#i'm trying to be more positive and take the small wins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 3 months ago

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“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him.

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.”

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual.

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart.

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not.

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.”

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations, but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground.

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive.

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him.

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice?

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor.

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases.

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.”

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath.

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close.

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency.

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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cheriladycl01 · 9 months ago

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They do be comfy tho! - Lando Norris x Pregnant! Reader

Plot: You try hide your pregnancy through Lando's large array of hoodies.

You sat in the bathroom crying your eyes out. You'd been feeling sick recently and didn't think the plane journey all the way to Las Vegas would be a good idea.

So you stayed behind while Lando went racing, you were now looking at the positive test in your hand.

You knew exactly when it was, it was. It was after his first race win in Brazil... you guys weren't as careful as you should have been.

"Fuck" you cried leaning your head against the wall of the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. It wasn't that you didn't want kids, or that you didn't want them with Lando it's just that you both agreed now wasn't the best time where he was in the height of his career.

You didn't know what to do, the only person you could think to call was Oscar's girlfriend Lily who you'd become best friends with ever since you met her at her first race appearance.

You waited while the phone rung, and rung until the line opened.

"Lily?" you sob into the phone but it's silent.

"Lily please, i need you!" you cry a little more.

"Y/N?" a male voice you knew too well answered. It was Oscar.

"Oscar?" you ask.

"Yeah, it's me Lily's just in the bathroom i didn't want it to go to a missed call!" he says before you here Lily ask who it is.

"Please Oscar, just hand me over to her" you say, Oscar could tell you were crying and he wanted to know what was wrong more than anything. He handed over the phone to his girlfriend with a worried look who answers right away.

"Y/N?" she asks with concern in your voice.

"Can you be alone right now, like without Oscar?" you say with labored breaths.

"Yeah, he's just leaving to get ready for FP3, weren't you babe!" she smiles giving him a look that tells him to leave.

Oscar, stops outside the door with a small panic.

What does he tell Lando?

Does he tell Lando?

He really had no idea what to say. Did he tell Lando that his girlfriend just got a call from Lando's girlfriend and he answered and she wa sobbing.

Would this make Lando spiral and have a bad race.

"Y/N please tell me what's happened!" Lily says back in Oscar's driver room.

"I'm pregnant" you sob and Lily's eyes widen.

"Congrats?" Lily says awkwardly and you just sob harder.

"Okay okay I'm sorry! I don't know what to say. How can i help!" she asks.

"I don't know, I think i just needed to tell someone!" you sniffle.

You continue to talk to Lily until she needs to leave to go watch Oscar and you agree you should probably watch Lando.

You walk past your shared room with Lando in your Monaco flat seeing one of his hoodies laying over the chair. You grab it and pull it over.

You spend the rest of the weekends watching shitty romcom's until you get a text from Lando.

Lando: I'm coming home, now

And that sent you into a full on spiral. Did Oscar or Lily talk and tell him, was hen angry at you...

Until he got home you were a nervous wreck having a ball of anxiety in your stomach.

"Baby?" Lando calls as he goes through the front door looking around for you. You were sat on the sofa, curled up in his lavender hoodie from his Quadrant range.

He walks in seeing you sat there, tears in your eyes as your trying not to look at him.

"Baby, look at me tell me why Oscar told me you called Lily in floods of tears... what's happened!" he asks, kneeling down in front of you trying to catch your gaze but you refused to look.

"Baby come on" he sighs. You take his hand, before standing up and walking him to the bathroom and showing him the test.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asks looking between the stick and you. You just nod, no words coming to your mouth.

"Baby, this is amazing! I know timing isn't great but i'll be here for you and them! I promise!" he says pulling you into a tight hug. He spent the whole evening talking to you about everything.

"You aren't leaving me?" you asked with a small sniffle.

"Baby, of course not... is that why you called Lily crying?" he asks with a frown and you nod.

"I was just worried, I know Mclaren have a really good car this year and that you and Oscar are a good team and we are still really young!" you admit and he nods.

"We are, but it's not anything we can't handle together..." he says pulling you in for a kiss, holding your hips before they snake up your body to get to the back of your neck.

"I love you so so much" he sighs leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes open watching you eyes.

"I love you too!" you sigh, all that built up anxiety just leaving and releasing from you.

"I don't think we should tell anyone but family" you say looking down and he frowns, not sure what you mean.

"Your going to stop coming to my races?" he asked, obviously he knew towards the end of your pregnancy you wouldn't be able to do the flight but right now you'd be safe and healthy to fly.

"No of course not! As long as we are on a jet I should be fine, why wouldn't I ?" you ask tilting your head in confusion.

"Well, baby ..." he gulps and you nearly start to laugh wondering where he's going with this.

"In a pregnancy you are growing a whole other human inside of you, so you'll ... you know get bigger?" he says as if its more of a question to you than anything.

"Yes, I'll have a bump" you giggle, placing his hand on your currently flat stomach.

"But you don't want to tell anyone? People will start to find out when they see it honey!" he laughs, rubbing your hips and stomach.

“I’ll just cover up with your hoodies” you say showing Jake how you look now.

“Mmmm my hoodies can only go so far” he laughs.

And that was the truth, you struggled in the heat in the hotter countries and ended up getting too big for even Lando’s hoodies.

Someone on twitter had got a picture of you, at an angle where Landos hand gripping your made the loose hoodie grab around your growing stomach and people started to go wild.

So you guys went to Instagram of course.

landonorris

landonorris: Yes Y/N is pregnant! We are both very happy and she’s currently 7 months along and we are expecting in July and cannot wait to meet our little girl!

Tagged 1 Person

View all 476 comments

y/user: I love you so much. I wouldn’t want to experience this journey with anyone else! 🧡🫶🏼

mclaren: Papaya Baby incoming 🧡🦁 Congrats Lando!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

lilyzniemer: she’s such a pretty mumma

-> y/user: stop it!!!! 🫶🏼🧡

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

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auroralwriting · 5 months ago

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helping hands

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

after a rough case, spencer offers to help your muscles relax

word count: 1.0k

warnings: no y/n, pre-established relationship, pure fluff, absolute comfort fic, one small sexual innuendo, it's a short one, but sweet!

from, anon: hello! i'm a little nervous to request something this is actually my first time doing it! but i have an oddly specific request that i felt you would be able to bring to life beautifully. i was wondering if u would maybe be write something for Spencer giving the reader a massage on their back to try and help? just lots of fluffy love and extra extra bonus points if you add lots of kisses

Physically demanding cases were the worst. Sure, dealing with psychopaths was tough, but chasing them down or fighting them was probably worse.

This specific case, the unsub was actually an award-winning tri-athlete. He put up a good chase, and then an even better fight. Usually, Derek took the brunt of these, but with him checking out the secondary location, it was you and Kate, who was pregnant.

Of course you weren't going to let a pregnant woman do all that work, so you kept her back and took as much of the brunt as she'd let you take. Thankfully, you both got out nearly unharmed, just with a few minor cuts, scratches, and bruises.

The one issue that you didn't account for was hurting your back, again. The last time you'd gotten hurt was during a case in Atlanta where you fell down a flight of stairs after being pushed by the unsub. You'd sustained some pretty nasty back injuries. Even after they had healed, some of your muscles overcompensated for the others, causing you to have back pain flare ups.

Normally, you could keep them at bay with simple stretches and some medication. This time, you realized that you'd done a number on your back during the fight.

Spencer took quick note of your posture during the flight home. You struggled to find a comfortable position, constantly trying to stretch your back or shoulder blades, seeking any form of relief from the pain. He knew how much you hated being put under a microscope, especially in front of the team, so he kept quiet until you arrived back to your shared apartment.

Walking in, you sighed as you kicked off your shoes, not caring how or where they landed on the floor as you bolted to the couch, flopping down on it. You were honestly too tired and in pain to care. Spencer chuckled in the background, and you could hear him set your shoes down on the shoe rack you had.

Your eyes, which had been previously shut, opened to see Spencer kneeling in front of you. "Hi, pretty girl." Spencer smiled at you, brushing some of your hair out of your face with a loving look gracing his features.

"Hi," you softly replied.

"You feeling alright?" Spencer now caressed your cheek with his thumb softly. "I noticed you stretching a lot on the jet."

With a small shake of your head, your lips fell into a soft pout. "I hurt my back, I think."

Spencer gently grabbed your arms and help you sit up. He carefully slid your coat down your arms with furrowed brows. "Did you get hit?"

"No," you answered, "I think I twisted my back wrong when I tried to jump in front of Kate. I think I felt it hurt then, but I had a lot of adrenaline."

"You were in flight-or-fight mode," Spencer nodded. "Now that you're safe and sound, you're gonna feel it more." His large hands slowly rubbed at your tense shoulders. He felt your body relax beneath his touch. "You want me to massage you a little, love?"

A sigh of contentment escaped your lips as his hands worked magic on your shoulders, "Please, Spence."

Spencer moved your body so you were laid down. He set a pillow beneath your head as you got yourself situated and comfortable.

Spencer had prepared for this moment for what felt like his whole life. You weren't dating when your first injury occurred, but after going out for a few dates, Spencer bought seven books, all on muscles in the back, massage techniques, and different pain relieving strategies all for this exact moment. You were careful with your injury, and Spencer trusted you, but he also understood that accidents and situations like these happen, especially in your shared line of work.

The sounds of your soft hums and sighs were a sign that Spencer was doing all the right things. You knew Spencer had magic fingers, but this was the best work they'd ever done. He worked out the kinks and aches in your back.

"Did you know that roses have been cultivated since ancient times, with evidence of their cultivation dating back to the Babylonians and the Egyptians around five-thousand years ago?" Spencer rambled, his voice quiet as he worked.

You loved Spencer's rambles, "Mm-mm." you hummed, "Why?"

"They were used for their fragrance and beauty. It lead to their association with the Egyption goddess, Hathor, and then to the Greek goddess Aphrodite, and so on." Spencer explained further.

Without warning, you turned over to look up a him. Spencer smiled down at you as you softly grabbed his neck, pulling him closer to press a kiss onto his lips.

"I love your brain," You commented with a smile, watching his face light up at the compliment.

"I'm not done yet, silly girl. Roll back over for me." Spencer chuckled.

Giggling, you rolled back onto your stomach as Spencer began to work into your back. You felt his hot breath over the back of your neck as he began to trail kisses downwards, down your spine. You shivered at the touch, smiling to yourself when he moved back up to press a gentle kiss onto your head.

"I don't think masseuses normally get this touchy," you joked.

Spencer shook his head, "They don't, but my client's just too pretty."

"Are you done yet?" You turned your head to look at him.

"Do you feel any better?" Spencer asked.

You sat up, moving your arms and gently twisting your back. "Mhm, thank you, baby."

"Then yes," Spencer smiled, "I'm all done. What's the rush?"

"I wanted to watch Doctor Who before we get too sleepy." You replied, then giving a soft roll to your eyes, "Or before we get called in again."

Spencer sighed, "Don't even say it. I don't think I can handle another case for at least two weeks." He took your hand as you leaned into him. He grabbed the remote and clicked the tv on. "But I'm never one to say no to Doctor Who and my girl."

"Thank you for helping," You lovingly said, snuggling into your boyfriend's chest.

"Anytime, lovely."

#spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #bau team #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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nhaaauyen · 5 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART III: WE THOUGHT LOVE WAS SOMETHING

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part IV // part V

wc: 6.1k cw: brief mentions of alcoholism, violence author's note: ngl this just might be my favorite chapter so far, holy shit! thank you to all the lovely comments last chapter, you guys are srsly so sweet <3

Strings of twinkling lights crisscross overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze. The air is filled with the mingling scents of grilled food and the earthy aroma of a crackling campfire.

It's a birthday party for Marcus's daughter, Ren, and the yard is alive with celebration. Sitting on mismatched chairs, adults chat animatedly with drinks in hand. Children dart between the adults' legs, their excited shrieks filling the air as they run around.

You can't help but notice Marcus's absence, and you wonder if he's working late or planning to surprise his daughter by showing up later. It's odd for him to miss such an important event, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the joyful atmosphere around you.

A group of kids approaches you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Hey, lady! Wanna play Marco Polo with us?" one of them asks.

"Sure," You turn to Powder and Ekko, who are lounging nearby. "You two want to join?"

Powder rolls her eyes dramatically. "I'm too old for that," she declares, trying to sound mature.

You shrug and follow the kids to an open area of the yard. "Marco!" you call out, closing your eyes.

"Polo!" comes the chorus of giggly responses.

As you start to move, arms outstretched, you hear Powder’s voice again. "Wait, no! We want to join now!"

You chuckle to yourself as you hear Powder and Ekko scrambling to join the game. The yard fills with shouts of "Marco!" and "Polo!" as you navigate blindly through the space, guided only by sound and the occasional brush of a fleeing child against your fingertips.

Suddenly, your hands make contact with fabric. You grin triumphantly, sure you've caught one of the kids. But as laughter erupts around you, you open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with Sevika. Ren, peeks out from behind her, giggling uncontrollably.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Ready to join the adults yet?"

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “I was in the middle of winning a game.”

Sevika shakes her head in amusement and hands you a plate of food. "You know, you're not a babysitter. Let the kids have fun by themselves."

You take the plate, shrugging. "I know, but I don't mind."

"Ah, right. You like to hang out with people of the same maturity level as you." Sevika teases.

Before you can reply, a commotion erupts near the gate and both of you turn sharply to the source.

Grayson and Marcus have appeared, clearly amid a heated argument. Marcus's face is flushed, his movements erratic – clear signs of intoxication. Grayson stands firm, her posture rigid, and seems to be seething with barely contained anger.

A small voice pipes up beside you. "What's happening?" Ren peeks out, her eyes wide with confusion.

Instinctively, you move to shield her, gently guiding her behind you. "It's nothing, sweetie," you say, trying to keep your voice calm and reassuring.

But it's too late. Marcus catches sight of Ren, and his demeanor changes instantly. He shoves past Grayson, nearly knocking her over in his haste to reach his daughter. "Daddy's here!" he calls out, his voice too loud, too desperate. "Daddy didn't forget!"

Sevika moves swiftly, positioning herself protectively in front of you and Ren. Marcus stumbles to a stop before Sevika, his bloodshot eyes darting between her and his daughter. "How dare you," he slurs, turning back to Grayson. "You've gone too far now. This is my family!"

Grayson's voice is steel as she responds, "You lost the privilege of being a father when you became too drunk to do anything. The only reason why I'm still employing you is for the sake of your own daughter.”

His face immediately contorts with rage. "How fucking dare you," he roars. "You think you know everything? You can't even hold this place together!”

“You people think you are safe? Cause what, we have showers? Look at your pathetic captains, my wife has one fucking mission with you,” Marcus stabs a finger into Sevika’s chest and you expect her to retaliate but she stands still as a statue, “Because of you... she’s gone.”

The accusation hangs in the air and Sevika goes very still beside you, her expression unreadable but her fists are clenched so tight you’re worried she’ll bleed.

But Marcus isn't finished. His voice drops to a venomous hiss. "Fuck you. Fuck this place." He pushes past Sevika, reaching for Ren. "Come on, sweetie. We're leaving."

You instinctively tighten your hold on Ren as she looks up at you, her face questioning and so innocent about the situation. You want to protect her, to keep her from this mess, but you can’t and he scoops her up from your grasp.

As Marcus stomps off and the backyard falls into an uncomfortable silence, the cheerful lights now seem garish. You look at Sevika, there’s a tightness around her eyes and her jaw is clenched hard enough for a vein to be visible. Grayson approaches, her face a mask of controlled anger and regret, and she puts a reassuring hand on Sevika. The two share a silent look that is full of meaning.

"I'm sorry you all had to see that," Grayson says, addressing the stunned partygoers. "Please, try to enjoy the rest of the evening."

But the damage is done. The carefree atmosphere of earlier has evaporated, replaced by a heavy, oppressive tension. That night you couldn’t sleep, your mind kept wondering about the true cost of keeping Zaun safe and the toll it takes on those sworn to protect it.

Months ago if you told pre-Zaun you that you would care this much for the woman who was practically going to leave you as walker bait in the drug store, you would’ve thought you had gone insane. But somehow, Sevika had snuck into your thoughts and made residence there.

The garage door creaks as you push it open, letting in a sliver of sunlight. The air inside is thick with the scent of motor oil and metal. Sevika’s hunched over her workbench, her back to you, the whir of her bionic arm the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

You hesitate in the doorway, remembering Marcus's cruel words from yesterday. The pain in Sevika's eyes, quickly masked, had been unmistakable.

"Hey," you say softly. "Everything okay?"

Sevika doesn't turn around, her shoulders tensing slightly at your voice. It's clear she's not in a talking mood, but you can't bring yourself to leave her alone like this.

"Fine," she grunts, reaching for a wrench.

You lean against the wall, watching her work. The silence stretches between you. After a few minutes, you decide to try a different approach.

"So," you begin, injecting a note of cheerfulness into your voice, "got anything to do?"

Sevika pauses, then turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised. "You're that excited already, rookie? Haven't you been on five or six missions now?"

You grin, relieved to see a hint of her usual self. "Six, actually," you reply, then quickly add, "But who's counting?"

A ghost of a smile flickers across Sevika's face. She gestures to the motorcycle beside her. "Well, if you're so eager, you can help me with this. Make yourself useful."

You push off the wall, moving to her side. "What do you need me to do?"

You might not be able to relieve the damage from yesterday, but maybe you can help her focus on something else, even if just for a little while.

"Why are you so excited to get out there anyway?" Sevika asks as you work together. "There's nothing to see but walkers."

You shrug, searching for the right words. "I don't know... there isn't much left out there, but it makes me feel like I'm not in a snow globe, you know?"

Sevika pauses, looking at you with confusion.

"I feel safe but it’s just… not real? I want to be on the other side sometimes too. It's selfish 'cause we've got things so good here, but that was our world too, even if we lost it."

Sevika stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, her face softens. "I'm having a scout sent out today. Perhaps we can do our own scouting too."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes," she nods, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "We need to expand our territory anyway. But first, help me with this. We won't be going anywhere if I can't finish this within the next hour."

"Got it, boss!" you say eagerly, reaching for a nearby tool.

Sevika rolls her eyes.

"How about 'captain' instead?"

She tries to look unamused, but you can see she's fighting a smile. "Suck up."

You saluted. "Yes, ma’am!"

"Smartass," Sevika replies flatly, but there’s a playfulness in her tone. "Now, less talking, more wrenching."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

"Hell no."

Sevika, straddling her newly repaired motorcycle, looks at you like you've sprouted a second head.

"What?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You stand outside your house, arms crossed, eyeing the bike with undisguised suspicion. "Are you crazy? I'm not getting on that death trap – when you said you'd pick me up after you changed, I thought you meant with a car!”

Sevika rolls her eyes. "Why do you think we spent so long fixing this bike?"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening," you insist, shaking your head vigorously.

"What? You can go out there and face walkers, but not ride this thing?"

"Walkers don't get you into crashes!" you retort, your voice rising an octave.

Sevika sighs dramatically, holding out a helmet. "Just get on. I promise you won't fall off."

Grumbling, you take the helmet and reluctantly swing your leg over the bike. "What makes you so sure?" you mutter.

"Because of this," she says, grabbing your arms and wrapping them tightly around her abdomen. You can feel her muscles flexing beneath your fingers, and suddenly your mouth goes dry.

Before you can process what's happening, Sevika kicks the bike to life. The engine roars, and you let out a shriek as she peels out of the driveway.

"What the fu–" Your expletive is cut short as you zoom down the street, the wind whipping past you.

You spot Grayson on the wall, grinning widely as she signals for the gate to be opened. "Have fun, ladies!" she shouts as you approach.

"Grayson!" you yell, but your voice is lost in the wind.

Sevika glances back, noticing your tightly shut eyes. "Open them!" she shouts over the engine's roar.

Reluctantly, you peek one eye open, then the other. The world rushes by in a blur of color and motion.

"I hate you!" you yell at Sevika, but you can't keep the laughter out of your voice.

She responds by revving the engine, speeding up as you clear the gate. "No, you don't!" she calls back, the wind carrying her words to you.

As much as you want to deny it, the scenery rushing past you is stunning. Lush greenery blurs into a vibrant tapestry, the sun's warm rays dancing across the landscape. The wind whips through your hair, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers.

You catch Sevika's reflection in the side mirror. Her expression is one of pure contentment, as if riding this bike along the winding country road is where she truly belongs.

"You like it?" Sevika calls over her shoulder, a knowing tone in her voice.

"Maybe," you admit reluctantly. "Not too bad."

You can hear the smirk in her voice as she replies, "Well, I've got something to show you that might change your mind."

Your curiosity piques. "We're doing something else besides scouting?"

Instead of answering, Sevika begins to ascend a steep hill. The bike's engine roars with effort, and you instinctively tighten your grip around her waist, afraid you might slip off. The muscles in her abdomen tense under your hands, steady and reassuring.

"Look over," Sevika instructs as you climb higher.

"What?! Are you crazy?" you yelp, clinging tighter.

"Come on, rookie. Trust me," she insists.

For reasons you can't quite explain, you do trust her. Swallowing your fear, you turn your head to look over the edge of the road.

The view takes your breath away. A vast expanse of forest stretches out below you, a sea of green dotted with splashes of colorful wildflowers. In the distance, you can make out a winding river, its waters glittering in the sunlight like a ribbon of diamonds.

"Whoa..." you breathe, unable to form a more coherent response.

As you reach the top of the hill, Sevika brings the bike to a stop in a clear area that juts out like a natural balcony. From here, you can see for miles in every direction. Rolling hills give way to distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in a light mist. Birds soar on updrafts, their calls carried to you on the breeze.

You dismount the bike on shaky legs, your eyes never leaving the breathtaking panorama before you. The world feels impossibly vast and achingly beautiful from up here, a reminder of what still exists beyond the walls of Zaun.

"Worth the ride?" she asks.

You nod, unable to find words that could do justice to the moment.

The silence between you is comfortable as you both lean against the motorcycle, its metal still warm from the ride. The vast expanse of the world stretches out before you, a breathtaking canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Sevika's gaze is distant, lost in memories you can only imagine.

"This spot... it's special to me. I came here when Zaun was first established."

You turn to look at her, surprised by the admission. She continues, "I understand what you meant earlier. About feeling safe in Zaun, about missing this." She gestures to the expansive view. "The freedom to just... exist out here."

You nod, encouraging her to go on.

"I also came here after..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "After Marcus's wife died. I was so close to saving her. I promised I'd bring her home." Her voice cracks slightly. "But I couldn't. Not alive."

The pain in her voice makes your heart ache. "It wasn't your fault," you say gently.

She turns to you, her eyes fierce. "I'm the captain. Every death is my responsibility. They trust me, they're my people."

You feel a surge of protectiveness. "But who takes responsibility for you? For your sacrifices?"

Sevika falls silent, considering your words. When she speaks again, her tone is delicate. "Every time you go out there, don't you think it could be your last?"

The question catches you off guard. "I do," you admit. "Every single time."

She moves then, positioning herself in front of you. Her hands rest on the bike beside you, her body close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her. Her eyes search yours, intense and questioning.

"Then why?" she asks. "Why keep risking everything?"

You swallow hard, acutely aware of her proximity. "Because it's worth it," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because out there, I feel alive. Because someone has to, and if not me, then who?"

For a moment, the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you, the dying light of the sun shining a golden haze on her face.

This close, you can see every detail – the faint lines around her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. Your gaze lingers on the scar that runs across her cheek. You resist the urge to reach out and trace it, to ask about its story.

Sevika’s gaze locks with yours, her voice dropping to a whisper, rough around the edges but laced with something achingly tender. "You make me want things I’m not sure I deserve."

Sevika’s hands hover near your body, fingers trembling slightly as if they’re unsure whether to close the distance or retreat. You see the conflict in her eyes—Every inch she moves closer feels like a dance of tentative steps.

You swallow, the intensity of her words wrapping around your heart. The raw honesty in her voice leaves you breathless, but you manage to find your own, soft and steady.

“Then let me show you.”

Without thinking, you take the first step for both of you. You gently cup her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Your touch is tender, and your fingertips graze the rough texture of her scar. You can feel her breath hitch, a mix of surprise and anticipation.

For a split second, you feel her resist, a remnant of her walls trying to hold firm. But then she melts into you, her body softening as if surrendering to a battle she’s tired of fighting.

Her right hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, while her bionic hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first, an uncertain exploration of new territory. But as the seconds stretch, it deepens, a slow dance of lips and breath.

When you finally part, both slightly breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Sevika's eyes remain closed while her thumb strokes softly along your jawline as if she's trying to memorize the feel of you.

"I didn't think..." she starts, unsure of what she can, or even what to say.

You brush your lips against her cheek, feeling the raised line of her scar. "You deserve this, Sevika," you murmur against her skin. "You deserve everything."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun was blazing hot, its heat beating down on the training area Grayson set up in one of Zaun's less crowded areas.

"Remember," you say, adjusting Ren's grip gently, "It's not about strength. It's about precision and control."

Ren nods, and the other kids follow her steps with some additional adjustments from Grayson and Caitlyn.

You're about to move on to the next lesson when you notice one of Sevika's men approaching. Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but it comes to a stutter when you realize it's not Sevika herself.

"Got a mission for you tomorrow," he says gruffly. "Captain says to be ready at first light."

"Thanks," you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral. As he walks away, you can't help the twinge of hurt that settles in your chest. Sevika didn't come to tell you herself.

You shake your head, chiding yourself internally. She's busy. She's the captain. Why would you expect her to personally deliver every mission briefing?

Yet your mind still wandered to the kiss from a few days ago. The ride back to Zaun had been quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You had attributed it to both of you processing what had happened.

But then... nothing.

Since that evening, you haven't exchanged a single word with Sevika. A day turned into days and the silence began to feel deliberate.

You've caught glimpses of her – a flash of that distinctive silhouette disappearing around a corner, the echo of her voice giving orders from a distance. But every time you've tried to approach, she's been gone before you could reach her.

"Are you okay? You look sad." You're pulled from your thoughts by Ren's voice.

Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to the lesson. "I’m all good! Just thinking, how about we work on our stances?"

Both Grayson and Caitlyn share a knowing look at your response.

“How about we take over? You have to be up early tomorrow.” Caitlyn offers.

You were reluctant, but you agreed, mostly because you knew you needed it and because you couldn’t handle the questioning looks the two women kept sending you.

You're grateful for Caitlyn's insistence that you rest early the night before – the extra sleep has left you feeling sharper, and more alert. As you approach the gathered group, your breath catches in your throat. There's Sevika, leaning against one of the vehicles. She's dressed in military-style cargo, paired with a black tank top that exposes her toned arms, something she wears normally but you find that your body reacts even more so to her now.

Your heart races as you draw nearer, but before you can even think about approaching her, Sevika climbs into the front seat of the lead vehicle. You swallow your disappointment and resign yourself to riding in the back of the truck with the rest of the team.

The journey is tense and quiet, everyone is lost in their own thoughts about the mission ahead. As the prison comes into view, you're struck by how eerily calm it appears. The high concrete walls are still intact, crowned with coils of razor wire that glint in the morning light.

The decision to split into smaller groups is made quickly, you were paired with Sevika but your excitement was short-lived when you saw the tense look on her face.

The massive iron gates groan as you push them open, the sound echoing ominously through the empty prison yard. The concrete beneath your feet is cracked with tufts of weeds pushing through.

Inside, the prison is a maze of long corridors and shadowy corners. The air is stale and heavy with the musty scent of abandonment. As you move deeper into the facility, the lack of walkers becomes increasingly unsettling. You exchange a worried glance with Sevika, both of you on high alert.

Suddenly, a shuffling sound echoes from an adjoining hallway. Without a word, you and Sevika fall into formation.

The first walker stumbles into view, followed closely by two more. Sevika moves with lightning speed, pinning one against the wall with her bionic arm. In a fluid motion, she drives her knife into its skull, the blade sinking in with a sickening crunch.

You dispatch the second walker with a swift kick to the knee, bringing it down before finishing it off with your own blade. The third lunges at you, but Sevika is there in an instant, her strong arms wrapping around its torso and slamming it against the wall. Your knife finds its mark, and the walker slumps to the ground.

You turn to Sevika, hoping to catch her eye, to maybe finally break the silence between you. But she's already moving forward, her eyes scanning the shadows for more threats.

With a silent sigh, you fall in step behind her. The tension between you becomes almost unbearable.

And finally, you can't take it anymore.

"Sevika," you start. "We need to talk about what happened. About the kiss."

You see her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn't stop moving. "This isn't the time," she says, her voice clipped.

"Then when is?" you press, frustration seeping into your tone. "You've been avoiding me for days."

Sevika sighs, turning to face you. "Look, it was... it was a moment. We were caught up in–"

Her words are cut off as you both enter a large, open area – the prison's leisure room. Rows of cells line the upper levels, and old, battered furniture is scattered across the floor. Before you can respond to Sevika, there's a loud bang behind you.

You both whirl around to see the heavy metal door swing shut. Sevika rushes to it, pulling at the handle. "What the fuck? Who the fuck did that?!"

You join her, both of you straining against the door, but it won't budge.

Then you hear it – a low, guttural groan that sends chills down your spine. You turn slowly, your blood running cold at the sight before you.

Descending the stairs is a massive figure, easily seven feet tall and built like a tank. He's decked out in makeshift armor cobbled together from prison riot gear. In his hands, he wields an enormous sledgehammer that looks like it could crush a skull with one swing.

"Shit," Sevika hisses, drawing her knife. You do the same, but your weapons suddenly feel woefully inadequate.

The behemoth charges with surprising speed. You and Sevika dive in opposite directions, barely avoiding the hammer as it crashes into the ground where you are standing. You roll to your feet, darting in to slash at the giant's legs, but your blade skitters off his armored shins. Sevika tries for a higher target, leaping onto a nearby table to gain height, but the monster swings his hammer in a wide arc, forcing her to jump back.

"We need to get that hammer away from him," you shout, ducking under another wild swing.

Sevika nods, her eyes scanning the room for anything you can use. "On three, throw your knife at his face. Aim for the eyes."

You count down together, then launch your knives simultaneously. The blades whistle through the air, but at the last second, the giant raises his arm, and your knives embed themselves harmlessly in his padded forearm.

"Fuck!" you curse, now completely unarmed. "What the hell is this guy? Is he a walker?"

Sevika shakes her head, narrowly avoiding another hammer swing. "I don't think so. I've heard about survivors getting all drugged up, ending up just like them. Mindless, but stronger."

As the behemoth charges again, you and Sevika split up, desperately searching for anything you can use as a weapon. Your eyes dart around the room, scanning the debris-strewn floor for something, anything that could give you an edge.

"There!" Sevika shouts, lunging for a mop propped against the wall. But before her fingers can close around it, the giant's massive form slams into her. The impact sends her flying, her back crashing hard against the concrete wall. You hear the air rush out of her lungs as she crumples to the floor.

"Sevika!" you cry out, your heart in your throat. She's trying to roll away, but her movements are sluggish, stunned by the brutal hit.

The monster looms over her, raising his sledgehammer for a killing blow. Time seems to slow down. You don't think, you just move.

With every ounce of strength you have, you launch yourself forward, shoving Sevika out of the way. For a split second, you lock eyes with her, seeing shock and something else – hurt, maybe? – in her gaze.

Then the world explodes in pain.

The sledgehammer connects with your leg, and you hear the sickening crunch of bone before you feel it. A scream tears from your throat, raw and agonizing. The pain is all-consuming, white-hot, and blinding. Your vision swims, dark spots dancing at the edges as your body tries to process the trauma.

You force your eyes open, fighting against the waves of pain. Sevika is on her feet, and the transformation is terrifying. Gone is any trace of the woman you kissed on that clifftop. In her place is a cold, merciless killing machine.

Her eyes, usually so expressive, are now flat and dead. Her face is a mask of fury, lips pulled back in a snarl. In one smooth motion, Sevika snatches up the broken mop. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't strategize. She attacks.

The two halves of the mop become dual weapons in her hands. She drives one splintered end deep into the giant's thigh, using her bionic arm to force it through the armor padding. Before he can react, she's already spinning, jamming the other half into the gap between his helmet and chest plate.

The behemoth staggers, caught off guard by the ferocity of her assault. But Sevika doesn't let up. She's a whirlwind of violence, striking again and again.

You try to move, to help somehow, but even the slightest shift sends fresh waves of agony through your broken leg. You can feel the bone grinding, sickeningly out of place.

The giant finally falters under her onslaught, his steps are laggard and his grip on the weapon wavering. With a snarl, she wrenches the hammer from his grasp.

The man’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. Sevika shoved him back, the force of the blow sending him crashing to the ground. He tried to rise, but Sevika was relentless. She raised the sledgehammer high above her head, her muscles straining as she brought it down with all her might. The sickening crunch that followed was final, the man’s head caving in under the weight of the blow.

For a moment, the world went silent, the only sound was the ragged breaths escaping Sevika’s lips. The hammer is still clenched in her fists and blood splattered across her face – his or hers, you can't tell.

Sevika stands over him, chest heaving. For a heartbeat, she's still that cold-eyed killer. Then she turns to you, and you watch the ice in her gaze melt into concern.

"Can you move?" she asks, her voice hoarse as she rushes to your side.

You grit your teeth, trying to shift, but the pain nearly blinds you. "No," you manage to gasp out. "I think... I think it's broken pretty badly."

Sevika's eyes scan your broken leg. "We need to stabilize it," you say through gritted teeth, reaching for a nearby stick. "I just tie this to keep it straight and–"

"No," Sevika cuts you off, her voice firm but gentle. "I've got you." She immediately tears off a piece of her shirt like it was paper and ties the stick to your leg to keep it straight. You hiss in pain as she tightens it, and her eyes flit to you with worry.

“Thank you,” You try to stand, stubbornness overriding your pain. "I think I got it now, you can't carry our stuff and me-"

"Yes, I can," she interrupts, her tone brooking no argument. Before you can protest further, she's scooped you up in her arms, cradling you against her chest with surprising tenderness.

"This is embarrassing," you mutter, your cheeks flushing despite the pain.

"Yeah, that's what you get for being an idiot."

"Wow, way to cheer a girl up,” you reply sarcastically.

As Sevika carries you through the prison corridors, you can't help but study her face. Her guarded expression softens as she looks down. There's something else in there too, a whirl of emotions you can't quite place.

You tighten your hold on her, tucking your head against her chest. You can hear her heartbeat, strong and steady. The smell of grimy blood and her shampoo somehow distracts you from the pulsing pain in your leg.

The sound of gunshots echoes through the building and you feel Sevika tense. "Fuck," you mutter, "what is happening out there?"

Sevika shifts you slightly, freeing one hand to grab her radio.

"We've got two severely injured," crackles a voice through the static.

As you emerge into the harsh sunlight, you see members of your group carrying people out. Two of them have nasty stab wounds, blood seeping through hastily applied bandages.

Sevika gently sets you down next to the injured in the back of the truck. You watch as the rest of the group gathers around the other vehicle, their voices low and urgent as they discuss the situation. There are still people left inside.

Despite the throbbing pain in your leg, your instincts kick in. You reach for your bag, trying to pull out the first aid kit. Sevika notices and immediately moves to stop you.

"Stop, stop," she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You're injured. Let us help, tell us what to do."

You look up at her, seeing the worry etched on her face.

"Okay," you nod, wincing as you shift to get a better view of the injured. "We need to apply pressure to those wounds. Get the gauze from the kit and press it firmly against the bleeding areas."

As Sevika relayed your instructions to the others, you had forgotten to close your bag properly. In your bag was the red shawl you kept from the night of the campfire, and unbeknownst to you Sevika had seen it in there, her jaw visibly clenching at the sight.

More of her crew comes out the building, hauling out the fallen attackers, their faces set in a hard scowl.

“Are the rest dead?” she demands.

A gruff voice answers, “Yeah, we got those fucking bastards. We wanted you to deal with these.” The crew shoves three people onto their knees, their faces unremorseful and stoic.

One man in the center is screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice raw with fanaticism. “YOU WILL REPENT! THIS IS A RECKONING! THE WORLD WILL BE CLEANSED OF FILTH LIKE YOU!” His words are overlapped with another man reciting a desperate prayer, his hands trembling as he clutches at invisible salvation.

Sevika’s face remains a mask of cold detachment, her eyes flickering with something darker as she assesses the situation.

“They’re not worth our bullets,” she says, her tone flat and unfeeling. The others understand immediately, pulling out their knives.

You see Sevika stride toward the vehicle's trunk, and she retrieves a machete, its blade gleaming dangerously.

Sevika’s expression remains inscrutable as she approaches the only woman in the group, the machete held steady and unwavering. The final girl locks eyes with Sevika, but there’s an almost reverent look to them.

Her voice is trembling, but defiant. “No one is safe—you cannot escape His wrath.”

Without hesitation, Sevika swings the machete. In a brutal, swift move, her crew slits the throats of the remaining captives. The girl’s final scream is a gurgle of blood as Sevika’s blade comes down with a clean, merciless swipe, severing her head in a single, precise cut.

Blood splatters across the scene, painting their clothes and the ground. The force of the blow sends a spray of it onto Sevika and her crew, but she doesn’t flinch.

You’re left watching in shock, the brutal display leaving you breathless and shaken.

Sevika’s gaze shifts back to you as the last of the blood settles. The fierceness in her eyes softens just slightly, the ruthlessness giving way to concern. She takes in your injured state and the rest of the crew.

“Head back,” she commands, her voice almost robotic. “We need to get them to the infirmary immediately.”

The truck lurches and bumps along the road, each jolt sending a fresh wave of pain through your broken leg. You shut your eyes, focusing on the thought of arriving at Zaun.

When you arrive at the infirmary, Sevika is out of the vehicle before it even comes to a full stop. She scoops you up, carrying you inside with a determination that’s almost palpable. As she crosses the threshold, you catch sight of the crew still being helped out of the vehicle, their injuries more immediate and visible than yours.

"No," you mumble, your voice weak but insistent. "No doctors... attend to them first."

Sevika's eyes widen in disbelief. "What? Are you crazy?"

You shake your head, the pain and fatigue making it hard to focus. “It’s a broken leg. From what I can tell, no internal bleeding. They’re bleeding, Sevika. They need help now.”

She hesitates, clearly torn between her instinct to protect you and your insistence. After a moment, she lets out a heavy sigh, clearly exasperated by your stubbornness. The adrenaline from the fight is wearing off, and exhaustion settles over you like a heavy blanket. Sevika administers a painkiller, and soon the sharp pain dulls to a throbbing ache.

Silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing. Sevika sits beside your bed, her posture rigid, eyes fixed on the floor.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The fatigue is dragging you down, making it hard to keep your eyes open.

Sevika’s gaze remains locked on the ground, her face an unreadable mask. She doesn’t respond right away, but you can see the tremor in her hands and the tightness in her shoulders. With what little strength you have left, you reach out, your hand finding hers. The contact seems to jolt her out of her thoughts, and she finally meets your gaze.

What you see in her eyes is fear. Raw, unguarded terror. It's an expression you never thought you'd see on someone so strong like her, and it sends a chill through you.

Your hand moves to her face, fingers tracing the scar that runs along her cheek. Instead of pulling away as you half-expected, she leans into your touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment.

"It’s okay," you reassure, fighting to keep your eyes open. "I'm okay... just... don't leave me."

As you drift into unconsciousness, the last thing you hear is Sevika’s voice, a hushed murmur barely audible.

“I failed you.”

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni @theacedragon0w0

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove

#arcane sevika #sevika #sevika imagine #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #grayson arcane #wlw fanfic #zombie apocolypse au #sevika x female reader

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shycloudkitty · 7 months ago

Text

You're too sweet for a monster like me

Summary : Leon's drowning his pain and suffering with whiskey. But you might be his true salvation.

Pairing : Vendetta Leon! × Fem Reader (A little bit of pre vendetta)

Tags : Established relationship, self deprecating talk (Leon does with himself), mostly angst with little comfort. (But it's there) and alcoholism

A/N: Update on why I disappeared for a while. It's because things got rocky with my academics and I recently broke up :( But not to worry I'm not gonna let a little heartbreak set me back.

And for this fic I'm thinking it to be a little pre vendetta Leon, like the incidents that led to him having depression in Vendetta.

It's gonna a be short fic, may or may not write a part 2 about this. Let me know!

WC: 1.6K

Sound of whiskey getting poured in a glass fills the emptiness of the living room he was in. After all this was all he could do, the only thing he had control in his poor pathetic life.

One mission after another after another. Leon was getting tired after endless fights with the B.O.Ws, corrupt governments in countless countries that were ‘speculated’ to have a new damned virus or a bioweapon war waiting to happen.

And every damn time he was supposed to deal with it, he was supposed to do the government’s dirty work for them, he was supposed to fight every goddamned ugly creature created by the worst of mankind, he had to carry out every gut wrenching decision that government instructed him to do, everytime he was the last man standing and he was never gonna get out of this cycle.

Yes, that's right. He was just a little puppet for the government that was supposed to fight B.O.Ws for them. Someone who was blackmailed into this life and do their bidding, by of course the government.

At first, he tried to take it positively and thought of how many people he could save like he always wanted to and at such a large scale. Something he was extremely passionate about since he was a kid… saving people's lives, protecting them. That's why he wanted to be a cop and now that he was a government ‘special’ agent he would be able to do more.

But he definitely didn't expect the destruction those missions would cause on his own self too, taking every piece of his humanity, every last hope he seemed to have, gone & extinguished in the flames of every bioweapon war he was called in. He definitely didn't expect and could never have anticipated what he was getting thrown into.

When will this cycle end?

A question he thought every second of his life but never had the answer. Forced to play hero each time and with no real win, fighting was like choosing between the lesser of two evils.

He was just a weapon, just a pawn that the government moved each time when they wanted to achieve something. And why would a pawn's life matter in the grand scheme of things? A pawn was created just to be shot down. And that's what he was.

While he was lost in thoughts and his whiskey all alone. He almost missed the soft voice whispering his name, such a gentle voice calling out to him. Feeling a soft hand on his back, trying to get his attention. He turned back to see who it was… and there was the reason. You.

Soft eyes looking at him with a sympathetic smile asking him how he was or that he had eaten anything today?

Leon slowly shook his head to get out of the fog clouding his brain and blinked a few times to focus on you.

Leon's words slurred as he spoke “What?”

“I asked how are you doing today?” Your soft words of concern clearing his brain fog better, making him aware of his surroundings and himself.

Leon blinks once more and looks down at his whiskey and then back at you. “... Better than yesterday.” A lie, he was the same as yesterday.

He could see her lips twitch in a small smile as she sat down besides him on the couch and said. “You're a terrible liar when drunk…”

Leon managed a soft huff at her reply. It almost weirded him out that you could see through him, but he guessed that's what happens when you have someone who cares for you. Leon looked away, sighing deeply and replied. “I'm just tired…”

Leon heard a soft sigh, feeling the soft couch dip a bit as she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and gently held his hand. “Leon… I'm always here for you, you know that right? I may not be able to give solid advice to you, but I'm a good listener.”

You could feel him relax under your touch a bit and saw him look your way from the corner of his way, still not facing you. “...I know.”

“So, you know I'm also worried about you?”

Leon winces at that, the last thing he wanted was you to worry about his pathetic self. You already have done so much for him just staying by his side through all this. Hell, you were an angel just for putting up with him and actually loving him. You weren't supposed to be worried about him and you definitely weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

Leon clears his throat and shifts a little bit away from you although he didn't let go of your hand and says. “I…It's nothing.”

You couldn't help but frown at how closed off he was being for the last few days, you understand that his last mission was rough although he never went into details about his missions with you. And you knew he needed space to process all of it but you hated the way he was ‘processing’ his loss. Drinking, lost in thoughts and closing off when you tried to get close. It was hard for both of you.

You slowly shifted towards him again, getting close to him once again. Gently taking the whiskey glass from his hands and moving it away from him. “Leon…”

He looks back at you and he looks…lost. A raging storm of emotions present in those pretty blue eyes of his that you loved so much. “I know it's hard Leon and I'm happy to give you space to think but the way you're doing it… is making me worried.”

You took a deep breath and continued. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can't… see you like this.”

He closes his eyes and deeply sighs once more, years of weariness and defeat visible on his face. He shakes his head and whispers. “You're not supposed to worry about me…”

Leon feels soft hands cup his face gently as she replies. “Can't help it. It sorta happens when you care.”

Leon opens his eyes to see you staring at him with a soft warm smile, your faces close. He presses his forehead against yours for a while trying to calm his anxious thoughts. He then pulls you closer by your waist, pulling you in a hug and burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath. Your scent filling his senses and offering some peace that he needed to ground himself.

He often wondered what he did to deserve you? Did God or whatever the power universe has, take pity on him and decide to gift him an angel? You were always so sweet, so gentle with him, loving, caring, understanding. You were his sunshine and he couldn't look away. All he could do was soak up in the warmth that you always seemed to radiate everywhere you stepped.

You were perfect and it scared the hell out of him.

He was scared that one day you will see the monster he actually was. That one day you will wake up and see him for who he was, the things he had to do to make a living and think what a disgusting monster he was, what he truly was… not some ‘Hero’ or the ‘Golden boy’, just some monster and a weapon crafted to perfection to destroy the undead. And he hopes that day never comes.

He continues to hug you tightly to himself, his face buried in your neck as he takes deep breaths to calm himself. He then softly whispered. “You smell…like daffodils.”

The sudden comment made you chuckle a bit and kissed his cheek, hugging him tightly. “Yeah, I bought a new perfume today, didn't think you would notice. Does it smell bad?”

“... No, it smells good. It suits you.” And sighed deeply. He then whispered. “You're too sweet for me. Don't know what you see in me.”

You turned to face him and kissed his cheek. “don't say that… I see that you're a hard working, resilient person who keeps going even when the odds are stacked up against him. Whatever it is that you're going through… you can pass through it.”

He turned his head to face you, his expression softening into something more vulnerable as you say that. Clearly touched by your words. Feeling a lump rise in his throat as he closes his eyes once more and exhales shakily.

You were so…innocent. You had no idea what was going on in his head or what actually he turned into. You also had no idea about the vicious but repetitive cycle he was in.

Opening up about this life of his…would ruin such a sweet and innocent thing like you, he was sure of that. He knew you weren't a kid or anything or that you never faced hardships in your life. But this…he can't tell you about what he faces out there, what kind of ugliness his line of work shows him everyday, the dark side of humanity.

He can't taint the only ray of sunshine he ever found in his life.

You look up at him with that sweet dazzling smile, thinking he was someone ‘great’. But reality couldn't be farther from the truth.

Hello everyone! Long time no see, I'm sorry for my disappearance. I promise I will try to be regular now, I know this was short I will probably try to make a part 2? Idk but this was mostly written for my creativity to start flowing again. If you liked it please like it and reblog. I would be very grateful 😊

Fun fact: Daffodils are a sign of hope!

Thank you for reading this, hope you have a good day!

-Bella

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goddessinnerglow · 24 days ago

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Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 15

The Power of Self-Talk

Hi Goddesses! Let's talk about something we all do every single day, often without realizing it, talking to ourselves. You know that little voice in your head that's always commenting on everything? Yeah, that one. Let's make it work for us instead of against us!

Think about it: would you talk to your best friend the way you sometimes talk to yourself? If you just had a mini "oh…" moment, you're not alone. I used to be the queen of harsh self-talk until I realized I was basically being a mean girl to myself 24/7.

So today, we're going to transform that inner critic into your biggest cheerleader. Not in a fake, toxic positivity way, but in a real, authentic way that actually sticks.

Let's look at how we can flip the script:

The Inner Dialogue Check-In

First, let's catch those thoughts! For just one hour today, try to notice your self-talk. No judgment, just observation. You might be surprised at what you hear. Are you:

Beating yourself up over tiny mistakes?

Comparing yourself to others?

Dismissing your achievements?

Using words like "always" and "never" about yourself?

The good news? Once you notice these patterns, you can start changing them.

The Language Swap Game

Here's a powerful trick: imagine your thoughts are text messages you can edit before sending. Let's practice some rewrites:

Instead of "I'm so stupid for making this mistake" Try: "I'm learning from this experience"

Instead of "I'll never be good enough" Try: "I'm growing and improving every day"

Instead of "Everyone else has it figured out except me" Try: "Everyone's on their own journey, and I'm exactly where I need to be"

The Mirror Exercise

This one might feel weird at first, but it works! Every morning when you look in the mirror:

Give yourself one genuine compliment

Say one thing you're proud of

Set one kind intention for the day

Start small, even a simple "Hey, I like your energy today" counts!

Building Your Confidence Playlist

Create a collection of phrases that make you feel strong. Your personal highlight reel might include:

Times you overcame challenges

Compliments you've received that felt truly meaningful

Your proudest moments

Little wins that made you smile

Keep these handy for when your inner critic gets too loud.

The Permission Slips Exercise

Write yourself permission slips, just like in school, but these are for:

Making mistakes and learning from them

Taking up space

Saying no without guilt

Being a work in progress

Changing your mind

The Reframe Game

When you catch a negative thought, ask yourself:

Would I say this to my best friend?

Is this thought helping or hurting me?

What would someone who loves me say instead?

What's a more balanced way to look at this?

Your Daily Self-Talk Rituals

Pick one or two of these to try:

Morning power phrases (said out loud!)

Gratitude check-ins with yourself

Evening appreciation moments

Celebratory self-high-fives (yes, really!)

The goal isn't to never have negative thoughts. It's to catch them, question them, and choose whether to believe them.

Your Challenge for today

Notice your self-talk patterns for one hour (set a timer if it helps!)

Pick ONE negative phrase you use often and write down a kinder alternative

Try the mirror challenge (even if it feels silly at first)

Remember, changing your inner dialogue is like learning a new language, it takes practice, patience, and lots of gentle reminders. You've got this, and more importantly, you deserve this!

See you tomorrow for Day 16!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

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burr-ell · 3 months ago

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Sometimes Things That Shake Up the Status Quo are Worse

I keep seeing people insisting that Exandria "can't return to the status quo, which was bad", but rarely do they say anything in support of that argument beyond "the Primes pick and choose favorites!". And while I'm not confident the show itself won't try to make that claim, the reality is that it just isn't borne out mechanically or narratively. Laying aside that non-Divine Soul sorcerers exist (like, and I'm just spitballing here, Aberrant Mind Ruidusborn), the gods work primarily through the on-the-ground efforts of clerics and paladins—people who have actively and consistently put in the work to devote themselves to the divine. This is a setting where resurrection magic, which relies on divine power, has been intentionally made more difficult than it is in DnD rules-as-written. Even clerics only get access to Divine Intervention at level 10 (when they've already spent a long time devoting themselves to their deity) and up until level 20 the chances of it actually working are vanishingly small—and level 20 clerics are both hard to come by and ultimately still limited.

In the rare event that the Prime Deities choose to bless someone who isn't a cleric or paladin, it's someone who has a good reason to have gotten their attention. Vax offered his life during a divine ritual in the burial site of the Raven Queen's most devoted champion and then actively committed himself to her cause. Yasha was an aasimar being mind-controlled by a devil who wound up at a divine altar and chose to worship Kord after he freed her. Orym is the devoted widower of someone who is in Melora's realm and was present at a ritual in a temple associated with Melora, and one of his companions prayed at a shrine to Melora on his behalf. Vex was directly in front of Pelor, had taken a leadership position in one of his sacred cities, and had received a vision from him directly—and even then, she had to earn it. Scanlan also had to earn the right to Ioun's favor and complete a trial, and had previously shown qualities and values that she believed were fitting of her champion. Fjord was a companion of a devoted cleric of Melora who had sought her help in keeping Uk'otoa sealed and made requests of her on Fjord's behalf, and Fjord also chose to meditate and then became a paladin devoted to her.

And in Exandria, if you don't want to follow a god, you don't have to. Percy, Keyleth, Grog, Beau, Veth, Caleb, Essek, most of Bell's Hells, the average commoner in the various cities the parties have traveled to—whether they outright dislike the gods as a whole or just don't have an interest either way, they're all capable of thriving with or without them, and indeed their problems are almost entirely caused by mortals. It's especially egregious when you consider that cities like Avalir were around during the Age of Arcanum, when the Prime Deities physically walked Exandria, and people like Laerryn, Patia, Zerxus, and Lacrytia Hollow—openly disdainful of the gods or even trying to create feats of magic to get on their level—were continuing business as usual. The previous god of death not only willingly abdicated in favor of a mortal during this time, but outright helped her do the job!

The Prime Deities can't win. If they didn't give anyone any power at all, they'd be viewed as selfish. If they'd stayed on Exandria after the Calamity, they'd be foolish and reckless. They're simply not capable of intervening and helping everyone, so they're labeled capricious. If they leave Exandria, they're abandoning not only their refuge and home, but also the people who need and rely on them. You can argue that "no one should have that much power" all you want, but I think it's exceptionally silly to take an argument meant to criticize the wealthy and powerful of our world (whose only unique quality is ultimately that they got lucky) and apply it to fictional deities (beings who are powerful by their very nature) who, while flawed, also think they're too powerful. They tried to protect Exandria from themselves and the Betrayers while still using their power to do right by the people there, and for the most part it was working just fine.

The "status quo" from before all this was and still is the best compromise available. No one has managed to sell a better one that doesn't amount to "cater to my blorbos and my self-indulgent idea of revolutionary politics, which may or may not also ultimately circle back to my blorbos". I think that's pretty telling.

#cr meta #critical role #cr discourse #also 'well why didn't they just get over it and kill the betrayers' THEY CAN'T. that's why the rites of prime banishment exist #that's why they were doing battle in the calamity AT ALL. per pelor in 1x104 'killing a god is beyond even most deities'#if it was that easy vm coulda just level grinded til pike got a divine intervention freebie and then been like ayo sarenrae smite this mf

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 9 months ago

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❤ Yandere Coworker ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Obsession; Creepiness.

AN: Yep, I'm back. Well see how this goes.

◾ Yandere Coworker who gets all fired-up the moment you’re hired into the company he works for. Your beauty is simplistic, but it still draws him to you like you’re a siren.

You’re so cute and his eyes catch the way those tight pencil skirts compliment your asset so well.

◾ Yandere Coworker who is a bit bummed when discovers that you are going to be working for a different department than his.

But quickly regains his composure because at least you’re still working in the same building, on the same floor. Plus your departments are practically side to side, so a win is a win.

◾ Yandere Coworker who wastes no time enthusiastically introducing himself and becoming all friendly with you.

He volunteers to show you around the building and is always free to help you out, even when that’s not really his area of expertise.

◾ Yandere Coworker definitely gets tunnel-vision when it comes to you. If you’re walking around, be sure that he’ll drop whatever work or abandon whoever he was talking to in order to come say hi to you.

In less than a month, everyone in the company is aware about his crush on you - and you do too, even if you try to remain neutral to his overly friendly nature.

◾ Yandere Coworker who gets a bit touchy with you. A hand around your shoulders. A small pat to your back. Bringing his hand forward to clean some non-existing food crumb out of your lips.

Sometimes, he’s even bold enough to place his hand on your thigh. Definitely ignores your winces of discomfort whenever he touches you.

He just brushes it off with a playful grin, throwing a joke around.

◾ Yandere Coworker who claims you as his work wife, using the title a bit too casually for your taste. Uses it as an opportunity to inquire you about your personal life - whether or not you have a real life husband.

He’ll gladly take that position as well, he says with a smirk.

It’s a bit hard to set boundaries with him because he just brushes them off, saying he’s just teasing you. That he’s just being friendly with you. That there’s no reason for you to get all mad with him.

◾ Yandere Coworker who is a social butterfly and has friends in all departments. Everyone loves him and his super friendly persona, which makes it considerably hard for you to let it off your chest how much he suffocates you.

The women tell you how lucky you are, while the guys steer away from you.

It gets even worse when he starts memorizing your schedule. When you arrive at work, he’s already there, waiting for you at the main entrance with a cup of Starbucks.

And when it’s time to clock out, he stands near your cubicle, patiently scrolling through his phone as he waits for you to be done with work.

And then he starts offering you a ride back home, which you try to avoid as much as possible, coming up with an insane amount of excuses to get him off your back - spoiler alert: it doesn’t work and he still forces you to accept the rides, which means he now knows where you live.

◾ Yandere Coworker who texts you a whole lot. During work hours, on your days off, on weekends. Sends a lot of work wife memes.

You always decline his video-calls, so he relents to sending pictures of himself in his home, with his pets. You pretend not to see the shirtless outline of his toned body in the corner of the photos.

◾ Yandere Coworker who falls even deeper for you at the annual Christmas party with how pretty (and hot) you look with a dress.

Relentlessly tries to dance with you and when that doesn’t work, he grounds himself firmly by your side, not letting you dance with anyone else.

By the end of the night, he tries to kiss you, after sharing his heartfelt feelings, only to receive a slap.

◾ Yandere Coworker who is a bit heartbroken when discovers that you’re resigning.

He really thought you liked him back, so why are you suddenly acting like a mean bitch? That’s not you, at all.

Goes to your place hoping to clear the whole situation and when you refuse to even speak to him, practically banging the door in his face, things get nasty.

He’s just gonna have to make you see his way.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x you #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere concept #female reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines

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noira-l · 2 months ago

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𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru hadn’t anticipated how fiercely he’d stay by your side through the night, watching every fevered breath, feeling every shake as if it were his own. He never thought he’d feel this protective, this bound to you - not until you nearly slipped away.

warnings: description of wound, blood, poison, fever, first aid (more or less adequate), hurt reader (it's okey in the end), caring Satoru.

author's note: I'm alive, who missed me? <:

The moment you step through the door, your leg gives out beneath you. The strain of keeping yourself upright has drained whatever small reserves of strength you had left.

You stagger, one hand grasping the wall, and then gravity wins. The door clicks shut behind you as you sink to the floor, gasping. Pain thrums through your leg with every heartbeat, each pulse reminding you of the wound carved into your flesh, raw and barely bandaged. Cold sweat beads on your forehead, and you shiver, feeling as though the warmth has been leeched from your bones.

The world is a haze, blurring at the edges, when you hear footsteps approaching. Satoru rounds the corner from the bathroom, fresh from a shower, towel hanging loosely around his neck. His easygoing expression melts into something sharper, concerned, as he takes in the sight of you on the floor. In an instant, he’s kneeling beside you, a glint of worry in his usually playful eyes.

"What happened?" his voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, a tightness as he scans you up and down, noting the grimace of pain on your face and the pale pallor of your skin. His gaze drops to your leg, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the hasty, blood-stained bandage barely covering the wound.

You open your mouth, trying to find words between labored breaths.

"The curse… managed to cut me." you breathe in sharply, feeling the sharp sting with every move "I thought I’d taken it down, but… it was too fast. Didn’t think… giant mantises could move like that - and have poison."

A muscle twitches in his jaw, tension he’s not hiding well. He’s silent for a moment, eyes lingering on your trembling form. He sees the traces of cursed energy clinging to you like grime, faint but still visible, a reminder of the battle you’d barely walked away from.

"Why didn’t you go to Shoko?" he asks, his voice barely above a murmur weighted with worry.

You shake your head, wincing at the movement.

"She’s on a mission." you manage, pressing a hand to your leg as another wave of pain hits "Called into the field… many sorcerers injured… a few hours ago. No one else was at the school, so I thought I could make it back here."

His lips press into a thin line, his hands moving carefully to lift you into a semi-sitting position. There’s a tenderness in his touch, but his eyes flicker with something darker, frustration perhaps, or worry bordering on anger. Gojo isn’t one to easily reveal vulnerability, but right now, with you barely holding yourself together on the floor, he can’t quite keep that mask intact.

"Of course, she’s gone the one time you need her." he mutters, his tone edged with a faint bitterness, though you sense it’s not directed at you. His gaze sweeping over you again, worry deepening as he notices the torn fabric of your trousers, the swollen, raw skin beneath.

You lean back against the wall, struggling to keep your focus on him.

"I didn’t expect… it’d be that strong." the words almost get stuck in your throat.

He stays silent for a beat, just watching you, eyes dark with a mix of emotions. A part of him is angry - angry that you’re hurt, angry that you didn’t have someone with you, angry that he wasn’t there to keep this from happening. But beneath that anger is something gentler, something softer, a deep and aching worry that he doesn’t quite know how to voice.

"Come on." he says finally, sliding an arm beneath your shoulders. He lifts you effortlessly, the strength in his arms steady and comforting, his presence a quiet anchor against the storm of pain clouding your mind. You let yourself sink into him, too exhausted to put up a front, to pretend you don’t need his help.

He carries you into the bathroom and sets you down on the closed toilet lid, his grip steady as he angles you so he can get a better look at the wound. Under the brighter bathroom light, you can see his expression in clearer detail, and it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his mouth pressed into a hard line, and his eyes are filled with a worry so unguarded it makes your chest tighten.

Satoru’s gaze drops to your leg, his fingers hovering just above the jagged, angry gash that runs down the back of your calf, twisting around your ankle. Blood has soaked through the bandage, and even with your makeshift attempt to clean it, the wound looks angry, inflamed, a sickly hue that promises infection.

"This is nasty." he says, his voice rough, almost reprimanding "Why didn’t you call me?"

You swallow, your throat dry "Didn’t want to… bother you."

A flash of something raw crosses his face, and he shakes his head slightly, exhaling slowly, almost as if he’s holding back something he doesn’t want to let slip.

"You’re an idiot." he murmurs, but there’s no bite to his words. If anything, he sounds… pained.

You don’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you close your eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over you. Your whole body aches, a dull, throbbing reminder of just how close you came to something far worse.

"I’ll clean it." he says, his tone more determined now, almost fierce. "But you better hang on for me, okay?"

Satoru's gaze lingers on your leg, the torn fabric of your trousers exposing the angry wound. Blood seeps through the makeshift bandage, and he sighs, a flicker of frustration crossing his face.

"We need to wash that out." he says, his tone gentle but firm "It’s full of dirt, and it’ll only get worse if we don’t clean it properly."

You nod weakly, shivering.

You feel dizzy, aware of the sweat clinging to your skin, the grime of battle pressing against every part of you. With trembling hands, you fumble with the zipper of your trousers, barely managing to pull it down. Without a word, Satoru kneels beside you, steadying your weak hands, and helps ease the fabric down your injured leg. It’s a painful process, the edges of the torn cloth brushing against the wound, and you stifle a wince.

Once you’re free of the ruined trousers, he carefully peels back the bandage. Then, he leads you to the edge of the bath, settling you down carefully.

You cling to his arm, the warmth of his skin grounding you, even as you shiver with exhaustion and pain. He reaches for the shower handset, steadying you with one arm as he angles the stream of water toward your leg. The cold shock of it against your wound makes you hiss, but he holds you steady, his hand firm against your back."

"Can you manage the rest?" he asks, his eyes searching yours, worry etched into every line of his face.

You swallow, nodding weakly "Yeah… I think so."

Without hesitation, he lifts you, maneuvering your weakened body gently into the bathtub. You sink down, propped against the smooth edge, barely able to keep your balance. Satoru hands you the shower handset, glancing at you with a flash of hesitation "I’ll grab your clothes and a few other things. Be right back."

He steps out, closing the door behind him, and you release a shaky breath, steadying yourself against the cool porcelain. Quickly, with the last bits of strength you can muster, you strip down to your T-shirt and underwear, not daring to risk the energy it would take to remove more.

You aim the water at your leg, wincing as the steady stream cleanses the wound. Blood seeps from the cut, but at least now you can see the full extent of the damage. You start to wash the rest of yourself, scrubbing away the sweat and grime, the cold water biting into your feverish skin.

Satoru returns, nudging the door open just enough to peer inside. His eyes go to the wound on your leg first, but then he frowns.

"You’re going to need to wash everything, not just your leg. The poison… it’s on your back and shoulders too." he looks you over, and it dawns on you with a jolt that the curse’s toxins must have spread further than you realized - your own saliva could be contaminated, even the air around you carrying a faint trace of its energy.

You feel too weak to do that.

You blink at him, feeling a pang of embarrassment.

"Can you… help?" your voice is barely a whisper. You know you’re in no state to do this on your own, your limbs heavy and unresponsive, and he can see it too.

Satoru’s gaze softens, though there’s a flash of exasperation in his eyes as he takes in your shaky form, barely propped up in the tub, trying to cover herself as much as possible.

He rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re practically falling over, and you’re worried about that?" he shakes his head, voice laced with a little humor "Look, we’re saving your life here. I don’t exactly have time to look at anything else."

His words, casual and dismissive, calm you in a way you hadn’t expected. You nod, letting go of the tension you’d been holding, trusting that, here and now, it’s just Satoru, your friend of so many years, who’s seen you at your best and your worst.

"Alright." he murmurs, kneeling by the tub again "Let’s get this over with."

He rolls up his sleeves, and you feel the comforting warmth of his hand on your shoulder as he carefully tilts the shower handset, rinsing away the grime that clings to your skin with the help od soap. His movements are gentle, precise, almost tender, as he washes the cursed remnants from your back and shoulders, his hand bracing you as you sway, your body growing weaker with every passing second. His presence is steady, calm, and somehow, amidst the pain and exhaustion, you feel safe, anchored in the familiar strength of his hands.

As the last traces of cursed residue wash away, he pulls back, grabbing a towel to pat you dry, careful not to touch the wound. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence is heavy but filled with a quiet understanding.

"Let’s get you dressed and out of here." he says softly.

He moves quickly, settling you on the edge of the tub with a clean washcloth and a fresh T-shirt, stepping back to give you a bit of space. You pull on the shirt, feeling the clean fabric slide over your raw skin, cool against the feverish heat radiating from your body.

Satoru, meanwhile, tosses your soiled clothes into the washing machine, setting it on the strongest cycle he can find, muttering something under his breath about how you’re lucky he knows how to handle this.

Once you’re dressed, Satoru lays out a small collection of supplies on the bathroom counter: disinfectant, gauze, bandages, and a pair of tweezers. His eyes flick from the wound on your leg to your face, studying the pallor of your skin, the way you struggle to keep yourself upright.

You feel Satoru put a tourniquet over your wound. How he presses it quite firmly to stop the bleeding.

"This is going to hurt." he says softly, glancing at you apologetically "I need to disinfect it - just a heads up, it’ll probably sting like hell." as he reaches for the bottle, your body sways, and he’s there in an instant, steadying you before you can fall backward "Alright, maybe I’ll keep the talking to a minimum."

He removes the cap, and the sharp smell of antiseptic fills the air, a reminder of all the injuries you and Satoru have shared over the years. He tilts the bottle and lets the liquid run over the wound, and the pain hits you like fire. You bite down hard on your hand, desperate to hold back a scream as the disinfectant sears through the torn flesh.

With the wound cleaned, Satoru reaches for the gauze, dabbing away the last traces of blood, his movements firm but gentle.

His eyes flicker with worry as he notices you growing paler, your breathing shallow and ragged. You feel the world slipping in and out of focus, every sound muffled, every movement dulled as if you’re underwater.

"Stay with me." he says, his tone low and urgent as he gently turns you, propping you against the bathroom wall and shelves. You feel the steady pressure of his hand on your shoulder, grounding you, even as your body starts to surrender to the effects of the poison.

A heavy fog begins to settle over your senses, blurring everything into an uncomfortable haze. You feel the poison’s grip tightening around your chest, your breathing growing strained. There’s a strange, prickling sensation beneath your skin, as if something dark and sickly is pulsing through your veins, coiling in your muscles. Nausea churns in your stomach, and you feel lightheaded, disoriented, the edges of your vision starting to darken.

Satoru works quickly, threading the needle with practiced precision, hands steady as he begins to stitch up the wound. Each prick of the needle sends a fresh jolt of pain through your leg, but you’re too weak to respond, each stitch another beat in the slow, agonizing rhythm of your recovery. He disinfects every few stitches, his expression tense, focused, his usual carefree air replaced with quiet determination.

The process drags on, each moment stretched out by the poison clouding your mind, making time seem thick and viscous, every movement of his hands slow and careful. You drift in and out, barely aware of the steady movements, his touch grounding you, keeping you tethered to reality. The burning in your veins intensifies, and you start to feel chills spreading over your skin, cold sweat breaking out along your forehead and back.

Finally, Satoru steps back, tying off the last stitch. He examines his work, the line of neat stitches running down your calf, still red and raw but now contained, held together as best as he can manage.

"When Shoko gets back, she’ll be able to fix it properly." he says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face "But this… this should be enough for now."

You try to respond, to thank him, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you just nod, leaning back against the wall, your breathing shallow. He stays close, one hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he watches you with a steady, protective gaze.

Then he gathers you into his arms and lifts you effortlessly, cradling you with an unexpected gentleness as he carries you to the bed. Every nerve in your body feels heightened, raw, and the sensation of his hands steadying you sends a faint shiver through you, not entirely from the poison.

You barely register the journey across the room, your awareness fading in and out, but you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart, a quiet pulse beneath the strength of his embrace.

When he lays you down, you sink into the bed, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath you. The coolness of the pillow presses against your cheek, a comforting contrast to the heat radiating from your fevered skin.

He put you on your stomach.

The fabric feels strangely vivid, every thread, every crease brushing against your skin as though it’s magnified. You close your eyes, sinking into that small moment of comfort, barely noticing the sound of Satoru moving beside you, but the weight of his presence is an anchor, waking you as you drift.

"Do you feel sick?" his voice cuts through the haze, pulling you back "Like… are you going to throw up?"

You shake your head slowly, your energy too sapped for anything more, feeling the faint throb of pain in your temple. He’s kneeling beside the bed, his hand a gentle weight on your shoulder as he leans closer, concern etched into every line of his face.

"Describe everything. I need to know all your symptoms."

You take a shaky breath, struggling to pull the words together "Leg hurts. I'm cold… but then hot. Like everything’s shifting." you murmur, the words slipping from your lips as your mind tumbles in and out of focus "And… weak, like my whole body’s just… fading out."

The colors in the room start to shift, hues intensifying, bleeding at the edges. When you close your eyes eveything melts into shades of blue, green, red, each color swirling with an odd, dizzying vibrancy. It’s like looking at the world through a prism, everything blurring, a kaleidoscope spinning faster than you can process.

You're almost unconsious.

Satoru’s presence cuts through the storm of sensations.

You feel him gently shifting you, slipping a pillow under your head. The cool touch of glass presses against your lips, and you blink, realizing he’s holding a glass of water, coaxing you to take a sip. A bowl rests nearby, in case you lose the fight with the nausea twisting your stomach. His fingers press against your forehead, the touch so light you barely feel it, but his hand lingers there, measuring your fever with a touch so practiced, so deeply familiar that it calms you, just slightly.

"You’re burning up." he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your hairline. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, hear the quiet note of concern in his voice "I can see your cursed energy pushing back against the poison. Like.. you’re… changing colors."

You shiver, his words blurring in your mind, but you catch the awe in his tone, like he’s witnessing something strange, extraordinary. It’s rare for him to speak this way, in that quiet, fascinated way that tells you he’s seeing more than just what’s in front of him.

Satoru leaves only briefly, returning with a bowl of cold water, painkillers, and a wet cloth.

You feel the chill of the compress on your forehead, cooling the fever that pulses through your body like wildfire. He lifts you just enough to help you swallow the pills, his hand steady at your back, holding you up as you sip the water in slow, careful gulps.

You feel his gaze on you the whole time, watchful, attentive.

In these moments, he’s a different person, his usual lighthearted attitude replaced with an intense focus, a deep concentration that only you ever see.

He glances at his phone, frustration darkening his expression. He’s tried to reach Shoko twice already, and the fact that there’s no response is gnawing at him. But he’s determined to do what he can, to keep you grounded, to be the anchor that holds you steady.

Gojo takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his hand never leaving you. He gently adjusts your position, lifting your head onto his thigh, and you feel the warmth of his leg beneath your cheek. He explains it as a practical choice, a way to keep you close so he can apply the compress more effectively, but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. He feels an overwhelming need to keep you close, to hold you in this small way, as if his touch alone can keep you anchored to reality, away from the poison’s grip.

You shiver, twitching slightly, and he reaches for the cold compress, his movements slow and methodical, applying it to your fevered skin, watching as your colors shift under his hand, an unsteady pulse of cursed energy working to fend off the poison. He catches the slight shake in your limbs, the way your fingers curl weakly against the sheets, and his heart clenches, a rare feeling of helplessness creeping in, something he’s not used to feeling, something he hates.

You mumble something unintelligible, a stray thought slipping out as your mind drifts, and he brushes his hand over your hair, soothing, grounding you with every touch. His fingers glide through your hair, alternating between stroking and holding, his other hand keeping the cool cloth pressed to your fevered skin. He watches you intently, every shift in your expression, every change in your breathing, his mind racing through what he knows about poisons, healing techniques, anything that might help, anything to hold off this ache in his chest.

Satoru stays there, keeping you steady through the fevered haze, murmuring soft reassurances, promising that you’ll get through this.

As your colors shift and the fever twists through you, his presence remains constant, a steady, comforting warmth, his hand a lifeline anchoring you to him, keeping you from slipping away.

★ --

The first hint of dawn is creeping through the window when Satoru hears the faint sound of the door opening. His eyes are bloodshot, exhaustion pulling at him, but he remains steadfast, pressing a damp cloth to your forehead. It is so more from stress and emotion than actual fatigue.

He hears Shoko’s soft steps approaching, and relief flickers over his face as she enters the bedroom, her figure slumped with fatigue but her expression sharp and focused. He left the door ajar for them, some time ago.

"Finally." Satoru murmurs, a mix of relief and irritation in his tone. He shifts slightly, not wanting to disturb you as you rest against him, your head still on his thigh "I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up."

Shoko takes one look at you, her eyes narrowing as she assesses the wound, the sickly pallor of your skin, the traces of cursed energy still clinging to your body.

She drops her bag beside the bed, rubbing a hand over her face to shake off the fatigue "I came straight from the mission. Intense night." she says, her voice low but urgent "Tell me exactly what happened.”

Satoru glances down at you, fingers still brushing lightly over your hair "There was a curse. She took it down, but… it got a cut on her leg. I’ve tried to keep the fever down, cleaned it up as best as I could. She’s been shaking, hallucinating… the poison’s deep." his voice tightens, uncharacteristically raw, as he looks at Shoko "I didn’t know what else to do."

Shoko’s gaze softens momentarily, catching the strain etched into Satoru’s face, the tired set of his jaw "You did everything right." she says quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder "You kept her stable. That matters."

Satoru exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a fraction "She was in and out all night. Sometimes calm, other times - " his voice trails off, and he shakes his head slightly "I’ve seen her hurt before, but… not like this. This poison - what do you think about it?"

Shoko sighs, pulling on a pair of gloves and gently lifting the bandage on your leg to examine the wound.

She winces as she sees the dark edges of the cut, stitching and the sickly tinge spreading along your calf.

"It’s a nasty one, that’s for sure. This looks like a mix of cursed energy and biological venom - a very specific combination." she frowns, pressing two fingers lightly to the skin around the wound, feeling the pulse of poison still present "It’s a wonder she even made it back here. This could have killed her on the spot."

Satoru’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching as he watches Shoko’s hands on your leg "I’ll make sure that curse stays dead." he mutters darkly, almost to himself. He looks back at her, his expression determined "Can you heal it?"

Shoko nods, her face serious as she focuses on channeling her cursed energy, her hands beginning to glow with the familiar light of her RCT.

"Yes, but it’s going to take time. This poison is tenacious; it’s woven itself into her system." she glances at Satoru "I’ll need you to keep her as still as possible."

He shifts slightly, adjusting his hold on you, keeping your head nestled against his thigh as he watches Shoko’s every movement.

"Got it. Just - be careful." he adds, his voice softer.

Shoko gives him a brief, reassuring sigh "I’ve got this. She’ll be okay." she lowers her hands over your leg, the energy pulsing gently, slowly seeping into the wound. The sickly edges of the cut begin to recede, the venom slowly neutralized as Shoko works, her focus unwavering.

After a few minutes of silence, Satoru speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper "Thank you, Shoko. I… I don’t think I could’ve handled it if…" he swallows, not finishing the sentence.

“She’s got it, Satoru. And you… you did what you could. Don’t sell yourself short." Shoko doesn’t look up, her gaze still focused on her work, but her voice is gentle.

He scoffs, trying to mask the emotion that slips into his voice.

"Yeah, well, she didn’t give me much of a choice, did she?" he looks down at you, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles against your shoulder "Just… hurry up."

Shoko rolls her eyes, though there’s warmth there "Patience isn’t your strong suit now, huh?"

Satoru chuckles softly, the sound tinged with exhaustion "Not when it comes to this." he glances at you again, his thumb brushing over your temple "Not when she’s… like this."

A silence settles between them as Shoko continues her work, the energy enveloping your leg, steadily neutralizing the poison, knitting torn tissue together, each pulse bringing you back, bit by bit.

She glances up at Satoru, catching the quiet, pained expression on his face as he watches over you.

"She’ll be fine." Shoko reassures him, her voice firm, resolute "You can rest now, you know?"

He sighs, the weight of the night pressing down on him "Not yet. Not until she’s awake."

★ --

You woke slowly, the scent of something warm and savory drifting through the air. Blinking, you turned over, feeling the ache of lingering soreness but also a sense of relief.

The night had been a fevered blur, but now your body felt… calm. Healed.

You rubbed your eyes, still swollen from the restless night, then glanced at your leg. It didn't hurt. The skin was smooth, completely healed - Shoko’s handiwork, no doubt.

Beside the bed sat a plate with a perfectly folded omelette, a glass of water, and a couple of painkillers.

You looked at the clock. 10 a.m. A pang of worry crossed your mind about the kids, but you knew they’d be at school by now, likely ushered off by Satoru.

The ache in your stomach urged you to eat, so you settled back against the pillows, finishing the omelette with slow, grateful bites and washing it down with water. Once the plate was cleared, you felt ready to get up.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you tested your balance, feeling a bit unsteady but strong enough to manage. You headed to the bathroom, splashing cool water on your face to refresh yourself, then changed out of your sweaty clothes, pulling on something more comfortable.

In the kitchen, you went straight for a glass, filling it with water and sipping slowly, the coolness settling your insides. The quiet calm of the flat wrapped around you, and you leaned against the counter, feeling grateful for the silence.

After a few moments, you decided to make some tea, craving something warm. You moved slowly, filling the kettle, finding tea leaves, feeling each motion ground you as you set everything in place. It felt good to be upright, even if your body still carried traces of exhaustion.

Then you heard the door click open, the faint sound of footsteps as Satoru entered, his presence filling the space instantly. He slipped off his shoes and headed straight for the bedroom.

You heard the pause as he saw the empty bed, and moments later, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. His eyes met yours, relief softening his usually guarded gaze, he took off his glasses.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes scanning over you, checking for any signs of weakness.

You gave him a small smile, feeling steadier with each passing moment “Better. A little sore, but… much better." you reached for an extra cup and set it beside yours, silently inviting him to join you "Tea?"

He nodded, coming over to stand beside you as you poured. The silence felt comfortable.

As you finished pouring his cup, he began to speak "You know, you really scared me last night. I thought - "

But without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself into his chest. For a heartbeat, he stilled, surprised, but then his arms came up around you, pulling you close. He held you tightly, his chin resting on top of your head, a gesture so simple yet so deeply comforting.

"Thank you." you murmured against his shoulder, your voice soft but filled with all the gratitude you couldn’t quite put into words "For everything. For taking care of me… I don’t know what I would’ve done."

His hand moved slowly up and down your back, steady and reassuring

"Hey… don’t go teary on me now." he teased, though his voice was low, his grip on you unwavering "What else was I supposed to do when you passed out on the corridor floor?"

You laughed softly, a bit of the tension easing out of your body as you leaned into him. For a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, holding onto each other.

He pulled back just slightly, looking down at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

"Next time." he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear "Try not to pick fights with curses the size of giant mantises, okay? If that happens, call me straight away, clear? Or better, let there be no second time, got it?"

You chuckled, rolling your eyes "I’ll keep that in mind."

He grinned, hugging you once again.

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur, @dainslumi, @syneyam, @idiotgojo, @itachiiwrites

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kajibunny · 7 months ago

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⋆⁺˖♧° let's play ‪♡ (jo togame x reader) ⟡₊♢⊹

✿ summary: it's a fact that jo togame likes to play. you decide that you want to play with him, too. will one match of shogi and a bet lead to your endgame? ✿ contains: mutual pining, super suggestive, lots of sexual tension, he calls you 'kitten' ✿ a/n: this idea just popped into my head randomly while browsing the wb character facts that says togame plays go and shogi and i had to write it! at first it was supposed to be cute and fun, but then it ended up becoming kind of spicy too lol (⸝⸝⸝- ᴗ -⸝⸝⸝ ;) i dedicate this to @togament, come play with your man asjdnjsnsk and for all you togame lovers out there, hope you enjoy! ♡ ✿ wc: 1k

jo togame had quite the competitive streak when it came to strategy games like go and shogi. playing often cleared his mind, and he's acquired tons of practice by having recreational matches with his elder friends at the local public bath house.

he noticed you from across the room, eyeing his earlier game in the common area, as it piqued your interest. (well, that, and he also piqued your interest.) it was refreshing for you to see such a handsome young man playing shogi with the elders and looking like he had the time of his life as he did.

togame made his way over to you after his game ended, and asked you if you wanted to play a round with him too.

"are you sure? i'm quite good at shogi, you know." you asserted, and he chuckled a bit at your claims. "oh yeah? then show me."

"let's play then." you said as you sat down across from him, the board positioned in front of the both of you.

he liked a challenge, especially if that so-called challenge was from someone as cute as you, your arms crossed trying to look intimidating, but you were no more intimidating than a little bunny. togame found you so adorable.

"hm? how about we raise the stakes, loser fulfills the winner's wish." he said with a calm tone, as if he knew he was going to win.

"okay, you're on. i guess i'll start thinking of my wish now." confident that you weren't going to lose either, as you had watched his previous game, and had an idea of how he played.

"i won't go easy on you, kitten." he had a small glint presenting itself in his mesmerizing green eyes.

"it's fine, i can take it." you assured him, not taking your eyes off his, even for a second.

your shogi game with togame lasted for almost an hour, proving himself to to be a formidable opponent.

it also didn't help that he was just too attractive for his own good that you couldn't maintain your concentration, and it pulled your focus away from the game whenever you caught yourself absentmindly staring and admiring his hazy eyes laced with thick eyelashes, the prominent veins in his big, calloused hands as he moved the piece, the same hands than ran itself through his tousled black hair whenever he was deep in thought about his next move, and when he looked at you with half-lidded eyes awaiting your turn, it just became too much for you to handle.

you were in such close proximity to him too, the only thing standing in the way of both of you was that damn shogi board.

once he had occupied your whole territory with his pieces, you knew you were done for. you thought you had no weaknesses, but it turns out that you had one, and it was jo togame.

"checkmate, kitten."

it was over, his king had captured yours, and you had no chance of escaping. how is this possible? you were so sure of yourself, but togame pulled up some tactics that you had never before seen in the history of shogi.

you definitely hadn't seen it coming. togame's moves were just too unpredictable. nonetheless, you blamed yourself inwardly for being so distracted by him during the match.

afterwards, you two talked for a bit more as you thanked him for the match and helped each other pack up, your hands occassionally grazing and lightly touching his as you two arranged the shogi pieces.

"okay, since you won, tell me what you wish for." you turned to him. you felt a warmth creeping up on your cheeks as he mischievously smiled, his hand motioning you to come closer to him so he could tell you.

togame whispers in your ear, and you could feel his warm breath tickling your face. "i want you. you're what i wish for. let me know if you want to fulfill it." togame is a simple, straightforward man. if he puts his mind to something, he does everything he can to make sure he gets what he wants.

and oh god, did you want him too.

it all escalated way too quickly from there. it wasn't just a game anymore, it was reality. you weren't exactly sure how it happened but, in an instant, you two were all over each other, kissing unabashedly, tongues fighting for dominance as if all that built up tension from competing with each other translated into your mouths and hands.

"i-ah, i was going to wish for the same thing too, by the way." you murmured in between his lips. "let's grant your wish too, shall we?" he softly backs you onto the wall, pinning your wrist against it with his hand, as he continues kissing you, controlling the pace this time, his mouth dominating yours completely.

he tasted so good, a hint of lemon flavored ramune on his lips. you couldn't stop, he was like a magnet, the attraction between both of you way too strong that you couldn't separate yourself and your body from his. you felt like your make out session with togame lasted even longer than the shogi game you had played with him.

you knew togame liked to play to win, but that night, you felt like you had won too, and you were certain that your match with him had actually ended in a draw.

but you couldn't settle for just a draw, you were way too competitive for that. there was no way you'd let him leave with the satisfaction, in fact, you were going to show togame how ready you were to have another round with him.

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #togame x reader #togame jo x reader #jo togame #togame #wind breaker (satoru nii)#nii satoru #windbreaker #wind breaker fic #wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker x you #wind breaker imagines #togame fic #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker anime #shishitoren x reader #wind breaker x reader fic

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w4w4lycsss · 5 months ago

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Hello, could I place an order for Morgie x reader.

Where Morgie is in love with Bridget's younger sister and always tries to win her over in different ways without Uliana finding out, where Red and Chloe also try to help Morgie win over the reader since her future is terrible in the future also trying to change her future to be with morgie.

TRYING TO IMPRESS | MORGIE LE FAY

summary: Morgie tries to impress you several times but he is completely clumsy and does not always succeed until Red and Chloe help him a little pairing: Morgie Le Fay x gn!Bridget's sibling!reader inspired by:: Love is Embarrassing - Olivia Rodrigo a/n: I'm in love with the idea! and I thought it would be better to do gn!reader, I hope you don't mind! :)

At Merlin Academy everyone truly admired you, and by admire I mean they absolutely loved you. You had a wide range of intelligence and respect, you were kind and hardworking, so you weren't surprised to have admirers. But there was one in particular…

Your sister didn't get along with the VKs, not on her part, but because they particularly bothered her for being a good person. You created a grudge against them, and you are not like her, you are more firm and realistic, not so positive, if you could slap Uliana you would.

Unfortunately (for you) you had shot the heart of one of the villains, the son of Morgana Le Fay.

You'd had almost no interaction with him, perhaps the only exceptions had been when you teamed up in a potions class (perhaps the only class he'd ever attended) relatively long ago.

You didn't remember anything about that class, but if you asked him he would say that it was the best moment of his life. Their hands touched each other when they took some ingredient at the same time, their gazes were stealthy and your calm voice telling them what to do left me spinning in my head. That day he decided that he was going to fall in love with you.

You already knew that Morgie was interested in you, and you were tired. Every day was constantly rejecting his invitations to run away from class together, watching him do some spell near you or how he would try to flirt.

It is clear that it is a disaster.

But it didn't bother you, yes, I already said that you were tired, but it was cute to see how he approached Maleficent and Hades to ask for advice and approach you with confidence only so that when he heard your sweet voice he melted right there and couldn't do anything. nothing.

Maybe it was also your fault that the flirting continued, and you never firmly put him in his place, you spoke to him calmly and patiently, which only made him fall in love more.

Did I say you had a grudge against VKs? It's not a lie but maybe it was too direct, because you treat Morgie with patience but there were some days where you couldn't stand him, maybe because something had happened in class or it was just a bad hair day, you swore that if you saw him one more time You were going to go crazy.

You sat under a tree after running with Bridget trying to save her from Uliana, who was chasing her furiously after turning into a flamingo. As you closed your eyes and regulated your breathing, you felt the presence of someone near you.

“Hello, cutie.” Morgie smiled at you. "How are you? You got tired?"

“Hello, Le Fay.” You rolled your eyes a little. “Yes, I am, didn’t you run?” You responded with a tired sigh.

“No, I didn't have to run, I just saw you.”

“Were you looking at me from a distance?” You let out a small laugh.

Morgie's flirting got out of hand when he realized you weren't responding defensively. His face flushes bright red and he begins to stutter, not knowing where to take the conversation. You notice this, obviously.

“Y-yes, I mean, not like that. It sounds weird, I wasn't just looking at you! “I saw all the people running, of course.”

You let out a small laugh. “I have to look for Bridget, see you.” You said goodbye casually, starting to walk back to school.

Morgie let out a loving squeal and then let out a tired sigh as he followed you with his eyes until you were lost in the crowd. He looked at the ground and put his hands in his pockets while mumbling things like “fool…” to himself and staggered on his feet.

“Morgie!”

The aforementioned raised his head quickly when he heard his name with the small illusion in his chest that you were the owner of the voice. He made a sound of protest when he realized that it was Chloe who was calling him, walking towards him alongside Red.

“Is something wrong, princess?” He scoffed irritably.

“Yes, in fact it would suit you quite a bit.” Red mentioned.

He rolled his eyes, ready to turn around and leave them when Chloe spoke again.

“We know you like Y/N.”

He frowned in confusion and irritation. "What's with that?"

“We can help you conquer them.” The redhead spoke again.

“And what would you gain in return?” He crossed his arms, not very convinced.

Chloe and Red looked at each other. Where they came from, your future had not been very good when you were alone, you were in danger in many ways, but they couldn't tell anyone.

Red's eyes lit up at a possible idea.

“If we get you to go out with Y/N, you'll stop bothering Bridget.”

He almost laughed but frowned wryly. “Why do you care if I bother the miss positivity or not?"

“Because she's our friend, and Y/N's sister. Do you accept or not?"

Morgie stayed silent, genuinely thinking. He was too in love, he had done ridiculous and embarrassing things for love to give up now that he was given the opportunity on a silver platter. He let out a resigned sigh.

"Good! I hope you have a plan or miss pink is going to pay dearly.” He frowned.

Someone knocked on your door, without much hesitation you opened, thinking it was Bidget. When you opened it, you found Morgie standing in front of you with a flushed face and an embarrassed smile.

"Do you want to go to the dance with me?" He spoke quickly before you could ask him what he was doing.

"I'm going to think about it-"

"Wait, don't close! I only ask you to go with me, we don't need to be a couple or anything, if you accept I will stop harassing you."

You stopped when you were about to close the door on him. "Harass me? Don't harass me." You frowned in confusion. "You're just very intense. Look, I'm going to think about it, give me until tomorrow, yes?"

Morgie smiled excitedly, letting out an "yes..." with a sigh in love as you closed the door. He ran to where he knew the rest of VK (without Uliana) were to tell them the news as soon as possible. Since Bridget was your sister, it was almost impossible for Uliana to accept you if you were to date Morgie and it would practically make your life impossible.

In Morgie's eyes, you were "so different from your sister that it made you unique, and that Uliana would never understand."

Halfway through, he met Red and Chloe, who began to ask him about the answer you had given him.

"Didn't you insist on them more?"

"No, they're going to get fed up with me and say no."

"Wow, it sounds like it's already happened."

"How about a gift in the name of a secret admirer?" Red suggested. "But at the same time Y/N knows it's about you."

"And what do you expect me to give him?" He frowned in confusion.

"How about cupcakes! Or something made by you." Chloe suggested now with a smile.

Morgie clicked his tongue and frowned in a grimace at the knowledge of what he would have to do. Yes, he did indeed cook you something to eat. In the evening, at dinnertime, instead of going downstairs like the rest, he sneaked into your room and quickly left a basket of pink and green cupcakes on your bed, with a note next.

"See you at the fountain tomorrow? (to know your answer) - M. Le Fay."

#descendants #descendants rise of red #fanfic #descendants x reader #gn reader #morgie x reader #morgie le fay #descendants morgie #morgie le fay x reader

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1-helluva-hazbin · 7 months ago

Text

˖⋆✶Kissing Him Our Colors✶⋆˖

Lucilith x Female!Concubine!Reader (Lilith x Reader x Lucifer)

Content warning: Heavy teasing, groping, marking (kiss marks/hickies), sexual themes, sexual innuendos, no smut, polyamory, minors do not interact (MDNI), fast proofread

Summary: In your relationship with Lilith, marking one another with crimson or black kiss marks had been your signature sign of affection since the beginning. What will change when Lucifer poses a hypothetical question with an obvious implicit meaning?

Author Notes: Thank you @damsel-loves-machines for the inspiration to write this one shot! I'm definitely going to be writing a follow up concubine one shot off your more recent post but, it's going to be a little while before I get to that (too many projects!). Enjoy this in the mean time!

Word Count: 5083

To be the king or queen’s lover was an achievement sought after by the masses; both sinners and hellborns. A quick claim to fame. At some point in their long lives they had both begun taking new partners to their beds. Most held the title for extended periods of time as Lilith and Lucifer were both particular with their partners and once they found someone they enjoyed, they tended to hang on for a while. Not that there wasn’t the occasional individual rumored to have warmed one of their beds.

In the centuries since the royal’s opened their relationship though, there were whispers of 3 individuals, all of them hellborn, who had held an official title of concubine. For the title, you had to win both the king and queen over and tend to the both of them; separately and together. The title was coveted despite neither Lucifer nor Lilith ever having confirmed such individuals existing.

When you had first heard of the royals taking lovers, and the whispered concubines, it had been a fantasy you entertained in your free time. You had always been confident of your body and sexual prowess -you were certain lust had been your downfall sin- but, you were never delusional enough to consider angling for the position. Considering the rate of sinner lovers was so drastically low it was basically unrealistic. You also knew fanangling yourself into their lives would come off as desperate and that just wasn’t a look you were willing to wear. No, you were happy fantasizing about the power couple and seeing them occasionally at rallies or events.

It had been entirely coincidental you had met the king and queen one night when they came into the restaurant you served at and were seated in your section. Even more of a miracle that you not only had the audacity to question the queen’s choice of wine but, that you had enough charisma to smooth over your transgression. Promising she would much prefer your recommendation based on the snip-its of her preferences you had gleaned from her indecisive rambling at the king. Trying not to break out in a sweat as Lucifer violently glared you down from his seat, hints of horns poking from his forehead when you had challenged the royal.

You can still vividly recall her eyes rolling back into her head after having sipped the wine you gambled your life on. The lusty sound of her satisfied sigh that rolled from her lips after having left the most beautiful black lip marks on the ring of the glass.

“My dear…” her voice low and sultry as her eyes opened to give you a half lidded look, “you have exquisite tastes.”

“Thank you, my queen.” You offer a small smile and bow, making sure you didn’t break out in a full grin or groan out in relief. You couldn’t stop yourself from adding, intentionally or not, flirting. “I’m here to ensure my guests have the most pleasurable experience possible.”

Her lips had curled in an almost cat-like grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The silky purr having tickled your ears as she swirled the glass of wine slowly in her hand. Her expression evolved from indifferent to amused while Lucifer sneered at the exchange.

The next time you had seen Lilith, she had come back to the restaurant for lunch a week later on her own and had requested your company as she ate. It had taken her almost 3 hours to eat the small bites of food between the almost unnaturally easy flowing conversation.

The marking had all started that day.

As she had been getting ready to leave, you had gently taken her hand in yours and bowed, bringing her hand to your lips leaving a bright red kiss mark on her knuckles. As you straightened, you had smiled at her and told her, “A promise that I’ll answer should you ever decide to call on me again, my queen.”

Every encounter after that contained one of you, or both, leaving a kiss mark on the other; Lilith in her signature black lipstick and yours had become the crimson red you had dawned that day. The playful, prominent display you both unabashedly wore. A kiss on the cheek before going out together. Sliding down a sleeve to leave a hidden mark prior to an event. A kiss to the side of the knee. There soon weren’t any areas off limits.

Some of the times making promises that you both would ensure were fulfilled. Never a promise neither of you couldn’t.

All the while, Lucifer had been slowly growing use to your presence. He had kept his distance in the beginning due to his known dislike of sinners but, the longer you stuck around the more he seemed to relax. When you once couldn’t enter a room without him slipping out, you now could hold a small conversation with him about some of the events going on that day, before he would excuse himself. He used to turn his nose up at your attempt to make him breakfast and now he would periodically make requests. The three of you had even started having dinner one or twice a week with Lilith’s encouragement.

You had also noticed that when he was around the two of you, he would watch the both of you and seemed to have taken a particular interest in the marking. You hadn’t caught on to it at first, being so smitten with Lilith your focus had been entirely on her. The first time you recall seeing it though, it had been so fleeting it almost hadn’t even pinged on your radar.

“Say ah my queen~.” a gentle instruction as you had held up a strawberry to Lilith’s lips. She had giggled and parted her lush, ink black lips and took her bite of the strawberry. A bit of the succulent fruit’s juice slipped past her lips racing towards her chin.

You hadn’t even thought twice about grabbing her chin to turn her head. Leaning in to slowly lap up the nectar before planting a firm, red mark in its place. Your voice low as you growled out, “Delicious.”

She gave you a half lidded look, lightly biting her smirking lip. She reached over to your free hand and placed it on her knee before slowly sliding it upwards. “I have something else for your that’s delicious.”

It was at that point you caught Lucifer out of the corner of your eye observing your flirting. His lithe body, propped up against the door frame with his hands in his white sweatpant pockets. You hadn’t been able to catch his expression though, from what you could tell of his posture, he had been at ease watching the situation. As you turned, he was already walking towards the two of you. “Good morning ladies.”

“Morning my love.” Lilith responded, reaching for Lucifer with the hand that wasn’t on yours, to kiss him. Her lipstick transferring to his pearl white lips along with a small portion of your red. She grinned seeing not only her mark but yours as well.

“Good morning my king.” You grinned and shook your head at her antics, though refrained from telling him. You loved the look of the black and red against his porcelain skin and you thought at the time, that would be as close as you would ever get to painting him in your signature color.

Neither you nor Lilith knew that after Lucifer had retired to prepare for the day, he had intentionally sequestered himself to his office upon seeing the mark, so he could unabashedly wear it the whole day. Conflicted in his excitement to have both marks on him. It had only been around dinner time that he had removed the lipstick before he joined the two of you for a meal.

Several times after that, when you had marked her -or visa versa- you caught him watching. You had tried playfully teasing him initially about wanting to watch, or join, the two of you and that had beautifully blown up in your face. He had become seemingly agitated, or perhaps flustered, and immediately left. Lilith had soothed you as best she could but, you had convinced yourself you had taken it too far knowing his disgust of sinners and newly developed tolerance for you.

The breakthrough with Lucifer had come suddenly during one of the events you had been invited to attend with them since it was being held in Pride Ring. It was a bigger event where Lilith and Lucifer would speak together in front of the citizens.

You had just assisted Lilith with a little stress relief before she went on stage. You hadn’t cleaned yourself up considering how close you two had cut it. As soon as she gotten off, you both had bolted to the stage where she immediately walked out as her name was called.

You stood there with your lipstick smeared across your face, the backdrop for a single black kiss etched across your lips, your skin glistening with her juices. Entirely too worked up, and entirely indifferent, to care if people saw you like this momentarily. In the darkened wing, most just hurried around you focused on their work as you watched her command the stage effortlessly. Your eyes hungrily locked on to the smooth sway of her hips wanting to part her legs again. Crowd be damned.

“You uh…should probably go see the makeup artists to fix your makeup. If they were able to fix up Lilith’s makeup, after seeing what you look like, they should be able to take care of yours without much issue.” you heard from beside you.

You tilted your head to see Lucifer standing next to you, his eyes focused on Lilith despite his comment being aimed at you. You smiled and put a hand over your lips as you replied, humbled enough to make it a little less obvious, “Thank you for letting me know sir. While I don’t doubt the makeup team’s ability… they didn’t have to do much touch up with Lilith’s make up.”

His brows furrowed and he turned his eyes onto you. You couldn’t stop your quiet giggling at his befuddled expression. You had always found it amusing how when you were trying to be subtle about your sexual endeavors with Lilith it would go over his head. You stepped closer to him, your arm brushing against his, before leaning down, “I made out with her other lips sir.”

His eyes popped open and lips pressed into a thin line as he whipped his attention back towards Lilith. In the dim light, you could swear you saw the rosey tone of his cheeks spread back towards his ear. You didn’t want to assume though, especially after your multitude of botched attempts to flirt or tease him, so you bit your cheek and slipped away from him to give him back his space.

Lilith’s voice echoed around the both of you as you watched her. Filling the silence that would have lingered between the two of you so you could comfortably exist together. At least, until Lucifer cleared his throat. You turned to the king as he asked, “If you were to leave a mark on me right now, where would you do it?”

Stunned, you blatantly stared. Processing. You must've heard that wrong. He couldn’t have just asked what you thought you heard.

“What?”

A brow perked, his eyes locked onto you as his face remained stone still, repeating himself. “Where would you mark me?”

You swallowed hard, closing your ajar mouth only realizing now it had fallen open. Your voice, and mind, failing you as he waited. Skin crawling to reach out to answer him with action in the absence of your other voice. You slowly reached up, succumbing to the desire to show him, before you hesitated.

“May I?” A softly croaked out question.

He looked to your hand leaning away slightly, as if unsure, before meeting your eyes, courage rejuvenated enough to bob out a nod. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and your hand continued it’s path. Slowly, your middle finger skimmed along the collar of his jacket, slightly pulling downwards to see the untouched succulent flesh of his neck. Your eyes honing in on where his neck met his shoulder. The thought of marking him there appealing though, with him going out on stage it could be spotted very easily.

You prowled behind him, his bent collar revealing the back of his neck. An excellent choice as well. You could imagine licking up the back of his neck to his hairline, nipping lightly before placing your firm red impression. Yet, given your current relationship with him it didn’t seem right. You did lean in though, unable to resist, to lightly blow on the back of his neck, sending goosebumps rippling across his skin.

As you rounded his other side, your attention caught on his ear. Your hand released his collar to lightly caress it’s way up his neck with your knuckles. Gently pushing his hair back away from his ear. Your finger sliding it’s way up the lobe towards the middle ear to lightly pull it forward, exposing a small patch of skin.

Subtle. Sensual. Intimate without going too far.

You lean in, your lips inches away from his face as your eyes raked over the flesh. “Right there.” you uttered, barely audible over Lilith’s voice, the acting of stroking behind his ear emphasizing your choice while making him shiver.

It was his turn to swallow.

He started to open his mouth when his name was called by Lilith. His eyes shooting over to her and then back to you as you pulled away from him. “Good luck my king.” You grinned at him, stepping away. He cleared his throat, briskly fixing his collar and hair before joining her out on stage. His rebound seemingly effortless.

Momentarily you marveled at their ability to flawlessly recoup as Lucifer joined hands with Lilith and carried on with the show. Neither of them letting on that they had been out of sorts before walking into the limelight.

As more guests joined you off stage in the wing, you slipped away to fix your make up. The smeared red having lightly stained your skin and despite your best attempts to remove it, the staining was steadfast. Acquiescing, you mask it with a new layer of foundation and contouring before returning to your place off stage.

The crowd roared when the royals made their exit.

You awaiting them as they approached. “You two are a marvel at getting the crowd going.” you whisper, turning to walk next to Lilith placing her in the middle as the three of you made your way towards dressing rooms.

“Well we’ve been doing it long enough.” Lilith chimed, “The real challenge is always navigating and garnering the support of the goetia at the after party.”

Lucifer let out a disgusted groan and rolled his eyes. “Some of them are so…”

“Pompous?” Lilith offered, her tone pairing well with his tone despite her own schooled smile.

“WHY do we agree to the dinner party?” Lucifer grumbled.

You smiled as Lilith giggled. “To ensure they’re doing what they need to be doing, my love, and to be available for if they require our assistance or insight.” He tsked as you all approached Lilith’s dressing room and Lilith stopped. “I’ve just got to grab something from my dressing room real quick. Lu, can you run ahead and have the car readied?”

“Of course.” he said, throwing a grin over his shoulder as he sauntered off.

You stopped at the door, watching Lilith walk over and grab her clutch. She popped it open, grabbing her lipstick to freshen it up quickly in the mirror all the while her eyes were on you. You smirked, her own grin growing in response.

“You’ll never guess what Lucifer asked me before joining you on stage.”

Her application faltered briefly before she finished and turned towards you with both brows raised. She made her way back to you, at which point you offered her an arm. She happily slid her hand along your forearm purring out, “Well, don’t keep me waiting.”

“He asked if I were to mark him, where would I do it.” You placed your hand atop hers as her smile dropped into a stunned gape. “I know. I’m certain I had the same look on my face.”

She snapped her mouth shut and the two of you headed towards the exit. You peeked over at her, giving a lopsided smile seeing her contemplating the news. She huffed out, as if she had made a weighted decision and looked at you. “Are you interested in having the both of us?”

The fantasies you use to craft when being a lover or concubine was a far fetched dream flitted through your mind inducing a blush. You laughed out nervously and she leaned into your arm emitting a soft ‘hm?’ as if Lucifer being attractive hadn’t been something the two of you had talked about. You glanced at her half lidded eyes and knowing smile.

“I am.” you utter as you both turn a corner to Lucifer waiting at the end of the hallway.

She leaned close, lips brushing against your ear. “Follow my lead dear.”

You shivered, biting your lip hard. Excitement and nervousness twisting your stomach.

“Thank you for getting the car ready Luc.” Lilith called, pulling away from you to a respectable distance. He eyed the two of you as the chauffeur opened the car door. “Go ahead Luc.”

He stared a moment longer before he relented and climbed in. His obedience evoking a smirk from his wife. She withdrew her hand from your arm and steered you towards the car. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated. Lilith had always sat between you and Lucifer anytime the three of you had ridden together. It had never been you in the middle. She had implored you to follow her lead though and so you did. As you climbed in, you noticed that she had started around the back of the car towards the other side.

It wasn’t going to be you in the middle.

You bit back a smile as you settled into your window seat, the chauffeur closing the door behind you just as the other door opened to Lucifer’s surprise. “Slide over love.” she cooed, waiting until he had started to shuffle before she slid in. Pinning Lucifer between you and her.

“Oh! Well, this is different!” he laughed out nervously. His knees pinched together and hands tightly gripping his cane that he had propped between them.

It made Lilith laugh out softly as the door closed behind her. “I was feeling a window seat after being stuck in the middle for so long.”

“Is that so?” he gave a tight smile.

“It is.” she angled her body towards him. “I think we all should take turns being in the middle from now on.”

You smiled, biting your cheek. Picking up where she was going with this. So you too angled your body towards Lucifer who was too focused on Lilith to notice. “Aaaaannnnd…why would we do that?”

“Well…” Lilith’s eyes flickered to you and then back. “if we are all going to be marking one another why wouldn’t we?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened and he laughed out looking back at you, “That was just an innocent question Lili.”

“Was it?” Your question pushing Lilith’s agenda as you recalled his reactions; him holding his breath, the shivers, his hard swallow, and his questionable blushing. Further proving the point though, you reached out and lightly flicked the edge of his collar eliciting a hard swallow from him.

Lilith perked a brow at the reaction, giving Lucifer a lopsided smirk. She reached out and turned his attention back on her with a single finger to his jawline. “Lucifer…” she leaned in and brushed her nose along his cheek back to his ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“I have no idea-” he started.

“We both have your majesty.” A quick interjection from you. Gaining confidence as you push past his collar to run your fingers down his neck and then slide them into his hair. Your pinky running over the spot behind his ear.

His face began to flush. He tried to look back at you as Lilith held his face in place. “What’s holding you back my love?” Lilith posed, the hand holding his face sliding down his neck to his jacket to undo the fasteners. “Is it purely the fact she’s a sinner?”

Lucifer’s eyes shot back to Lilith as your hand stilled while lodged in his hair. “That’s not….I mean…”

“She’s been a good sinner to me, to us, hasn’t she?”

He sighed out. “She has.”

“Passed all of your ridiculous background checks and little investigations?”

Your brows furrowed and you shot a confused look at Lilith that begged the question ‘What now?’ She remained focused though, her free hand sliding across the back of the seat and to your hand wrapped up in his hair, beckoning it to move with a light push as he replied. “Yes…”

“You find her attractive?” Lilith pressed onward, the hand on his chest having freed all the clasps, pushing open his jacket to begin working at his vest.

You would most certainly be bringing up the background checks later but, you let it slide for the moment. Your hand beginning to rake through his hair again before combing it downwards, abandoning Lilith’s hand, to lightly pull his jacket off of his shoulder. You leaned in, lightly blowing on his neck making him yelp out, “YES!” He coughed, shutting his eyes and attempting to recover, “I uh do.”

“Then, can I mark you?” the words came out almost involuntarily, though you knew Lilith approved as her eyelids lowered. Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath. Your hand on his shoulder reached up to turn his head to you making his eyes fly open. His face fully flushed now and eyes saucers.

Lilith leaned in to kiss Lucifer’s neck making him jump slightly, his attention stolen. Nothing a quick tapping to his chin didn’t correct, begging an answer with the quirk of your brow and pout of your lips.

“I…” a quiet stutter as she shivered at the feeling of Lilith pulling his vest aside before she stopped. The three of you still awaiting Lucifer’s approval. “Y-Yes.”

“So stubborn.” Lilith crooned into his neck, beginning to tug at his tucked in shirt.

An elated shiver quaked through you as you turned Lucifer’s head towards Lilith enough for you to access his ear. Leaning in, your hands brushed backed his hair and lightly pulled his ear forward enough so you could finally plant your first mark. Firmly pressing your lips to his skin, ensuring it would leave a solid imprint before pulling back to revel in your crimson work. “I’ve waiting so long to do that.” you whispered out.

“Oh why stop there?” Lilith growled as she leaned forward to paint his stomach with her own inky strokes.

Lucifer choked and gasped out, “Hold on!” Lilith’s only response was to grab one of his hands and pin it to the back of the seat. He shot a pleading look to you, as you took his other hand, lacing your fingers with his before pressing it to the seat as well.

“Pentagram is our word if you genuinely want this to stop my king.”

Lilith looked up to the both of you, her movement dragging his gaze away from you down to her. He nodded, gulping as his head lulled back to land on the seat. “Okay.”

Lilith’s tongue snaked out of her mouth and slipped below the waistband of his pants evoking a moan. “Such a good boy.” you utter into his ear before you begin your own descent. His hand squeezing yours at the praise.

Your hand pulled his shirt up higher, undressing more of his torso. A pristine white canvas that you fully intended to marr, the thought alone making your chest tighten. Leaning in, your nose brushed against his chest gliding over his nipple. You slipped farther down and right where his sternum ended you landed a kiss before dragging your lips in a sweeping motion following the anatomy.

Lilith pulled back from her work, his stomach already covered in marks; both solid and smeared. Seeing your paint stroke she smirked before leaning in to mimic it on the other side as you leaned in to leave a solid kiss on his belly button. Moving downwards, you started littering his skin with light smudges. Fragments of impressions. The only other full lip mark you decided to leave was on the hip closest to you. A single finger slipped under his band to pull it down enough you could fully capture his hipbone with your kiss.

Lucifer had slowly brought his head forward to watch the two of you. Desperately willing himself still despite desperately wanting to writhe. His breathing had sped up though and he had groaned out a few times; such as when Lilith had matched the rib mark you left or when your finger teased his pants downward to access his hip. He couldn’t stop from grinding his hips upwards towards the end, right before you and Lilith slowly pulled yourselves away to examine your handiwork; his eyes glazed over, face flushed, labored breathing, with a plethora of lip marks strewn across his abdomen tapering off on his chest.

It made you want to hike your dress up to ride him into oblivion. Obviously the sentiment was shared with Lilith who moaned out, “God you make me so wet.” A breathy moan of agreement sounded from you as you bit your lip, knowing it was turning the same color as your lipstick from the pressure.

“Such a shame we have the dinner.”

Both Lucifer and you snapped your attention to Lilith who smugly started to fix Lucifer’s outfit. Oh. What a tease. You knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. You wouldn’t be able to focus either but, few would take an interest in your presence. You apologetically looked at Lucifer who was sitting there gaping. “M-My love! I can’t go to the dinner like…like this!” he looked down at himself, alluding to the tented pants but, Lilith feigned ignorance.

“Oh my love, these marks will be well hidden beneath your clothes. It won’t be a problem.” She soothed, his shirt messily tucked in now. She released his hand to straighten it out and then started reclasping his vest. “We just cannot skip any more events than we already have this month.”

He groaned looking to you for assistance, receiving only a shrug. The idea of subtly teasing him further at the party making your core ache. “I don’t make the schedule my king. I promise on all my markings though, I’ll make your patience now worth it later tonight.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you before he freed his hand from yours quickly wrapping his arm around your waist to yank you closer. With his other hand, he pulled down your sleeve before sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder. You gasped, eyes fluttered closed as he began to roughly suck. The hand that had bared your shoulder sliding down to capture your clothed breast in a tight squeeze.

You heard Lilith hum before feeling a hand on your knee, slowly caressing it’s way upwards beneath your skirt. Her fingers ever so lightly skimming across your panties, ever so slightly applying pressure to the perfect spot, only to depart down your other leg making you whimper. “All in good time my loves.”

Lucifer pulled back with a loud pop to examine his claim on you. Smirking at it he leaned back down to lick it before trailing his tongue up your neck to your ear. “I’ll be damned if you get any sleep tonight.”

You shuttered. Your breathing quivering as you almost inaudibly whispered out, “I’m here for your use.” An approving growl sounded and the hand on your hip gave a tantalizing squeeze with his claws.

He then turned his head to Lilith, his hands quickly grappling her. Draping her across the both of you; her ass in his lap and her back on yours. “Don’t think I forgot about you my darling wife.” he seethed, hiking up her dress.

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

She sat up, one elbow propping herself up on the seat between your legs. The other hand reached up to grab the back of your head and pull you in for a sloppy kiss; tongue slipping into your mouth. All the while Lucifer propped one of her legs up and leaned down to sink his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh. Repeating the process he enacted on your shoulder. The sensation making Lilith moan into your mouth.

She only pulled away when Lucifer released her leg with another loud pop. The both of you panting, neither of you wearing the other’s lipstick having spent it all on Lucifer. “Such a shame…” Lilith pouted, her hand sliding around your head to brush her thumb over your lips.

You laughed out softly, “Good thing I painted your lips earlier.”

“You rake.” She playfully swatted your chin before sitting up further with your assistance. Still in Lucifer’s lap, she started fixing his jacket.

“You sure we can’t just…go home?” you ask, leaning in to kiss the back of her neck as Lucifer wrapped an arm around her waist and yours just as the car pulled to a stop.

“The show must go on.” she purred, smirking at the both of you before sliding off of Lucifer’s lap to let herself out of the car, seamlessly fixing her dress in the same motion. You and Lucifer both making your own noises of displeasure as the car door behind you opened marking the beginning of what would feel like a never ending soiree.

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thevoidstaredback · 4 months ago

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Communication is good. It's wonderful, even! But screaming matches? Especially ones that last this long, aren't healthy in the slightest. In fact, all they do is damage relationships. So, after convincing Barbra and Tim to go upstairs, promising that he'd be up in a few minutes with Dick, he went back to where Bruce and Dick were screaming at each other.

Nothing had been thrown yet. Small mercies.

God, Danny hated being a mediator. Why couldn't people just work out their problems by talking? It'd make his life so much easier. Was that so hard to do? Too much to ask? Apparently.

"And you-!" Bruce rounded on Danny the second he closed the door behind him. "You don't get to come into my house and-"

"Let me stop you right there, Mister Wayne." A few days into his running away, Danny discovered a new power. He can't control it, but sometimes, when he's angry or needs people to shut up, the inside of his throat goes cold and his eyes narrow. It's really cool, from Danny's perspective, and pun fully intended. Something about Mister Wayne had brought that power to the surface, and thank the gods for that because Danny really needs to be listened to right now. "I told you earlier that my name was not a fight you wanted to pick. I think I should reword that. I am not a person you want to pick a fight with."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, meeting Danny's glare with his own. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes, Mister Wayne, that was a threat. And you can hold me to it. I will win any and every fight you try to pick with me."

Dick kept glancing between the two. He had a bad feeling about these two interacting like this, but something was stopping him from getting them apart.

"I have your name and your face. It won't be too hard to get you arrested for several crimes."

"Framing a child, Mister Wayne? Good luck with that. I don't exist anymore. Besides, I can threaten the same thing about Batman, and that holds significantly more weight than anything you could do to my name."

"If you're not scared, then you'll give me your whole name."

"That was a horrible fish for information, Mister Wayne. You're slipping. You must be getting rusty in your old age."

"Danny-"

"Dick." Danny held his hand out to his - on paper - responsible adult, "C'mon, Tim and Barbra are waiting for us upstairs."

Danny lead Dick out of the room, Bruce staying behind and obviously glaring at the back of Danny's head. When the door shut, Dick sighed, every bit of tension he hadn't felt melting off of him. "Sorry about him."

Danny shook his head. "Don't apologise, Dick, you didn't do anything to spark that. However," he glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still holding his hand, "Screaming matches aren't going to fix anything between you two. I don't know if you even want a relationship with him, but he's right. We came into his house, so it's up to us to be polite. You may be his kid, but you are a guest in his home until you two can form some kind of positive relationship. The hostility between y'all right now? That demotes you to 'house guest' instead of 'visiting child'. Got it?"

"..yeah."

"Good. Now, Tim and Barbra are waiting upstairs; go find them."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to go apologise to Alfred."

"Alfred? Why?"

"Bruce may claim this as his house, but Alfred's the one who takes care of it. It's his haunt, so I'm gonna go apologise for almost starting a fight."

"Um, alright..?"

***

Dick found himself wandering into the room that had been given to Tim. It was bare bones and barely looked used, but that's where he found Tim and Babs. He sat next to her.

"Where's Danny?" Tim asked.

"I- He's gone to talk to Alfred for a minute."

"Oh? Why?"

"I don't..he wasn't really clear on that."

"Oh."

The three lapsed into a silence that hovered somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable. Tim was on his bed, messing with something on his phone, smiling occasionally or chuckling softly. Dick and Barbra sat together on the couch against the wall between the two windows. None of them spoke for a while.

It was a lon twenty minutes of sitting, doing nothing. Sometimes one of them shifted, but no conversation was made.

The door opened. "Wow. Did I end up in a graveyard or something? Y'all're quieter than the dead." The three flinched back as if struck. "Sorry, that was in poor taste." He closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Tim's bed. "Seriously, though, why're y'all so quiet?"

"Waiting for you," Tim answered, "What'd you talk to Alfred about?"

Danny waved his hand in the air as if to physically dispel the words. "Nothing you need to worry about. Good news, though, I have a standing invitation to the Manor, so.."

"Is that a good idea?" Barbra asked, "You and B, well...You didn't really.."

"Yeah," he smiled, "Alfred's given me permission, and that's all I need. I won't be going with you guys to the Bat Cave, though."

"What?" Tim's voice pitched up a bit, "Why?"

"That's Mister Wayne's haunt. Because he doesn't like me, I'm not gonna risk even thinking about going down there."

"But you'll come and go from his house?"

"Yes."

"Weird."

"I don't make the rules, Timmy." Tim snorted softly. Barbra smiled.

"I hate to be the one to bring the mood down again," Dick said, "But why were you wanting to go to the Cave?"

"I just said I wasn't."

"Yeah, but why would you ever need to go down there?"

At this, Danny looked a bit sheepish, turning to look away from the others and rubbing the back of his neck. "Alfred said we're staying the night."

"What!" Dick shot up from his seat.

"Are you coming on patrol with us?" Barbra asked Dick, her eyes expectant.

Tim grinned. "That'd be so cool! You two should totally join us!"

Dick shook his head. "I really-" He cut himself off, making the mistake of looking Barbra and Tim in the eye. He sighed. "Alright, I'll join you guys for the night. But I don't answer to Bruce."

"Yay!"

"Wouldn't expect ya to."

"What about you, Danny?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't do the whole vigilante thing anymore."

"'Anymore'?" Babs raised her eyebrow, "That's a story I wanna hear."

He blushed. "It's really not,"

"You'll be on comms, though, right?" Tim wondered.

"I, um.... Sure. I'll join you guys on comms."

"Yes!"

"But I'm still not going into the Bat Cave."

Part 13 Part 15

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adonis-koo · 1 year ago

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sweet nothing • 9

| in which he patiently waits one day at a time|

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word count: 2.9k

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Note: no matter how many scenes i write, they're all sad and i'm kinda sorry bc i said this fic wasn't going to have much plot but it somehow has a lot of plot now??? and its kinda sad??? HERE YOU GUYS GO THO

The commotion going on in the estate wasn’t difficult to tell, men had been actively walking more than their usual rotations required and Jungkook knew this was a sign you were causing some sort of chaos as you seemed to do every day now.

And upon following the trail it led him just a door down from your own room, items being moved and you were currently pouting as you sighed.

“Do tell me what your idea is for this little renovation project.” Jungkook hummed, leaning against the door, not actually annoyed at how much you always move things around in his estate in fact…Dare he say he felt a little endeared.

And Jungkook found himself falling into old habits, habit he found himself missing, such as being able to take the time to admire you, all thoughts of work fading from his head at the sight of your dress, just past your knees and a faded checker blue, flowing sleeves that went to your elbows for room and of course the ever growing bump.

Your hands were set around it seemingly pouting over something before his words drew you out of your thoughts, “Jungkook, I didn’t realize you were home so early.”

“I have a meeting I have to attend in person later,” Jungkook replied, “You didn’t answer my question.”

There it was again, that small pout he hadn’t realized he missed so much until it dawned your lips once more, “Well…” You seemed a bit hesitant before you spoke, “I gave it some thought- what we talked about a few days ago, about a nursery and I figured you were right. It’s better we be prepared for it then not.”

Jungkook was relieved to hear this because while he was trying his hardest to get something on Wonho, there was a smaller, more selfish part of him that enjoyed this, enjoying having you at his estate.

An even smaller part of him not wanting it to end so soon, he had to let go of you once and no it wasn’t fair, but even there was even the slightest chance…well, he didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers and have to let you go once again.

Jungkook only nodded, “So what's with the look then?”

“Well,” You gave him a sheepish smile, “I had all of this stuff moved out and realized I have nothing to actually put in here…”

Jungkook couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he pushed off the frame stepping into the room, “Hm, that’s a strange way to ask for money.”

“Jungkook I wasn’t-”

“I’m teasing relax,” Jungkook cut you off, your lips tugging even poutier, you had always been like this, since day one in fact, always worried he’d think you were using him for money, always trying to deter him from paying even if you didn’t have the means to actually afford it yourself.

It was sweet, “But you’re also in no position to not accept it and I have more than enough money to afford it- it’s a win win.”

You stared at his outstretched hand, black shiny amex in his hand, “I don’t feel right just using it.”

Jungkook sighed wistfully, “You didn’t seem to feel too guilty helping your brother with rates and statistics for drug sales.”

Your lips parted somewhat in surprise, “That was different…!”

“You’re right,” There it was that stupid teasing, charming smile of his, “It was probably worse.”

You knew he was only teasing, but something about it made you feel gross still, you had a reason you were in that room, a reason that is long gone from you now, “Well it doesn’t matter anymore does it?”

Jungkook paused at the sight of your expression dimming as you continued looking out the open window as your hand absently rubbed your bump, “I haven’t done that for a long time now…”

“Y/n I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” You cut him off softly looking back at him and there was an unmistakable look of regret in his eyes, not wanting to cross any lines with you but you were afraid they already had, “I just…I guess I just have some regrets about getting involved….I never wanted to hurt anyone,” You whispered out, “I had a reason I was there and it had nothing to do with the money...For myself at least.”

Jungkook frowned, there were still so many things he didn’t know about you, your time together having been cut short when you both had first met, “What other reason could there be?”

It was an indirect question, rather than a rhetorical one, you knew what he was asking.

You hesitated, but then again, you supposed it didn’t matter now, it was all in the past, no matter how dull it made your heart ache.

“Well…” You let out a soft sigh, “I’m sure you remember I wasn’t exactly financially stable, and for me that was fine. It was enough,” You nodded to yourself in thought, “It wasn’t much, but it was enough.”

“Until…?”

“I received a phone call,” You mumbled, recalling the event, “A foster agency, telling me that they did a DNA test on one of their cases and it came out as a match on me and my brother. Just a week old, dropped off right outside the police station.”

You had to bite down on your tongue, you had thought you were over it, but it still stung just as raw, “Since we were her only blood family I was given the opportunity to adopt her…” You let out a sigh trying to keep it together, “Except I was too poor, I didn’t even come close to having a qualifying salary to show that I could be responsible for her and take care of her…”

“What about Wonho?” Jungkook cocked his head to the side, baffled at this information.

You let out a loud scoff, bitterness that you had tried so hard to let go of coming back up as you shook your head, “Wonho didn’t give a shit, told me that it wasn’t our problem but I struck a deal with him, if I helped him up until his annual evaluation with you for his first year of work, he’d help me get the expenses that were required to foster her.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he shook his head, “And?”

There it was, that little niggle in your head that was angry about it all, angry at Wonho, angry at yourself, especially at Jungkook, “Well all of it fell apart. Very quickly, one thing after the other. I mean obviously you dropped off the face of the planet for months so Wonho wasn’t making money- I got let go of my job because of the murder- everything went void.”

Jungkook looked away with a long inhale as if he had been mentally prepared for the moment you’d finally cave and say it, but it wasn’t as if you were wrong, you were simply stating a fact, he completely ghosted you and civilization as everyone knew it and just like that, he had left your life as quick as he entered.

It was difficult to not be angry about it when he was the one that convinced you that the very thing you were afraid of wouldn’t happen, just for a few short months later, let it happen. And you were sure he had his reasons, you were certain of it, but it didn’t change the fact that he left you with little to no explanation and just like that, never bothered to come back, didn’t even so much as send a letter, a proper apology, nothing.

“I’ve…” Jungkook’s eyes squinted on the ground, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, about what happened.”

You shook your head, “Jungkook, it’s been two years,” Your voice softened, his eyes glancing up to meet yours and once again you felt the dull ache that never went away, “I shouldn’t of brought it up, I’m sorry…it’s in the past now, life went on.”

“Well it didn’t for me.” Jungkook let out a small breath and you could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Your lips quivered a little, “Do you have any right to say that?”

“Probably not,” When did he get this close to you, “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

Old feelings were like a dam bursting inside you and you began to shake your head, “I’m not ready to talk about this Jungkook- can’t we just keep pretending like nothing happened?”

Jungkook shook his head, “We’ve both tried this and neither of us are good at it Y/n, I can’t, not when I have a second chance.”

You raised your brows, “No! No this is…” You took an immediate step back, “This is not what this is Jungkook, what happened is over. I’m only staying here because Wonho has a target on his back and you were kind enough to keep me out of the crossfire.”

“Maybe that’s how it started out,” Jungkook replied just as quick, taking another step closer to you, “Look…I know it’s not fair,” He frowned, as if he hated saying it, “I had every intention to stay out of your life, it wasn’t fair to drag you along back then and that’s why I didn’t, but…You’re here now, right in front of me. So yes…I do see it as a second chance, and if there’s any way I can make it right, I will.”

You groaned, “It’s not just making it right anymore!” You wanted to scream! “I have baggage now Jungkook!” Your eyes threatened to water as your hands dropped from your stomach, “A lot of it. It’s not just me anymore I’m getting ready to have a baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking for.” Jungkook sharply replied, eyes brewing with anger, “And what I’m asking for is you, all of you.”

“You had your chance and you left me, plain and simple, you left. I don’t understand why now…Out of all the time, two years later, now…!?” You hadn’t meant to raise your voice, but you were angry, perplexed, scared.

Scared just the way you were when he was upfront the first time in that stupid bakery you wanted nothing more then to pretend like didn’t happen, you wanted to pretend like you never got drunk at that stupid bar, that he wasn’t late that day, that he didn’t sat down and offer to pay for your meal for making you wait.

You wanted to pretend like he had actually listened for once when you declined him asking you out, that he didn’t visit you every morning at work, and more then anything you wanted to pretend like you had a stronger will, that you didn’t let him convince, your mind was flooding with so many memories of him.

His hand trailing down your thigh while drunk in the back of his car, his eyes when he saw the bust in your lip, his smile when your fingers intertwined with his, his skin etched into yours for the first time, ushered sweet nothings that he’d love you forever.

But at the time you didn’t realize that forever would only be a short three months then just like that, it was over, and oftentimes you were left many sleepless nights wondering, was it even love? Everything had happened so fast, it felt like forever.

But two years later, standing in front of him you realized it had been two agonizingly long years since you saw him in person.

“I made a choice,” Jungkook defended himself, “I stuck to that choice…I was leaving you alone, even if I didn’t want to and then…” He ran a hand through his hair, revealing his face in full detail his eyes baffled as if trying to understand himself, “Suddenly one night you’re dropped in the middle of my office. I didn’t have any pretenses, I was just being nice letting you stay here, I had fond memories of our time together, I didn’t want to let you get caught in the crossfire- it was the least I could do after everything.”

You crossed your arms as he continued, “And then…I don’t know,” He muttered, “I look at you, I see your smile, I see you standing here pouting and trying to do it all yourself, like you always tried to do. And suddenly it’s two years ago and we’re both drunk sitting at the bar talking about what it would be like to be in love. And I feel the exact same way I did back then, looking at you and wondering if maybe I had finally found it.”

You felt physically sick, it was like he was intentionally wanting to break your heart all over again, “You sent them to raid my home, you can’t tell me this wasn’t planned…”

“I didn’t expect them to fuckin’ kidnap you Y/n!” Jungkook let out a hurt laugh, running his hand through his hair, “In fact I gave them direct instruction to do the shakedown while you were at work and to not destroy your apartment- you were supposed to be at work!”

“Well I wasn’t!” You shouted back, “I wasn’t feeling well and my coworker offered to cover! You can’t do this to me! You can’t, not after all this time…” You voice died down, “You can’t just…open all of this back up as a second chance because you’re feeling nostalgic over a fling-”

“You were never a fling to me-”

“That’s how I felt after you left-” You suddenly winced, hand immediately pressing to your stomach, instinctual almost despite the pain coming from your chest, Jungkook’s eyes immediately widening and he had closed the small gap between you both.

“Let’s get you sat down…” Jungkook murmured and you couldn’t help but stare at his hand, big and calloused, multiple rings just the way you remembered, pressed against your bump and a wave of intense sadness thrummed in your heart, what you’d give to go back and change everything.

You were too tired to fight his touch, and a smaller part of you crying– begging inside your mind to just give in, to put your worries aside and roll the dice again, maybe he’d actually keep his promise this time.

But you refrained from leaning against him too much as he sat you down on the bed in your room, phone immediately in hand as he called Doctor Choi, after hanging up the air was thick with a silence and tension.

Jungkook sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, “...If you don’t wanna talk about it, we won’t. I don’t want you going into preterm…But…I want you to know I didn’t make that decision because I wanted to, and I didn’t do it easily either.”

You self soothed, rubbing your tummy as your eyes closed, “I know you didn’t. At least that's what I told myself the last few years, that surely there was a really good reason…And you wanna know the worst part Jungkook?” You whispered, sad eyes as you opened them to look at him, “I waited…I waited every day, sat at that stupid register hoping you’d come, even after Wonho stopped talking to me I went to the Red Light anyways, hoped maybe you’d be there. There wasn’t a day I didn’t check my phone only to be disappointed by your name not being on the screen…”

It was silent again before you tried to hold back your tears, “You broke my heart. Right in two, promised you wouldn’t leave me, and then you did. And now you’re asking me for another chance?”

You said you wouldn’t cry, but here you were softly weeping in your bed, feeling like a child once again, helpless and wondering why no matter how hard you tried, nobody ever stayed, you had thought he was different, but it turned out he was just like the rest.

Jungkook’s hands cupped your cheeks, thumbing the tears away as he pressed his forehead down to yours, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” He murmured, “I’m just as much a sinner as anyone else, I’m ill-tempered and cruel, I’ve killed a lot more people then you could ever imagine, but most of all Y/n, I’m selfish, I’m not really a good man. But I could be good, for you.”

“You don’t know how bad I really want to believe you,” You whispered out, “But I had so long to think about it, to look back and realize I know nothing about you. It was my own fault really, you’re not a good man and I knew that back then, just like I know it right now.”

“I know I hurt you,” Jungkook had a sort of determination in his eye, the kind that you knew was unwavering, he meant every word he was saying, “But there hasn’t been a day I wished it could be different. I’ll do whatever is necessary to earn your trust again.”

You pressed your lips together for a long moment, “I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but you have a long way to go if you really want it.”

Jungkook’s long slim finger traced down your jawline, “I’ll take it one day at a time, just like the first time.”

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #mafia bts #mafia jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts au

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cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

Text

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 2

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

"Ghost, Radio Check Please" you engineer says as you pull from the pits.

You hadn't got a win yet, of course you'd had many podiums. Some even last year when you were with Alpine, more this year with Red Bull.

You wanted the win, even though it meant showing who you were and that came with a price, you felt ready. You just needed a reason to come forward with it.

However, even with Oscar's assuring words earlier in the day your P15 start because of the way qually went for you didn't feel like a win was applicable.

"Check" you say before driving out of the pits and into P15 behind Sargent and in front of Tsunoda. You really though that today might be the day and it would have been iconic it being your home Grand Prix and all. But it just didn't look possible when you weren't even in the middle sector of the grid.

You released a big breath as the red lights went out, you dived forward taking over Sargent gaining one place. Esteban who was ahead of him, seeing your Red Bull immediately forgot about Stroll ahead of him and starting defending against you.

For the first 14 laps, in your sector there weren't many changes in positions. Up ahead you had no idea what the grid looked like. But nothing much had changed behind you.

It wasn't until you could feel your tires both getting warn out and starting to struggle with the typical UK drizzle that was upon the race.

"Need to pit soon, cars getting harder to manage with the rain" you admit, knowing that the pit crew already probably have the intermediate tires ready for you.

"Pit on the next lap. Max will pit after you" he advises. However as your coming into the pits, you can see that Vertsappens Red Bull is currently there having its tires changed.

"What the fuck is going on?" you ask pulling up behind Max just as he leaves making you pull forward.

"Copy" is all you get and you let out a frustrated sound that was between a yell and a grunt.

Red Bull made up for it with an exceptionally quick stop for you and you got out on the track again. Luckily, others had pitted as well due to the weather conditions, so you came back out in P15.

"Look, I'm sorry about the incident Christian and the strategists are looking into it but there something I got to ask you, because clearly these methods are no longer working!" you hear you engineer say, you ignore him for a split second taking the corner before you throw back your moody reply.

"What?"

"Who runs the world?" he asks and a smirks comes onto your face. Lewis may have hammer time, but boy oh boy...

"Girls, John, Girls run this mother fucker" you shout into the radio before breaking late and overtaking Lance who was the unfortunate soul currently trying to defend from your driving.

You gain further up, Ocon ahead of you.

"Gap to Ocon?" you ask.

"0.3" you hear, you drive up so your behind him, you swerve the tiniest bit right, he does the same making for a accelerated swerve from you to the left and a clean move up to P12. And just like that you started combing through the grid, Hulkenberg, Gasly, Alonso, Albon, Russell, Sainz and Leclerc all got combed through until you were sitting sweetly in P5, Max, Lando, Lewis and Piastri just ahead.

"Lewis and Piastri are ahead. Fighting for P3, if you catch them both by surprise thats a podium. Gap is 1.2 seconds. Increase on Sector 2"

"Copy that" you say, both the McLaren and Mercedes drivers once you get closer to them are dancing around each other slipping in and out of P3.

"Like two ostriches doing a tango up ahead John" you laugh into the radio.

Just as you manage to overtake the two distracted drivers down the small straight John comes back onto the radio.

"Max has damage to his car. He had to come pit and he's currently P9. You can win this, go prove Beyonce right" he says, this was all you needed. You were currently P2, Lando the only driver ahead of you and thanks to the straight a significant gap had been created between you and Lewis and Oscar.

"Distance to Lando"

"2.4 seconds, speed up that Sector 3 now and you've got him. He's on the newer tires but you can get him. Bring it home" he tells you and you go very serious. No thoughts just the track, you catch up to Lando within a lap, fighting with him for P1.

"Max has climbed back, he's P5 and Oscars trying to defend" you engineer says, you didn't currently care about how close Max was to you, just getting that stream on Lando that would get you the overtake.

SKYSPORTS LIVE: David Croft- Can i just say Martin todays race has been one of the best of the season, for some reason we haven't been allowed to aire the radio between Ghost and his engineer but whatever was said... he's had an amazing drive today, going from P15 all the way to P2 and potentially P1 depending how Norris actually ends up defending against him. Its just been tremendous Martin Bundle- Yes its been amazing from Ghost's comeback to, Lewis a 7 time world champ struggling to overtake and defend the current rookie on the grid, to Max Verstappen reporting car issues, to the lack of DNF's we've had here today at Silverstone David Coft- Oh my lord whats this? He's going for the overtake

Lando goes too wide, his wheel clipping against the track edging making you be able to accelerate past as he struggles to re-gain control.

You manage to get a good gap ahead around corners that prove difficult for the McLaren now behind you.

"One lap Ghost, hold" John advizes and you keep driving, the last lap feeling like a cool down, the sweat drenching all around you due to the panic and sheer oomph of the driving conducted today.

SKYSPORTS LIVE: David Croft- AND WITH THAT FOLKS, WE HAVE THE FIRST WIN FROM GHOST WINNER OF THE SILVERSTONE 2023 GRAND PRIX, LANDO NORRIS BEHIND HIM AND OH MY GOSH A LAST MINUTE OVERTAKE FROM HAMILTON MEANING A TRIPLE PODIUM HERE FOR BRITAIN! Martin Bundle- What a day here at Silverstone, and now three brits are on the podium at their home race

You took yourself out the car, handing the wheel to a Red Bull member before pulling yourself with the halo to stand on the front of the car. John and a few other members pull you down to celebrate with them, before you are ushered off to be weighed.

The cool down room was awkward as you could never speak to the people in there, so you would shake hands before excusing yourself. You took the balaclava off, before tucking your hair in and placing your helmet back over your head.

Now it was time for the podium! Your first winning trophy and you couldn't be more excited, nothing could bring down you mood!

Or so you thought.

You went onto the stage, knowing this was the reveal. You and Christian had spoken about it, knowing your first win was inevitable.

"Today has been a historic day at Silverstone. Not only do we have three Brits standing proud on their home podium, we've had one of the biggest comeback of the year today, despite the mistimed pitstops and the weather, he has pulled his first win out of the bag!" an announcer says coming onto the stage.

"Before we go any further Christian Horner would like to say a few words" an announcer admits, Lewis and Lando turn to you excited to finally see the person behind the helmet. Lando had this running joke that you must be obscenely ugly which is why the helmet is kept on because 'Ghost' is intimidated by him and all the other attractive faces present on the grid.

"Hello everyone. Today doesn't just mark historic reasons for the ones just said. Ghost joined us at the end of the 2022 season when we brought them out of their 2 year contract with Alpine, there was ability and promise there that the team didn't want to both miss out on or go to an enemy team and become a menace on the grid. However, Alpine let a few of us at Red Bull in on Ghost's little secret and to say we were excited was an understatement. This year they have proved their worth and i cant wait for their future at Red Bull. That being said, i think its about time i introduce you to Ghost" he says gesturing towards you.

"This is Y/N Y/L/N" he shouts as you take of the helmet displaying your face to the world. Not only could gasps be heard from the drivers right next to you but from the whole crowd not expecting this outcome.

Lando was in a state of shock, he didn't know what would unveil from that helmet but Oscars longtime crush Y/N Y/L/N the sweet Social Media Manager for Ghost was not one of them.

He was confused at how she had managed to pull of this double life, but ultimately was so happy. This was an important day for her, being the first female to ever win a F1 race.

His eyes flicked down to Oscar in the McLaren section as he'd promised to come watch his best friends win, even if he wasn't up there with him. Lando's gaze met his and there were too many emotions upon the usually chill and placid male that he couldn't dechiper what he was feeling.

There was anger, sadness, frustration, betrayal. And he could have sworn, there were a couple of tears brimming the edges. Lewis had you pulled into a hug right now, congratulating you for everything you've achieved up until now, as all of your achievements were bigger and meant more.

As you went to turn to Lando to pull him into a hug, seeing as you guys were friends as yourself, but seeing his gaze fixed on Oscar a feeling of hurt formed in your chest. His gaze locked onto you and the force of his anger and betrayal could have knocked you back.

He ran off into the crowd back towards the paddock, you wanted to go follow but Lando shook his head. As much as this had hurt Oscar, you deserved to enjoy this moment.

But knowing you'd hurt Oscar, you didn't enjoy a single moment.

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri x reader

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