sneezed and found it hurt. Food was burning on the stove… but why? 

Audrey stirred and found her body was hurting too. So it wasn’t just her head and the smell… It wasn’t food. No one had invaded her kitchen, claiming the aga to cook something. Who would anyway? Helen was forbidden to get near the pots and the others only used it for heating water. 

As she opened her eyes, she groaned, because even moving her eyelids hurt. 

“There you are…” Mr Farnon’s voice, calm and soothing as if he were talking to one of his patients, reached her through the fog that refused to leave her brain. She blinked and frowned. He was closer than she had expected. His hand touched her forehand and his blurry face smiled at her. “How are you feeling?” 

“Did a house hit me head?” 

“I’m afraid it was a plane,” he quipped, trying to sound funny. However, it made no sense, he didn’t make sense. With her eyes closed again, she tried to unravel the mystery of his words and went back to the day before…or whatever day it had been. As the realisation that she didn’t know what time or day it was, dawned on her, she suddenly felt scared. What happened? 

“Mr Farnon…” 

“I’m here.” But why? Was he watching her, perhaps guarding her? 

“Drink something. You must be thirsty.” 

Her throat ached indeed. It was raw, soar, and as she swallowed the cold water, administered by him with loving care ran down her throat, it felt soothing. Fighting the urge to sink back in her pillow, she struggled to sit up and leaned against the head of her bed. Siegfried pushed a pillow into her back to make her more comfortable. Her vision became clearer, revealing that she was in her room at Skeldale. Rain was hitting the window. The clock on her bedside table said it was late afternoon. Now that she was sitting upright and the fog in her brain slowly vanished she noticed that it wasn’t food that was burning somewhere. 

“Why does my hair smell like smoke?”  

“Can’t you remember?” 

“I think I were out with Mr Bosworth…” It had been dark, rainy, a typical spring night in the Dales, and she had been in a horrible mood to be out in a muddy field when at home a pleasant fire and a sherry were waiting for her.

“A plane had crashed on the field,” Siegfried reminded her. “You had to go out to evaluate the situation.” 

“You were angry with me…” she disclosed. “We argued about it…” It hadn’t even been her shift and Bosworth’s eager insistence she should assist him had led to an argument with Siegfried. 

Gradually it all came back and the memory took her breath away. They had never argued like this before. Usually they resolved their conflicts with banter, with respect but that evening the atmosphere had been anything but playful. Of course, she had known his protest for going out in the middle of the night to a crash site had come from a place of worry. Yet, what he had voiced were his usual complaints about her never being at home… he had told her she was neglecting her duties and, worst of all, Jimmy. Helen and James had been at the Drovers, which had left Siegfried alone with the toddler who was fast asleep. Siegfried was perfectly able to look after the boy who once he was asleep rarely woke up and she had told him just that. 

Annoyed, she had to go with Bosworth and as a result missed out on a quiet evening by his side, she had shot back that he was a spoiled old man who couldn’t adjust and was just thinking about his own comfort. She had stormed out of the house and Bosworth had picked her up. 

The plane, as it had become clear soon, hadn’t been German. The debris had been cluttered all over the field, the tailpiece had been on fire. The pilot had still been sitting in the cockpit, covered in blood, but still alive and conscious. Audrey had talked to him, trying to unfasten his seat belt, but the mechanism was stuck. That’s why he couldn’t bail out in the first place. Feeling Bosworth would be useless for the task of getting the soldier out, she had ordered him to rush off to the next farmhouse to use the telephone. They needed the cavalry and fast… what had happened then? 

“I think there were a small fire…” She looked at Siegfried, hoping he could fill in the gaps. 

“There was. A fire and an explosion. I don’t know how, but you managed to get out the pilot. You dragged him across the field into a ditch, and then the fire reached the tank. You were lucky.” The last three words stumbled from his lips. His voice broke as he lowered his head and hid his face in her blanket. His shoulders were shaking as he sobbed into her bedlinen and she placed her hand on the back of his head and caressed it. 

“Oh Siegfried, I’m sorry…” She whispered. The details of the night were still hidden in a mist. But the smell of her hair, the smoke consisting of kerosene and mud helped to put the pieces back together. 

Somehow she had cut the seat belt with a pocket knife Siegfried had given her after she had taken on the warden job. It had come in very handy and apparently it had saved the pilot and her own life. 

“Whatever for?” He asked, lifting his head. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“I were mean….before I left. But I was so angry for having to go out…and you were…” 

“Selfish? Degrading? Abhorrent?” 

“I dismissed your worry…and I were wrong.” Obviously, she had. Her lying in bed with her body protesting against every move, proved she had misjudged the situation. She had never been in a more dangerous situation, not even during the Great War. 

“I was scared to lose you and when the phone rang I knew it wasn’t Rudd’s bloody sow who needed help…” He chuckled, but new tears streamed over his face and she reached out to touch his cheek. She gently caressed his beard, found it much softer than she had imagined it. Then she snatched a hanky from the drawer and gave it to him. 

“I never meant to scare you.” 

“Never mind me,” he replied after he had blown his nose. “I was selfish and abhorrent while you saved a man’s life. Bosworth wants to put you forward for a commendation. If he had a say in the matter, you would receive an OBE.” It was the first time he smiled. 

“He’s so daft,” she said and the chuckle hurt her chest. She coughed. 

“You inhaled a lot of smoke… and something hit your head when the plane went off.” 

“I was lucky,” she repeated his earlier words. 

“I was lucky,” he said and grasped her hand. “I got you back in one piece.” 

“You took me in when I needed a home, don’t you think you’ll get rid of me so easily now,” she joked, hoping to make him smile. She succeeded and lovingly stared at the wrinkles around his brown eyes, wondering if they had become deeper overnight. “I’ll always come back to you,” she added, more serious this time. “Always.” Their eyes locked and he led her hand to his lips. 

“And if not it’ll be the end of me.” 

“There are much easier ways to say ‘I love you’,” she pointed out, squeezing his fingers. 

“I love you,” he whispered and leant in. His eyes, asking for permission, rested on her mouth. Her lips parted and she met him in a soft kiss. They took it slowly, explored, gauged, cherished this moment of truth and commitment. 

“I love you, too,” she mumbled against his lips, her eyes filled with happy tears, and her headache seemed gone. She felt light like a feather and kissed him again, this time deeper and longer. 

Lost in each other they didn’t hear the knock at her door or how Helen opened it. Jimmy, now walking, giggled as he stepped in and Helen gasped as Siegfried and Audrey broke apart. 

“His Lordship has arrived,” Audrey chuckled and Siegfried moved aside to allow Jimmy a good look at his Godaunt. 

“We can come back later,” Helen offered as Jimmy tore himself loose from her and ran over to Audrey. 

“Or you could discreetly vanish and bring us a cup of tea and something for little Jimmy here,” Siegfried suggested instead and heaved Jimmy onto the bed. 

“Alright…” A little wary Helen nodded and decided to do as asked. She would reserve her questions for later. 

[jicklet]

Ember and Wade in Elemental (2023)

[ratatatastic]

happy dumb ekky penalty of the day. on this episode of puck over glass. in a tied game. where said tied goal was a ppg. can you tell he also thought it was quite dumb of him to do too? can you? can his screams of agony move you to come to that conclusion as well?

its the "are they gonna call it please dont call it god they have to call it but do they have to? do they really? just because multiple men shouted OUT and pointed at the puck as it flew out doesnt mean they have to call" of it all before yes they do it call it ekky of course they do get your ass to the dumb idiot box

new york rangers @ florida panthers | 12.30.24

[nobleriver]

Steven Moffat rewatching THORS and saying the part where River recognizes 12 is the best bit of Who he’s ever written. 😭😭😭

[seumyo]

when you don’t say “i love you” back to bakugou.

Bakugou says, “I love you,” every time he’s about to leave the house without you. It’s something that he got from his father, and to put it simply, he got influenced.

He’s about to finish putting on his hero gear. His gauntlets were already in place, his boots laced, and his mask pushing his hair away from his face—kind of like how he wore it during high school whenever it wasn’t necessary to wear it properly.

And there you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor without a care in the world.

Books were scattered around you in piles, organized by some system only you seemed to understand. You were focused as you murmured to yourself quietly, comparing sizes, genres, and authors, completely absorbed in your task of organizing the living room’s bookshelf.

“I’m heading out.”

“Mmhm,” you replied absentmindedly, holding up two books and tilting your head as if the slight angle would help you decide which belonged on the top shelf.

Bakugou frowned, his brow twitching. “Oi, did you hear me?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, still not looking at him. “Be careful, Katsuki.”

He let out a huff, running a hand through his hair. He was used to you getting lost in your little projects, but this felt different (were you playing a prank on him?). He stepped closer, crouching down beside you to meet your eye level. “Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone,” he said, softer this time.

“I won’t.”

Still not looking at him. Unbelievable.

To Bakugou, it felt like being thrown through a building and back—and he wasn’t even exaggerating because it actually happened to him once! And he could definitely conclude that the feeling’s similar when you’re ignoring (not paying that much attention to) him.

Bakugou watched you for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly before he sighed. “I love you,” he murmured, his tone quieter.

“Uh-huh. Have a good day at work.”

Just as Bakugou was about to stand back up, he blinked, the words sinking in slowly. His brow furrowed as the realization hit him—he’s so confused.

You didn’t say it back.

“What the hell?” he muttered, more to himself than to you—because you didn’t even hear him.

He huffed, taking the book you were inspecting as he let your hands fall on his arms instead.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” you glanced at him, your expression innocent as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You didn’t say it back,” he said, his tone sharp, though there was a hint of disbelief beneath the irritation.

The audacity you had. After almost always saying “I love you” to him to the point where Bakugou realized he couldn’t go on his day without hearing it, you decide to not say it now?

What’s next? You’re going to tell him you want a divorce? He’s overreacting, he thinks.

“Say what back?”

He clenched his jaw, his cheeks flushing faintly. “I said I love you, dumbass.”

Realization dawned on your face, followed by a sheepish smile. That smile—the one that managed to win him over—it’s so infectious it might as well be a cause of an epidemic.

“Oh! Katsuki, I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“Tch,” he muttered, looking away from you. “Yeah, I noticed.”

You leaned closer to where he was crouching, squeezing his forearm softly, your touch light and apologetic. “You know I love you too, right?”

He side-eyed you, his scowl deepening, though it was clear his annoyance was fading.

“Doesn’t count if I gotta remind you,” Bakugou grumbled—almost pouting.

Your laughter bubbled out, so familiar that Bakugou was reminded where his home is, as you then held his face gently—then squishing his cheeks so that his lips are puckered. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “I’ll make sure to say it next time, promise.”

“Better keep thath promish,” he muffled out.

“I will,” you assured him, loosening your hold as you gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Strawberry-flavored chapstick, one of Bakugou’s favorites whenever you kiss him.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He tried to maintain his frown, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward as you kissed him once more. “You better.”

“Now go save the day, my hero.”

With a sigh, Bakugou leaned away from you, his posture reluctant to even leave you. He made his way to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder one last time. You were looking at him, blowing him lots of kisses with the emphasized “mwah!”

“Don’t get so caught up in your books that you forget I exist,” he tells you.

You smiled, nodding along. “Never.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too! Text me when you get to your agency; love you lots!” That’s better.

As he closed the door behind him, Bakugou shook his head, muttering to himself, “Ignored for some damn books. Unbelievable.”

Still, despite his grumbling, the faint smile on his face said he wasn’t really mad.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[chocolilies]

( ୨ৎ. husband!nanami kento x wife!reader. . .ᐟ

◟ꪆ୧ nsfw (afab!reader, fingering, teaching a lesson through sex, ditzy reader) - also on ao3!

nanami kento, who wears his wedding ring everywhere.

he never takes it off, he doesn't dare to. why would he? 

it symbolises the promise you two made to each other, the love you have and continue to share— of course he wants to show it off to the whole world.

you’ll never find him without it, golden band always snug around his ring finger when he showers, when he cooks, when he cleans, when he works...

which is why he's so disappointed to find yours teetering on the edge of the bathroom sink.

steam sticks to the mirror, blurrily framing the disappointment on his face as he picks up your ring, turning his head to look at you, watching you ransack your shared wardrobe for clothes to wear tonight.

"darling, are you forgetting something?"

he watches you snap your head around, drops of water still dripping from your recently showered body, mouth forming an 'o' out of shock as you realise what he's holding.

"oh!" you rush towards him, outstretching your left hand once you reach him so he can slip the ring back onto where it belongs, smiling bashfully up at him. "sorry, it must've slipped my mind."

you don't miss the frown that deepens on kento’s face at your careless gesture, placing your hands on his cheeks and pulling him down for a sweet kiss, your way of apologising for the mistake. "don't be upset, ken. it won't happen again."

oh but it does, and even though kento knows deep down that these are simple mistakes, he can't stop the pit that forms in his stomach whenever he finds your ring abandoned at your work desk, or the kitchen counter, or even slipped forgetfully into your bag.

he tries his best not to let it irk him, instead resorting to reminding you each time he finds your ring somewhere other than on your finger, making sure to slip it back where it's meant to be with as much love and care as the day you first exchanged rings and vows.

his resolve crumbles the moment gojo opens up his stupid mouth.

“woah, trouble in paradise?”

kento’s shoulders stiffen at the light-hearted way your coworker comments on your lack of ring, standing at your doorway holding lunch for the both of you as he watches you laugh it off with a wave of your ring-less hand, explaining your forgetfulness and immediately starting to look for the tiny trinket.

“darling,” kento speaks slowly from the other side of the room, announcing his arrival at the same time he flashes you with the item you were looking for. 

you don't seem to notice his clenched teeth and narrowed gaze as you happily walk over to him, allowing him to slip your ring back on before placing a kiss to his cheek in thanks, the maximum amount of affection you dare to show in your workplace. 

it hadn't dawned on him until then that he wasn't the only one that would notice your missing ring, wondering nervously as he finished up that day’s work just how many of your friends had noticed, whether the girls you normally went out and drank with assumed that he was a terrible husband, that there was indeed some trouble in paradise, that you were stuck in a loveless marriage instead of the obvious: that you were just forgetful.

he tries not to show his upset later that night when he finally arrives home, but as the dutiful and perfect wife you are, you notice immediately. you ask him what's wrong, offer to cook him his favourite dish, hold him in bed like you usually do whenever he feels down, tell him you’re there for whatever he might need and want…

“but… what I need… is to remind you how important this is to me,”

you watch as he catches your left hand in his, bringing it up to his face and pressing a chaste kiss to the warm metal, amber eyes staring deep into yours during his action. 

you smile, moving said hand to cup the side of his face, running your thumb over his sharp cheekbones. “I know how important it is, ken…”

despite your sweet coo and love-filled gaze, kento knows, deep down, that you need a reminder. 

“of course you do, angel,” he sighs, leaning closer into your space as his eyes trace your unforgettable features, drinking in your lovestruck expression. “but I feel that lately, it’s been slipping your mind. don’t you think that, as your husband, it’s my duty to make sure you never forget?”

your husband's ring feels cold against your flushed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth his fingers are radiating as they slip through your sopping folds, collecting your dripping essence like a prize as his chapped lips press sloppy kisses all over your neck.

you can't stop the noises that leave you at the teasing, fleeting touches, eyelids drooping closed in pleasure as his other hand plays around with your chest, nimble fingers grabbing and tugging at your nipples in tandem with his other hand’s movements, sending rushes of overstimulating pleasure throughout your tired body. 

you're unaware of how many times he’s made you cum so far, the towel he’d oh so graciously placed beneath you thoroughly soaked thanks to his continuing ministrations, yet all you can focus on is the strange but welcome feeling of his ring pressing against your most intimate parts, bumping against your clit with every movement from his nimble hand and sending jolts of pleasure through your spent self, though you assume that this was your husband’s desired effect all along. 

“you’re doing so, so good, angel,” his voice rasped against your ear, harmonising with the squishing sounds your poor cunt was making, every touch to your clit making your body lurch and quiver, the feeling overwhelming. “c’mon, one more, alright? or have you already learned your lesson?”

lesson? you think as you feel his ring finger slip into you along with his middle and index, cunt loose enough to accommodate all three and hopefully his cock after this “lesson”. 

“w- won't take it off again, ken, pr-promise,” you gasp out, arching your back against his chest and pressing your rump against his very hard erection, which he'd been neglecting in order to get you to this point. 

you feel his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot perfectly like they had times before, but he didn't relent like you'd expected him to. 

“k-ken?”

“that's not all.” 

you whine out in confusion, hips moving along with his fingers despite the need to give your body a break, chasing the high that your mind oh so wanted but body couldn't exactly reach. 

“b-but-”

“it's not just about wearing the ring, darling,” kento started to explain, showing off his amazing dexterity by continuing to play with your tits with one hand while still fingering your pussy with his left, pressing a sweet kiss against your tear stained cheek. “no, if it was about that, this would've been over way more quickly.” 

you can feel a different sort of pressure start to build up in the lower parts of your tummy as he paused, legs shaking from the disturbance and in warning of what was to come if kento keeps doing his thing, though by the looks of it, he was nowhere close to stopping. 

he stays silent, allowing you to realise that he was really waiting for you to answer, as if you were both immersed in a casual conversation and he hadn't just melted your brain with just his fingers, and you force yourself to speak despite the mind numbing pleasure. 

“wh- oh god! what's it a-about, ken…?” you mewl, hips raising each time he pumps his fingers inside, almost like you were trying to ride him since his cock was still tucked away inside his slacks, his palm rutting deliciously against your clit with every movement. 

you hear him stifle a groan as your hips start to move, torturing himself as well as you by not bothering to help himself, too focused on your pleasure to act on his own, pressing his lips to the spot under your ear in an attempt to muffle the whimpers that were threatening to escape him. 

“k-ken?” you half-questione, half-moan, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder and focusing your blurry gaze on your husband's flushed face, drinking in the gorgeous expression he was sporting. 

“darling,” he lets out breathlessly, brown eyes darting down to meet your own, hands still not relenting in their attack despite his pause in speech, trying to compose himself before speaking once more. “it's- fuck, I… I want you to remember why you wear it, honey. who put it on your finger, who you belong to...”

he shudderd as one of your moans rings out throughout the dark room, not helping him in the slightest as he tries his best to fight against the urge to flip you over and fuck you like the both of you deserved. 

“who I belong to,” the strokes of his fingers grow deeper and more attentive, attacking your g-spot relentlessly as you writhe in his arms, his loving yet possessive words sending tremors throughout your body. 

“oh, kento…”

he exhales shakily at the moan of his name, letting his head fall forwards to rest on your shoulder in an attempt to ground himself, sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a shudder. 

“you're not going to- fuck, let this go, a-are you?” you manage to whisper out cheekily, hips and body still moving subconsciously on his fingers. 

“not a chance, my love,” 

kento moves slightly, adjusting your body so you're pressed even more impossibly closer to him, ass still perched against his hardened cock, member twitching and spitting out pre against his dampening slacks with each movement from your almost drunk body, high of pleasure and doing whatever it can to reach that high kento had seemed to have promised before. 

“I'll make sure you never want to take this off again—” he starts, and you gasp out in horror as his fingers slide out of you, lifting his soaked hand up to your chest, giving you a few seconds to panic before quickly replacing it with his other hand, nipples softening at the sudden lack of stimulation. 

to accentuate his point, his left hand, the one where he proudly displays his ring, the one that's covered in your juices and almost pruny due to the amount of time spent playing with your wetness, finds your own, carefully intertwining your fingers together and showing off both of your rings. 

“—not because you're afraid of forgetting, no…” 

you shudder as his other hand resumes the work his other had been doing, immediately feeling that intense need of release come back, biting your lip to muffle your sounds in order to listen to your husband better, not wanting to interrupt him, especially when he was like this— disheveled, flushed, with tiny whines escaping his chapped lips with every press of your ass against his crotch. 

“but, because every time you look at it—”

you can feel it building up, your release at the tip of your fingers, but not exactly like all the other times before, so you know what's coming. 

it's not the first time kento's gotten you to this point. he's exceptionally proud of it, obviously. no one before him had ever gotten you to squirt before, and evidenced by the rings that were currently getting dirty in your juices, no one but him ever would. 

his fingers quicken their pace inside you, attacking your g-spot with force before suddenly moving up to give your clit the same treatment, pinching and rubbing the tiny bundle of nerves in an expert manner, knowing exactly what to do to get you to that oh so delicious release. 

you raise your hips in preparation for it, pressure building up in your most intimate parts as you moan and cry out your husband's name, his mind crumbling with every sound you make, trying to stay on track. 

his mouth opens in awe as you grab onto his hand tighter, vision going white as you finally reach your climax, voice getting caught in his throat at the beautiful sigh of you coming undone on his fingers, love-filled eyes drinking in every single inch of your trembling bare body, release-soaked fingers still rubbing at your cunt rapidly.

he chuckles as you try to move away from his touch once it becomes too much, apologising silently for the overstimulation with a kiss to your sweaty temple, before finally finishing his speech. 

“—you’ll think of this.”

[kenananamin]

Tie my tie, marry me

Summary: The moment Nanami knew he never wanted to tie his tie by himself ever again and wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. fluffy, nanami x fem!reader, nanami already loves everything you do but something about tying his tie was so intimate and special to him

It had been a year since Nanami officially asked you to be his girlfriend, but you had just started staying over during the weekdays. If either of you would stay at each other's houses, it would only be during the weekends when you both knew the next day could be dedicated to each other. Only recently had that unspoken rule changed.

You had both gone to the mall to shop for your new professional wardrobe and Nanami asked if he could buy a few extra things for you to keep at his house. You both knew what that implied and told him he could buy it, only if you could buy some stuff for him to keep at your house. You had both never been happier to spend more time and money at a crowded mall.

Nanami woke up a bit later for work than usual because of a power outage that turned off his alarm clock and did not charge his phone. You went into work after he did so you make his coffee and pack his lunch while he took a quick shower. You run into the bathroom to let him know he had less than 15 more minutes.

He steps out of the shower and grabs his razor to shave. You reach for the hairdryer he bought for you to keep at his house and start to dry his hair as he quickly shaves. You run out and start to rummage through his closet to set his clothes on the bed. Nanami finishes shaving and follows you out to get dressed.

"Shirt first, hurry," you take the shirt off the hanger and throw it to him.

Nanami begins to button the shirt when you get in front of him and start pulling his collar up and putting his tie around his neck. He looks at you with a questioning look and you quickly explain, "My dad taught me how to tie a tie. Never thought it'd come in handy since I never knew anyone who regularly wore a tie before you." You laugh at the memory but continue what you were doing to avoid making your boyfriend late.

Nanami however... his fingers stop buttoning his shirt. He looks at you, concentration and rush covering your features, but your fingers gently grazed his skin as you looped his tie. She's the first person to ever tie it for me, Nanami thinks. He had to learn how to do it from a video and was later corrected by some older male coworkers who showed him with their own ties.

The events of that morning finally dawn on him. You jumped out of bed right after you felt him jump out and started rushing around the apartment with him. He hadn't even mentioned that he was late, but you opened your eyes and knew what to do. He could smell the coffee from the room and heard the clanking of the leftover containers being opened and slid across counters from the shower. You dried his hair knowing that his route to work was not long enough to let it dry itself, and you took out exactly what he would have worn that day while he shaved. And now... there you stood before him, helping him tie his tie so his hands could do other things.

It seemed so... small. It was so small, so truly insignificant in the scale of life, something that could not hold weight in the world or change anything in the universe. But it changed his life, it was his favorite view in the world, and it would become his universe.

You look up at him and see him staring... and his hands not moving?! You move his hands away from the buttons and rush to finish buttoning it down. He takes your face in his hands and leans down to kiss you slowly. So very slow and soft. It stops you completely and you wrap your arms around his waist, relishing in the smell of his aftershave and body wash. Nanami deepens the kiss and moves an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. As much as you love when he pulls you in, the movement pulls you out of the kiss trance.

"Oh my god, Kento, hurry!! You're late, you're late!"

You step back and shove his pants into his arms. You tell him to hurry and that you'd grab his shoes to put by the door. You start yelling across the apartment that it would rain the entire afternoon and he needed to take the umbrella.

Nanami listens as you rustle through the closet looking for the umbrella and the light thud of what might have been his lunch bag and coffee thermal on the entryway table. He walks out the room putting on his suit jacket and sees you lightly jumping while telling him to hurry with his shoes.

Nanami leans down to tie his shoes but pauses after he's done. He goes to touch your bare leg since you hadn't even gotten dressed after waking up. You only wore his large shirt and underwear. He kneels and carefully lifts one leg to kiss your knee. He looks up from his kneeling position and says, "Thank you for helping. You really didn't have to."

His loving eyes close slightly while you lean down to give him one kiss as your response. "You're late," you whisper against his lips.

Nanami stands and takes his things while waving bye to you and your bed head. He heads out the door and begins a light jog to catch his regular train.

Yeap, she's the one, Nanami thinks.

Nanami spent his lunch break at the jewelry shop looking at rings that would look beautiful on your finger. There were so many engagement rings that would look gorgeous on you, but one caught his eye as he imagined that ring slightly moving on your finger as you tied his tie.

"I like that one. Do you have a size (your ring size) in stock?"

Nanami buys the ring at that moment and texts you to ask if he could come over to your house after work. He does not plan to propose on a regular Tuesday evening with no special plans, but he wants to hug you, smell your lovely perfume, take you some flowers, and give you a special thanks for helping him. And maybe, maaaayybe (most likely), stay over at your house to help him with his tie again the next morning.

[yanderedrabbles]

The North Wind & His Bride

The North Wind was the coldest and cruelest of winds. So when a man came to your father's door claiming to be him and asking for your hand, your father was quick to turn him away.

"My daughter is too bright and too kind to be wasted on the worst of the winds. Come back once you learn to carry spring on your breath instead of snow."

And all that night the wind whispered down your chimney. You dreamt strange dreams - of the colours found only at the edge of the world, of snow flurries and seas black as night.

The man returned the next day. And your father once again refused him. "Come back when you can grant succor to the poor and the pitiful and not freeze them where they sleep."

That night, the wind keened even higher and rattled the window shutters. You dreamt of a wedding dress with frost for lace and a ring the gold of sunrise on snow. When you woke, your ring finger was cold as ice.

The man did not come again that day and you huddled close to the fire, rubbing warmth back into your bones. Your father paced his study and tried to scheme a way of avoiding the wind.

That night, the air laid still as in a coffin and you slept the black sleep of the drowned. You woke in time to see the first snow of the year, two months too early.

Your father's crops froze in the ground or rotted with the thaw. He paced his study and tried to scheme a way of avoiding the creditors.

When next your suitor came, your father's good manners had been worn down by debt collectors and bank notes. He snapped at the wind like a thing cornered. "Come back when you can guide ships safe to port and not wreck them on icy shores."

That night, a blizzard blew in from the north and any creature not crouched by the fire or huddled indoors was found frozen solid. You dreamt again, of a man with cold hands and even colder eyes who danced with you under foreign stars.

Your suitor did not come again but terrible news did. Your brother's ship was wrecked by a storm high on the winter coast. All souls were lost.

Through your grief, a terrible anger began to grow.

When next your suitor came, you greeted him at the door. He had a face as finely chiseled as an ice sculpture and eyes the deep black of the hinterland sea.

"If you would have me as your bride, then I will have a dowry from you."

He took your hand in his and his touch chilled you worse than a corpse's would. He looked at you with a hunger born out of winter and scarcity and cold.

"Anything. Ask anything of me and you can have it."

All through your brother's funeral you thought of ways to avenge him. And now you asked the North Wind for the one thing you thought he could never obtain.

"In a kingdom far south of here, where the snow never falls and the winter never comes, there is a jewel carved from the sun God's bones. Bring me that as a wedding band and I will be your bride."

You thought he would flinch or ask you to reconsider. Instead he bowed and kissed your hand and said he would soon return.

You felt your hope slipping, but he did not return the next day. Or the day after that. The end of autumn came without snow or gales or the return of your suitor. Slowly, you began to breathe again. Began to heal from your brother's death. Began to dream of summer and love and fresh fruit bursting between your teeth.

The winter equinox dawned with clear skies. There was to be feasting that night, and dancing. You dressed your hair with silver chains and sweetened your lips with winter berries. When the music started, one young man after another swept you into his arms and spun you around the bonfire. You tilted your head back and laughed and flirted and forgot all about your suitor.

Near midnight, the wind started to blow. The fire hissed as snowflakes drifted down from suddenly cloudy skies. Your dance partner caught one on his glove and offered it to you. Daring and high on the thrill of dancing, you licked it off his finger. "Tastes of winter in storm," you teased and when he took you for another dance, you wondered if you'd caught yourself a husband.

He spun you around but the arms that caught you were icy cold even through the fine velvet of the wearer's suit.

Midnight tolled and you looked up into the eyes of the North Wind.

He pulled your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against your skin. At his touch, even the bonfire at your back seemed to lose its warmth.

"The journey south was wrecked with danger and the sun almost melted me clean away, but I have brought your dowry."

Before you could pull away, he slipped a ring onto your finger. It was the gold of fire and sunset and desert sand, and it's warmth spread through you.

The snow turned into a blizzard but you didn't notice it. The wind outside the safety of his arms was sharp as stinging nettles and the townsfolk called to each other in panic, barely able to keep their torches from blowing out.

The North Wind kissed your cheek, eyes glimmering with triumph.

"You're mine now. My spring bride, my dearest love."

All your dreams of a sweet summer love melted. When the snow finally settled, you were no longer in the town square but in a throne room at the edge of the world. Green and blue lights danced in the sky and shone through the palace ceiling, bathed your new husband in all the colours of his kingdom.

He leaned forward and claimed his first kiss.

When you pulled away and tried to step out of his embrace, he tightened his grip and his smile both.

"You are my wife now," he explained in a voice as comforting as frostbite, "And a wife cannot refuse her husband's love."

Your sun ring was the only spot of warmth on your body and you clung desperately to the anchor it offered.

"I would not refuse you, husband of mine. But I am the daughter and the sister of common men and there are traditions to uphold before I can climb into your wedding bed."

"What more must I do to have you?"

What would he be unable to do, here at the end of the world?

"Build me a fire that burns all day and all night on one stick of wood and you can have me as promised."

"These are strange traditions you have, wife of mine. But I have come this far to have you, and I will go further yet."

He left you with a flurry of snow and the hissing shriek of a gale. When he was gone, you paced the throne room from one end to the other and could not find a door. Everything about the room was as stark and cold as he.

Exhausted and chilled, you sat at the foot of his throne. What terrible thing did you do to earn the love of the North Wind? You wiped away your tears and then jumped at the hissing sound they made when they touched your ring. Like water spilled on coals.

"You've melted his heart," your ring hissed. "And he cannot afford to let you go."

You stared at your hand. Eventually you found your voice and the strength to ask, "How do I escape him?"

"Trick him. His heart holds all his power. If you have it, you can ride the wind far from here. He was once a man and still might be tempted into a deal."

The ring was silent after that and you waited for your husband's return with bated breath. It was dawn when he came to you, a branch slung over his shoulder. It was of a dry, white wood that you didn't recognise.

There were no fireplaces in the North Wind's palace and so he laid the branch at your feet before he lit it. It caught with a harsh crackle and fire spread across it in a greenish haze. You stretched your fingers out to feel the heat and even the meagre warmth of it was a comfort.

But that comfort turned to a slow dawning horror when you realised the branch wasn't turning to ash. The fire ate at it but the wood refused to darken.

"It's a branch from Death's own orchard," your husband said proudly. "It can burn for eternity and never go out."

"Well done," you said, even though your lips were numb from panic. "But we must watch it burn for the full day and night or else our marriage cannot be consummated."

He sat down beside you and curled his arm around your waist. "It is an easy task to watch this fire, wife of mine. When I grow tired, I need only think of the reward that awaits me."

For a whole day and night, the North Wind held you his arms and watched the fire burn. When Dawn's light touched his palace again, he kissed your shoulder and then your neck and then your lips. He sighed with a deep contentment.

"At last I will have you."

With each kiss, you felt yourself grow colder. With each caress, the binding ties of marriage grew tighter. All night you thought of a trade to offer him and now you said it aloud.

"Husband of mine, I will come willingly to your bed and serve willingly as your wife. But I would ask you first for a boon."

"Ask, wife of mine. If it is mine to grant, then I shall grant it."

You slipped off his lap and turned to look at him.

"I would have your heart."

The North Wind sighed and miles away, a gale began to form. "You already have it."

"So have said countless suitors over countless years to countless girls. And still they were unfaithful, unkind. If your love ever turns away from me, I will be stuck here at the end of world with naught but sea bears and ice hounds to comfort me."

The North Wind sat on his throne and regarded you with eyes old as the mountains. In his own hall, in his own country, he did not seem like a man who could easily be tricked. Still, you tried. You let your hands drift across his cheeks and up his thighs, let his skin bask in the warmth of your touch.

"Grant me this, husband. And I will be yours for eternity."

Was it lust or love that made him hand you a knife and bid you cut out his heart? He guided your hand to the tender spot between his ribs and the bare skin of his chest almost made your reconsider.

The blade was carved out of whalebone and moonlight and he was bleeding before you even pressed down. You thought of your brother, drowned in the ice so far from home and found the strength to slice into him.

The blood that welled up from his chest was thick and black as oil. Where it touched your skin, hoatfrost bloomed.

He didn't seem to feel any pain - he only pulled you higher up his lap and watched the guilt and horror flicker across your face.

When the cut was deep enough, you pushed your hand into his chest and felt for his heart. His organs were colder even than his skin and it felt like you'd sunk your hands into snow.

The beating of his heart mirrored yours and when you finally grabbed it, the thrumming of his blood sounded just like your own.

You held the North Wind's heart in your hand and pulled it from his chest.

All at once, in all the countless winter kingdoms, the wind stopped howling and the snow grew still.

His heart was the size of your palm and oozed icy blood over your fingers. It was so cold that at first you didn't realise the numbness in your hand was spreading. It crawled up your arm like a burning frost and locked your bones in place.

You couldn't drop his heart even if you tried.

The North Wind looked at you with an indulgent, amused smile. And when the ice reached your heart he leaned up and kissed you.

He kissed you and for once his lips felt warm, felt human. Dimly, you realised it wasn't him who was getting warmer, it was you who was freezing over. Becoming a thing of ice and hunger as he was.

"Now you need never fear I will abandon you." The North Wind ran his hands up your sides and warmth bloomed in his wake.

"Now you can control the wind as I do and ride it to the furthest reaches of the world. You can swim with the sea bears and dance with the witches."

You looked down and realised his heart was almost gone, melted into your bones and blood.

He kissed you again. "My love, you are as free as the wind."

It wasn't until then that you realised the cost of freedom. The cost of having the North Wind's heart. And when he drew you up in his arms and lead you to your wedding bed, you were too cold to turn him away.

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

view all comments

user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

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the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

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“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

view all comments

user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

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[flwrkid14]

Everyone Knows They’re Dating… Except Tim and Danny

To literally everyone, Tim and Danny are a couple. They’re so obvious about it, it’s almost annoying. Tim goes out of his way to prioritize Danny over anyone else—he’ll cancel plans, rearrange his schedule, and bend over backward to make sure Danny’s happy. Need coffee at 3 a.m.? Tim’s already out the door. A custom gadget? It’s in Danny’s hands before he even asks.

And Danny? Danny dotes on Tim in a way that’s almost overprotective. He ensures Tim eats, sleeps, and doesn’t completely drown himself in work. He’s always there, watching out for him, ready to step in if Tim ever needs help. And god help anyone who says a single bad word about Tim because Danny will defend him with a ferocity that borders on terrifying.

They live together. They cuddle to sleep. They share a bed. They have dinners together like it’s some weekly tradition. They wear each other’s clothes so often no one can tell whose hoodie is whose anymore. Sometimes they even plan matching outfits when they go out. Their “hangouts” are way too romantic and way too specific to not count as dates.

It’s obvious to everyone that Tim and Danny are dating. Everyone… except Tim and Danny.

The breaking point happens when Danny starts spending time with a new friend. Tim doesn’t even notice at first, but slowly, irritation starts bubbling under the surface. Why does Danny even need new friends? Doesn’t he already have Tim? And then the irritation morphs into a tight knot in his chest every time Danny talks about hanging out with this friend.

At first, Tim tells himself he’s just being logical—Danny is busy enough as it is, why stretch himself thinner? But when Danny cancels one of their movie nights to go out with this new friend, Tim spirals. He’s glued to his laptop but hasn’t typed anything in over an hour, too consumed with thoughts like: Is Danny replacing me? Am I not enough for him? Does he want someone else to be his best friend now?

He’s never been good at handling emotions, so naturally, he decides the best course of action is to bottle it all up and ignore it. That is until Steph shows up and immediately clocks that something’s wrong.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, slumping onto his couch.

“I’m not grumpy,” Tim lies, glaring at his laptop like it’s offended him personally.

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Right. So why are you moping like someone kicked your dog?”

“I’m not moping,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

Steph stares at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she pieces it together. She knows Danny’s out with some new friend, and now she’s looking at Tim, who’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal, glaring at his phone every few seconds. Her expression shifts—realization dawning, then sharp focus. “Oh my god, Tim. You’re jealous.”

Tim freezes. “What? No, I’m not. That’s ridiculous.”

Steph crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Tim as if he’s the most complicated puzzle she’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, let’s break this down,” she starts, her tone deliberate. “You’re upset that Danny’s out with someone else. You’re overthinking it, spiraling about whether or not you’re enough, and now you’re convinced you’ve somehow ruined everything… Does that sound like just ‘friend’ feelings to you?”

Tim freezes mid-pace, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “I—what?”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Tim. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—” Tim begins, but then stops, the denial catching in his throat. His brain scrambles to process her words, but the sinking feeling in his chest refuses to let him dismiss it. The pieces fall into place, one by one, each memory sharper than the last: the way his heart always lifts when Danny smiles, the quiet warmth of falling asleep next to him, the ache in his chest at the thought of Danny choosing someone else.

“Oh no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Oh my god. I’m jealous because—because I’m—”

Steph sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re jealous because you’re in love with Danny.”

Tim’s knees almost give out as the realization settles in. “I’m the worst friend in the world,” he blurts, his voice breaking. Tears spring to his eyes as he starts pacing again, his hands flying up in a panicked gesture. “I have no right to feel this way! He’s my best friend—he deserves someone better, someone who won’t ruin his life with… with whatever this is!”

Steph groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Tim, for the love of—you're already dating.”

He stops dead in his tracks, blinking at her like she’s just spoken another language. “What?”

“Seriously? You’re basically married,” Steph says, throwing her hands up. “He practically lives here, you do everything together, and you’re constantly rearranging your life for him. What part of that screams just friends to you?”

Tim’s mouth opens, then closes, his mind spinning as he replays every moment with Danny through a new lens. The quiet mornings when they share coffee in companionable silence. The way Danny always notices when he’s stressed and pulls him into a hug without a word. How being with Danny feels like breathing—natural, essential, like coming home.

And it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with Danny.

The realization is overwhelming, a mix of panic and joy and sheer terror. But beneath all that, there’s something else—a quiet certainty. He doesn’t just love Danny; he’s in love with him, and he doesn’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.

Tim decides, then and there, that he has to confess. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that Danny feels the same, he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers. And if he doesn’t… well, there’s always Antarctica.

When Tim finally confesses, he pours his heart out in a way that’s so painfully earnest it makes Danny laugh.

“Tim,” Danny says, tears of laughter in his eyes, “I thought we were already dating.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

Danny grins. “Yeah, I kind of assumed we were. I mean, we live together. We share a bed. We cuddle. We’ve been wearing matching outfits for months, dude.”

“Oh.” Tim feels his face heat up.

Danny laughs again, pulling Tim into a hug. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Tim buries his face in Danny’s shoulder, equal parts mortified and relieved. But hey, at least now they’re officially dating—or, well, aware of it.

Steph hears the whole story later and immediately texts them both: “Congrats on being the last ones to figure it out. True geniuses at work.”

[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

NIGHT OF SECRECY

synopsis: sylus leaves in the morning for a few days, but you don’t want him to leave just yet. notes: haven’t posted because i was focusing on LADS, but this is heavily inspired by the new card, using lines as well. i pulled all 4 cards! so i might make one for each boy. warnings: unprotected, vulgarity, body worship, cream pie wc: 2.1k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

Safety first right? You’re staying with Sylus in one of his safe houses, located somewhere in the N109 Zone. You’re out of reach from anyone, so that means he’s entirely yours until he leaves for a couple days.

You’re dreading it, how could you possibly survive without him? How could you satisfy your needs?

So you take it upon yourself to make this night memorable, to make him crave you.

After a long night out, Sylus carries you to his dimly lit room, you in one arm, your shoes in the other. When he nears the couch, he stops. His eyes gaze into yours and he smiles softly.

“If you don’t want to lie down, I can keep holding you until I leave.”

You respond quickly as he slowly sets you down on your feet with a smirk.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” You smile back, a flirtatious one at that. Sylus catches on and nods.

“Then… We better make the most of our time before dawn.” He holds his smirk and you push him down on the couch. Your legs coming to rest on the outsides of his. His hand wraps around the back of your thigh and grazes your bottom, squeezing it.

You connect your lips to his in a hungry kiss, and he pulls away briefly.

“You really don’t want me to leave…” He smirks before pulling you back towards his lips. His hands move to your waist, pulling you against him.

Sylus deepens the kiss, his fingers gripping the sides of your waist, pulling you even closer to him. His tongue parts your lips, licking the inside of your mouth, tasting you. Sweet honey.

Your fingers slide across the open of his shirt, feeling his firm chest. He moans into your mouth, low in his chest, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

You can feel the heat and weight of him between your spread thighs when you rock into him gently. His pants tighten more and more as the kissing goes on.

He pushes his hips up to meet yours, a low growl leaving his throat. His hand grips your ass, kneading it and pulling you down against him. You softly moan and whisper, “Over there…”

He rises, effortlessly lifting you into his arms and walking towards the bed with ease. Lips never leaving yours…

“Anything you want, princess.” He places you down, climbing over your body. His lips crash back down onto yours and he grinds against you once more. The open area allows him freedom, he takes advantage of it.

His lips drag down towards your neck, biting it and sucking, leaving marks to be seen for days.

“You can be even greedier, kitten…” He whispers before coming back up to face level.

“Don't look…” Sylus places a hand over your eyes and kisses you once more, his hand attempting to hide his desperate need for you. God, how he loves your lips. Soft and felt like home. They were so inviting, and only he could taste them.

His hands roam all over your body, and he slowly pulls away. He slides his shirt off before working on removing your layers.

Once bare, his mouth works its way down your neck, to your shoulder, across your collarbone. His warm tongue travels over the top of your breast, teasing biting your nipple before trailing down the underside.

He puts his focus on your breasts for a bit, swirling his tongue, biting, and kitten licking. Knowing how to please you he smirks at the sounds you make.

“Fuck…” You let out the quietest moan. You can feel the heat and weight of him between your spread thighs, still fully clothed. He pulls away to look at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger but cautious.

“You okay, baby? We can stop. You know I won’t mind.” His eyes lock on yours as your chest heaves.

“I’m okay Sylus.” You smile as you finally catch your breath.

“Yeah, but… Do you want this?” Sylus runs his hands along your legs, feeling the smooth skin beneath them. Body of a goddess.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetie.” He kisses where his fingers run.

“I want it Sy… I-I want you.” You correct yourself and he nods before reaching for your skirt.

Sylus latches onto it and pulls it down, along with your underwear. The damp fabric is thrown behind him and he drools at the sight of you. So needy and hungry for him, like always.

“Looks like you don’t even need foreplay baby…” He chuckles and runs a finger along your heat, wetness gathering on his finger. His pink lips press a quick kiss to your clit.

You giggle quietly and roll your eyes. “Never need it with you.”

Sylus agrees with you wholeheartedly. You have always been excited by Sylus. Whether it be just being near him or the lightest touch of his pinky finger.

He pulls away and undoes his belt, his hands moving quickly to pull down his pants and boxers, eager to satisfy his and your need.

His cock springs out, standing tall and pulsing. He gives it a couple of strokes before approaching you once more.

“On your stomach, baby.” His eyes drink you in as he speaks and you quietly do as told.

Sylus moves up behind you, straddling your body with his legs. He grabs your hips and slides you towards him. The weight and heat of his body pressing against you, his hands on either side of your head as he kisses his way down your spine.

His hands run along your skin, grabbing your ass in particular before he pulls away. He moves to get up off the bed, his footsteps soft over the carpet as he makes his way to the other side of the room.

You hear a drawer open, rummaging through some things before it closes again, his footsteps padding across the room to the bed.

He grabbed a bottle of lube, squirting the tiniest bit on his length, to ease you. He knew how big he was, and how much the stretch is, he never wanted to hurt you.

“Spread your legs for me, love. Just a little wider for me, mmkay?” Sylus says in the softest yet dominating voice as he comes up behind you, spreading the lubricant.

He moves in between them and grips your hips, pulling you up so you’re resting on your hands and knees. He leans down into you, the hard line of his length against your back.

“You feel that?” He moans against your neck as he places open-mouthed kisses there, and his hands wander over your body again.

“Please…” you whisper and he growls, immediately wrapping a hand around himself to press the tip to your aching entrance.

“Breathe, okay?” Sylus holds onto your hip with one hand, his other hand comes up to the back of your neck in a light grip.

Holding you in place and keeping your head pulled back, he slowly begins pushing inside. A low moan escapes both of your mouths.

The right squeeze of your walls almost causes him to burst right then and there, but luckily he can control his body.

“You gotta relax for me.” He groans, stilling inside of you until you loosen.

“I… I’m trying…” you whine and nearly collapse on the bed.

He leans down and kisses you between your shoulders. “I know. You’re doing so well. Just bear down a little for me, love. Push back into me… Just like that. That a girl.”

Your hips press against his, allowing you to relax against him. He lets out a hiss once he finally bottoms out and you moan. Taking that as a sign he moves a bit.

Sylus slowly pulls out almost to the tip before pushing back in. His hands gripping your hips again, lips leaving openmouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders, biting gently at the skin.

You can feel his muscles tense behind you, his whole body shaking with the effort of trying to hold back. His pace quickens, hand holding the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me how you want it. Nice and gentle or..” He slides back in deeper, a moan leaving his chest as he bites your ear. “Hard and fast.” He moans into your skin.

“You want it rougher? Say the words for me and I’ll give it to you.” His lips and teeth find your neck, leaving behind little love bites as he works his way to your ear.

His voice was a low, almost whisper, “Just say it and I’ll give it to you, princess.”

You nearly let out a bratty whine at his words. “I want you to give it to me good, Sy… Just let go.”

You barely recognize your voice, breathy and full of desire, a desperate, needy sound you didn’t even know you could make.

At your words, something seems to snap inside him. Sylus’ body suddenly tenses up behind you and you can feel his grip on you tighten, his breathing changing to low, ragged almost growls, his breathing growing labored.

It’s like he was just waiting for you to say the actual words. He pulls back and then thrusts forward, setting a hard and fast pace from the start.

The sudden change in pace has you reeling. You can barely breathe as he drives into you from behind, the new angle allowing him to reach deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Moans and groans fill the room as you guys enjoy each other and then he hits that spot inside you.

Sylus’ hand tightens in your hair, his body pressed firmly against you as he mutters out a string of words.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, taking all of me like you know you should.” His voice was laced with honey and desire.

You were too cock drunk to even respond. The only thing on your mind was him. He leans down, his voice dark and rough with desire.

“That feel good? Say it. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head. Let me hear you.” He hits that spot again, a low growl leaving his lips and you nearly give out. Stars cloud your vision as you near release.

“Feels so good, Sy, so so good.” You finally manage words and he pushes you down completely.

You lay flat as he plunges into you at this new angle, his legs pushing yours together. The two of you feel more, and a tighter feel.

“Sy… I’m so close.” You moan into the mattress and he groans. He can tell. It’s like he can hear it in your voice. He can hear your breaths come out faster and rougher, how you’re gripping the sheets, your legs tensing up…

“Yeah, you’re close for me? You gonna cum for me, beautiful?” Sylus picks up speed to get himself closer.

You clench around him and let out a cry of his name. He follows suit with a loud moan, thrusting through your climaxes. His tip nearly bursts through your cervix as he shoots his warm essence inside your womb.

Painting your walls, and filling your stomach, he groans while he pulses. You milked him, and it was always something you were good at.

“Fuck…” You let out a subtle whisper as you pant, and you hear his chuckle behind you.

“Mmm, got that right. You drained me, kitten.” He kisses your back before pulling out.

You wince at the loss of contact, and he flips you onto your back. Sylus moves to grab a tissue from a box near the bed, quickly cleaning in between your legs. He smirks.

“Such a mess kitten...” He pulls back up, throws away the tissue, and lays down.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, his soft lips trailing over your neck and jaw and down to your shoulder.

Sylus holds you close while his breathing evens out. His hand gently comes to rest on your stomach, massaging the skin there.

His thumb rubs small circles, lips still finding that same spot on your neck, still leaving tiny kisses there.

“You feeling alright, love?” His words break you out of a daze.

“Mmm, yeah I’m good Sylus.” You chuckle and he smirks against your neck. He softly kisses your neck and shoulder and gently presses himself up against you harder.

“Good. I wanted to check.”

His hand slowly moves down your stomach, coming to rest on your mound. “You sure you’re good? Not too sore? Not too tired?”

“I’m sure.” You whisper back and let your eyes rest. He moves closer and surrounds every part of you.

Sylus whispers low in your ear, his voice gentle.

“If you’re sure… then I wanna try something. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. Just let me know.”

He gently grabs the bottom of your thigh, pulling it back, bending it at the knee, and pulling it back over his thigh.

He presses himself up against you, the weight of him resting between your thighs, his lips finding your neck again as he gently presses small kisses along your skin, and he slowly grinds forward, just a little.

You gasp at the slight friction, and he smiles.

“Feel good, baby? You like that?”

“Mmm…” You bite your lip, holding back a moan, and he catches on. His swollen head slips and slides between your folds as he bites down on your skin.

Slowly, Sylus’ tongue traces over his bite to soothe and ease the sting, his fingers trailing down your side to your hips. His breathing changes, becoming heavier when he grinds against you a little harder, a quiet moan leaving his chest.

Sylus pants, feeling a new urge of need course through his body.

“You know, there are a lot of things I wanna do to you, a lot of places I want my mouth on… Let’s go for round two kitten.”