#like considering he's ever done it before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mythicalmaven · 2 days ago

Note

Helloooo love, could I have nr 1, 13, 23(reader) and 28 with Daniel ricciardo?🤍 so needy for him

Forbidden - Daniel Ricciardo (requested)

As requested: a Daniel Ricciardo fanfic with a few prompts from the list! It's my first Ricciardo fanfic, so I hope I wrote it like you hoped lol :) It turned out a little longer than I expected, but I honestly like how it turned out! (I didn't proofread it, so excuse any mistakes lol)

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: daniel ricciardo x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 7,7K ↳prompts used: 1 - 'Use my thigh", 13 - "You're fucking soaked". 23 - "I..Uh.." - "I have never done this before" & 28 "We shouldn't do this" ↳warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, age gap (8 years), kissing, alcohol, drunk, explicit sexual content, 18+ (MDNI!), jealousy, sexual tension ↳summary: In which it's 2017 and Max Verstappen's twin sister gets a little too involved with her brothers teammate

You honestly had no idea how you'd come up with the not-so-clever idea of getting wasted in a Monaco nightclub, but right now, you couldn’t care less. The music thumped through the room, blending with the haze of alcohol and dim, colorful lights, and a certain curly-haired Australian who had slipped off to the bar for another drink lingered in your mind.

As the beat softened into something deeper, sultrier, you found yourself moving with Carlos once more. His hands rested casually on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress as you swayed together. Ever since your twin, Max, joined the Formula 1 grid, Carlos had become one of your closest friends.

Carlos leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his voice a low murmur against the music. "So… when are you finally gonna hook up with Danny?"

You scoffed, playfully swatting the back of his head. “Oh, shut up, will you?”

Carlos only grinned, knowing exactly how you felt about Daniel. He'd been trying to push you toward him for ages, but as always, you deflected. “I don’t think Max would be thrilled if I hooked up with his teammate,” you replied, though a part of you knew that wasn’t the real reason you’d been holding back.

Carlos shrugged with a smirk. “Did you forget how convinced Max was that we were hooking up back at Toro Rosso? He didn’t seem too bothered by that idea, did he?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you swayed in rhythm with him, your fingers linking behind his neck. “Yeah, vividly. But that was different…” You let out a laugh, trying to keep your tone casual. “For one, our age gap was a lot smaller than Daniel and mine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “You’re 20, who cares? Daniel’s 28—it’s not like he’s ancient.”

Sighing, you dropped your forehead against Carlos’s shoulder. “Besides, even if he would consider hooking up with me, he’d probably be disappointed. I’ve never… well, you know. I’ve only gone as far as giving a guy a blowie in a club bathroom, and even that was a drunken disaster. Somehow, I doubt a 28-year-old is looking for a hookup with a 20-year-old virgin.”

Carlos chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “You're really that blind, aren't you? The guy is absolutely head over heels for you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Carlos shifted his grip, spinning you around so your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist to guide your movements. To anyone watching, it looked like a slow grind, intimate and close, even though he left enough space to keep things comfortable.

He steered you both around the dance floor, inching you closer to the bar. “Look at him,” Carlos murmured in your ear, lifting a hand to tilt your chin ever so slightly. “See for yourself.”

Your gaze landed on Daniel, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was, leaning against the bar, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was tight, his lips set in a straight line as he took in every shift of your body against Carlos’s, his gaze dark, brooding, and unmistakably heated. The way his eyes drifted, tracing the curve of your legs, lingering on your hips as they moved, made your heart race. He wasn’t just watching; he was studying, every look brimming with tension and frustration.

Carlos’s laughter hummed against your back, pulling you out of your trance. “The guy’s been staring daggers at me since the second we started dancing.”

“No way,” you murmured, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even though your pulse hammered in your ears. “He’s just… looking. Nothing more.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned down to murmur against your ear, “Who are you trying to convince? Me… or yourself?”

“Fuck,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush under Daniel’s gaze, heat spreading through you in a way that felt as dangerous as it was thrilling. “I need more alcohol.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Hours and too many drinks later, you’d long since shed your usual shyness, finding a brazen confidence in the music, the crowd, and the glimmer of alcohol-fueled ease in every movement. The world felt hazy but thrilling, every pulse of the bass reverberating through you as you let yourself sink into the beat.

Carlos watched your transformation, amused at how you threw back shots and laughed a little louder than before. At one point, you looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes bright and mischievous, completely oblivious to the intensity with which a certain Australian had been watching you both.

With a chuckle and a playful push, Carlos nudged you forward, aiming you right in Daniel’s direction. “Go on, dance with him already,” he teased, his smirk saying he knew exactly what he was doing.

You stumbled into Daniel, feeling his hand steady you, his fingers lingering just a second too long as you regained your balance. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Ricciardo,” you quipped, your voice carrying an edge of flirtation that you didn’t usually dare with him.

Daniel’s lips curled into that easy, charming smile, his fingers still on your waist. “Fancy that. You’re looking a little… spirited tonight,” he replied, his eyes raking over you with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something almost hungry that you couldn’t miss, even in your haze. He was trying to play it off, keep things casual, but his gaze lingered just a bit too long, drawn to the curve of your hips, the dip of your collarbone, and the dress that had ridden up just enough to reveal more of your thigh.

“Oh yeah?” you leaned in close, fingers grazing up his arm, catching the way his eyes followed every movement. “What do you mean, ‘spirited?’” You were close enough to catch the hint of his cologne, something warm and subtly spicy, like he was, and it made you feel just a little bolder.

Daniel chuckled, but his fingers tightened slightly at your waist as if grounding himself. “Just saying,” he replied, “I don’t usually see you dancing like that.” His eyes sparkled with a mix of fondness and something a little more conflicted. He was trying so hard to keep things cool, but you could tell he was affected. “Especially with Carlos. Didn’t know he was your type.”

You laughed, moving your body a little closer to his, playfully ignoring the tension that brewed between you. “Carlos? Nah. He’s more like… a dance partner for the night. Besides,” you added, looking up at him through your lashes, “I think my type is just a little taller… curly hair.. and definitely Australian.”

A flicker of something like surprise crossed his face, his eyes briefly widening before he collected himself. He swallowed, looking away, almost as if to compose himself. “Is that so?” he murmured, his fingers curling at your waist, his voice low.

Just then, the music changed to something slower, a sensual rhythm that had you pressing a little closer against him. Daniel’s hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his heartbeat thrumming fast under your hands as you settled into a rhythm together. You let your body sway, your hips pressing against him as his hands guided you, holding you steady and closer than he should.

“Gotta stop moving like that,” he mumbled, his voice tight, a strained note of amusement as he tried to mask how breathless he sounded.

You looked up at him with a smirk. “Why?” you asked, feigning innocence, though the mischievous gleam in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.

He swallowed, his gaze darkening as his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against him. The movement brought you closer than before, and in that instant, you felt him—hard, pressing against you through his jeans, undeniable and unrestrained. A thrill shot through you as your eyes met his, your gaze drifting downward for a fleeting second, then back up to find his expression transformed, conflicted and charged. His voice was rough, edged with that undeniable tension. “You know very well why,” he murmured, his tone thick with barely restrained desire and frustration, his fingers gripping your waist as if to hold himself back.

Your lips parted in surprise, but you didn't move away. Instead, you let a slow smile spread across your face, your body swaying against him just enough to deepen his predicament. Daniel’s jaw clenched, his gaze darting down to where your bodies pressed together, his expression shifting between longing and resistance, the internal battle clear as he tried to keep himself grounded, even as you blurred every boundary between you.

You felt the heat radiating off him, the subtle hitch in his breathing, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your waist.

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Hours later, you stumbled out of the bathroom, trying to make your way back to the dance floor but feeling far less coordinated than before. The world tilted slightly as you bumped into a table, a stray chair, and even a few club-goers who offered you amused or annoyed glances.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling,” came a familiar voice from behind, warm and steady. Before you could turn, a hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you, and the familiar scent of Daniel surrounded you, grounding you.

You turned to him with an exaggerated pout, his arm still holding you up. “I… I’m definitely… not,” you managed, words slightly slurred as you tried to shake off his grip, failing miserably. He chuckled softly, clearly amused.

Daniel’s gaze softened, his eyes roaming over you with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. Your dress had shifted, one strap sliding off your shoulder, the hem hitching up to reveal more skin than you intended. He took in the sight, pausing for just a moment too long before swallowing hard and composing himself.

“Let’s get you sorted out here,” he murmured, reaching to fix your dress. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, grazing your skin, and he swallowed hard, the gentle touches sending a thrill through you. His hands moved lower, trying to straighten the hem, and his fingers brushed over the curve of your thigh, a touch that made you let out a soft, involuntary whimper. His eyes darkened, and he hesitated, looking like he wanted to pull away but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

“Mm… feels nice,” you murmured, leaning into his touch, your gaze half-lidded as you looked up at him, lips parted slightly. You noticed how he tensed, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling to resist.

“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a little rough. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

He led you through the club, supporting you with one arm wrapped securely around you. As you stumbled along, your hand brushed over his chest, lingering a little longer than necessary, your fingers tracing small patterns as you walked. He glanced down, swallowing, his throat bobbing as he tried to keep his focus. Along the way, you nearly collided with Max, who took one look at you and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm bringing your sister back to the hotel," Daniel explained, nodding toward you with a hint of amusement. "She’s absolutely hammered."

Max smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Daniel. "You sure? I can take her back if you’d rather stay. I know she can’t hold her liquor."

“Hey!” you interjected, stumbling slightly as you tried to regain your balance, waving off your brother with a slurred, “I-Ik ben niet eens d-dronken…” (I’m not even drunk). You gave him a half-hearted glare, rolling your eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

Daniel glanced at Max with a small, amused shake of his head. “I have no clue what she just said, but don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he reassured him. “I was planning to head home anyway, and besides,” he added with a smile, “our apartments are in the same building anyway, so it's no hassle”

Max nodded, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before turning back to Daniel. "Alright, mate. Get her home safe."

With that, Max watched as Daniel guided you gently but firmly toward the exit, his grip steadying you as you leaned against him, too tipsy to resist.

When you reached the curb, he helped you into a cab, sliding in beside you. You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder, your hand slipping to rest on his thigh, your fingers drifting ever so slightly higher, sending a rush of heat through him.

“You’re drunk,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, trying to keep his breathing even.

You looked up at him with a playful, tipsy grin, fingers tracing the fabric of his jeans. “So?”

He bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against his own desires, his hand covering yours to stop its teasing ascent. He’d never seen you this forward, this flirtatious, and though it thrilled him, it terrified him all the same. The line between you had always been thin, but tonight, with every touch, every brush of your skin against his, you were slowly erasing it.

When you arrived at the apartment building, you had began starting to sober up a tiny little bit. Still wasted obviously, but it seems as if you had a little bit more control over your own actions.

As you fumbled through your purse, your expression shifted from confidence to frustration as you realized your keys weren’t there.

“I… I had them,” you muttered, searching again, only for the reality to settle in. “I must’ve left them with Carlos or Max.”

You looked up at Daniel with a mischievous glint in your eyes, swaying slightly on your feet. “Guess that means I’m staying with you?”

Daniel hesitated, his resolve weakening as he searched your face, taking in the way your lips quirked in that daring, flirtatious smile. He was already in too deep, the familiar ache in his chest too hard to ignore. After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, offering a small, reluctant smile as he nodded.

“Yeah, alright,” he said softly, his hand brushing over your back as he guided you inside. “But you’ve gotta promise me you’ll go straight to bed.”

You leaned in, closer than necessary, your breath warm against his cheek. “We’ll see about that,” you murmured playfully, sending one last spark of heat through him as he led you toward his apartment, both of you caught in a delicate balance of desire, restraint, and the thrill of the unspoken between you.

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Daniel led you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool by the bar, gesturing for you to sit. But you had other ideas. Following him over to the sink, you leaned back against the counter, lifting yourself up onto it. Your dress slid up as you settled, exposing nearly everything to anyone watching.

Daniel turned off the tap, glass in hand, and was about to pass it to you when he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed over your bare thighs, and his breath hitched, eyes widening as he muttered, “Fuck.” His eyes lingered, and he dared to glance lower, noticing the smallest glimpse of black lace between your slightly parted legs.

Swallowing hard, he gripped the counter edge, his knuckles whitening as he fought the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, his lips already tingling with the desire to claim yours. Forcing himself to look away, he pressed the glass into your hand, his voice husky and tight. “Drink this. It'll help,” he murmured, barely able to keep his composure. “I’ll… I’ll go grab a shirt for you. So you don’t have to sleep in that dress.”

You downed the water in one swift gulp, letting your gaze drift back to him. The proximity hit you both, close enough for you to see the tension in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But what captured your attention most was the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric, betraying the restraint he tried so hard to maintain.

A slow smirk crept across your lips as you reached out, letting your fingers graze his arm, traveling in a slow, tantalizing path up to his shoulder, then down his chest, inching ever closer to his belt. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. “We… we shouldn’t do this,” he muttered, voice low and rough as he gently pushed your hand away, though his touch lingered just a second too long, his resolve wavering.

Undeterred, you hopped down from the counter, stepping forward until there was barely any space left between you. Confidence you hadn’t realized you possessed surged through you, and you reached out, cupping him through his jeans. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of your touch.

Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whispered, your voice a hushed, sultry tease, “That’s what you say… but your body’s telling me something else entirely.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Daniel forced himself to gather every shred of self-control he could muster, putting a few steps of distance between you before he turned on his heel, heading to his bedroom to grab a shirt from the closet. His mind raced as he moved. He wanted you—God, he wanted you more than anything—but he knew you were drunk, teetering on that edge where even a soft touch or glance was hazy with the thrill of it all. And as much as he ached to feel your lips on his, to let every longing he’d harbored for so long finally spill over, he didn’t want to take advantage of your current state.

Yet, you were making it damn near impossible to keep his composure. Every touch, every glance, every whisper made his restraint crumble bit by bit, leaving him clinging to the last threads of resolve.

When he made his way to the bathroom with the shirt in hand, he stopped in the doorway, noticing you struggling with the zipper of your dress, your back turned to him. The zipper was halfway down, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of your bare skin, and his heart pounded harder, fighting between propriety and desire.

“Danny, can you help me with the zipper, please?” Your voice was soft, but the note of longing was unmistakable, each word sparking something primal within him.

He hesitated, but before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, leaving the shirt on the sink, and positioned himself behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the zipper, feeling the warmth radiating off you. You shivered at his touch, a soft, involuntary whimper escaping your lips that sent a jolt through him. He dragged the zipper down slowly, his fingers grazing your skin, unable to resist lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Once the zipper was down, you slipped the straps off your shoulders, the dress falling effortlessly down your frame, pooling at your feet. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in, standing before him in nothing but your black lace lingerie. He clenched his jaw, feeling a wave of heat course through him, the last of his rationality slipping as his eyes traced over every curve, every inch of you laid bare.

You turned to face him, the look in your eyes a mixture of vulnerability and desire, a silent plea that tugged at the very core of him. Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you held his gaze. “Kiss me, Daniel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, desperate invitation.

It was all he needed. His restraint finally shattered, and he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers threading through your hair as he captured your lips in a kiss that was fierce, urgent, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing he’d been holding back. You melted into him, pressing closer, every brush of his lips igniting sparks that spread through your body.

His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you onto the countertop of the bathroom sink. He stepped between your legs, his body pressing firmly against yours, grounding you in the heat and solidity of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The slight tug on his hair drew a low, guttural moan from him, his chest heaving as he leaned into you, lost in the feel of you against him.

His hands roamed over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped against his mouth, a sound that turned into a soft moan, each note pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring, tasting, savoring every second. You could taste the hint of whiskey on his lips, warm and heady, mingling with his natural, intoxicating flavor. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Daniel pulled you closer, his grip tightening as you felt his hardness pressing against you, undeniable, unmistakable. The sensation made you dizzy, your entire body responding to him, the ache between your thighs intensifying as you instinctively rocked your hips against him. His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, unrestrained groan, his head dipping to press heated, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. His lips left a trail of warmth, each kiss setting your skin alight, making you ache for more.

“Daniel,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper, breathless as you held him closer, “I need… I…”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with a barely contained fire. “Use my thigh, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, encouraging you, his words laced with both restraint and indulgence. The suggestion was almost too much, the heat in his eyes spurring you on, each word sending another pulse of arousal through you.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting your hips to grind against his thigh, a soft moan slipping from your lips as you felt the friction, your panties already damp against his jeans. Daniel’s hands gripped your waist, guiding you, his own breath coming faster as he watched, the sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure unraveling him bit by bit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands urging you to move, encouraging every motion. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he spoke, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

“Seeing you with Carlos tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Every word, every touch, every heated gaze pushed you further, his encouragement spurring you on as you moved against him, feeling the delicious friction, the warmth spreading through you as you both succumbed to the intoxicating pull of each other.

Daniel’s breathing grew ragged as he watched you move against his thigh, each roll of your hips sending a wave of heat through him. The way you looked at him, with that mixture of need and adoration, was undoing him in the best possible way.

Your breathing came in shallow, needy gasps as you looked up at him, eyes heavy with desire. “God, Daniel… you have no idea how good you look right now,” you murmured, your voice thick with arousal.

Your soft moans and whispered praises only fueled him more, each one pushing him to explore, to give you everything you were craving. His gaze darkening even more as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire and affection into it.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid you back a little on the counter, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You gasped as his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch light but electrifying, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours as if asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, your breath catching as his hand slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing over you, his touch igniting every nerve ending. His breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were, a low groan escaping his lips as he murmured, “God, you’re soaked.”

The words sent a thrill through you, making you arch into his touch, craving more. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring and teasing, drawing out your reactions, each moan and gasp fueling his own desire “The way you make me feel… God, it’s like you know exactly what I need.”

Your words lit a fire in him, a spark that deepened the hunger in his gaze as he pulled you closer. His lips curved into a smirk, fingers dipping lower as he murmured, “Yeah? I think I could get used to hearing that.”

He watched you intently, captivated by every expression, every sound that escaped your lips as he continued, building the tension higher with each movement.

You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as his fingers moved with perfect rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He whispered soft words of encouragement, his voice low and full of affection. “That’s it, love… you’re doing so well. Let go for me,” he murmured, his tone both comforting and enticing.

And then, as his touch pushed you over the edge, a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you, and you cried out his name, your body shuddering as he held you through it, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once you came down from your high, your hand started making their way to Daniel's jeans, intending to return the favor, yet your movements where halted once again by his fingers around your wrist "I won't be able to hold back if you continue" he mumbled, his lips pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck.

"Maybe that's the point" you whispered seductively.

He shook his head "As much as I would love to, I'm not sleeping with you while you're drunk" he whispered as he pressed one last kiss against your cheek, before he pulled away, grabbing the shirt that was still on the sink with his free hand, assisting you to pull it over your head "We'll talk about it tomorrow, and then we'll see"

As if the post orgasm haze started to kick in, you felt yourself getting tired, giving yourself over to the Australian driver as he carefully lifted you off of the sink and carried you over to his bedroom, placing you down onto it.

He was intending to get up and sleep on the couch, just in case you wouldn't remember things tomorrow, or worse, remember it, but regretting things. But the soft plea that left your lips stopped him in his tracks "Please, stay with me?"

It was as if his legs moved on their own accord, slipping into the bed next to you, feeling you crawl into his arms, your head resting on his chest. Once he noticed you were sound asleep, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and send Max a quick text:

Daniel: Your sister is sound asleep btw, she's crashing here, since she apparently forgot her keys or something.

Max: Figured as much indeed, Carlos came over and handed me her keys, said she forgot to take them before she left. Max: Thanks for letting me know, I'll torture her tomorrow about her headache ;)

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

As the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred, feeling the gentle warmth touch your skin as you blinked awake. It took a moment to piece things together, the room unfamiliar, the quiet hum of an unfamiliar space settling around you. When realization dawned, it hit all at once. This wasn’t your apartment—this was Daniel’s.

Your eyes widened, and you scanned the room, momentarily panicked. But the bed beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch, which brought a small wave of relief. Sitting up slowly, you took a breath, glancing down to see yourself dressed in one of Daniel’s shirts. The soft fabric brushed your skin, and you realized, with a sudden blush, that you were only in his shirt and your lingerie.

Heart pounding, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to clear the fog of last night’s hazy memories. The details were elusive, flashes of warmth, laughter, and maybe… something more. You felt oddly refreshed, but the lack of clarity gnawed at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to find him, needing some answers.

Moving carefully down the hallway, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping to splash some water on your face, collect yourself before facing him. You twisted the doorknob, assuming the room would be empty. Instead, steam filled the space, and you froze, the faint outline of a figure behind the frosted shower door capturing your attention.

Your gaze locked on the silhouette, recognizing Daniel immediately—the shape of his shoulders, the familiar line of his back. A rush of heat flooded through you, your mind replaying a rush of emotions from last night, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to banish the sudden surge of desire. You knew you should turn around, slip out quietly, but you were rooted to the spot, utterly transfixed.

Before you could retreat, Daniel turned off the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it low around his waist before stepping out. His gaze landed on you, his mouth curving into a smirk, droplets still trailing down his chest and abs. His dark hair was wet, small drops sliding from his curls, and the steam radiated off his skin, casting him in a hazy glow.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, his voice a rich, low rumble, his signature smirk making your pulse race. “If you wanted to see me naked this bad, all you had to do was ask. No need to sneak up on me.” His tone was teasing, though his gaze held a hint of something deeper, something almost daring you to respond.

Your cheeks flushed, and you raised your hands to cover your face. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and that same lingering heat from last night.

You heard him chuckle softly, and when you dared to peek through your fingers, he’d already dried off and slipped into a shirt and a pair of boxers. He stepped closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face, his expression softened, a trace of warmth in his morning-rough voice. “No need to be so shy, darling,” he murmured, the words filled with a quiet affection that sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, unable to ignore how close he was, feeling both relieved and oddly disappointed that he was now dressed. You couldn’t deny how good he looked, fresh out of the shower, the lingering scent of soap and warmth filling the space between you.

But the question weighed on your mind, and finally, you managed to ask, “Please tell me we didn’t…?”

Daniel’s gaze softened further, his eyes flickering with an understanding smile as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, letting it linger for just a moment before he replied. “If we slept together? No, we didn’t.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out in relief. Before you could fully process it, though, Daniel added, “But I’m also not gonna pretend that you didn’t try to… and I’m definitely not going to act like nothing else happened.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch, a wave of both nerves and arousal coursing through you. “Oh God,” you mumbled, lifting yourself onto the countertop by the sink, feeling a little dizzy, staring at the floor as you tried to piece together what he meant. “What did I make you do?”

Daniel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze steady and entirely too knowing as he took in the expression on your face. “You didn’t make me do anything, darling,” he said softly, his tone gentle yet firm. “It takes two to tango.”

The words lingered in the quiet, settling over you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. He shifted, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Let’s just say… this isn’t the first time you’ve sat on that countertop in the last 24 hours. Although, last night it was for… different reasons.”

As soon as he said it, memories rushed back in vivid, unfiltered flashes—the feel of his hands, the press of his lips, the way he held you as if he’d waited forever to do so. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the weight of those memories flooding you, the reality of what had happened leaving you breathless.

“Oh God,” you murmured, looking down, struggling to meet his eyes. The blush deepened, and you tried to banish the embarrassment, but it was impossible to hide the way your body reacted to just being near him, recalling every detail of last night.

Daniel watched you, his gaze contemplative, and he let out a small sigh, pressing his lips together before speaking. “Look… you were drunk. I’d had a bit to drink too. I understand if you regret it” His voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension underneath, as if he was holding something back.

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words. "Yeah, about that.." you said, taking a deep breath before continuing "There might be a slight problem to that"

Daniel studied the way you were acting, unsure of what to expect “We can pretend it didn’t happen, if that’s what you want. That's no problem” he offered, though his tone held a hint of something unresolved, something unsaid.

Finally, you looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, the sincerity in your expression clear. “Well… I guess the problem is that..” you whispered, voice barely audible at first, but then you gathered your courage and continued, “I don’t regret it, Daniel… not at all.”

The words hung in the air between you, thickening the silence, every hidden feeling and unspoken desire now out in the open. His eyes widened slightly, the guarded expression slipping as something raw and vulnerable crossed his face.

Daniel's eyes softened at your words, the vulnerable confession drawing him closer, dissolving any remaining space between you. He stepped forward, situating himself between your legs once more, just like he had done last night, but this time you were both sober.

His presence warm and steady, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment. His hands reached up slowly, one gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing a soft line along your skin, the other tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze was deep, intense, and full of affection as he looked into your eyes, his face only inches from yours.

"Good," he whispered, his voice low and tender, “because I don’t regret it either.”

Without another word, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There was no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveyed every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss was soft and careful, full of warmth, each touch of his lips conveying the depth of his feelings as he held you close.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you both shared a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fueled the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, tinged with longing. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers splaying against your skin. The gentle intimacy turned heated, your mouths exploring, tongues teasing as the passion escalated with each passing second. You could feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking the kiss, your lips began to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You could feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you moved lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Each kiss seemed to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leaned into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His pulse thrummed beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

“God, Daniel,” you whispered against his neck, letting your lips brush the words over his skin. “You have no idea how good you look like this… or how good you feel.” Your voice was soft but laced with genuine admiration and a suggestive edge that had his grip on your waist tightening.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his voice thick with need as your words and touch clearly had an effect on him. He tilted his head back, giving you more access, his eyes closing for a moment as he absorbed the sensations.

Your lips brushed his ear, and you could feel him shiver as you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted to feel you… just like this.” Your words spilled out as you continued trailing kisses, his low groan fueling your confidence as you let your hands drift lower.

You let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness. Your hand finally ventured to the waistband of his boxers, and you pressed your palm against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness through the fabric. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushed into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

“God, you feel incredible,” you murmured, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Daniel… wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admitted, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

“Shit… you’re… you’re killing me here,” he managed, his voice a strained whisper as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with unrestrained want. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he lost himself in every touch, every word you murmured against him.

You continued your slow, deliberate movements, letting your fingers trace along his length through the fabric, a satisfied smile crossing your face as he groaned in response, his hips pressing into your hand. “God, you look so good like this,” you breathed, meeting his gaze for a moment, taking in the way his face was flushed, his expression filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

“Keep talking like that, and… fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he rasped, his voice low, rough with need, his hands gripping your hips with more intensity, clearly unable to resist the effect you were having on him.

Emboldened by his reaction, you slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him, and his entire body tensed, a shuddered moan escaping his lips as he exhaled sharply. As you started running your thumb along his length, savoring the way he twitched in your hand, his face contorted with pleasure as he bit his lip.

“God… that feels so good,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roamed up and down your back, and you could feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grew heavier.

Between breaths, you whispered softly in his ear, “I want you, Daniel. All of you.” The words tumbled out, filled with a raw honesty that made him draw back just enough to meet your gaze.

In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed. He laid you gently onto the soft sheets, hovering over you as his lips met yours once more, igniting the same passion that had brought you here. Each kiss was heated and lingering, hands tracing and memorizing every line, every curve, savoring every moment that had led to this.

As his lips left a trail of kisses along your collarbone, your breaths came faster, and the anticipation tightened around you. But then when Daniel started removing your panties, you felt a familiar wave of nerves rise, and your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.

“I… uh…” you began, hesitating, feeling vulnerable but needing him to know. “I’ve never done this before.” The words left you in a shy, almost apologetic murmur, your cheeks heating as you admitted it. You lowered your gaze, fidgeting slightly under his gaze, before adding, “I mean, I’ve done… other things. Just… never got to, well, this part.”

He paused, taking in your words, his expression softening instantly. Cupping your face gently, his thumb brushed along your cheek, his gaze reassuring and kind. “Hey, there’s no pressure here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he whispered, his voice steady, genuine. “We can take it slow. Or… we can keep things just like this.”

You bit your lip, the vulnerability still lingering as you met his gaze. “You’re not… disgusted, or something?” you asked, feeling a wave of self-consciousness bubble up. “I mean, I probably won’t be… any good. You’re… you know…” You trailed off, your face warming as the words left you.

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to kiss you gently, his lips reassuring as he lingered for a moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Disgusted? Not even close,” he murmured, a faint smile on his lips. “And I promise you, that thought never even crossed my mind.” His thumb brushed along your cheek again, his gaze warm and encouraging. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. Not at all.”

You took a steadying breath, feeling his words soothe the nerves that had crept in. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and newfound confidence. “I don’t want to take it slow,” you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper, but the words full of determination. “I want it to be with you, Daniel. I’ve… I’ve thought about this more times than I dare to admit,” you confessed, the warmth of your cheeks betraying the shyness that lingered, but you held his gaze.

His eyes softened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Then I'm all yours,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Without another word, Daniel leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, every ounce of restraint between you both slipping away. His hands roamed up your back, pressing you firmly against him as your bodies melded together, the heat between you palpable. His lips moved over yours with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, each kiss filled with the passion that had built up over all this time, all the unspoken moments leading up to this.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as you felt his quiet groan against your mouth, his own hands exploring your curves, fingers tracing your waist and pulling you flush against him. His body hovered over yours as his gaze met yours, filled with both desire and a lingering tenderness that made your heart race.

His lips found yours again, and you welcomed him with a fervor that matched his own, your mouths moving in perfect sync as the kiss grew deeper, more intense. You could feel his body pressing into yours, the weight of him grounding you, making the moment feel all the more real. His hand traveled down your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he settled between your legs, his hips pressing against yours in a way that made your entire body ache with anticipation, before slowly but surely entering you inch by inch.

Between kisses, his hands caressed every inch of your body, learning and savoring every curve, every response he drew from you. His mouth left a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck, lingering on the sensitive spots that made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued his slow, intoxicating descent. Each kiss, each touch seemed to stir something deeper within you, the desire building to a crescendo with every shared breath.

“Fuck…” you whispered, your voice soft and laced with longing, and he looked up at you, a question in his gaze, waiting for any hint of hesitation.

But you only pulled him closer, guiding him to you as your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He leaned down again, his lips finding yours as the kiss deepened, turning into something that went beyond words—a culmination of everything you’d both been holding back.

In that moment, every barrier fell away, and you lost yourselves in each other, the moment filled with soft murmurs, quiet laughter, and the tender, passionate intimacy you’d both waited far too long to share.

masterlist

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #smut #formula 1 smut #friends to lovers #fluff #redbull #red bull racing #danny ric #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #kissing #making out

189 notes · View notes

rosyhoneydew · 2 hours ago

Text

A quick love letter to my Bucktommy family in the form of a fix-it <3

Bucktommy | fix-it | Teen | 1141 words | warnings: this is angsty at the start and tiptoes toward addressing biphobia so please care for yourself and don't read if that will exacerbate your hurt.

They're three beers deep when the doorbell rings again.

It's been a fucking night. He hadn't really had much to say to Eddie when he got there, thankfully he hadn't had to, especially considering Eddie was clearly in the midst of his own kind of night. It feels better, not being alone, at least. But the alcohol mixes with his head and twists the moment in his apartment further. How come every time I want to move forward I get pushed back?

He's not even paying attention when Eddie goes up to get the door, just fiddles with the bottle in his hand more, peeling the label into tiny pieces and laying them on Eddie's coffee table for him to pick up later.

"Shit-" Eddie stumbles as he makes his way. And then Buck can feel a little breeze as he goes to tell whoever it is that this isn't a good time.

"Oh thank god-" Buck freezes, determined not to turn around. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I think I fucked up."

That's Tommy.

"I panicked a little. Evan asked me to move in and I think I freaked out."

"Uhh-" Eddie adds.

"We just got done talking about my ex who I had to end an engagement with and it just- it felt like he was trying to make up for his own freak out about it and-" Buck hears him take a deep breath, "I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do, you know? He- he should get to make sure that's what he really wants." He takes another breath. "Are you not wearing pants?"

"Umm-"

Buck's heart rate had steadily ramped up hearing Tommy speak, but it's when he stops that Buck feels tears prickle at his eyes. He whips around then, still nestled into Eddie's couch, betrayal in his voice when he speaks.

"I did!" and shit. He didn't really mean to shout that.

"I'm gonna..." Eddie trails off as he heads into his bedroom.

"Why do you think I didn't make sure that's what I wanted?" he demands. He hadn't thought he'd be so angry, but this felt like something to him, and Tommy's running. Again. "Because that girl hit on me at the restaurant?"

Tommy looks shell-shocked. Like he's still grasping the fact that Buck is here, so Buck just keeps talking.

"Or because I haven't dated a man before? So I must not know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Buck-"

"Don't call me that."

"Evan," Tommy steps a little closer, and Buck leans toward the cushions, petty, but feeling raw still. "That is not why."

Buck levels him with a look.

"Okay, what you said is fair enough," he relents. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you couldn't make your own decisions about this."

"What did you mean?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, a flicker of pain on his face.

"I meant... what I said," he lands on. "You would break my heart, Evan."

"You don't know that." The tears finally crest over his lower lids and make their way to his mouth. "You can't just give up every time you're scared that I'm going to leave you, Tommy. It's not fair, you're not even giving me the chance to stay."

Tommy's lip wobbles a little now too, but he stays and listens.

"I wanted to stay, I wanted you to stay. With me. Permanently. Why would you think I would leave you?"

He cries now, and Buck hasn't ever seen him cry.

"I don't know," he gets out, choked and soft. "I see you, sometimes. With the 118 and everyone's families and I... I don't feel like I fit, Evan. I don't get how I fit into that."

"You fit into it because you're my boyfriend. My partner."

"I am?" he asks, treading closer ever slightly to the couch.

This time Buck leans his way. He sets his bottle down and looks down at his hands.

"Did you mean what you told Eddie? You fucked up? Because I fucked up, once, at the beginning of us, and you gave me that second chance and I'm so glad you did, Tommy, because these last few months have been better than I could've hoped. I don't want to let that go because of this so... yeah you can be, if you want."

Tommy rushes to the couch, he sits as close as he can get and grabs Buck's hands firmly. Warm and sure.

"I want that. I want us again. Please."

"You can have it," Buck whispers, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes Tommy's hands. "Just don't leave again, please."

"I won't, I won't."

Then there's a kiss at the crown of his head, and Tommy's other hand rubs soft circles over his back. He murmurs sweet nothings in Buck's ear all the while.

I'm sorry. I'm glad you were here. I missed you as soon as I walked out the door. I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm staying.

They sit like that for a while until a throat clearing from the hallway has them both lifting their heads to find Eddie, fully-clothed.

"What were you guys doing before I got here, by the way?" Tommy asks, humor back in his voice.

"Well, I was drinking my sorrows away. I don't know what Tom Cruise was doing."

"Ha ha," Eddie says, making his way to the couch, no qualms about forcing them to scooch over to make room. "We can talk about my shit tomorrow. You guys worked it out I guess?"

Buck looks up at Tommy, smiles, and kisses him with a loud peck just to make Eddie huff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah," Tommy says, looking at ease. "Although..." he starts.

Buck turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know that moving into your place is going to work," Tommy admits.

Buck sits up a little, mouth just opening to speak when Tommy cuts him off.

"I want to live with you, Evan, but your place is barely big enough for one person, so maybe we can workshop location, yeah?" he smiles a crinkly smile, the kind that always lets Buck know he's feeling fond, feeling secure.

It's Buck's turn to huff now. "It gets good light," he grumbles.

Tommy kisses his temple again, Buck gets the distinct feeling that he will be getting kissed quite a bit in the near future, and he chances a quick look at Eddie to see if they're being annoying.

Instead, he sees Eddie smiling too, he's looking on like he's proud and it makes Buck want to tear up again. Eddie gives him a nod and Buck nods back.

A weight lifts off his shoulders then. In the arms of the man he's growing to love and accepted by his family.

~~~~

I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared my fics, sent me nice messages about my writing for these two, and to everyone who created content for them while they were canon. I'm thankful for every minute of it :)

#I love you guys take care I'm always here to talk #bucktommy #911 abc #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #bucktommy ficlet #tevan #tevan ficlet #my ficlet

191 notes · View notes

seancurry1 · 2 days ago

Text

Remember, Thou Art Barnacle

A serenity prayer for election day.

Originally posted on my website.

The Ann Selzer Iowa poll, regarded as the gold standard in all of political polling, shows Harris is up +3 in a state that Trump won by +8 in 2016 and by +9 in 2020.

And you are a barnacle.

The election better markets have Trump up by +19 (as of noon EST, 11/5/24), and bettors don’t care if people are ashamed to admit who they’re voting for—they’re in it for the money and only the money.

And you are a barnacle.

Mainstream pollsters have admitted to weighting their polls heavily in favor of Trump, to ensure they don’t end up with egg on their face like they did in 2016 and 2020 again. International whales are taking out huge bets in favor of Trump, swinging the markets, and right wing think tanks are flooding the zone with bullshit polls to artificially inflate Trump’s odds in the aggregate. And even if the popular vote is overwhelmingly for Harris, Trump’s team is already laying the narrative groundwork to support a Stop the Steal campaign that, by the time you read this, will likely already have started.

All of that is true.

And you are still a barnacle.

You are not piloting the ship. You are not the captain of the ship. You are not laying out the potential courses the ship could take, you are not deciding which course the ship will take, you are not scouting ahead.

You aren’t even a paying, ticket-holding passenger on the ship. You are a barnacle on the hull, deep underwater, and unfortunately, there isn’t really anything you can individually do to affect where this ship goes. Sorry!

This isn’t an invitation to check out, or become apathetic, or (heaven forbid) embrace doomerism. Quite the opposite: this is a reminder of who you actually are in this entire scenario, of the power you do not have, and of the power you definitely do.

After the 2016 election, some small part of myself was convinced I could change the outcome if I just posted hard enough. If I fought enough of my friends on Facebook, texted angrily, and tweeted from enough protests and rallies, somehow Trump would no longer be President-elect.

All it did was, literally, give me a rash. I got so angry for so long that my skin started to break out in hives. A doctor friend more-than-half seriously prescribed that I “get the fuck off Facebook” until my skin returned to normal. Trump was still President-elect, the next 8 years happened the way they did, and here we are today.

You’re going to hear a lot today: polls are tightening! Votes still aren’t in from this critical precinct! If these trends hold, then we can expect to know something by such-and-such a time! The race is as tight as can be! White supremacists are threatening violence to avenge a dead squirrel!

(The squirrel thing is 100% real, and my god, I really wish I was joking.)

Remember, through all of it, that you are not the captain of the ship. You are a barnacle on its hull, and there is very little you can personally do to change it at this point. You’ve already done all you can do—or maybe you haven’t, but even then, you’ve already done all you’re going to do.

And as you stress, and consider how inebriated you’re going to get, and decide on which web pages you’ll be refreshing every thirty seconds, and stress out some more, remember too that Donald Trump hasn’t ever won the popular vote in his entire miserable life. He only won the electoral college, a racist system explicitly designed to empower slaveholders in southern states, one time, and ever since then, he has lost every election he’s declared for.

More people did vote for the woman candidate the last time one ran for President, and more people have voted for the candidate of color than their opponent every single time a person of color has run for President on a major party ticket.

And women have already made up a larger share of early voting than men in this, the first general election post-Dobbs, than ever before in American history. (53% women to 44% men.)

So as you stress and consider your inebriates and say to yourself, “How can it possibly be this close?!” for the umpteenth time today, remember too that Donald Trump is a fascistic, deeply unpopular person (let alone President) backed by an even more deeply weird party, and that almost the entirety of your experience of this election is being filtered through the lens of a national, for-profit media that doesn’t care who wins, so long as you keep watching.

Remember, you are not the captain of the ship, you are not the helmsman, you are not the map-maker.

You are a barnacle.

Vote for Harris, vote Democrat in your local and state races, and trust your other barnacles.

If you like this, consider signing up for my newsletter to get more writing from me right in your inbox the second it posts: sean-curry.com/signup

#writing #election 2024 #kamala harris #serenity prayer #politics

187 notes · View notes

luimagines · 2 days ago

Text

The Legendary Mermaid

Another commission!

They asked for a Legend and Reader where mermaids are involved. I'd explain more but I don't want to spoil it. XD

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Link didn’t think much of you at first. You were clumsy. Uncoordinated. One of the most ungraceful beings he has ever had the… um... pleasure to meet.

You spoke in broken Hylian but he could understand you well enough. When he stumbled into you on the beach he tried to go through the number of languages that he knew were native to the area but none of them seemed to click with you.

You were excitable and wobbly. You looked straight out of a ship wreck so you could have been from anywhere.

Still- Link wasn’t about to abandon you when you clearly had no idea where you were.

He took you into his village, set you up with a place to stay with some helpful neighbors and thought that his duty of care was done. He was wrong.

Turns out! You had a habit of running off in the middle of the day and going off to who knows where. The first time it happened, poor Gulley was in a tizzy trying not to panic because he thought you were just really good at hide and seek and he didn’t want you to miss dinner.But he couldn’t find you anywhere.

More people got involved.

They still had no idea where you went. Hours passed and the sun went down but no one had a clue where their strange and sudden visitor could have gone off to.

Link suddenly had the terrible thought that maybe you went off into the lake and something terrible happened. He ran as fast as he could but his panic happened to be unfounded.

You were there, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed, playing a small hermit crab that had somehow made it out of the water.

Link had half the mind to scold you, but your innocent giggles at the tiny creature had enough incentive to get him to calm down first. He bought you back where many of the aunties and elders fussed over you before giving you a warm bowl of soup and tucking you away for the night.

Your galavanting happened at least every other day. It didn’t take long for Link to realize that everytime you went missing, you were actually just by some body of water.

He thought that maybe you just had a childish way of exploring. Or maybe you just liked to splash and swim. He wasn’t one to judge. He just wished you told people where you were going and when you planned to be back so no one would worry about you.

When you decided to stay in the village and interact with other humans for a change, you were like a fish out of water.

You crashed into walls. You tripped over your own two feet. You would lose your balance at the oddest of times.

“Whoa!” Link caught you the arm before you could fall over and land face first into a pile of mud. “You know… You walk like a newborn deer.”

“What is deer?” You ask on impulse.

Link pauses and gives you a questioning look but decides to keep his judgment silent. Maybe there’s just no deer where you’re from. Somehow. Which would be strange considering how popular they are. Then again, you’ve never mentioned how you got to where they are or where you grew up. It seemed to be the only topic you actively avoided talking about.

“An animal.” Link says instead. “They have skinny legs and they begin walking on the day they’re born. The males have horns on their heads.”

“....Do they shine? Many colors?” You ask with a hopeful expression on your face.

Link hates to be the bearer of bad news, but he finds that he can’t lie to you. “Not really. They hide a lot so they look like golden grass and dried leaves.”

“Grass.” You stand up straighter, still holding onto his arm. “...Hm…”

Link has no idea how to respond to that.

“Yes.” He tries anyway. “They’re actually quite big once they’re fully grown. They’re majestic creatures.”

“Magic?” You tilt your head.

“No magic.” He shakes his head. “ Ma-ges-tic.”

“...Oh.”

Is he going crazy or do you sound disappointed? Link swallows the spit in his throat, not sure why he feels the need to not only make you feel better, but to also impress you. “Most animals can’t do magic but they’re still very impressive. You know- if you want, we can always go into the forest and look for them. How’s that sound?”

You smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Link feels his heart bob. He’s not sure if he’s doing this right. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah? After I’m done with my work in the forge, I’ll come look for you and we can go explore some more.”

Your eyes light up a little more genuinely and you nod enthusiastically to boot.

Link feels better about this suddenly.

Until tomorrow rolls around and you’re once again nowhere to be found.

Link wants to ram his head into the nearest wall. How could he forget? It was a ‘Go for a Swim Day’ today. It was part of your pattern. Did he just forget all his senses suddenly?

Groaning for the extra mileage he has to walk, he heads home first to collect some stuff for the journey. Surely you would be hungry at some point, right? Maybe he can make it a picnic too. There’s a nice spot that overlooks the valley that he knows of. You seem to be the type of person who enjoys the simple things his home has to offer.

Not only that but you seem rather focused on finding magical items. Or at least you try to find something magical in every nook and cranny. …He has a few magical items. That can impress you! He packs his magic mirror, his fire arrows and his mermaid tail. You’ll probably find a river or pond that you’d want to jump in. Since you love to swim so much, maybe he’ll join you just this once and show off a bit. Surely you’ve never seen anything like it.

Once he has everything set, he checks the nearby creek first- hoping you didn’t decide to splash around and find out.

Nothing.

Not a stone unturned and not a single piece of evidence that anyone had been here earlier.

Link groans louder and turns on his heel to head down to the lake instead. He knows he’s being dramatic, but you’re not around to witness his pettiness, so he’s at liberty to do what he wants.

His feet are aching by the time he finally makes it to the lake. He kicks off his shoes to walk along the warm sandband before he begins his search anew. There’s not much that he thinks he has to look for. A bag? Some footprints? A discarded shirt or something? Your shoes by the side of the bank?

He finds… nothing.

“Where are you?” Link growls and flops onto the dirt. He pouts and puts his cheeks in his palms as he tries to think about what to do next. There goes his plans for the afternoon. And probably well into the evening at that.

Link can’t help the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at the thought of being stood up. Not this was any big deal or anything- but he didn’t realize how much he was actually looking forward to this moment until he couldn’t have it.

Well.. He’s at the lake anyway. And he has the mermaid tail. He’ll get something for you. He can dive to the bottom of the lake and find something cool for you!

Link shimmies the tail on without a second thought and crawls into the water. The magic takes effect at once. He takes his first deep breath and pushes himself further into the cold. He feels his legs become intertwined with his item. The cold loses the sting the further he goes and although it takes a bit longer for his brain to adjust than he’d like, Link is quickly swimming deeper and deeper to where no other Hylian has gone before.

His eyes take longer to adjust. Considering he’s more worried about not forgetting that he can now breathe underwater, he’s still to ignore that little tidbit. All he has to do is swim straight down anyway.

Something moves to his left.

Link stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” He blurts. The sound he makes is warbled, broken as it always is when he tries to speak underwater.

In a split second, the figure blasts in front of him, sending him back a few feet. He brings up his arms to block any unwanted water from going up his nose and growls.

You poke his arm two seconds later.

“AH!” He screams without meaning to.

You seem just as perplexed and confused. You tilt your head and swim back just enough so that you can see him in his entirety. “Link?”

Your voice has changed too, but not quite like his does when he’s in this form. Your voice is clear as crystal and he can physically feel the waves it produces as they curl around his ears and his body.

He repeats your name with the same shocked reverence.

You break out into excited chitters and clicks, sounds he’s never heard before poke all around his body and he thinks he can feel the very effect they have on his brain.

You swim back over to him and twirl him around in earnest. You look delighted to see him here.

Link takes the moment to also look you over.

A mermaid.

He flushes when he sees more than he’s bargained for. Of course. What purpose do clothes serve to a mermaid?

You swim circles around him. The movement is graceful and borderline poetic, nothing like the way you move on land. Your tail was glittery and bejeweled with colors he hadn’t known could sparkle in the low light of the lake water. It trailed after you like a silk scarf or a skilled ribbon dancer.

He was staring.

You seemed to have caught on quickly that he was enthralled by your body. A part of you wonders why. Another feels the need to be embarrassed. You’ve dressed in the way of the finless for so long that you’ve almost adopted their shameful thinking to cover up one's form. The third and final part of you actually likes his attention. He’s impressed. Enamored, almost. This is the part of you that wins.

Smirking, you decide to metaphorically test the waters and dance around him some more, brushing your tail against his and pulling him this way and that with your dance alone. You swim away for just a second, wanting to play some more with the strange boy that can be of both worlds.

Link jolts out of the trance you’ve put him in and skips to follow you.

You laugh.

His breath catches in his throat at the sound of subtle trills and chirps. Link freezes completely in his spot. Your laugh tickles him even as he begins to sink from the lack of movement once more.

“You swim worse than a guppy.”

Link falters and the ethereal moment for him is shattered in an instant.

“Hey!” He says instead.

You laugh again, sending more pins and needles over his skin and tail and begin to swim laps around him, clearly showing off your superior swimming agility. You play with him some more, poking and annoying him but swimming away before he can retaliate and poke you back.

The game catches on from there.

Link is, unfortunately, in over his head and he has to admit proverbial defeat minutes into it. It doesn’t stop him from playing anyway. This is arguably the most free he’s ever seen you and he’s not about to ruin it anymore than his lack of grace does on its own.

It’s nice.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu legend #mermaids

116 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 15 hours ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: guys this not fully proofread as I am exhausted

@arabellasleopardcoat

You cannot tear your eyes away from Daemon as you walk down the halls together. Though he already told you the blood on his armor was not his, you could not help but worry that perhaps he had a wound hidden away underneath his steel plate. Your stare is so heavy, he cannot ignore it, which is why he huffs, "out with it."

You perk at his words and rub your hands together.

He raises a brow at you, "or do you merely think me so devastatingly handsome you cannot help but stare?"

You slowly shake your head, "are you certain you are unharmed?"

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks forward, "I am offended you did not agree."

You knit your brows, "you," you shake your head, "are already know. You are comely husband."

You stop in your tracks out of frustration, grabbing his arm, "Daemon."

He turns back to you.

You cannot name the expression he gives you.

"Did I not say I was unharmed?"

He turns to you, face hardening at your look of concern.

"If you are hurt, then we should head for the maester's."

He chuckles under his breath, pulling away from you, "a funny thought coming from you."

You furrow your brows deeper as you tail after him, "I do not follow."

He looks over his shoulder, lips curling, "considering you are sick and yet nowhere near the maester's ward."

You only then recognize his smile was mocking. You feel a pinch in your chest. You shake your head, "we are not the same. If there was something to be done about my affliction, my father would have seen it done years ago."

Daemon laughs.

Your husband looks at you, then at the hand you had on his bicep and sighs, "through it all, you hold your father in such high regard."

You wait for him to explain his laughter, but he does not. You take his arm, "what amuses you?"

You clench your jaw and release his him.

He enjoys your dejection, thus why he takes your hand, placing it back on in its place with a chuckle, "say it isn't so."

You look back at him. His smile is like a needle through your heart. He must think you're stupid without even trying. You mutter, "I am merely stating facts."

He laughs again, "your frail heart keeps you naive."

You do not speak until you reach the door to the meeting room. Once you are there, Daemon motions with his head, "wait for me there. You like flowers don't you?"

The feel of his armor is suddenly scorching and you have to pull away. He stares at you after the fact, but does not take your hand again.

You look over your shoulder and realize that he was motioning to the window that gave view to the gardens. You turn back to him and step forward, reaching out to retrieve the flower in his hair. It would not be appropriate for him to attend a council meeting like this.

Daemon mistakes your action for affection, and moves his head away so you cannot caress his cheek, "I said I am unharmed, woman. Now go sit down."

He walks off after this, leaving you standing in the middle of the hall by yourself. Just as he enters the room, you struggle with yourself if you should call out to him or simply run up to him and snatch the flower off his head. But then, the moment is gone and he's already inside.

You cannot find it in you to sit as you overthink what would become of your husband because of the flower in his hair.

Just as you begin to pace around, you are rendered frozen when you hear your name get called.

Viserys smiles at you, as he and his council members walk over, "good morrow."

You make eye contact with your father, who was walking just behind the king, and lower your gaze as you curtsy, "your grace. A pleasant morning to you."

Viserys stops in front of you, clapping his hands once, "why, you look fetching my dear," his eyes examine your hair, and you, yourself, are reminded by the presence of the blossoms on your head, "did you pick those from the garden?"

You rise and smile at your husband's brother, shaking your head, "my ward, see Erryk, was kind enough to- ..." you catch yourself amidst your confession, eyes suddenly darting to your father.

Otto's jaw is set and his eyes are alresdy angered.

You gulp and decide to continue nevertheless, "...accompany me flower picking in the meadow."

Otto huffs audibly, but the king's reaction is so stark in contrast, your father does not have the opportunity to butt this moment. Viserys claps once again and smiles, "oh good. Some fresh air always did help me. Of course, when I say fresh air, I really mean going on dragon back, but strolling in the meadow picking flowers is a fine passtime."

You are touched by the king's amicable sentiment. You repay his smile with your own, "I completely agree."

"I do not," Otto says, "what if you get an attack in the middle of the nowhere? What if the pain is too great and you are not brought home in time?"

Viserys and you turn to the Lord Hand. The king responds, "she was accompanied by her ward. Is that not why you requested one for her?"

"I requested a ward to keep her in check to prevent her from doing things that would cause her affliction to worsen."

You tense under the harsh sound of Otto's voice.

Viserys recognizes your discomfort and waves him off, "you needn't be so hard on your daughter. It is good for the spirit to have time frolicking."

You gulp the next time the king smiles at you. You do not smile back and merely curtsy at him. With that, he and his council members go into their meeting room and you are left alone in the hall.

The council members' muttering comes to a halt when they see prince Daemon in his seat.

"Kind of you to join us today, brother," Viserys huffs, "we were just talking about you."

Daemon eyes Otto, "the topic being my bride, no doubt."

Otto has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he walks to his chair. His throat constricts, as if he was able to retch, when he sees the flower by his ear. He thinks of you and the flowers in your hair and figures Daemon did this to spur him in. He releases a deep breath to calm himself, "the topic being your power tripping with the City Watch last night."

"Daemon," Viserys snaps.

Daemon glares at Otto. The king sits at the head of the table. The prince links his hands together, "you would know to mind your tongue, Lord Hand. I care little for the tears my wife will shed once I sever your neck from your spine."

"And what I did last night was clean the streets from the putrid scabs of the city in preparation for my birth of my brother's child."

"And you exacted a very public show of extreme violence while doing so," Viserys leans on the table, "you maimed and mutilated peopl-"

"Criminals," Daemon whips his head. He raises his brows, "would you rather they strut free and continue stealing, raping, and killing in your city?"

"I would have them see justice."

Daemon chuckles dryly.

Viserys raises a finger, "your blade is not the writ of justice."

"Do you mean to tell me it's yours?" the younger Targaryen narrows his eyes.

"I AM THE KING," the elder Targaryen snaps.

The prince does not flinch, "speaking loudly will not make it truer, brother."

Needless to say, the meeting is coarse and uncomfortable.

You start from where you were sat by the window upon witnessing Daemon shove the meeting doors open. He storms out of the room grumbling and you have to gather your skirts to run off after him.

"What's happened?" you mutter when you reach his side.

He ignores you, simply continuing to march away with a storm cloud overhead.

Daemon begins to callously remove his armor and immediately ceases when you come towards him to do it yourself. You look between his hard expression and hard attire, thinking of something to say to calm his down.

You are partially surprised to find that he was heading towards your shared chambers. He shoves the doors open then marches towards your private baths. There, your tub holds steaming water. You were grateful thd servants thought to prepare the bath here and not Daemon's personal quarters.

In the quiet of washing and splashing water, you feel Daemon slowly begin to relax. He leans back, releasing a sigh as he shuts his eyes. You stare at him for a long moment. He is beautiful.

You think of nothing.

The moment he is free of his steel, he removes the rest of his garbs himself and steps into the tub. You meant to remove the flower in his hair but then he wordlessly offers you his arm, expecting you to clean him, and so you do without fuss.

"Your father is a fucking cunt."

You purse your lips as you release his arm. He opens his eyes when you pull away, then watches as you circle around the tub. You sigh as you take his other arm and begin scrubbing it, "he is... sometimes unkind."

He scoffs, turning to you, "sometimes?"

You focus on his arm, unwanting to meet his gaze, "he was kind to my mother... I think. And to my brother... sister... sometimes."

Daemon watching you, brows furrowing, "and you?"

You shrug, "sometimes?"

"Why do you defend him?" he tilts his head.

Finally, you look at him. The glint in his violet eyes make him appear as though he genuinely wanted to understand you. You shrug once more and shake your head, "he is my father."

"He is a cunt."

You tilt your head, scooping water onto his arm, "surely you've thought the same thing about your brother." You look between his arm and his face.

You stiffen at his proposal, but do not object otherwise. You gather your hair and turn around, "will you undo my laces?"

Daemon does not respond. He does, however, pull away from you.

You stare at him, trying to anticipate his next move.

He motions with his head and leans back in the tub once more, "strip. You should bathe with me."

"The king demands we have a family dinner before the tourney tomorrow," Daemon mindlessly mutters, "you must wear something pretty."

Daemon, for some reason, is taken aback by the request. There is something that swirls in his gut. Still, he moves towards you and undoes your ties, pushing your dress down after. You shudder when he frees you of your shift and strokes your spine with the back of his hand.

By the time the water goes cold and your bliss from love making wears off, you are faced with the fact your neck and collarbones are covered in glaring purple and red marks again.

You gulp when he kisses your shoulder and scratches your sides. You gasp and turn when he tries to pull you in. Finally, the flower in his hair falls off when your nails scratch his scalp into his scalp as he kisses you.

The air is tense as your family and his eat dinner. You sit next to each other, with him to your right, followed by Viserys and Aemma. In front of the queen was her Rhaenyra, then Alicent by the left, Gwyane, and finally your father, who sat before you.

Daemon does not relent as you both dress. He is adamant in covering your skin with bruises and bites. You are not surprised that he makes you wear something that showcases your decolletage, but you at least find solace in the fact he makes you keep your hair down in its natural state.

There was something serene in the sinister in the way Daemon strokes your arm and pushes your hair back. You knew he was doing this to rile Otto up, yet did not know why your body found comfort in his touch.

But in a flash, you were nothing but uncomfortable when your twin drops his silverware and blurts out, "you will not lose your hand if it does not grope my sister as we feast."

Gwayne clenches his jaw, expecting him to pull away.

Daemon, who had been rubbing the your back all the way to the side of your breast, turned to your brother, who sat across him.

Instead, Daemon moves your hair to one side of your shoulder and caresses your neck with the back of his hands, "oh, but you see, now that I've..." he smiles, "sampled your dear sister, I fear that it might."

Otto is next to drop his utensils. Your body burns at Daemon's words and you can do nothing but lower your head in mortification.

Viserys sniggers. Aemma glares and nudges him.

"You would not understand this, for you are unmarried," Daemon says turning his head, "but perhaps your father will."

Viserys nearly chokes on his meal, but then clears his throat, "brother-" he withholds his laughter, "-that is quite enough." The king looks at the faces across the table, none of them but him and Daemon finding this predicament amusing, "I'm sure everyone is... overjoyed that you and your bride have found marital bliss, but do keep your manners," he nods, "you are seated before the king."

Daemon turns to Viserys and straightens up. He nods, "my king."

Viserys clears his throat again and nods, "manners, brother."

"Hmm, like you with Aemma?"

Rhaenyra pushes her chair back and stands. All turns to her and her sour expression as she speaks, "I'm quite finished with my food. If I may be excused... my king."

Otto stands next, his chair skidding behind him, "I am quite finished with my food as well," he nods at Viserys, "I wish you a good meal."

Your belly rolls when he looks at you.

"Daughter, might you walk me out of the room, there is something I wish to discuss with you."

"She is quite busy with her food," Daemon immediately answers for you, "if you wish to speak something, speak it in front of us."

Your throat tightens.

"Tis a personal matter," Otto speaks firmly, "I would not put my child in an uncomfortable position."

Gwayne watches your expression, feeling unrest because of your glaring discomfort.

"But you've already done so announcing your desire to speak to her so that she could not refuse," Daemon snaps.

Your chest begins to constrict. Gwyane picks up on how your breath quickens.

Otto clenches his jaw, "I wish to speak to my daughter."

"Yes, and I say fuck off."

"Daemon," Viserys finally snaps, turning to the said man. The king turns to you, peering past Daemon, "you may speak to Otto if you wish, or you may simply continue with your meal."

You turn to your skirt and clench the fabric in your hand.

Daemon rubs your nape and your skin reacts with goosebumps. You gasp when his hand is snatched away by Viserys. You turn to them, struggling to breath as you watch them bicker in High Valyrian.

Aemma tries to interject, but the brothers do not acknowledge her.

The room is silenced when you stand. You feel everyone's gaze on your skin. "I wish-" you speak through a heavy breath, "-to retire."

"Sister," Gwayne calls to you.

You want to turn to him, but you fear you will crumble in tears if you do.

You run out of the room before anyone can respond. Your heart drums in its cage but tell yourself to run and keep running.

"She is my wife," Daemon says.

Gwyane stands, ready to chase after you, but Daemon blocks him and their bodies violently collide. He shoves him back and Gwyane is about to lunge at him but hears the voice of her baby sister calling his name in concern.

"Then fucking go after her," Gwayne snaps, raising an arm, "she is going to be heading to the temple, undoubtedly."

"Go on!" Otto snaps, pointing a finger, "chase after her."

Daemon seethes at the instruction. Dare he? He'll break the arm that fucking finger is connected to. He wants nothing less than to do so what that cunt says.

"Go to her, Daemon," Viserys urges.

He stares at his brother, offended by his alliance with the fucker. Now he is really not going to do that. He's left with no other choice but to leave the damned dining room though. How lucky of him to run into the Cargyll twins on his way out.

"You," Daemon barks, calling the attention of the two men. He marches over to them, hands balled tightly into fists.

"My p-"

"The fucking Hand has upset the bitch again," the prince snaps, "she's run off in a fit to gods know where. Her cunt twin said she'd go to the temple, but maybe she's fallen dead halfway through her sprint."

The twins turn to each other in horror.

"Ah, if only the gods were that kind," Daemon scoffs then looks between them, "find her. I do not wish to hear her pathetic sobbing."

Erryk's nostrils flare. Arryk clenches his jaw and nods. The latter begins to walk off and has to reel his brother by the arm to follow.

Daemon storms off to the dragon pit.

Arryk eyes his brother. Erryk's eyes remain on the prince, until his twin calls his attention.

You arrive at the temple of the Seven, forehead and nape sheened over with sweat. You nearly collapse before the Mother. The only reason you do not, is because two septas catch you before you collide with the shrine of candles. Upon recognizing you, they are quick to attend to you, saying they will get you water and a towel.

Running is a horrid activity. You find that your heart cannot keep up, and you are pushed into horrible breathlessness. Your father was strict to never let you run. You do not know if it simply because you are not capable of running or because of your affliction that you are this way.

You thank the gracious septas for their care and ask them if they would pray with you. Unable to deny you, a woman so devout and so pitiful, they help you get on your knees and you recite The Mother's prayer together. At some point, you begin to weep, and then it becomes increasingly harder for you to breathe. The septas have to stop praying and attend to you again.

"Princess!"

You are sat down on the floor. Soon the two septas are replaced with two men, both dressed in steel, one as seemly as the other, albeit their faces being laced in abject concern. You frown as you look between Arryk and Erryk's worried features. Your scratch your eyes as they speak to you. The weight in your chest makes it hard to understand.

Whoever was carrying you does not hear it, but his brother does. He says, "wait, Erryk. What is it, princess?"

You hiccup as one of them comes to swoop you into their arms. You do not realize you were being carried out of the temple until you are outside. "Wait," you sigh when you managed to catch a breath, "wait."

"I wish to pray," you mutter, eyes still wet with tears, "please."

Arryk looks at you. Erryk shakes his head, "we have to bring her inside."

"Erryk," Arrryk knits his brows, "she wishes to pray."

"She is in no condition to—" Erryk's words falter when your hand comes to his cheek.

You feel your lips tremble and you barely manage to speak, "please."

A line forms between his brows at the sound of your weak voice, "my prin-"

"Erryk," you stroke his cheek, "I need this."

Arryk looks between you and his brother. He watches him sigh and turn back. He follows after Erryk as he goes up the stairs, back towards the shrine.

You are placed before the Mother once more. You sigh and allow yourself repose. The twins leave you to your prayers, standing by not too far off.

Erryks eyes remain on you. Arryk's eyes remain on Erryk.

"You tread a dangerous path, brother."

Erryk does not tear his gaze away from you.

Arryk sighs, turning his gaze from his twin to you.

You sit on your knees, one arm rested on the plinth as you take a stick and light it. You whisper, "mummy," then light a candle, "me," then light another.

Both twins feel fangs rip into their stomachs as they watch you. Erryk's features are more honest to it however.

It is why Arryk catches it and speaks again, "you are sworn to her, you fool."

"And you are not?" Erryk snaps, turning to his twin.

The brothers stare at each other for a moment. Arryk purses his lips and tilts his head, "I am not in love with her."

"Then leave," Erryk motions with a nod. He shifts in his spot, linking his hands together as he turns back back to you.

Arryk huffs and clenches is hands. His ears perk at the sound of your hushed sobbing. His heart clogs his throat.

Erryk sighs through his nose, "you are still here."

"I cannot leave her."

Erryk turns to Arryk, "then you are just as foolish as I."

"I-" Arryk starts. He cannot look away from you, "... I am sworn to her."

"She is beautiful," Erryk says.

Arryk finally tears away his gaze, but as he shoots his brother a warning look, his brother's eyes are back on you.

"She wove flowers into my hair mere hours ago," he knits his brows, "she laughed and beamed and glimmered," Erryk sighs, "now she crumbles and weeps and hurts."

Arryk knits his brows, just as deep as his twin's.

You wipe your tears as you soothe yourself. You voice goes low again as you continue to pray.

"I am not a fool," Arryk says

Erryk laughs dryly, turning to him, "very well. If y-"

"I know she is beautiful," Arryk cuts him off.

He purses his lips.

Arryk gulps, "outside and within."

"As I said," Erryk replies, "just as foolish."

"I do not understand what could posses someone to hurt such a creature."

"Perhaps there is no soul to posses."

Arryk shakes your head, "you cannot allow your anger to get ahead of yourself, fool. You are glad the prince did not notice."

"The prince is too caught up in himself to notice anything that does not directly a..." Erryk's words go dry.

Arryk knits his brows, finding his twin was staring at something behind him. He looks over, stiffening when he catches the very person they were speaking of walking over.

Daemon makes a beeline towards you. He stops just behind you, lips and brows tense at the sound of your evidently upset voice. "Should you be doing this?"

You perk at the sound of the voice and look over your shoulder. You stare at Daemon, unsure if you were imagining him or if he was really there. You find that you don't really care if he's real or not, "will you pray with me?"

He does not like that you do not answer his question. He shifts on his spot, "did you faint or fall out of breath?

You turn back to the candles, "you must not be real."

"What?"

"I do not think my husband would care," you mutter, clasping your hands together in prayer.

Daemon does not move.

"You would pray with me then," you add, "you are kind."

The prince's face contorts. He feels like he is choking. He comes to your side, slowly coming to his knees. He clasps his hands together, propping his elbows in front of him. He is taken aback by how you rest your head on his shoulder with no hesitation. He stiffens and a part of his mind screams to shove you away. He does nothing of the sort though.

"I tire," you admit.

"Then we sh-"

"Tell him to grant me my prayer."

Daemon slowly turns his head to look at you. He sees the way the tears trickle down from the bridge of your nose, "tell who?"

"The Stranger."

Daemon turns to the statue of the Mother. He wants to be difficult and tell you to simply move to the other statue, but instead he asks, "what is your request?"

"Death."

He turns back to you, expecting you to name a name. You do not, so he asks, "your father?"

Your brows furrow, "no."

He turns to his hands. An unnamable emotion seizes him, "so... your husband?"

You finally lift your head. You turn to him, a deep frown on your face, "I do not wish you harm, Daemon."

He turns to you.

New tears burn down your cheeks.

A new unnamable emotion seizes him at the sight of your wobbling lips.

The twins find themselves looking away when the prince wipes your cheek.

You lean into his touch, "I have prayed for the same thing every night since I was ten."

Daemon's forehead curls, "what do you pray for?"

"To die."

The hand he had on your face tenses.

"It is pointless," you push his hand away, retreating from his touch, "my pain does not subside. My heart and flesh grow weaker each day."

Daemon is uneasy as you turn back to the Mother. He shakes his head, "I do not think the gods listen to such sinful prayers."

"Sin?" you chuckle under your breath.

Somehow your laughter sounds is sadder than your cries.

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision.

The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

You stare at his outstretched palm, then look up at him as he stands. You are loathe to move. You do not think you can, even if you wanted to, "I tire."

He leans over, draping your arm around his shoulders, "I'll bring you to bed."

You say nothing as Daemon pulls you in and carries you in his arms.

For the final time tonight, another unnamable emotions grabs hold of him. It further intensifies when you rest your head in the crook of his shoulder.

93 notes · View notes

idonotbitemythumbatyou · 3 days ago

Photo

transcript:

Sidding (sic) El Fadil Enjoys Controversy

Deep space nine has been everything Siddig El Fadil expected and more, mostly because the young actor expected absolutely nothing at all.

"It’s really the first thing I’ve ever done in terms of serious serial drama work in America so I didn’t know what to expect." Says "DS9's" doctor Julian Bashir as he relaxes in his trailer on the paramount pictures lot Before the start of a long day.

"'Deep Space Nine' is setting the norm for me, this sort of very surreal norm" he says in soft British tones.

"It’s not a real norm, you know. I’m going to be spoiled and screwed up when I leave this show because I didn’t know what I should expect. It has all been very weird and wonderful for me."

Since "DS9" debuted in January 1993 the character of Bashir has wielded a lightning rod of fan criticism.

Bashir is a brilliant interspecies doctor, fresh from Starfleet Medical Academy, but he’s also young brash, naïve, arrogant, overly gung ho and experienced, and often quite annoying – traits not commonly displayed by any trek character much less a series regular

when the show began, Dr. Bashir was a bit of a nuisance. He had a mad crush on Dax (Terry Farrell). He always seemed to be getting in the way of O’Brien (Colm Meaney), and Kira (Nana Visitor). And he was frequently at the receiving end of Stern fatherly advice from commander Sisko (Avery Brooks).

Though Bashir has done some growing up, fans are still in the process of getting used to the character.

For his part El Fadil, who turned 28 in late November, enjoys the controversy.

"I love it," he says with a big smile. "It was a completely intellectual choice to do it the way we have.

"when I’m at conventions. Some people say hey this guy is really a jerk. What are you going to do about it?'

"Do you know any jerks? you probably know one or two and now the TV world knows one too

"if he’s a jerk" El Fadil says, "he’s not a terminal case, not a hopeless jerk

"He’ll grow grow as he learns, like all of us, and I’ll have the unusual privilege as an actor to make that happen over the years."

A handsome dark-skinned man with jet-black hair, El Fadil was born in the Sudan, Africa, and moved with his family at age 2 to London, England, where he was reared.

After a traditional British education and a year at university college at London El Fadil worked at a men’s clothing shop for two years before pursuing a career as a stage director.

That, in tern, led to acting lessons.

Not long after, he landed a role as a Palestinian in a British six-part miniseries called "The Big Battalions" (1991) which has yet to air in the United States.

A short while later he was cast in a secondary role as King Faisel in another British television production called "A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia." (1991).

Rick Berman, the executive producer of Next Generation and co-creator (with Michael Pillar) of Deep Space Nine happened to see "A Dangerous Man" on PBS at the time he was creating "DS9" and at first considered El Fadil for the role of commander Sisko

Then, when Berman discovered that the actor was just 26 years old, he invited El Fadil to fly in from London to audition for the part of Bashir

The rest is "Trek" history

"It has been a tremendous opportunity for me," El Fadil says with enthusiasm. "Our cast is really terrific. I love Los Angeles. I’m dating someone very special and I have made a few good friends.

"All in all, I’m having a really great time"

December 1993

#this is so interesting.#I feel like this isn't the whole story of his path to acting #This is before he changed his stage name #Also super interesting that they actually did plan for him to be an annoying little shit in the beginning #I kind of didn't believe them lol #when they said after the fact “oh he was a jerk on purpose so he could grow into a better person over the course of the show”#yeah yeah you got backlash and altered the writing to make him less annoying #but no!#this is from back then and it was on purpose!#Could never happen in the streaming era when you're writing on a wish and a prayer and two seasons if you're lucky

164 notes · View notes

portraitofalinkonfyre · 2 days ago

Text

Counting Stars

Pairing: Wild x Reader

Warning(s): Shameless smut; you and Wild have fun on the roof.

Notes: I jammed this out in like 4 hours so enjoy my brainrot.

Masterlist

"...Are you sure this is safe?" You asked hesitantly, eyeing the open window with a healthy amount of apprehension.

"How do you mean?" A pants-less Wild asked, a single eyebrow raised with one foot already poised on the windowsill. He had been noticeably ecstatic when the chain had ended up in his Hyrule, and you thought his grin would never cease when it was discovered that Hateno Village was less than an hour's walk away, which led to everyone piling inside his admittedly-clean home for a good night's rest.

Except Wild, and, obviously, you.

You would be a liar to say you weren't the tiniest bit pissed when he poked you awake in the dead of night, practically vibrating with excitement and another emotion that you were far too exasperated to consider, but it was whatever, and you knew you would never turn down an opportunity to spend some alone time with your hero, even when he all but dragged you up to the spire structure in the back of the house.

"I don't know," you tried not to grimace, you really did. "It just seems... unstable."

"Mentally or physically?"

You gently smacked his arm. "The roof, honey."

"Ah, nah," he shook his head, shooting you a mischievous smile. "You wouldn't believe the things I've done on this baby–it'll be fine."

You crossed your arms over your chest, expression turning wary. "...That's ominous."

But Wild simply winked, and, in true fashion, jumped out of the window with a soft whoop. You let out a gasp and rushed to the edge, only to see him standing on the tiles, a few meters below you, wearing an excited grin. He glanced up at you and waved his arms in an invitation you knew all too well.

You ran a hand down your face. "Oh Hylia..."

"C'mon, sweetheart," the hero called, . "Live a little!"

"Easy for you to say," you grumbled under your breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing!"

You were going to die tonight, you were sure of it.

Wild waited patiently, making (adorable) grabby hands as you hesitantly hauled yourself up onto the windowsill, the cool air ruffling your hair. "...You're positive we won't fall through the roof?"

"Only one way to find out!" He crowed, looking more amused than anything. You allowed yourself to grin, feeling slightly braver in the face of his infectious enthusiasm. "Just jump and I'll do the rest. Promise."

You inhaled deeply, gathering all your courage.

"If I break anything, I'm blaming you," you mumbled to the wind before leaping from the safety of the spire.

The first thing you registered was the cloying feeling of imminent death as your body plummeted to the tiles below, squeezing your eyes shut as gales of wind whistled in your ears, buffering against your skin and clothes. Maybe you were screaming, or maybe you weren't–it was all a blur of motion until a pair of arms wrapped snuggly around your waist and legs, effectively haunting your fall. You immediately clung to Wild as he held you close, chuckling softly when your head pressed to his chest, the steady beat of his heart ringing in your ears.

"See?" He asked, grinning down at you. "Told ya I got you!"

You found the strength to smack his left pectoral. "Oh, shut up."

Wild laughed, and you yelped when he sat down on the tiles, maneuvering you so that your back pressed against his front, bare legs caging yours on either side, and you resisted the urge to admonish him for refusing to wear pants again, mostly because he was warm and the night was cold. "So, what are we doing out here?"

"Look," Wild's hand wound under your chin, gingerly tipping it towards the sky, the color of twilight with dozens of twinkling stars scattered across the expanse like little diamonds. The most impressive thing, however, was the moon, which hung heavy in the corner of the sky, more vivid than you ever remembered seeing it.

"Woah!" You exclaimed, taking in the sight with awe. "It's so big!"

"That's what you said–"

"Wild, I swear to Hylia–"

"Kidding, kidding!" He raised his hands in surrender when you turned a burning eye in his direction. "It's a full moon tonight, and I thought you'd want to see it."

You paused, taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. Not that Wild wasn't capable of being sweet, it was simply that it came in leaps and bounds, ebbing and flowing like ocean waves. You were on a quest, after all; there wasn't time to fool around like normal people did.

Until now, your brain reminded you as unhelpfully as possible. "I... thank you, Wild."

"Anything for you," the hero mumbled, his arms wrapping snuggly around your frame. You leaned into him, humming happily when his face buried itself in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

"For me?"

"For you," he responded with a conviction that had your heart fluttering in your chest. One of your hands wormed from his grip, reaching behind you to stroke the back of his head, fingers tangling in the hair just above his ponytail.

Wild made a noise between a groan and a hum, hugging you impossibly closer. His knees bent, bare heels bracing against the tile. You winced. "Hylia, wearing socks once in a while won't kill you, you know."

You heard his shrug before you felt it. "I'm not bothered."

"And why's that?"

"Because I've got a cutie in my lap telling me how bad I am."

You snorted, clapping a hand over your mouth so as to not encourage him. "Oh my goodness."

Wild grinned against your skin. "What? Can't handle the heat?"

"Honey, I can handle you any day."

"Careful, or I'll take you up on that," he warned, and you merely giggled, leaning your head back against his collarbone.

"Flirt."

"You bring out the best in me," he replied, half teasingly and half fondly.

"I'm honored," you mumbled, turning your head to the side to press a tender kiss on his temple.

Wild chuckled, a deep, smooth sound the reverberated through your skin. "I aim to please," he said, and you believed it. Not that you would admit it, of course.

"Hush, you."

Cerulean eyes flashed mischievously in the moonlight. "Make me."

Your hand released his hair and you spun in his lap. The Champion was grinning, per usual, when you cupped his face, the pads of your right fingers rested carefully over his scars as your thumb brushed his bottom lip. "Don't think I won't, hero."

Wild's lips parted as he sucked in a breath, eyes darting from your face to your own lips in record time. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his left cheek. "There," you said, pulling back slowly. "Now quiet."

The hero was pouting now, in true fashion, and you had half a mind to simply kiss the expression from his cheeky little face. "Aw, sweetheart, that's not a real kiss..."

"It's the best you're getting," you responded sassily.

Wild cocked his head. "Why's that?"

"Gee, maybe because we're on a roof?"

"So?"

"I– Excuse me?"

The Champion leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses bumped slightly. His fingers danced over your clothed hip, and you were momentarily rendered speechless, until a soft squeeze pulled you from your thoughts.

"...What're you doing over there?"

"I love you," the hero said hopefully, and you knew you were going to kill him, if he didn't do it first with whatever idea he planned to enact tonight.

"We're not having sex on a roof, Wild," you interjected firmly.

"Aw, c'mon," he whined, pouting again. You wondered what had possessed you to let him get to fourth base.

"No."

"But sweetheart–!"

"Absolutely not."

"I'll catch you if you fall!"

"That's not the point!"

He huffed, still unwilling to let go of your hips. "It's romantic, though."

"Romantic, my ass," you scoffed in response, wondering how the hell tile burn and the possibility of death When his gaze landed on your butt, you smacked his chest gently. "My eyes are up here, Wild!"

"I know," the Champion's voice was deceptively innocent, but you knew better. "Can't blame a guy for enjoying the view."

"Then look at the stars," you shot back with a deadpan expression.

Wild's eyes sparkled, and he pulled you closer. "Why would I when the most beautiful star is right in front of me?"

You blinked, slightly caught off guard by the sheer smoothness of that particular comment. "I– who taught you that?"

"Can't remember," the hero smirked. "But I'd like to thank them."

If your face wasn't already on fire, it sure was now. "You little–"

"Now that's not what you said," he teased, and you wondered if it was too late to simply jump to your own death. Unfortunately, his arms were solid around your frame, and you doubted he would allow you to die with the dignity you deserved. "And you call me a tease."

You deadpanned. "Because you are, Wild."

He shrugged, gaze turning calculating. "And what does that make you?"

There was no response, so he did the next best thing and scoot back against the base of the stone spire, dragging you along with him. You helped when the tiles scraped your socked feet. "I swear to Hylia, if we break through this roof–"

"You'll kill me?" He grinned cheekily.

"Damn right."

"Kinky."

You groaned.

Wild continued to smile as he leaned against the spire, unbothered by the slight chill of the air. "Well?"

"Well what?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Are you going to make me or what?"

You blinked. "...You're serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life," he said solemnly, and it was a beat unto itself not to burst into laughter.

"You literally said that last week while trying to convince me to give you a blowjob in a tree."

"And it worked, didn't it?" the Champion grinned back.

"That's beside the point," you huffed, knowing full-well that he was right. The tile was starting to dig into your knees, and you shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to alleviate the ache. "Don't start things you can't finish, Wild."

"Who says I won't finish?"

"I do."

"C'mon," he pouted, nose scrunching cutely, and you had to physically remind yourself that what he was asking for was downright madness. "Where's your sense of adventure? Danger?"

"I left it at the window."

"Sigh. For me?"

You chewed your lip, shifting some more. You weren't completely opposed to the idea, but there were enough factors to make you think twice, mostly because your traveling companions were sleeping below and you really didn't want to imagine what would happen if you and Wild crashed, butt naked, through the roof in the dead of night.

"Fine," his expression immediately shifted to elated, and you pushed on his chest to stop him from getting ahead of himself. "BUT–"

"Hm?"

"–If we break anything, I'm leaving you to bleed out."

"...K–"

Oh, for Hylia's sake!

"Finish that sentence and you're not getting laid for a week."

Wild obediently shut his mouth.

"Good boy," you cooed, rewarding him with a swift kiss to the nose, ignoring his disappointed whine. Remembering his current pants-less state, you furrowed your brows. "You're not uncomfortable?"

"Nope," he grinned. "'M used to this."

"Fucking on the roof or being uncomfortable? Because both of those are slightly concerning."

"Yes."

You sighed, wondering why you even tried. "Great," you landed another peck to his lips, only for his hand to cup the back of your head, keeping you pressed his warm mouth. "Mmph!"

After a moment, he pulled away, leaving you both panting. "You can't keep doing that."

You raised an eyebrow in genuine confusion. "Doing what?"

"Kissing me like that and not letting me return the favor," the hero mumbled, bringing you in for a second kiss, one hand cradling your head while the other traced circles on your clothed hip. You gasped lightly, and his tongue immediately darted into your mouth, bumping cheekily against your own. Your hands squeezed his shoulders as your thighs clenched into each other, and you hazily wished he was the one between them.

You broke apart, clinging to each other like it was your last night together. Wild's eyes darted down when you winced, the hard points of the tile digging into your skin, and hauled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. "Better?"

"Yeah," you breathed, running a hand down his back as your face nosed against his neck, lips brushing his adams apple, which bobbed shakily at the contact. You felt his fingers trace the edge of your shirt, shallowly dripping below the fabric to skim over your skin, and hummed your approval into his flesh. "Go ahead."

Wild pulled your shirt up, and you leaned back to allow him to slip it over your head, revealing your chest to his piercing gaze. Gingerly, he cupped your breasts, thumbs passing lovingly over your hardened nipples. "You're beautiful," he said, and you shivered at the words. "I don't know how I got so lucky."

"Shush," if your face wasn't red before, it certainly was now. "I'm the lucky one."

"Hm," he didn't sound convinced, but mercifully let the matter rest, ducking down to roll his tongue over your right nipple, suckling gently. You sucked in a breath, carding your fingers through his hair as he laved and sucked the rosy bud, using his other hand to squeeze the underside of your other breast.

"Ah– Wild!"

He didn't respond verbally, moving to your other nipple as the first one left his mouth with a wet pop, shiny with spit. Your hips rocked forward, brushing his erection through the thin cloth of his boxers, both of you groaning softly at the sensation. He was still wearing his champion's tunic, while your sleep trousers were regrettably on.

Wild detached from your boob, staring up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. One of his hands tugged at the band of your pants. "You're wearing too many clothes."

"Pot, meet kettle."

"I'll show you a kettle," he said, and before you had time to ask what in Hylia that meant, was practically ripping your trousers down your legs, tossing the garment over his shoulder. You squeaked in surprise, and he pressed an apologetic kiss to your sternum, muttering some bullshit about being 'sorry', like you actually believed him.

"Hey–! It's cold, you jerk!"

"I'll warm you up," he promised, and you would have scoffed had he not chosen that exact moment to run his index finger down the center of your underwear, drawing a muffled moan from your lips. Wild grinned, fingers dipping beneath the fabric to graze your stiffened clit, slick with arousal, which had you slapping a hand over your mouth in an effort to remain quiet. "You're so wet, sweetheart."

"S-Shut up," you said, not because you were mad, but because not all the boys were known for their stellar sleep schedules, leaving a part of you terrified at the prospect of being caught, naked, on the roof in the middle of the night. "What if–"

"So?" Wild's expression grew cocky. "We can be quiet."

"You mean I can be quiet– Oh Hylia!" You gasped when two of his fingers sunk into the tight, wet heat of your core, crooking up in the way he knew drove you wild. "F-Fuck!"

"I agree," the hero chuckled, beginning to pump his digits in and out at a steady pace, not bothering to fully remove your underwear. His spare hand rubbed down your bare side, sending shivers down your spine when the pad of his thumb pressed down on your clit. "Feels good?"

"M-Mmm," you nodded, burying your face in his shoulder, lips brushing the soft fabric of his tunic. It was too much and not enough, but you knew you wouldn't last if he kept it up, if the coil steadily building in your stomach was anything to go by. "Please, Wild–"

He turned his head to nibble lightly at your neck, sucking marks on the delicate flesh. You wanted to hiss at him for the action, but a solid flick of your clit had your thoughts stalling. "Are you close?" Wild whispered against you, his hot breath fanning over your oversensitive skin.

"Y-Yeah," you panted, hands scratching down his clothed back. Wild doubled down, gently scissoring his fingers against your gummy walls before they curled in tandem once more, finding that spongey spot within you with ease. "Oh– Wild!"

"That's it, cum for me," the hero purred as he repeated the motion. Your vision went white as your orgasm crashed down on you, no less fierce than the roaring ocean or thundering sky, and the world seemed to melt away as your veins ignited with pleasure, only dimly aware of the fingers leaving your panties and hands coaxing you to rest against his chest. "It's alright, I've got you."

You hummed, shivering slightly when cool air caressed your sweat-soaked back. He had definitely succeeded in warming you up, but all things had their end. "H–"

"Hang on," he said, already one step ahead of you. You blinked in surprise when he removed his tunic, draping the fabric over your head and guiding your tired arms into the sleeves. It was a bit big, and you were distinctly aware of the type of view the slit in the middle of the tunic offered, but there was no way in hell you were returning it. "Better?"

"Mmmm," you said eloquently, nuzzling your face into his now bare shoulder. "Thanks, honey."

"Anytime," his hands traveled to your hips, tracing gentle patterns on the soft skin. "Now..."

With a groan, you sat up blearily, already knowing where this was going. "Yes?"

"Hey baby," he said with a grin that should have been illegal. "Wanna play with my master sword?"

Your eye twitched, and you smacked his arm, moving to stand. Wild's expression fell slightly, and his grip tightened, keeping you where he wanted you. "Hey–"

"Wild, I swear to all that is holy–"

"But sweetheart!"

"–I am not playing with your dick on a roof."

"But I played with your–"

"Do not finish that sentence."

He huffed, gazing at you with a petulant expression. "C'mon, (Y/n), what's the worst that could happen?"

You sighed, long and hard. "We'll both fall off the roof and die?"

"Unlikely, you know I'd catch you."

He would, but that wasn't the point. You pressed an apologetic kiss to his lips. "I dunno, Wild, what if someone sees?"

He responded by pulling you impossibly closer, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your borrowed tunic. "You know, this is the part when you say 'is that the master sword in your pants or are you just happy to see me?'"

"...You're impossible."

"And proud of it!" he said without missing a beat, and you would be a liar if you said you didn't grin a bit at the admission. His expression shifted slightly, and he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. "It's okay if you don't want to, I just–"

"Actually," you interjected, smirking lightly when he perked up. "I don't suppose you'd be up to making wildberry pancakes in the morning?"

Wild smiled boyishly, arms tightening around you when he realized the direction the situation was taking. "It's cute that you think you even have to ask."

"Is that a yes?"

"Absolutely."

"In that case," it took a fair bit of courage for your hands to find the waistband of his boxers, tented with the evidence of his arousal. There was even a small wet spot in the center of the fabric, which was both concerning and flattering. Wild sucked in a breath when you pulled his boxers just below his balls, not wanting him to have tile burn from what was undoubtedly about to occur. "...How do you–?"

"Touch me," the hero interjected, looking at you with an expression that practically screamed need, despite his earlier confidence. It had your heart thudding in your chest, hand reaching down to grip the middle of his length. "Please."

His skin felt hot against your hand, the head of his dick flushed a darker shade of pink that taped off the further down you went, a near-steady dribble of precum burbling at the tip. You pumped your hand slowly, spreading the rest of his dick in shiny pre as your core throbbed. This wasn't the first time you and Wild had been intimate, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, meaning you knew a fair bit about what made him tick, which is why the next thing you did was press your thumb against the veined underside of his length, right below the head.

"Fuck!" Wild swore, hips jerking slightly, and you immediately silenced him with a kiss, swiping over the rosy tip in retribution. He returned the favor eagerly, moaning when your tongue slipped into his mouth, bumping teasingly against his own. The kiss quickly grew, thin strings of saliva running down your chin as you kissed like people starved. You pumped your hand faster, only pausing when he broke the kiss to grab your wrist. "Mmph– wait, wait–"

You abruptly paused, hand falling slack in his grip, and the thought that you had done something wrong was a terrifying one. "Wild?"

"I–" he huffed, taking a short break to breath. "I want to–"

"Want to what?" You prompted, feeling a bit relieved that he didn't seem too distraught. "You can tell me."

"Can you," his hand cupped your mound, thumb brushing your swollen clit, and you immediately understood the assignment. "Dawn is– we can't stay out much longer."

"Guess we'll have to be quick, then," you found yourself grinning, heart swelling when he gripped your hips with vigor, returning the expression. You lifted your hips, scooting forward with his help, and moaned softly when his fingers brushed your dripping heat. It took a bit of maneuvering, but you eventually ended up with his dick sandwiched between your cunt and his stomach, the throbbing length sliding easily through your folds. You sucked in a breath when he head jostled your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through the sensitive nub. "Aah, Wild!"

"Feels good?" he asked in a vaguely teasing tone, guiding your hips up and down on his cock, panting slightly as your heat enveloped him. Your hands scrambled for purchase on his shoulders when he bent forward to capture one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud with practiced ease. "You're, ah, so hot."

"Mmm," you groaned, temporarily unable to form any words past his name and distinctly-sexual curses. "I need–"

Wild released your nipple, filthy and loud. His eyes shone brightly in the movement, studying your every expression with rapt attention. "Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

"You," you panted, nails digging into his skin. "Please, Wild–"

"It's okay, you can have me," he soothed, manually slowing the pace of your hips with his grip. You wined at the loss of sensation, though it was quickly remedied when he reached down, guiding the head of his dick to press firmly against your entrance, the tip just barely sinking into your pulsing warmth. "You're so perfect," he groaned when you began to slide down, taking every glorious inch like the champ you were. "I-I love you so much."

You sucked in a breath at his words, bucking your hips slightly, and he pressed a kiss to the trembling column of your neck, brushing over your quivering throat. Your hips met his thighs with a wet-sounding noise, and you had to pause for a moment to register how full you felt, how warm and safe his arms made you feel. Speaking of arms, one of Wild's slid up the front of your borrowed tunic, palming your right breast and gingerly flicking your pebbled nipple. "Wild!"

"Shh," he hushed you gently, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Quiet, sweetheart."

"It's hAHrd when you're doing that," you shot back, hardly able to sting together a sentence when he was so deep inside you.

His grin grew devious. "What's wrong with this?" You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming when he twisted your poor nipple.

"Jerk," you gasped, clenching around his dick in what you hoped was karmic vengeance. You lifted your hips, sliding back down on him, and Wild grunted, giving another gentle squeeze to your tit. "I-I thought you were going to make it worth my while."

A dark look flashed across his expression. "Oh, I intend to."

Just like that, he was kissing you again, one hand cradling the back of your neck while the other settled on the small of your back, silently encouraging you to bounce on his cock as he rocked his hips up. You moved to wrap your arms fully around his neck, chests pressed together snugly as your fingers tugged on his loose ponytail, moaning against Wild's lips when the pace increased. There was a familiar coil winding in your belly, whether from the thrill of being caught or Wild himself, but you wouldn't have objected to it being both. "'M gonna–"

"Come on," he urged, thrusting up into your poor body. You jolted, using his mouth to muffle the yelp that threatened to rip past your lips, and began to shake when the hand on your ass circled to your front, the pad of his thumb finding purchase on your sensitive clit, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. "Hylia, you're so tight... cum for me, sweetheart?"

You hugged his neck closer, practically screaming your approval against his mouth, hips twitching as you continued to bounce atop him, determined to finish this before the sun rose. Wild broke the kiss to bury his face in your neck, suctioning a trail of bruising hickeys down the expanse of skin. You knew they would show, but you didn't care, clinging to him for dear life as the coil in your belly grew tighter and tighter. "Wild–... Link– Please!"

A loud growl reverberated in Wild's chest at the sound of his name–his true name–and he grabbed your hip in his free hand, using it as leverage to pound up into you like a man starved. You responded by sinking your teeth in his exposed shoulder to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens as your orgasm crashed over you, vision briefly going white as unimaginable pleasure zipped through every inch of your body, alighting nerves you had forgotten existed. Wild groaned when your muscles clenched around him like a vice, and you shuddered when he rammed into you one last time, thumb never leaving your abused clit as sticky warmth filled you. "(Y/n)!"

Bonelessly, you collapsed against his heaving chest, squirming slightly to let him know you were done. Wild panted with exertion, his hand coming up to card through your hair. "You okay?"

"Never better," you huffed a laugh against the skin of his shoulder, Your skin felt sticky, tacky with sweat and... other fluids. Speaking of liquids that shouldn't belong in you while you were on top of a roof, Wild shifted slightly, a small noise leaving you when his softened cock slipped from your warmth, rivulets of cum already drooling down your thighs, quickly cooling in the night air. "Wild..."

"On it," he said, swiftly pulling his boxers up and hauling you into his arms with a gentleness that had your heart thudding in your chest. There was a ladder on the side of the roof, but you knew he was going to ignore it, choosing to brace yourself as the hero hopped off the ledge, landing perfectly on the ground below. A part of you wondered how his feet were still fine after all that effort, but you quickly remembered that this was Wild, the man who loved going barefoot almost as much as he liked going pants-less. "Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up," his face dipped down to plant a sweet kiss on your cheek. "Okay?"

"Okay," you parroted, quieting when he approached the front door. Seeing as his hands were already full, you reached for the doorknob, stealthily maneuvering the door open. You were wearing his tunic, which was long enough to cover all the important bits, and the other men had no qualms seeing each other naked, so you weren't worried as Wild snuck inside the house, pushing the door closed with his heel. The rest of the chain was laid out across the floor on their sleeping mats, though Wind had used his age as an excuse to get the couch, and you held your breath, praying that they would all be heavy sleepers tonight.

Wild's arms tightened, pulling you closer in a sort of protective gesture. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder as he started up the steps, carrying you to the bed on the second floor. It was no small miracle that it hadn't already been claimed, and you let out a small sigh of relief when the Champion set you down on the sheets. "Hang on," his hand pressed against your sternum when you tried to sit up. "I'll get a washcloth."

"And some tea," you reminded him gently, winching slightly when more globs of cum burbled from your sore cunt. Goddesses, you had really gone crazy, hadn't you?

"Of course," Wild stroked your cheek lovingly before starting down the steps, not bothering to put anything else on that magnificent body of his. There was a soft bang, followed by a few sleepy grumbles, but no one shot up to start yelling about the disturbance, so you allowed yourself to maintain your pretend innocence. The steps creaked, and Wild practically bounded across the landing, a damp-looking cloth in one hand and a cup of liquid in the other. You scooted against the headboard to receive the tea, sipping it while he nudged your legs apart, going to so far as to sling your left knee over his shoulder, wiping leftover cum from your thighs and core. "Is it good?"

"Nope," you snorted. Moon tea would never be an enjoyable drink, but you finished it anyways, setting the cup on the nightstand. "But it's good for me."

"You know, I wouldn't mind having–"

"Perish the thought."

He raised his unoccupied hand in surrender. "Kidding, kidding!"

"Better be," you mumbled, hissing when the washcloth brushed over your sore clit. "Ah– gentle."

"Sorry," Wild said with a wince, leaning down to press a kiss to your lower belly. Your heart fluttered, and you waited patiently for him to finish. "...How do you feel?"

"Sore," you replied honestly. He had been a bit rougher than usual, but you weren't complaining. Much. "But it was nice."

"Yeah?" He asked, looking hopeful. "Nice enough to do again?"

You made a face. "Don't push your luck, mister."

"I'm joking," he reassured you by leaning forward to peck your lips, tossing the washcloth onto the floor below. You grimaced slightly, knowing that you were likely the one who was going to have to wash it later, but that was a problem for tomorrow, so you simply opened your arms to him. Wild settled in your embrace with a happy sigh, head tucked under your chin with an arm slung just under your breasts. The scars on his cheek felt rough against your skin, but you couldn't have loved them more. "Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too, honey," you responded softly, running your hand down his spine. Exhaustion was quickly taking hold, and you noted how close the moon had gotten to the horizon, heralding the dawn's approach. It was unfortunate–you had been looking forward to getting a full night's rest for weeks–but you couldn't bring yourself to be upset at the Champion, who had already fallen asleep, clearly exhausted from your... activities. Not that you minded, he deserved a break, and you couldn't help but smile as you drifted to sleep, the first rays of dawn illuminating the sky like a firebrand.

You were at the dining table when it happened. The sun was high in the sky, and you were pleased to report that you had managed to get six hours of rest before Wind came to throw himself on your stomach, shouting some bullshit about how the day waited for no one.

"Wild, I hate to be the one to tell you this," Warriors began, having just come in after what you assumed to be a bath. "But whoever made your roof did not care one bit."

"How do you mean?" Wild asked from his place by the fire, likely entrenched in the wildberry pancakes he was making.

"Ugh," Legend joined the fray, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "For once, I agree with the captain, it was shaking all night–"

You nearly choked on your milk.

"–And something hit my forehead!" Wind interjected from his place across from you, a slight whine in his tone, rubbing the affected area despite there being no physical evidence to be seen.

"Was it a piece of tile?" Hyrule asked, looking up to study the ceiling with a concerned expression. "I hope nothing falls through–"

"No, I think it was a bug," Wind said thoughtfully, putting a hand on his chin.

"A bug?" Twilight asked, looking at you quizzically. "I thought ya closed all tha' windows?"

"I..." You were not having this conversation right now, but apparently fate had other plans. "I'm not sure, it could have gotten in through a crack?"

"Do remember what it looked like?" Sky asked.

"I squished it," the Sailor responded, and you breathed a sigh of relief at the supposed end of this conversation from hell. "But I was listening more to the noises–"

Fuck!

"Noises?" Time spoke, tone vaguely curious. "What kind of noises?"

Wind shrugged, and you wanted to die. "They were weird, I don't know."

"I think I heard things too," Four added with a thoughtful expression, leaning back against the chair. "Like... animal noises?"

"They sounded like the noise a cat makes when it's mating," Legend said with a perfect deadpan, and you would have laughed had your dignity not depended on it.

"What if there's a cat outside?" Wind's face instantly lit up. "We should go look for it!"

"Dunno," Wild said, finally putting his two cents in as he placed a steaming pile of pancakes on the table, taking a seat beside you as everyone dug in. "It's probably long gone if it was here last night."

"Aw..." Wind mumbled, mouth already stuffed full of pancake. You grimaced when more than a few crumbs rained past his lips, and Legend leaned forward to smack the back of the Sailor's head. "Hwey!"

"Chew your food, idiot."

"Fwuc owf–"

"Boys," Time interrupted before the situation could escalate further. He turned his gaze to Wild. "It sounds like repairs are in order, we'll help in any way we can."

"I'll keep that in mind," the Champion said gratefully, eyes sliding to you as a suspiciously giddy light flashed in them. "Say, (Y/n), how about helping me take a look after breakfast? I know how good you are with hammers, after all."

You gaped, knowing he wasn't talking about repairing the roof. With a forced grin and gaze that could have cut iron, you answered. "Sure thing, hon–" your hand slipped an inch over to grip his thigh, and Wild jerked subtly, ears turning slightly pink. "–but don't come crying when I make you do all the hammering."

"...I don't know what the fuck this is, but you two need a room," Legend said in disgust.

"No, a bed."

"Sky, please."

"What?" The skyloftian said with a wink. "Beds are more comfy."

"...I hate you sometimes."

"You love us," Warriors said, and the Vet's fist clenched.

"Actually–"

"Hey," Four interjected around a mouthful of pancakes, jerking his thumb to you and Wild. "We already hear enough from those two, we don't need to add a third."

"Oh Hylia," Twilight said, and you took great satisfaction in seeing him took a bit green.

"What?"

"Shut up and eat your pancakes," you said, shoveling a forkful of fluffy goodness into your mouth, humming happily. Wild was truly the best, and not just because of that mouthwatering ass of his.

"(Y/n), are you going to help us look for the cat?" Wind asked sweetly, and you caught Wild's gaze long enough for him to mouth 'pussy', followed by a very rude gesture using his tongue and the fork he was holding.

You buried your head in your hands and wondered how difficult it would be to make his death look like an accident.

I've been in a bit of a funk, so hopefully this makes up for all the radio silence.

#linked universe #the chain x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader smut #lu x reader #lu wild #lu wild x reader #lu smut

66 notes · View notes

jimmybutlrr · 4 hours ago

Text

The Love, I Have Longed For

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Tall Thick brown-skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing and Teasing), "drama"

Summary: She came to a realization that Actors can truly act

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, that I have ever wrought. I would really appreciate critical feedback or just feedback in general. I do hope that you enjoy this, as this is based off of a dream I had.

divider from @@uzumaki-rebellion

“Uhh ooh myyy gooood…I'm gonna cum so much” Estella moaned while gripping Aaron's head. Aaron was sucking, licking and eating her pussy like he had been stranded in the Sahara desert and starved for weeks. With his left hand twisting and pulling at her nipple, he slid his tongue between her lips from underneath her hood to her pulsing hole. “Let that shit out” Aaron said into her pussy, adding 2 of his fat, long fingers driving them upwards, hitting her g-spot helping her reach the thing he's been begging for from the past few hours.

“Fuuuucckkkk” as her orgasm starts rippling through her body, causing her pussy to start clenching around his fingers while her clit pulses in his mouth. “Mmmmhmm” Aaron moans on her clit creating a vibration that begins to overstimulate her causing her to push his head away to stop him from continuing to eat her. “Ok I’m done, no more”. Aaron removes his fingers and slides his tongue all over her pussy, taking one last lick between his wife's fat lips. He sits up and leans back to get a good look at her swollen, pulsing clit and pussy clenching around nothing. He looks up, admiring his wife, seeing that her eye’s are closed and she is out of breath. Estella slowly opens her eye’s to see her husband, staring at her in complete love and awe.

She grabbed his big ass biceps, pulling him down, licking the inside of his mouth to taste herself. “Let me put the tip in,” Aaron said, mumbling into her mouth, “As much as I would love for you to stretch me out, we have a party to get to and I now have to shower again,” Estella said, savouring their kiss before she pushed him back and got out of bed. As she was walking away, he slapped her ass and he pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her body, kissing up her neck. He whispered in her ear “Alright but as soon as we get back, you better not fall asleep, because we have a long night waiting for us”. She let out a little giggle, pushing her husband away and walking into the bathroom with him following behind her, closing the door as soon as they entered.

Estella looked at Aaron while he was driving to their destination, she took in how he liked to keep his hair buzzed or how he had barely noticeable scars on his face, that you would only notice if you truly paid attention to the details of his face. She took in note, the sun hitting his eyes, brightening them so that you could see the mix of baby sky blue and coin like grey in his eyes. The beautiful shine from cocoa butter and shea butter baby oil on his beautifully tanned honey coloured skin. Aaron looked to the side to see his beautiful wife truly considering himself as the luckiest man alive. He turned facing the road, picking up his wife's hand kissing the back of it, he said “I am so in love with you……..Every moment I spend with you, makes me want to get down on my knees, rip my heart out of my chest, plate my heart on a silver platter and make it yours, so that all I could live for is you” he said declaring his love for his one and only true love, his soul mate, his wife Estella Pierre causing his brown skinned wife to start blushing and staring lovingly, leaving them in a comfortable silence.

He pulled into the driveway, parking behind the many cars in the lot, turning off the car, opening his door, then ran to open the door for his wife. “ thank you, big sexy” Aaron smiled, leaning down to kiss her, wrapping his lips with hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth, roaming her mouth, causing her to moan and slightly pull back “Don’t make me pull you into the back of car, and ride you until I can’t no more” she said sliding her hand down his body and ever so slightly over his bulge. “No, let's hurry up and get inside before I change my mind about this party”. Aron closes the door and locks the car before they make their way up the driveway, opening the door to see all the different people of different professions, from judges to actors to authors. “I know that ain’t who I think that is, yawl finally made it”, said Jayme Lawson, Aarons co-worker said. Smiling, they walked up to Jayme, Estella reaching to hug her first “I was trying to get here earlier but unfortunately we got caught up with something important” said Estella moving to the side, allowing Aaron to hug Jayme next. “It’s nice to finally see Aaron, outside of work instead of cooped up in his hotel “ said Jayme, causing a laugh to fall on those around them. “What can I say I love” - “ I know that ain’t my bestfriend I see” said by Amir, Estella’s best friend. “ohh, you just look tooo fabulous, look at your outfit Dora,” Estella said, letting out a loud laugh. “Uh, you talk too much shit, now follow me and let's go talk about the big, orange, racist bitch made man they just allowed in the election”. Estella, Amir shared a laugh, wrapping their arms around together and walking away for the rest of the group. “Babe, you just gon leave me like that” Estella turned pausing her conversation “Yes, Yes I am, go have fun, I'll see you later” Turning back to her best, they shared a look before walking away to the backyard. Where they spent the next few hours conversing about the bitch made, half dead man, gossip and Megan the stallions new twerk video. “I miss my man” Amir looked over at Estella” In the middle of our conversation ho”, “ Yes, I need just one kiss on my lips”, Amir laughed in disbelief “Do you mean your lower lips?” causing Estella to smirk, “Mind your business” taking Amir’s hand, she dragged him into the house and went searching for her love in the crowd of people.

As they looked through the crowd of people not seeing him, they walked up to kelvin, she asked “ have you seen Aaron, we can’t seem to find him”, “He said he needed to use the washroom, awhile ago, it’s upstairs” Kelvin said yelling over the music, now starting to wonder, what was taking Aaron so long. Estella and Amir shared a confused look, making their way upstairs. As they got further away from the music, they checked the washroom to see it empty. “ You better call him real quick because there's no way that he just disappeared”, Estella picked up her phone, calling Aaron to hear the ringtone he had set for her in the room down the hall. Estella, slowly picked her head up and turned to look at Amir, seeing him stare back at her. She turned back forward, taking long strides to the room down the hall, bracing herself for whatever. Amir, not far behind her, took her hand, stopping her for a second “Babe, I want you to remember that you are an attorney, a black women attorney at that, don’t make no decisions that could affect your career”. Estella nodded, holding her tongue, so that she could hold in the emotions that she was feeling in the moment, she turned, arms locked with Amir’s, they then walked and walked until they reached the room, hearing moaning and groaning. Groans that she could recognize from a mile away, groans that she heard just a few hours ago.

She put her hand on the doorknob, twisted it open to see a sight she thought she would never see….Her husband Aaron Pierre, Fucking his co-worker Jayme Lawson in the mattress, hearing Jayme tell her husband, she loved him…and him saying…it…back. Aaron felt a weird sensation of someone staring at him, he looked towards the door, his heart dropping as he saw his wife and noticed a single tear slide down her face. “Babe, it’s not what it looks like”. Estella paused her crying, turning to look at Amir, they shared a laugh, Estella reached forward and grabbed the doorknob closing the door, all while Aaron pulled himself out of the women on the bed and tried to put on his pants to be able to reach his wife before she left the house, to then try and persuade his wife that he loved her and only her but it was too late.

Estella already walked out the house, coming to the realization that the love of her life, is only the love of HER life … .as she is not his.

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy

@planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo

@jenlovey

@avoidthings

@kimuzostar

@skvrpion

@theereina

@megamindsecretlair

@theereina

#terry richmond #aaron pierre #rebel ridge

65 notes · View notes

hwamphwamp · 2 days ago

Text

~11:39pm

warning(s): mentions of being high and the side effects of being high, a suggestive line or two if you squint

In hindsight, expecting Wooyoung to follow instructions was your first mistake.

At least that’s what Hongjoong said when you called him, desperate for advice.

“Just be there for him until he comes down from the high,” Hongjoong said, his voice muffled by the sounds of the party he’d stepped out of to take your call. You waited, hoping he’d have more to offer than just that.

“Joong, he thought he was sinking into the mattress for half an hour, and now he’s freaking out because he has a case of cottonmouth that’s— in his words—‘so extreme he can’t breathe.’ What do I do?”

“Give him a gallon of water and some cuddles or something. He’ll be knocked out in no time,” he replied, unfiltered as always. “Listen, my set’s starting soon, so I have to go. If he gets worse, take him to the hospital or something. He’s got good insurance.”

With that, the call ended, leaving you just as helpless as before. You knew that later on, when both of you were much less high, you’d realize everything had been perfectly fine. Sure, Wooyoung had taken twenty milligrams for his first high instead of the five he’d been told to take, which was a bit much, but he’d be okay by morning. Right now though, in your current state of mild panic, it felt like him experiencing one more side effect would send you spiraling.

“Baby?”

You turned towards the balcony door to see Wooyoung peeking out, a small frown on his face as he shuffled over to you.

“What happened to our cuddle session?” he asked, throwing his arms around you and lifting you just enough to carry you back inside. “I waited for an hour, and you weren’t back. I was starting to get worried.”

“First of all, it’s only been ten minutes at most,” you corrected, wriggling free from his arms once you reached your bedroom. “Second, when I tried to cuddle you, you thought our combined weights would make us sink into the mattress faster.”

“Oh… Wait, I’m the one who stopped the cuddle session? That doesn’t even sound right, so I kinda have to assume you’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

You caught yourself, deciding there was no use. Wooyoung was too stubborn while sober to admit he’d ever stop any affection with you—better yet while high and you were picking and choosing your battles tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. That does sound crazy, Woo,” you replied, watching him as he made his way over to your vanity.

“By the way,” he started, motioning for you to join him, “I drank the rest of the bottled water in your stash under the bed. But more importantly, I was looking at your makeup.”

“That water was supposed to last me until next week—”

“Again, more importantly, I was looking at your makeup and thought it would be fun if you did my makeup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again, taken aback by his request. It wasn’t surprising he wanted to look pretty no matter his state of mind, but still, it was random considering the last thing he’d said before you went outside to call his best friend was how he didn’t feel real and thought the person running his “simulation” hated him.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes.”

“At almost midnight?”

“Also yes.”

“Is it because you want your makeup done or because you want to hold me without feeling like you’re sinking into the abyss?”

“Both.”

You sighed, pulling your desk chair over to the vanity and motioning for him to sit down. Even though you were ready to sleep, it was hard to resist the way he looked up at you, his bloodshot eyes still brimming with affection. Wooyoung had this way of looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you could never stay annoyed when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, so what look are we—”

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he interrupted, patting his lap as he waited for you to take your usual spot.

“It’d be easier to reach the makeup if I just stand up, Woo. Besides—”

But before you could finish, Wooyoung pulled you down, guiding you to straddle him. His goofy smile grew wider as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t like being on top of me,” he teased, his hands resting in your hips.

You chuckled, playfully smacking his arm before grabbing a foundation brush. “Behave. Now hold still.”

As you started dabbing foundation onto his face, Wooyoung’s hands moved up to your waist, tracing light, lazy circles that made it nearly impossible to focus. You bit back a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way your cheeks flushed.

“You’re so gentle,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as you blended the foundation. “Feels nice.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you moved to grab the concealer. “Stay still, or I’ll mess up.”

Wooyoung pouted but obliged, though his hands continued their light movements. “It’s hard when you’re so close,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shook your head, smiling as you started patting the concealer under his eyes. “Yeah, ok pretty boy. Now close your eyes.

He obeyed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he relaxed into your touch. You took your time, perfecting the base as he hummed contentedly, entranced by the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

“Wow, I can already tell I look amazing,” he said, cracking one eye open to see your reaction.

“Patience, diva,” you laughed, reaching for an eyeshadow palette. “Let me work my magic.”

He watched as you carefully selected a soft pink shade and began sweeping it across his eyelids. Every few seconds, Wooyoung would open his eyes a bit to peek at you and every time he’d break into a smile, watching you with a look so full of adoration it made your heart ache.

“You’re so good at this,” he said softly, his voice taking on a rare, serious tone. “It’s like… I don’t know. You make everything feel like art.”

You paused, warmth spreading through you at his unexpected compliment. “You’re making me blush, Woo.”

“Good,” he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on your back. “You should know how amazing you are.”

Trying to keep your composure, you moved on to his eyeliner. His eyes sparkled as you carefully lined them, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the makeup made his already striking features stand out. You brushed a bit of highlighter onto his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes, soaking in the attention like he wasn’t used to it by now. Still though, there was something so nice about being with someone who treated every intimate moment with you as if it were the first.

Once you finished, you leaned back, admiring your work. “There. You’re all done, Woo.”

He glanced in the mirror, his mouth dropping in playful awe. “I look like a whole new person! No… a prettier version of myself. You’re incredible, babe.”

You laughed, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face. “You’re gorgeous with or without makeup. I just brought out what was already there.”

For a moment, you both stayed silent, just looking at each other. His hands found yours, and he pulled you even closer, his fingers threading through your hair as he let out a soft, contented sigh.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Your heart skipped a beat as you leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “Yeah… I love you too, Woo.”

A soft smile spread across his face, his eyes beginning to droop as the high was just starting to wear off. You felt him growing heavier, his hands resting in your lap as he started to drift off. His head leaned against your shoulder, his breathing evening out as sleep began to take over.

You could’ve moved, or nudged him towards the bed, but instead, you stayed right where you were, feeling the gentle weight of him against you. You watched his face relax as he slipped into sleep, his makeup still perfectly in place, highlighting his beauty even in his unconscious state.

In that moment, with his heartbeat steady against yours, you realized you were falling for him even more. If that was even possible.

On a not so unrelated note, you now had to tell Hongjoong he couldn’t have been more right if he tried.

#this was the Wooyoung thing I was supposed to be working on when I went on an xdinary heroes adventure instead #also starting timestamps simply because I love them #wooyoung #Jung wooyoung #ateez #atz #wooyoung fanfiction #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fluff #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #atz fanfiction #atz fanfic #atz fluff

51 notes · View notes

fcaruana · 2 days ago

Note

Hiii just wondering if you could please translate this interview Maria gave about Franco? https://youtu.be/AqMKHpuQHLw?si=l9pbKdUVwM52dMuY

Sure, here it is! I skipped a few less interesting parts. For those who don't know, María is one of his 2 managers.

About the 2025 rumors: "All those rumors circulating about Franco signing for a seat are 100% not true. There isn't anything signed. I don't know if you've seen Jamie's [Franco's second manager] tweet saying 'Thanks for the info [about Franco confirmed at Red Bull] how strange, you found out before I did!'. For now Franco is a Williams driver, we have 3 races left with them and at the moment we're in Williams. James himself said he's negotiating with other teams, it's a discussion between teams that I can't say much because I don't know. There is a wish for Franco to stay in F1 in 2025, from so many people: his fans, us, the F1 itself would love for him to continue, Williams themselves are pushing to make it possible. If that wish becomes a reality we'll announce it when it happens for sure. For now, there is not any signed contract."

"I admire Franco so much. The way he's been dealing with the pressure and exigency of F1 is admirable. I was sure it was going to be like this, but he's still 21 years old, working with the mindset of a much older person. The physical and emotional effort he's putting in is impressive."

About how they take much more care of Franco now: "In F1, the only difference is that the exposure is many times higher. Now Jamie and I pay much more attention to the way this is affecting him, how he deals with this exposure and everything that's been happening to him. In that sense, the good and bad things have intensified a lot. So we are keeping an eye on him almost every second, both on and off the track."

About Franco meeting fans and signing their stuff even after Sunday's race: "That's just his nature. We spent the entire weekend hearing crazy stories of people who traveled to Brazil from Argentina by motorbike, people who didn't even have a ticket for the race, people getting wet in the rain. And he was incredibly moved, he felt that very intensively, saying 'what a wonderful thing is happening to me, look at all those people!'. From the paddock we all could constantly hear their chants, songs and screams, and everyone else was like 'what is going on?! what is this?!'. That is super positive for Franco, he couldn't stop coming out, he just wanted to go out and greet them. Obviously by the look of his face, his mood, he wasn't very excited at that moment, but he didn't want to stop giving back just a little bit of their constant support. He's still the same person [as before F1]. After the race he went out with that [sad] face, because he thought 'all those poor people, coming all the way to Brazil and look at what happened'. He felt like he had to do it for them, saying it's for all these people that he has to do well."

"We would've loved to be at the banderazo. Picture this: before leaving we even had to buy an extra suitcase just for all the gifts Franco received this weekend. It's been incredible."

About the impact of Franco's fans on F1: "I don't know if you've seen it, but now the Instagram account of F1 has been posting in Spanish (targeted to hispanic countries). I don't remember the F1 ever making such an amount of posts in Spanish before. This means that the F1 is embracing with gratefulness this community, these new argentinian fans and everyone Franco's bringing in."

About Brazil GP: "It was tough, it started tough and it ended tough. Considering it was an unknown track for him, his first time there, the tricky rain conditions we had, if I go back to all the sessions I think Franco was quite fast, even though he couldn't try the inters until the race because of his crash in quali. So I'm happy with the work he's done, considering he's a rookie, it was his 6th race, the wet unknown track, he did a good job. At the end there was too much water, in the straight there were two big rivers. Unfortunately he aquaplaned in one of them and lost the car, there was nothing else he could do. It can happen to you, like it happened to him and many others, or it can't. So it happened, the conditions weren't good and there isn't anything to throw in his face by my part."

About his relationship with his race engineer and their radio in Brazil: "It's always like this, maybe Franco has an opinion and Gaëtan has another, sometimes they agree but the most important part is that they win and lose together. Franco and Gaëtan will win and lose together, in the good and bad times. We'll never know what would've happened if they had listened to Franco [about him repeatedly asking for wet tyres before his crash]. The point is that him and Franco have a great connection, he trusts a lot in his criteria and this hasn't changed at all. They're always together in the simulator, now going for Vegas and thinking about the future."

About Franco feeling bad for the mechanics after his crash: "He wanted to be there helping in any way he could. I don't know what other drivers do but Franco is very affectionate with all the members of his team and greets them every morning, says goodbye to everyone every night, he has a special connection with them. His biggest worry was the effort they had to put to fix his car so he was constantly coming in and out of the garage, asking if he could help with anything, supporting them and thanking them."

About his relationship with Alex and the overall climate in Williams: "The best thing is that it's like a small family. It's our first F1 team so we can't really compare, but it feels good to work there, it doesn't feel like you're in F1 and feels like we're still in MP [F2]. Everyone is lovely and it's a pretty family-like climate."

#she did another interview that was practically the same but also mentioned franco's been working very closely with his therapist gustavo #which is really good to hear #them having to buy an extra suitcase to fit all his gifts <3 what he deserves #sorry for any grammar mistake i'm kinda tired lol #franco colapinto #fc43 #f1 #williams racing #brazil gp 2024 #maría catarineu

52 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 2 days ago

Note

Part 2 of the last highschool au!Aventurine but make it the famous prom confession from Aventurine after trying to flirt with oblivious reader for months 🗣️ Especially when it's their final prom before graduating

“Can I have this dance?” | Part 2

Summary: On prom night, after months of subtle flirting, Aventurine finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, realizing he’s been falling for you all along. Amid the soft glow of the dance floor, he admits his affection, and you finally understand the meaning behind all his teasing smiles and kind words.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, High School AU, Photography, Fluff, Slow Burn, Prom, Confession, Happy Ending.

A/N: YESSS OMGGG!!! 🤭🤭💖💖💖🫶🫶🫶

(Part 1)

The weeks flew by in a blur of exams, yearbook deadlines, and laughter shared in fleeting glances across crowded hallways. Somehow, in that whirlwind of senior year, Aventurine found himself gravitating toward you, camera in hand, searching the halls for that familiar smile that had changed something in him.

But if he was honest, his task had shifted entirely. It wasn’t just about “Moments of Joy” anymore—it was about catching you in them. And in those quiet moments, camera in hand, he’d tried everything to catch your attention beyond a quick hello or a compliment here and there, but you seemed blissfully unaware of his growing affections. Every subtle remark, every teasing smile, fell on oblivious ears, and it drove him to the edge of exasperation.

It was at the final prom of the year, under the soft glow of string lights and drifting confetti, that Aventurine decided enough was enough. The night was buzzing with the energy of finality—the last dance, the last night they’d all share as students. He’d tried to keep his usual calm demeanor, but his heart wouldn’t listen. Tonight, he’d do what he’d never done before—lay his cards on the table.

He spotted you near the edge of the dance floor, laughing with your friends, your attire catching the light with every turn, your smile as dazzling as ever. His heart sped up at the sight, but he squared his shoulders and strode over, his mind set.

"Hey, can I have this dance?" he asked, voice low, barely hiding the nervous edge beneath his confident tone.

You blinked in surprise but nodded, smiling as you took his hand. “Of course, I didn’t know you danced.”

He smirked, pulling you gently toward the floor. “I don’t. Not really. But I’d make an exception tonight.”

You both swayed together to the slow rhythm, the room fading around you, as if the two of you were the only ones there. He took a deep breath, finally ready to say what he’d been holding back all this time.

“I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while,” he began, searching for the right words. “But I don’t think you’ve quite noticed.”

You looked up at him, confused but curious. “Tell me what?”

Aventurine’s hand on your waist tightened slightly, steadying himself as he met your eyes, every practiced line he’d rehearsed over and over vanishing in the moment. “I think I… I like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

The realization dawned in your eyes, your expression softening as a hint of pink dusted your cheeks. “Wait… that’s what all those random compliments and photos were for?”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Yes. Apparently, I’m not very good at this,” he admitted, laughing softly. “I was hoping you’d notice, but it seems I underestimated how… unaware you could be.”

You laughed, a sweet, gentle sound that made his heart swell. “I thought you were just being friendly, but now it all makes sense.”

There was a pause as you looked at each other, and he felt a warmth, a quiet acceptance, radiating from your gaze. The music faded in the background as he leaned a little closer, his heart pounding with both fear and excitement. “So… would you consider giving me a shot?”

You smiled, stepping a little closer, and he saw a spark of mischief in your eyes. “Only if you promise to take at least one photo with me for the yearbook.”

His confidence returned in full as he laughed, pulling you closer. “Done. But only if I get to keep a copy.”

With that, he gently brushed his lips against your cheek, sealing the promise of something new between you, something that he hadn’t anticipated—but was ready to risk everything for.

#hsr #honkai star rail #x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine x reader #fluff #high school au #photography #slow burn #prom #confession #happy ending

37 notes · View notes

unbloodiedmartyr · 2 days ago

Text

i have my last session with this one student today and jesus christ i am So relieved to be done with him. not because hes a particularly bad student at all but because he is in possession of the most unfathomably disgusting creature i have ever encountered in all my years of living on this planet. we are talking next level utterly heinous shit. we are talking being in the same room with this creature is akin to psychic warfare. we are talking an aged pug that is so utterly fucked up that it should practically be the poster child for Why Its Breed Was A Mistake. i am accosted by this foul wriggling 1kg bag of rice sized beast the second i enter the abode, greeted not by the typical barking or yipping noise that one would expect of a dog, but the high pitched nasal squealing of a suckling pig, a noise that i am told is the result of two corrective surgeries on the dogs sinuses because why breed a dog that can breath right? i reiterate, this is supposed to be the Improved Version. it rushes me like an Alabama sorority hopeful, pawing and snuffling at my leg in a cry for attention because for reasons unbeknownst to me, the pug likes me and seeks my approval. and this is where the second wave of horrors start. the creature reeks, fetid stinking air rising up from its wheezing slavering maw. it licks my ankle and i have to spend the next two hours fighting back the urge to hurl while i vainly attempt to guide this kid through integration by recognition. for the duration of this time, the dog is in the room, standing loyally by its master as he suffers the slings and arrows of calculus. yet another health issue typical of the breed is skin conditions - who would have thought that engineering an animal to have the loose skin of an ninety year old man could have such consequences? - so it spends quite a lot of time sucking loudly, and i mean Loudly, at the clogged pores on its itching paws, a noise that reverberates through the air and seems to encircle my head like a thorny crown of abject misery. like a vise. you would think this to be the height of it but the dog is not content to stop there and instead redirects its attention to its clogged anal glands. does it bite at these as well, you may ask? no, gentle reader, it does not. the creature pulls itself up off the ground from where it has been lying with its displaced hips at a deeply concerning angle - reminiscent of the time i dislocated my shoulder after falling off a swing set in the third grade - and walks slowly, with ceremonious pomp, into the centre of the room. it sits itself down on the carpet. it rotates its head one hundred and eighty degrees towards me so that the fatty wrinkles of its skin pull into a rope-like taughtness, like wringing out a used rag. it stares up at me with glassy, fishlike eyes. then, the dog lifts its hind legs off of the carpet in a beautiful double developpe and begins to use its front legs to pull itself in tight spiralling circles on the floor. some far away part of my brain considers that this must be a considerable effort for the creature, as more of that gutteral pig-like screeching is emanating from its mouth, but for the most part i can only stare blankly and thank god that this is a family that does not require me to take my shoes off when i enter the house. the child i am instructing is unperturbed. he is accustomed to the behaviour of this beast and only fondly admonishes it once before forgetting about it entirely.

but i cannot forget so easily. i do not think i ever will be able to.

42 notes · View notes

starlight-archer · 1 day ago

Note

i’d really appreciate a hurt/comfort payneland fic with cuddling on the couch or possibly a fic where they fuck with election ballots bc they’re ghosts and get kamala elected instead 😭 it’s been something i’ve been thinking of since before the results were out and i just think it’s be silly. thanks in advance for considering!

Here it is! Charles and Edwin enlist some American ghosts to fuck with the ballots and then cuddle! I hope you enjoy and that this lifts your spirits a bit!!

"Phew!" Charles tumbled back through the mirror, panting, Edwin not too far behind him, hands clinging to the sides of his jacket from behind. "That was a bit close for comfort, wasn't it?"

They had almost been caught, but had managed to slip away before things could get hairy. They had also made sure that their actions couldn't be tracked back to them.

"Charles, that might be the most egregious understatement that I have ever heard from you." Edwin didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Honestly, he was still shaken from the whole experience. They didn't often pay heed to foreign politics, let alone the politics of the living, but this had been necessary. There had been no way that either if them could sit still when they had caught wind of what was about to happen.

Sitting through Brexit and the Tory reign in England had been bad enough, goodness knows things were still pretty cocked up even without them in power (big messes to clear up and all that). But, sitting through a second Trump presidency when the only reason for it was some miserable concoction of sexism, racism, queerphobia, and thousands of people just refusing to vote?

Unconscionable.

Sure, what they had done was definitely illegal (oh it was so, so illegal), and probably questionable on some level, but it was clear as day that the pros of such a venture far, far outweighed the cons. If anything, this absolutely counted as a good deed.

Even if it did break some pretty strict rules about the dead tampering with the affairs of the living.

They would simply have to be on their best behaviour from now on.

It would be fine.

And what had they done exactly?

They had mirror hopped over to the US and simply enlisted some willing participants to fill in all of the blank ballots with votes. By the time they were done, it was just enough to tip the scales in a less devastatingly horrifying direction.

It was for the American citizens that would be thrust into suffering because of that awful man and his depraved followers, it was for the minorities from various walks of life who would face the potential of having to fear for their lives, due to the inciting of violence by emboldened right-wing extremists. For the people who were hated unduly, just for daring to exist.

And it was daring. It was an act of bravery and courage that deserved respect.

Both Charles and Edwin had lived through times where being different could get you killed. Existing had been illegal, frowned upon, hidden behind closed doors, punished with torture masquerading as therapy, shunned, and erased from the history books.

Never again.

Never like that.

Why did history always have the nastiest habit of repeating itself? Over and over and over again. Maybe hell was empty.

But they had done it, done what they had impulsively set out to to and they had succeeded. It was almost surreal.

And, perhaps most importantly, they hadn't done it alone.

They had gone to each state one by one and contacted as many ghosts as they could, gathering all those who had been unable to vote, who had their voices stolen from them, and for each ballot that was left blank, the ghost of an American citizen fought for the people they had been forced to leave behind.

A great deal of them had even moved on afterwards.

"Come on, mate. It's alright, it's over." Charles' warm voice cut through the noise in Edwin's mind. "Come and sit."

Charles put his hands over Edwin's (which were still situated at his waist, balled up in the fabric of his jacket). Gently, he eased his grip and moved to link their fingers together as he faced his best friend.

Immediately, a large amount of the tension drained from Edwin's body. It was as though a weight that had previously been crushing him, had life away from his shoulders in an instant. It had been a lot, but it was done and it was going to be okay.

He allowed Charles to lead him over to their little sofa by the wall. It was a familiar position, sitting side by side, hands joined in an act of mutual comfort and reassurance.

Neither of them said anything for a long while. They didn't really need to.

Charles leaned back against the sofa and wrapped an arm around Edwin, pulling him closer until his head was resting on Charles' shoulder. He didn't hesitate to run his fingers through Edwin's soft, dark hair.

He revelled for a moment, in his ability to express such affection. It was something so simple and yet, until they had left Port Townsend, it had been shut behind this unspoken boundary that neither of them had dared to cross.

They did a lot of things now that they hadn't dared to before, and far more things that they had already done, but that had the context rearranged.

It was kind of magical; being together in this new way. It almost felt like something that had been fated, something foretold, painted in the stars and woven into the fabric of every reality.

And yet, it felt so normal, so simple. It was like they were created to be a matched set, despite being from different eras in time. Like salt and pepper shakers, or a pair of shoes. Sure, maybe you could have one without the other but it was always preferable to have both.

Charles was prompted to recall the time when Crystal had compared them to one of her Internet jokes: "bonded pair, do not separate." or "items frequently bought together".

Despite falling easily into the romantic side of their developing relationship, it still surprised him a little bit when Edwin shifted to wrap his arms around him. If only he could go back and tell his past self that things could truly be this good, this sweet, this wonderful.

Charles used to question his goodness, used to fear becoming like the people who hurt him. But, with Edwin next to him, he couldn't find any shadow of fear or doubt left in his heart.

#dead boy detectives #save dead boy detectives #Payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland #Ghostly ballot tampering #Dbda #Fic requests

31 notes · View notes

intheemptymirror · 3 hours ago

Text

drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,” he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

#fullmirror #miscmirror #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff

38 notes · View notes