#or don't! i wrote it because it needed to be out of my head

[freshbakedbreadstick]

Of Traits and Closets - Stack x F! POC coded! Reader x Smoke

Elias "Stack" Moore x F! POC CODED! Reader x Elijah "Smoke" Moore

Summary: Stack was a bad influence on you, for sure. But you can't forget that Smoke was cut from the same exact cloth.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is described to have a vagina. Reader's appearance is not mentioned, HOWEVER, I wrote this with women of color in mind!! NO SPOILERS! Starts revolving around Reader and Stack, Smoke joins in at the end. Mentions of vaginal fingering, dirty talk, probably out of character because I STILL haven't seen the movie yet, reader wears a dress, lots of dirty talk, THREESOME, no incest between twins just sharing, usage of pet names (baby, angel, girl, etc.), breast and nipple play, groping, some religious mentions (in a comical way), Stack definitely likes to bite, unprotected semi PIV, sorry if I miss anything, brothers will be brothers.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Imma be honest with u all . . . IM NOT SUPER PROUD OF THIS 1 idk what happened i just . . . 😭 I've been editing it for 3 days n redoing it n it just feel it's weak but idkkkk I might be ovethinking it . STILL HAVENT SEEN THE MOVIE i need to REAL bad i just don't have the timeee ! ! Anyways need both of them❗️as always ENJOY BESTIES

(Pretend this gif includes them both bc there aren't that many with them I can find w/o spoilers 😭)

You loved your boys, you really did. Both of them had traits that you just absolutely adored. You could list them all... but it would take ages to get through all of them.

But, as an example... Smoke was the leader, calm and collected but so sweet. He was the one to kiss your tears away, cooing as his hands trailed over your skin in the candlelight.

But Stack, oh sweet Stack, he was the troublemaker... and fuck did you love him for this.

He was the one to tease you, pinching your sides, trailing his hands up to cup your breasts for the most brief second before rushing off snickering, grinning like a fool. He was the one to drip cool ice cream over your skin on purpose accident during a warm summer's day, cooing that he would clean it up for you only to run his tongue over each droplet, letting himself wander a little too far. He was the one to pull you away with a mischievous smirk, sneaking you off under his twin's nose... like right now.

"Come on baby, come on," he whispered, hand gripping your wrist as he tugged you along with him, feet light as he moved toward the closet.

You whipped your head around, halfheartedly looking through the shadows for a pair of eyes, ones that you know would click their tongue and shake their head at your actions. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth when you saw nobody around.

"Stack," you whispered, voice whiny, "I don't know if-"

He pulled you into the darkness of the closet, making you gasp as you stumbled into the back wall, eyesight enveloped in darkness as he pulled the door shut. It clicked so softly closed, despite his rough pull, indicating to nobody that your bodies were sneaking away into it.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's just me," his smooth voice said, lifting at the end.

Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but you could hear the sly grin he was, for sure, sporting in his voice.

His hands moved quickly, large and warm as they gripped your hips, pulling you flush against the solid bulge underneath his linen pants. You could only gasp and moan at the feeling, "Jesus."

"Don't take the lord's name in vain, now" he murmured with a small laugh at your audible eyeroll, hands sliding up your sides to the straps of your flimsy linen dress. Was it improper for a lady to wear such an item? Maybe, but it had been so hot lately that it was all you could bare to wear.

He touched it ever so gently, letting it fall slowly, almost comically slowly, down your shoulder. He chuckled, the sound rolling deep from his chest, as he watched your chest rise and fall through the cracks of light peeking in through the door.

"I'll be quick, baby, I promise. Smoke won't even notice..." he murmured, leaning in to lick at the saltiness of your skin from your bare shoulder blade to the junction of your neck, pressing a kiss there.

You took a shaky breath, skin erupting in goosebumps. With wide eyes and a bit back grin you gave in, moving your own hands to grip his button down, wrinkling the fabric between your fingers.

"You sure?" You whispered, voice slowly becoming slurred with need. He hummed softly, hearing the way your neediness matched his own.

Your fingernail gently flicked the buttons at the front, the sound of each click inaudible between your pants, his hums, and the wrinkling of fabric. Your action didn't go unnoticed, however... it only added fuel to his fire.

He brushed his tongue over his bottom lip, suppressing the shudder at your voice. He loved it when your humored him, matching his energy of trouble in your own way. It only made his cock throb almost painfully. He swore to himself that if he could die from a lack of stimulation, he would've died right here and now.

"Oh sweet angel," he rasped out, yanking the strap further down, finger trailing to pull the top down to reveal one of your breasts, "Grant me salvation..."

"Stack-" you murmured, cutting yourself off with a choked moan as his warm mouth suddenly enveloped your nipple, feeling it pebble against his wet tongue.

You flinched as he suckled harshly, humming eagerly at the way your body arched into his mouth, head falling back against the wall and hips inadvertently grinding into him. He bit gently, tongue coming to soothe the pleasurable sting.

"Thought you were so worried about my brother finding out," he purred as he pulled back, blowing air onto your abused nipple.

You jerked at the feeling, "Well if your gonna be like this, might as well give in..."

You both let out breathy chuckles, his hand moving down your hip to the hem of your dress. He took a second to toy with it, twisting it in his fingers, letting you feel the heat of his skin through the fabric, before sliding his hand underneath.

"I know you can't say no to me," he cooed, leaning in to kiss you. You could only hum, eyes shutting, hand coming to cup his cheek, brushing against his stubble.

His hand trailed up, fingertips grazing ever so slightly over your skin as he moved to hook his finger over your underwear, ready to slide them down in the painstakingly slow way he loved to do. It made your body shiver, pussy aching in anticipation.

But his hand... found nothing there, no little cotton strap, nothing. He felt his pulse quicken, knees nearly giving out as he suppressed the urge to fall to his knees and pray, burying his gratitude over having a girl like you in his life into your bare cunt.

But instead, he yanked himself away to look at you with wide eyes,"Dirty, dirty girl... no panties, no bloomers, nothing?"

You felt your cheeks flush. Despite planning this, you couldn't help but have a moment of brief shyness. Your teeth chewed your bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes while trying, and failing, to look innocent, "It's too hot for all that nonsense, baby..."

A partial truth. You couldn't help but think Smoke was right when he would tease, saying his brother was a bad influence on you, influencing you to do things like wearing low cut tops so that could lean over in front of each twin, giving them a quick eye full.

Or in this case, foregoing panties when the day slowed down and it got cool enough to bare skin to skin contact with one another.

His grin made his cheeks hurt, but he didnt care, he only cared about the way your voice rasped, making his cock twitch in his briefs, "You minx... you're just as bad as me..."

Eyes narrowing, free hand coming down to toy with the button on his fly, you whispered, "Oh no... I could never be..."

This made him shiver and growl, rushing in to kiss you again, teeth gnashing and tongue intertwining with your own, swallowing your moans.

It was a blur of heavy breaths and furious movements from here to the moment you were both pushing your clothes to the side, desperate to relieve the aching of your cores with one other.

Your fingers yanked his fly open so hard that the button flew off, clattering and rolling onto the floor. Meanwhile, his own hand bunched your dress, pulling it up over your chest to reveal your body to him.

He groaned at the sight, tongue swiping over his bottom lip and dark eyes trailing over every inch of you, "So pretty... and all for me..."

His free hand then came to roughly grip your thigh, yanking it apart just in time to see a small drip fall to floor between you. It glistened, almost taunting you both, on the wooden floor, somehow managing to be one of the only things to catch the light from the cracks of the door, nearly illuminating the embarrassing sight for both of you to see.

He let out a low whistle as your cheeks burned, "Have I been neglecting you, baby? Have I been ignoring this honeypot so badly that she makes a mess of our floors when she sees me?"

You suddenly cried out, feeling his hand let go of your thigh, rough fingertips brushing through your folds, from your slit to your clit, gathering the wetness onto his fingers.

"Need a taste," he whispered, voice rough and low, eyeing the wetness coating his fingers.

The look in his eyes was almost animal, the wild feeling coursing through his veins as his brain told him he needed to devour you right then and there. He needed to taste you, smell you, needed to have you imprinted in his mind and soul right then and there, it was unbearable!

But you on the other hand, you couldnt take it anymore. Youhad enough at this point, you were tired of the foreplay and the teasing touches and all the waiting. You were tired to the glances across the room, of the innuendos over the dining table, and of the practiced reluctance, you wanted, no, needed him now.

You let your hand snake under his briefs to grip his cock, hearing him hiss as his hand quickly moved to grip your thigh again. His other hand let go of your dress, moving to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him again as he rubbed circles into your skin.

"Take it out baby," he said lowly, "I know you can't wait. My girl isn't very patient, isn't she?"

You could only stare at him, chest heaving as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, using your other hand to pull his clothes away, finally freeing him to the warm air of the dark closet. His bottom lip quivered, shiny with the saliva that coated it, parting as he groaned, heavy, aching cock no longer constricted in his pants. It felt so good for him, finally able to feel your hand around him, instead of his own palming himself in the bathroom as he waited for you to alone to pounce.

"Ohhhh see that baby?" He cooed, forehead pressing to your own, "Look at it, look at my cock. See how wet my tip is? You did that babydoll... all you. Make me so hard, want you so bad..."

His eyes shifted from your face down as you carefully ran your hand over his shaft, fingers tracing the bulging vein on the underside all the way to the leaking tip. He jerked his hips into your hand, letting you inadvertently jerk him off a small bit, the proximity allowing him to breathe in your scent.

"Need it," you whispered, voice thick and pupils blown wide despite the darkness, watching the desperation in his body.

"I know baby, I know..." he cooed, "Gonna fuck that pussy until your crying out my name."

His knee knocked your leg open, letting you slowly jerk his cock as he shifted your hips. Then... the head of his cock nudged right up against your clit. You both groaned, so loud at this point, but too drunk in the feeling of one another to even care about your little hiding game.

"That's right..." he panted, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, "Juuuust like that. Needed my baby, needed her sweet pussy real bad too. My cock missed you, you know, missed his pussy real bad while i was out workin' for you..."

He was always so mouthy, one of your favorite attributes too. While Smoke was also quite talkative when it came to you, he preferred to whisper sweet nothings as you two made love, the slow deep rolling of his hips accompanied with his coos of how pretty you looked taking him pushing you over the edge every time. But when it came to Stack, he was brash and unashamed, telling you exactly how you made him feel in the dirtiest of ways. How he got that dirty mouth, you didn't know, but you at least knew which brother got their mouth washed out with soap more often in childhood.

You let him hook one of your legs over his hip, jerking your hips to match his movements are you ground against his cock. It was hot and muggy in the closet now, making your skin feel sticky but the sensation feel so much more intense. It made you lightheaded as your senses were overwhelmed by his touch, his voice, his scent, and everything him.

Your nose buried itself into the crook of his neck, listening to him coo to you as he pressed the head right up against your entrance, pushing it teasingly in and out.

You let out a choked gasp, feeling the way he would push the tip in for a moment, barely letting you feel the pleasure of being stretched over him, before pulling back out.

"Want it that bad?" He babbled, "My girl needs it so bad that she can't even handle getting just the tip? My brother neglecting you too?"

It was just you and Smoke home today, Stack was out running his errands and doing his work. And while it was not true that Smoke neglected you, he did have a tendency to get caught up in taking care of his buisness at home, focused on getting his work done before coming to press kisses to your neck from behind as you washed the dishes, bending you over the sink to say his thank yous for being so patient and hardworking around the house.

But of course, they were brothers and they were twins, a little friendly competition definitely happened between the two.

"This why you got me here?" You slurred, hips moving to chase him, but he only pulled away and grinned, "This an ego boost for you?"

"No baby, this is me showin' you that my brother makes love while I fuck-"

The door swung open.

You both gasped, scrambling for a second. It resulted in you jerking your head back and hitting your head on the wall, Stack tripping over his pants, which you didn't even notice had fallen to his ankles, as he stumbled away from you. He slammed his back against the other wall with a loud groan, the two of you flushed, mouths agape to see Smoke standing there, looking unamused.

His eyes raked from his brother, brow twitching as he saw him clamber to stand up, cock out and dripping. He then turned to you, legs shaking and breasts peeking out from where Stack had pulled the collar of your shirt down, chest heaving and skin shiny with a film of sweat.

The corners of his mouth twitched as his eyes locked onto the few droplets that managed to make their way down to the floor between your legs, staining the floor proudly.

"Taking too long," he said, drawling out the last letter as his eyes narrowing slightly.

Neither of you said anything or even looked away from the hulking frame in the doorway, air filled with the sound of pants and racing hearts.

Smoke shifted, hand moving to cup your cheek. It made you soften, feeling his gentle hold cradle your face so sweetly, skin smelling like the outside air he was in moments ago. His hand was cool to the touch, the temperature change against your cheek compared to the stuffy air of the closet making you sigh softly.

"You think I can't fuck her?" He said, not even bothering to look at Stack as his hand shifted to grip your jaw, tight. He maneuvered both of you around, pulling your back to his chest and making it so that his back was pressed against the wall you were just against.

You eyes made contact with Stack's seeing the way his cock twitched at the sight of your exposed breast and stunned face. He groaned softly as Smoke gripped the bottom hem of your dress, tugging it up to your neck.

You watched Stack's hand shake, arm twitching to inch toward his cock, eyes raking down your body. Then, the familiar jingle of a belt filled the air, making you still.

Smoke just snickered, eyes looking up and over your shoulder to see that his brother started putting a show for you, hand locked around his cock, lazily jerking himself off.

"Brother," Smoke said, making Stack jerk his head up, "I'll show you that I know how to fuck her."

And he sure did. Both did, actually. God, you really did love your boys.

[ijustwannabecool]

Somewhere Only We Know - Part 1

Lando Norris x Reader

Based upon this request:

Hi!!! First of all, I love love loooove your stories. I don't know if you're open to writing for Lando. Just wanted to maybe suggest this: we all know he's spiraling at the moment, maybe someone who he meets and steadies him? I know he has that typical athlete fboy image. But maybe someone who he changes for and really helps him mentally as well. Seeing that change from an outside perspective from people in F1 or fans would be pretty cool. Just a thought that popped up! Thanks! Will be anxiously waiting for your next uploads!

Summary... He wasn’t looking for anything when he found you — just a diner, a coffee, a moment to breathe — but somehow you became everything. This is the story of how he fell, how you stayed, and how together you built something louder than the noise trying to tear you apart.

A/N: I hope this story does justice to your request! I wrote it like a book, so it has chapters within the story. Also, the story was so long that I had to split it into two parts because Tumblr would not allow me to post it. I had such a blast writing it, and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it. As always, thank you so much for being here, for supporting these little worlds we create, and for sharing your love with the characters too.

Happy reading, and have a beautiful day today!! 🖤✨

If you enjoyed the story and feel like supporting my writing, you can donate a strawberry matcha through my Ko-fi! 🍓🍵 (No pressure at all — your kindness is already everything.)

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

Chapter 1: Quiet Places

The hotel room was suffocating. Walls too close, lights too harsh, the buzzing in his head louder than anything outside.

Lando sat on the edge of the bed, hoodie half-pulled over his head, staring at the carpet like it might offer answers. His phone buzzed once. Then again. Group chats. Team messages. Notifications about another headline he didn’t want to read.

Partying again. Lando Norris spotted leaving club at 3 AM. Is McLaren’s golden boy losing focus?

He scrubbed a hand over his face, jaw tight. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t entirely true. It didn’t matter how lonely the nights felt after race weekends that didn’t go the way they were supposed to. It didn’t matter that sometimes the noise in his head got so loud, he just needed somewhere — anywhere — to drown it out.

Tonight, even the noise couldn’t fix it.

His chest felt tight. His breathing shallow. I need air.

Without thinking, Lando grabbed his room key, shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, pulled his hoodie tighter around him, and slipped out into the night.

—

The city hummed in a way hotels never could. A low, steady thrum of life: streetlights blinking through misty air, taxis splashing through puddles, people moving in and out of places he didn’t know. It was cold — not winter cold, but enough to bite at his fingers.

He walked without a destination. Past neon-lit bars, past groups laughing too loud, past windows that showed lives he didn’t belong to. His sneakers splashed through a puddle, and he didn’t even care.

Just keep walking. Maybe if he kept walking, the buzzing in his brain would go quiet.

It didn’t.

Not until he saw it.

A diner. Tiny. Wedged between two dark shops, almost hidden except for a flickering OPEN sign that fought to stay alive against the night.

Above the door, in faded, curling blue paint, a small sign read: The Bluebird Diner.

There was even a little bluebird painted near the handle — tiny and easy to miss, but somehow it caught his eye.

Inside, the air smelled like coffee and pancakes. Warm. Safe. Real.

He tugged his hoodie lower over his forehead and pushed the door open, the bell above it giving a sad little jingle.

He slid into the booth furthest from the windows, shoulders hunched, head low. Just a guy looking to be left alone. He pulled out his phone out of habit, but the screen glare felt too bright. He turned it face-down on the table.

That’s when he noticed her.

Sitting alone at the counter, a few stools down, a girl — about his age maybe — stirring her coffee absentmindedly with a spoon. A book sat open in front of her, its pages stained and loved. She didn’t look up when the door jingled. Didn’t stare. Didn’t gasp. Didn’t even seem to care.

For once, someone wasn’t looking at him like him.

It was... strange. And weirdly grounding.

He stared at the laminated menu without reading a word, mind drifting somewhere fuzzier, quieter.

Until—

"You look like you lost a fight with a thunderstorm."

The voice came from the counter. Light. Almost teasing.

Lando blinked, looking up slowly. The girl — the stranger — was smiling at him, just a little. Not mocking. Just... seeing.

He coughed awkwardly, dragging a hand over his jaw. "Something like that," he muttered.

She nodded like she understood. Like she wasn’t going to ask for details.

"You want coffee?" she offered, tilting her mug slightly like a peace treaty. "It's terrible, but it’s hot."

A laugh — real, cracked around the edges — escaped him before he could stop it. The first laugh in what felt like forever.

He shook his head, smiling under his hoodie. "Sure. Why not."

The girl slid off her stool with a soft scrape of leather boots against tile. She crossed the diner in slow, unhurried steps, refilling her coffee mug behind the counter before grabbing a second chipped white cup for him.

No one else was there. No waitress in sight. Just the jukebox playing something old and sad, the rain starting to splatter softly against the windows, and her — a small anchor in a world that felt like it was spinning too fast.

She set the cup down in front of him without ceremony.

"No judgment," she said lightly, curling into the opposite booth seat without being invited. "Just company."

Lando blinked at her again, unsure whether to laugh, thank her, or pull his hoodie lower. Instead, he mumbled, "You always hand out coffee to sad strangers?"

She grinned into her mug. "Only the ones who look like they need it more than me."

A silence stretched between them — but not uncomfortable. A soft kind of silence. The kind that lets you breathe without pretending.

"I’m L—" He caught himself. Old habit.

She arched a brow, playful. "Let me guess. Lucas? Logan? Liam?"

He huffed a laugh, ducking his head. "Something like that."

She didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just sipped her coffee like it didn’t matter.

"You don’t have to tell me," she shrugged. "You can be whoever you want here. Pretty sure that's the whole point of a place like this."

He stared at her for a beat longer than he meant to. Whoever you want to be. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone gave him that option.

The neon sign buzzed faintly behind her, casting a golden halo around her hair. She looked real. Solid. Untouched by the headlines and chaos he lived in.

"You from around here?" he asked finally, voice scratchy.

She shook her head, setting her cup down. "Passing through. Like you, I guess."

He wondered if she was running from something too.

Outside, a car whooshed by, sending spray across the pavement. The rain came harder now, drumming against the windows like a heartbeat.

The girl glanced at him again — really looked this time — and her smile softened into something quieter. More knowing.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," she said. "But if you want to — I’m a good listener. World's worst advice giver, though."

He barked a short, broken laugh.

"Good," he said, cracking a ghost of a smile. "I'm not looking for advice."

She leaned back in the booth, tucking one knee up against the vinyl seat.

"Then we’re a perfect match," she said, toasting him with her mug.

Lando watched her for a long moment. The way she didn’t push. The way she didn’t want anything from him. The way she offered nothing more complicated than a crappy cup of coffee and a seat across from her.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed that.

He wrapped his hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into his cold fingers. His hoodie still shadowed his face, but for the first time in days, maybe weeks, he didn't feel the need to hide.

Not from her.

Not here.

At The Bluebird Diner.

Somewhere between the broken race weekends and the headlines he couldn't outrun, Lando Norris started to breathe again. And it started with a stranger who never asked for his name.

———

Chapter 2: Rain Between Us

The coffee was terrible. Burnt, watery, exactly what you’d expect from a diner fighting to survive the 2 a.m. quiet. But somehow, with her sitting across from him, it tasted like the best thing he'd had in weeks.

He took a sip, grimaced, and set the cup down. She laughed under her breath, hiding it behind her own mug.

"Told you," she said, voice warm with amusement.

"You weren't kidding," Lando muttered, tapping a finger against the chipped rim.

The jukebox crooned something old and broken-hearted, a perfect soundtrack for the flickering neon, the rain outside, the shared silence stretching between them.

"So," she said after a moment, stirring her coffee like she wasn't even drinking it, "Mysterious Almost-Lucas. You just wandering, or are you running?"

The question was soft. Not a trap. He could lie if he wanted. Hell, he could get up and leave and she wouldn’t chase him.

Still — he found himself shrugging, the truth spilling out without much thought.

"Little bit of both," he said, voice rough.

She nodded like she understood. Like she'd been there too.

"Sometimes you have to get a little lost," she mused, tracing the edge of her mug with a fingertip, "before you figure out where you're supposed to be."

Lando watched her. The way she spoke without pretending she had all the answers. The way she sat like she belonged to no one and nowhere, perfectly at peace with it.

"You some kind of fortune cookie in disguise?" he asked, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

She grinned, playful. "Nah. I just read too much."

She tapped the battered paperback lying abandoned beside her coffee.

He squinted at the title, smirking when he caught it: The Art of Getting Lost.

"Seriously?" he asked, incredulous.

She just shrugged, her smile easy and unapologetic. "Like I said," she teased, "perfect match."

Time blurred inside the diner. Minutes folding into each other until the rain outside turned from a light patter to a steady downpour. Neither of them moved to leave.

It wasn’t until a particularly loud crack of thunder rattled the windows that she glanced at the clock and sighed.

"I should probably get going," she said, sliding off the booth seat reluctantly. "Before I turn into a pumpkin or whatever tragic fairytale ending is waiting for me out there."

Lando found himself standing too, his legs stiff from sitting so long. The diner felt too big all of a sudden. Too empty without her in it.

"Where you headed?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She shrugged, slipping on a worn denim jacket. "Couple blocks over. Motel with questionable sheets and even worse cable."

A part of him — the reckless part — wanted to offer to walk her there. The smarter part knew how dangerous that could sound.

She must've seen the hesitation flicker across his face, because she tilted her head, grinning.

"You can walk me to the corner if you want," she said lightly. "I promise not to scream stranger danger."

He laughed — a real, full laugh this time — and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Deal."

—

The rain was cold, soaking into the edges of his sneakers almost immediately, but he didn��t care. They walked close but not touching, their shoulders almost brushing every few steps.

She didn’t pull out her phone. Didn’t rush. Just let the night wrap around them like a secret.

"This your thing?" he asked after a beat, pulling his hood tighter. "Late-night diners? Making sad strangers feel less sad?"

She smiled up at him, rain catching in her eyelashes. "Maybe," she said. "But only the ones who look like they might forget how to come back to themselves."

He looked at her — really looked — and felt something unfamiliar twist low in his chest.

Hope.

It scared him a little.

At the corner, under the orange glow of a flickering streetlight, she stopped and turned to him.

"This is me," she said, nodding toward the dim outline of a motel a few blocks down.

He nodded, unsure what to say.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then, impulsively, she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pen — the kind hotels leave on bedside tables — and grabbed his hand.

Before he could react, she scribbled something across his wrist.

A number. A name.

Y/N.

She capped the pen with a snap and smiled, a little mischievous.

"In case you get lost again," she said. "You know where to find me."

And then — before he could say anything — she winked, turned, and disappeared into the rain.

Leaving Lando standing there, heart thudding in his ribs, staring down at the ink bleeding slowly into his skin.

Somewhere between the cold rain and the bitter coffee, he realized: Maybe getting lost wasn’t always a bad thing.

Not if it brought you to someone like her.

Not if it brought you to the Bluebird Diner.

———

Chapter 3: A Rainy Day

The hotel room smelled like cold coffee and regret. The kind of night that clung to your skin even after you showered, the kind that weighed heavy behind your ribs.

Lando sat at the small desk by the window, hoodie still damp from the rain, staring at the smudged ink on the inside of his wrist.

Y/N. A string of numbers trailing after it.

The rain dripped down the glass in slow, tired patterns. The city blinked below, indifferent to the people trying to survive it.

He grabbed a notepad — the kind every hotel left on the nightstand — and carefully, almost reverently, copied the number down. His pen hovered for a second.

Save it in your phone, his mind whispered. Text her. Call her. Do something.

But his heart was a mess. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Instead, he tore the paper free, folded it in half, and slipped it into the back of his phone case — tucked safe behind the transparent plastic like a secret. A promise he wasn’t brave enough to cash in yet.

"For a rainy day," he muttered to himself, voice rough.

He set his phone down screen-side up, hiding the paper from view, and collapsed back onto the bed.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, for the first time in a long time, Lando Norris let himself hope there might be more than headlines waiting for him. Someday.

—

Two Weeks Later

The world didn’t stop spinning just because he wanted it to. It kept roaring forward — race after race, city after city, good days and bad days bleeding into each other until he barely remembered where he was half the time.

The wins were loud. The losses were louder. And somewhere in between — when the engines went silent and the hotel rooms got too big — he thought of her.

The girl at the Bluebird Diner. The one who handed him terrible coffee and a better kind of silence. The one who smiled at him like he was a person, not a headline.

Sometimes he caught himself scanning crowds, stupidly, looking for a flash of her denim jacket or the soft curve of her smile. Sometimes he dreamed of rainy streets and cracked vinyl booths.

He hadn’t pulled the paper out. Not yet.

He kept telling himself he was too busy. Too tired. Too much of a mess.

But late at night, when sleep wouldn’t come and the weight of everything pressed heavy against his chest, he found himself reaching for his phone, fingers hesitating over the case.

One night — after a brutal race weekend where nothing had gone right — he gave in.

He peeled the phone case back slowly, like uncovering something sacred.

The paper was still there. Crumpled a little. Still holding her number like a lifeline.

His heart thudded against his ribs as he stared at it.

Now or never.

He opened a blank message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Paused.

Deleted it.

Started again.

Lando: Hey. Not sure if you remember me. Coffee at 2AM. Bluebird Diner. Bad jokes, worse coffee. I’ve been carrying your number around like a fool. Mind if I cash it in?

He hit send before he could lose his nerve.

Set the phone face-down on the bed like it was going to explode.

Paced the room. Ran a hand through his hair. Cursed under his breath.

It buzzed five minutes later.

He stared at it, heart in his throat.

Y/N: Hard to forget someone who made bad coffee taste better. Where to?

He smiled. Really smiled. The kind that cracked him open a little and let the light seep in.

Maybe getting lost wasn’t the end of the world after all.

Maybe it was just the start of something better.

———

Chapter 4: After Hours

He didn’t know what he expected.

Maybe that she wouldn’t show. Maybe that he would chicken out and turn back at the door.

Instead, he found himself standing in front of a narrow storefront tucked between a closed tailor shop and a boarded-up art studio. The only light came from a cracked neon sign above the door: Ink & Ivy.

Inside, warm golden light spilled over books stacked in messy piles, fairy lights strung haphazardly across the ceiling. It smelled like old paper and rain-soaked wood.

And there she was. Curled up on a worn armchair in the corner, thumbing through a battered novel, a soft, unreadable smile tugging at her mouth.

Y/N.

Something in his chest unclenched just seeing her.

She looked up when the door chimed, smile widening when she saw him.

"You made it," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Lando shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. "Had to," he said, voice rough from nerves. "Owed you a coffee, remember?"

She grinned and stood, sliding a bookmark into the pages before tucking the novel under her arm.

"You're in luck," she said. "They make a mean hot chocolate here. Coffee's still crap, though."

He laughed, following her deeper into the shop, past shelves that leaned under the weight of forgotten stories.

There was a tiny counter at the back — barely big enough for a cash register and an old espresso machine. No other customers. Just the two of them and the endless hum of rainy-night quiet.

Y/N ordered two hot chocolates without asking what he wanted.

He didn’t mind.

It felt... good. Being led for once instead of leading.

They settled at a small table by the window, mugs steaming between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t heavy. It was just... them.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"So," she said, stirring her drink, "did you find yourself yet?"

He smiled, a little crooked. "Working on it."

She nodded like she approved.

"I think that's the trick," she said thoughtfully, tracing the rim of her mug with a fingertip. "You don't just wake up one day and have all the answers. You kind of... stumble into them. Trip over them. Sometimes they show up in crappy coffee at 2AM."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You and your fortune cookie wisdom."

She tilted her head, pretending to think.

"Maybe I'm just psychic," she teased. "Or maybe I'm really good at pretending everything's fine."

He looked at her — really looked — and felt something tighten low in his chest.

There were shadows under her words. A mirror of his own. It made him want to know every story she kept hidden behind that easy smile.

"You don't have to pretend with me," he said before he could think better of it.

Her eyes softened, the kind of look that made you feel seen without saying anything.

"Neither do you," she whispered.

The rain outside blurred the city into watercolor smears of light and shadow. Inside, the world shrank down to just two people and a thousand unsaid things hanging between them.

He should’ve been scared of it. Of what it meant. Of what it could mean.

But sitting there — with a chipped mug warming his hands and her quiet presence filling all the empty spaces inside him — Lando thought maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be afraid.

Not tonight.

Not with her.

———

Chapter 5: Paper Moons

They stayed in the bookstore until the owner flipped the sign to "Closed" and politely pretended not to notice them still tucked into the corner.

Lando couldn't remember the last time he lost track of time without the roar of an engine or a schedule ticking in the back of his mind.

She made it too easy.

They talked about everything and nothing:

Their favorite childhood cartoons. The worst books they were forced to read in school. How pineapple absolutely does belong on pizza (her opinion) and how it absolutely does not (his).

At one point, while thumbing through a stack of battered travel guides, she glanced up at him, mischievous.

"So what is it you do, exactly?" she asked, tilting her head. "Professional traveler? Pizza connoisseur? World’s slowest book club president?"

Lando laughed, shoving a hand through his messy hair.

"Something like that," he said, half-truthful.

She narrowed her eyes, playful. "Mysterious again, I see."

"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," he said, half under his breath.

She grinned. "Try me. My bet's still on undercover barista."

He laughed again — a real one, deep and rough and unfiltered. God, when was the last time he laughed like this without feeling like he had to perform it?

"I drive," he said finally, shrugging like it wasn’t a whole world. "A lot."

She arched a brow. "Like... truck driver? Racecar driver? Food deliveries?"

He barked another laugh, shaking his head.

"One of those," he said.

She studied him for a beat — not with suspicion, but with something lighter. Curiosity. Amusement.

Then she shrugged like it didn’t really matter.

"Well, I hope you're a better driver than you are a coffee drinker," she teased, bumping her shoulder against his as she passed by to the next shelf.

He smiled to himself, warmth blooming quietly in his chest.

She didn’t press. She didn’t treat him like a puzzle to solve. She just... accepted the pieces he offered and kept walking.

It felt like breathing again after years of holding his breath.

—

Later, they sat cross-legged in the aisle between "Travel" and "Mystery," flipping through a book of weird world records.

"Did you know," she said, tapping a finger against the page, "someone once stacked 500 doughnuts into a tower and balanced it on their forehead?"

Lando snorted. "New life goal."

She laughed, tossing a crumpled receipt at him. It bounced off his hoodie and landed in his lap.

He picked it up, pretended to examine it.

"Is this your phone number?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "No. It’s the bill for your terrible jokes."

He grinned — wide and boyish and unguarded.

For a moment, he let himself forget the cameras, the headlines, the pressure. For a moment, he was just a boy in a bookstore, sitting next to a girl who didn’t need anything from him except what he was willing to give.

And for the first time in a long time — he wanted to give it.

———

Chapter 6: In Between Places

They never made official plans. No "meet me at 8" texts. No set routines.

They just… drifted back into each other’s lives, night after night, like gravity pulling them in without asking permission.

—

One night:

They ended up back at the Bluebird Diner, squeezed into a booth so worn it sagged in the middle. A plate of soggy fries between them. A crumpled napkin-turned-scorecard as they argued over the dumbest trivia questions pulled from a beat-up game box the diner kept behind the counter.

"Name three countries that start with 'Z'!" Y/N demanded, pointing a fry at him like a sword.

"Zimbabwe, Zambia—" Lando started confidently, then paused, face scrunching.

Y/N leaned in, grinning wide. "Clock's ticking, racer boy."

He slapped the table dramatically. "There’s not a third one! That’s cheating!"

"Zanzibar," she said smugly, popping a fry into her mouth.

"That’s not a country!" he protested, laughing so hard he nearly knocked over his drink.

She shrugged innocently. "Maybe if you traveled more, you'd know."

He choked on a laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Unbelievable. First you bully my coffee skills, now my geography."

She grinned and kicked him lightly under the table. "And you love it."

He couldn’t even deny it.

—

Another night:

They sat side-by-side on the hood of his car, parked on the edge of the city where the skyline blurred into open sky.

A half-eaten bag of gummy bears between them. A terrible playlist of early 2000s pop songs humming from the car speakers.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, head tilted toward the stars.

"Sometimes," she said softly, voice nearly lost in the night air, "I feel like I’m just... floating through life. Like I missed the turn somewhere but I’m too scared to go back."

Lando turned his head, watching her instead of the stars.

"I get that," he said, voice low. "I feel like that a lot too."

She glanced at him, surprised. He just shrugged, plucking a gummy bear from the bag and tossing it in the air before catching it in his mouth.

"You're not the only lost cause around here," he said, grinning crookedly.

She smiled — a real one, fragile around the edges.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so alone in the floating.

—

Sometimes:

They didn’t talk at all.

They just wandered through late-night bookstores, or old record shops that stayed open too late for no reason, or abandoned playgrounds where the swings creaked in the wind.

Sometimes Y/N would tell him about the cities she wanted to see but never had the money to visit.

Sometimes Lando would tell her stories about places he’d been — twisting them into ridiculous adventures just to make her laugh.

He left out the race tracks. The fame. The noise.

It wasn’t lying. Not really.

It was protecting something he wasn’t ready to lose.

Not yet.

—

One night:

Sitting on a swingset at some forgotten park, boots dragging lazy lines in the sand, Y/N turned to him with a thoughtful look.

"You know," she said, nudging his shoulder with hers, "you’re not half as mysterious as you think you are."

He raised a brow, grinning. "Yeah?"

She nodded sagely. "You’re just a guy who’s a little lost, a little tired, and way too competitive about trivia games."

He laughed, the sound bubbling out of him before he could stop it.

"Maybe," he said, kicking at the sand. "And you’re just a girl who’s smarter than she lets on and drinks way too much terrible coffee."

She gasped mock-offended. "I tolerate terrible coffee. There’s a difference."

He shook his head, smiling at her like she hung the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, she did.

Little by little, the walls between them cracked.

Little by little, they learned each other’s rhythms.

Little by little, two lost souls stopped floating alone.

And neither of them even realized it was happening — not until it was too late to turn back.

———

Chapter 7: Cracks in the Armor

The night had fallen into one of their easy silences.

Sitting on the swings again, bundled in too-thin jackets, hot drinks warming their hands, they watched the city breathe around them.

Somewhere far away, a siren wailed. Closer, the breeze whispered through the trees, tugging at Y/N’s hair.

"You ever think about just... leaving?" she asked, her voice soft and faraway. "Packing up and disappearing somewhere no one knows you?"

Lando stared at the dark sky.

"All the time," he said quietly.

She glanced at him, catching the rawness in his voice.

"You could," she said gently. "If you wanted to."

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"It’s harder than it sounds," he admitted. "When the world... expects things from you."

She nodded slowly, sipping her drink.

"You don’t owe the world anything," she said simply.

The words hit harder than he expected.

Like maybe — just maybe — she meant them.

He fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie, debating.

Then — impulsively, stupidly — he said:

"I travel for work. A lot. Different countries every week sometimes. Cameras, interviews... noise."

He didn’t look at her when he said it. Couldn’t.

The air shifted between them. Not colder. Not tenser. Just... aware.

Y/N set her drink down carefully in the sand between them.

"You a rockstar or something?" she teased lightly, trying to keep the moment easy.

Lando huffed a laugh. "Not exactly."

She bumped his shoulder with hers, playful.

"Secret agent?"

He smiled a little, finally looking at her.

"Something like that."

Y/N studied him for a beat, the city lights flickering in her eyes.

She could have asked. She could have pushed.

Instead, she just shrugged, easy and sure.

"Whatever it is," she said, picking her drink back up, "you’re still the guy who sucks at trivia and drinks hot chocolate like it’s a competitive sport."

He stared at her, something hot and unfamiliar swelling in his chest.

"You’re not curious?" he asked, surprised.

"Oh, I’m curious," she said, grinning. "But... I figure if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me."

Simple. No pressure. No performance.

Just a choice — left in his hands.

For the first time in a long, long time, Lando felt like he wasn’t being cornered into being someone.

He could just be.

And maybe — Maybe that was the whole point of her.

A lighthouse when the rest of the world just wanted to watch him drown.

—

Later, as they walked back toward the car, Y/N kicked a rock along the sidewalk, hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

"You know," she said casually, not looking at him, "you’re kinda like a bluebird."

He blinked, thrown.

"A what?"

She shrugged, smiling faintly. "You show up when people need hope the most. You just... don’t know it yet."

Lando stopped walking.

Just stared at her.

The Bluebird Diner. The paper tucked behind his phone case. The way she made him feel like he was finding pieces of himself he thought he lost.

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

"You’re wrong," he said, voice rough.

She arched a brow. "Oh?"

He smiled — wide, real, and a little sad.

"I think you’re the bluebird."

She blushed, looking away, pretending to be annoyed.

"Great. Now I sound like a Disney character."

He laughed again, bumping her shoulder lightly.

But deep down — he knew he meant it.

Even if she didn’t understand yet, even if he couldn’t say it properly

She was his bluebird. And he was already terrified of losing her.

———

Chapter 8: The Fast Lane

It started with a text.

Lando: You busy tomorrow?

Y/N: Define "busy."

Lando: I know a place. Not far. Not fancy. Bring sneakers.

Y/N: ...You’re not going to murder me, right?

Lando: 50/50.

She sent back a laughing emoji, and he smiled at his screen for a solid minute before remembering he was supposed to be cool about this.

He wasn’t.

Not even a little.

—

The next afternoon was gray and crisp — a rare stretch of calm between rainstorms — when he picked her up.

No fancy cars. No entourage.

Just a beat-up old black SUV he borrowed from a friend because it didn’t scream his name at every intersection.

Y/N climbed in, wrinkling her nose playfully at the state of the floorboards.

"Should I be concerned about tetanus?" she teased, buckling in.

Lando grinned, heart kicking against his ribs.

"Only if you plan on licking the gearshift," he shot back.

She laughed — easy, bright — and he felt the knot in his chest loosen.

This was why he wanted her here. Because with her, everything felt... lighter.

They pulled up to a private karting track just outside the city.

Quiet. Empty except for a few staff members and a handful of guys milling around near the pit lane, helmets tucked under their arms.

Lando killed the engine and rubbed his palms against his jeans.

"Okay," he said, turning to her. "Don't freak out."

She raised a brow. "Should I be freaking out?"

He shrugged, trying to play it off. "I might have a bit of a reputation around here."

Y/N smirked. "Lemme guess. World's Slowest Kart Driver."

He barked a laugh, nerves unraveling a little.

"Something like that," he said, climbing out.

She followed, looking around curiously.

The place was small — nothing glitzy — but even she could tell it wasn’t some random rental track. It was built for serious drivers. The kind who lived and breathed competition.

A tall guy with a messy head of curls jogged over, clapping Lando on the back.

"Mate, finally!" he said, grinning. "And you brought a friend."

His eyes flicked to Y/N, friendly but curious.

"Max, this is Y/N," Lando said casually. "Y/N, Max."

She smiled easily, sticking out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Max shot Lando a quick look — the kind that said we’re going to talk about this later — but just shook her hand and winked.

"Good luck surviving him on the track," Max said to her with mock seriousness.

Y/N snorted. "Oh, please. I can handle him."

Lando raised a brow. "Big talk for someone who’s never seen me drive."

She just grinned, all innocent. "Big ego for someone who needed a second coffee to beat me at trivia."

Max laughed outright, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulder. "I like her," he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Lando flushed — actual, real color flooding his cheeks — and shrugged him off, muttering, "Piss off," under his breath.

Y/N watched the exchange, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth.

She didn’t say anything.

But she saw it — the way Lando relaxed around these people. The way he lit up.

The way they lit up seeing him like this.

They geared up quickly — helmets, gloves, coveralls.

Y/N struggled with the zipper on her suit, muttering curses under her breath, and Lando doubled over laughing.

"Shut up!" she yelled, trying to wrangle the stubborn metal tab.

He was still chuckling when he came over and helped her, fingers brushing her wrist.

A tiny touch.

A stupid, electric jolt straight to his ribs.

He pretended not to notice.

She pretended not to blush.

Neither of them said a word about it.

On the track, she was... terrible.

Absolutely, gloriously terrible.

She stalled twice, took corners like a drunken giraffe, and very nearly spun herself into the grass on lap three.

But when she pulled into the pit lane, yanking her helmet off with a huge grin, Lando swore he’d never seen anyone look more beautiful.

"I almost died!" she announced proudly.

"You almost killed me," he corrected, laughing.

She shrugged, unbothered. "Minor details."

He looked at her — flushed cheeks, wild hair, laughing eyes — and thought:

This. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Later, sitting on the pit wall swinging their legs like kids, they shared a bottle of lukewarm water and watched the sky turn pink with sunset.

Max and the others were off somewhere, giving them space without saying they were giving them space.

"You’re... good at this," Y/N said, nodding toward the track.

Lando shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. "Been doing it a while."

She sipped the water, thinking.

"Not just good," she said thoughtfully. "You look... happy out there."

He stared at her, thrown.

Because she didn’t say "famous." She didn’t say "fast." She said happy.

And he realized — with a pang so fierce it nearly knocked the air out of him — that he was.

When she was around, he was.

———

Chapter 9: Cracks in the Bubble

The second time Y/N got into a kart, she looked determined.

Deadly serious.

"Okay," she said, yanking her helmet down with a snap. "No more driving like a drunk baby giraffe."

Lando bit back a laugh.

"You sure?" he teased, hopping into his own kart with practiced ease. "I was kinda looking forward to seeing if you could set a world record for most spins in one lap."

She flipped him off cheerfully, gunning her little kart forward with a wild screech of tires.

He laughed so hard he almost forgot to start his own.

—

The next thirty minutes were chaos.

Y/N barreling into corners like she had a personal vendetta against gravity. Lando weaving around her, slowing down to tease her, tapping her bumper lightly with his kart whenever he passed just to mess with her.

She screamed fake outrage every time.

At one point, she tried to block him from overtaking by swinging wildly across the track like a Mario Kart character.

He narrowly avoided crashing into her, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"THAT'S ILLEGAL!" he yelled over the roar of the engines.

She laughed so hard she nearly spun out — again.

—

Eventually, red flags waved them back into the pit lane.

Y/N pulled off her helmet, hair a wild mess, cheeks flushed from adrenaline and laughter.

Lando pulled up next to her, helmet under his arm, grinning like an idiot.

"Improvement," he said, nodding seriously.

She beamed. "Didn't die this time!"

Max wandered over, towel slung around his neck, smirking.

"You guys looked like the world's worst synchronized kart dancers," he said, mock-stern.

Y/N bowed dramatically. "Thank you, thank you. We try."

Max elbowed Lando lightly. "Mate," he said in a low voice, smirking. "You're smiling so much it’s scaring the staff."

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn't wipe the grin off his face if he tried.

Max clapped him on the shoulder and wandered off, laughing.

Y/N watched the exchange, something soft flickering in her eyes. But she didn’t say anything.

She just tossed Lando his helmet and said, "Rematch?"

And he thought — not for the first time — I’m so screwed.

—

After they cleaned up and changed back into their normal clothes, Lando suggested grabbing a bite at the tiny café across the street.

Nothing fancy. Greasy fries. Plastic tables. Exactly what he needed.

They sat by the window, sharing a basket of fries, teasing each other about their "racing skills" when it happened.

A teenager — probably fifteen, maybe sixteen — walked past the window, did a double-take, and froze.

Eyes wide. Mouth opening slightly.

Lando stiffened automatically, years of instinct kicking in.

He glanced at Y/N — ready for the shift. The awkwardness. The questions. The change.

Instead, Y/N just smiled warmly at the kid, nudging the basket of fries closer to Lando like nothing was happening.

Giving him space.

Letting him decide.

The kid edged closer, nervous.

"Um... excuse me?" he said, voice cracking slightly. "Are you... are you Lando Norris?"

Lando smiled — small, tired, but real.

"Yeah, mate," he said, easy. "What's up?"

The kid fumbled a phone out of his pocket. "Could I, uh... get a photo? If that's okay?"

"Of course," Lando said, standing up and clapping the kid lightly on the shoulder. "No problem."

They snapped a quick picture. The kid practically vibrated with excitement, thanking him about ten times before hurrying off down the street.

Lando sat back down slowly.

Y/N popped a fry into her mouth, still acting like nothing had happened.

"You’re famous," she said casually, like she was observing the weather.

He stared at her, thrown.

"You're... not freaking out?"

She shrugged, smiling faintly. "Should I?"

He blinked, scrambling for words.

"I mean — most people — it’s just..." He trailed off, frustrated with himself.

Y/N leaned her chin on her hand, watching him with quiet amusement.

"I figured you did something cool," she said. "Didn't figure you for a kart salesman."

He barked a surprised laugh.

She grinned, kicking his shin lightly under the table.

"Relax, Speed Racer," she said. "I’m still gonna beat your ass at trivia next week."

He stared at her — open, vulnerable — and realized in that exact moment: She’s different. She’s safe.

She didn't want a piece of the spotlight. She didn't want anything from him except the pieces he willingly gave her.

And for someone who had spent years being looked at like a prize to win or a headline to write it was terrifying.

And it was everything.

—

Later, walking back to the car, Y/N bumped his shoulder lightly with hers.

"For what it's worth," she said, glancing up at him under the streetlights, "I think you're pretty cool. Fame or no fame."

Lando swallowed hard.

"You too," he said, voice thick.

Maybe more than pretty cool. Maybe the coolest thing that had ever happened to him.

———

Chapter 10: The Things We Carry

It started because he was curious.

They were sprawled across her tiny living room floor one night, surrounded by half-eaten pizza, empty soda cans, and the remnants of a half-serious movie marathon.

At some point, between arguing about whether animated movies counted as “real cinema” (they absolutely did, according to Y/N) and who had the worst taste in music (definitely Lando, according to Y/N), she pulled out a battered old sketchbook.

He caught the flash of it out of the corner of his eye — the frayed edges, the bent corners, the cover smeared with fingerprints.

"What’s that?" he asked, nodding toward it.

She hesitated. Just for a second.

Then shrugged, casual, like it didn’t matter.

"Sketchbook," she said, flipping it open and showing him a page without ceremony.

Pencil sketches filled the paper — messy but alive, full of motion and feeling. Faces. Cities. Dreamscapes.

Lando blinked, stunned.

"You did all this?" he asked, voice softer than he meant it to be.

She smiled, a little self-conscious. "Yeah."

He flipped through a few more pages, handling the book like it was made of glass.

"You’re insane," he said, awe creeping into his voice. "This is... this is amazing."

She shrugged again, brushing it off, but he could see the faint blush creeping up her neck.

"You wanna try?" she asked suddenly, tossing him a blank page and a pencil.

He stared at it like it was a bomb.

"Me? Draw?"

She grinned wickedly. "Come on, Speed Racer. How hard can it be?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Famous last words."

—

It was a disaster.

An absolute, hilarious disaster.

Lando’s hand cramped within minutes. His "dog" looked like a melting sock puppet. His "car" resembled a very angry toaster.

Y/N laughed so hard she nearly fell over, clutching her stomach as she tried — and failed — to offer helpful critique.

"Okay, okay," she wheezed between giggles. "Maybe stick to driving."

He threw a crumpled piece of paper at her, pretending to be offended.

But inside — he felt lighter than he had in months.

Because she didn’t care that he was terrible. Because here, in this tiny messy apartment, surrounded by pizza boxes and bad art, he wasn’t Lando Norris the racer.

He was just Lando.

And she was just Y/N.

Two people slowly stitching themselves back together in each other’s company.

—

Later that week, back at the McLaren simulator center, Oscar cornered him.

"Mate," Oscar said, arms crossed, smirking. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're like... different."

Lando raised a brow. "Different how?"

Oscar waved a hand vaguely. "You're not snapping at the engineers every ten minutes. You’re smiling for no reason. You’re even letting Zac beat you at table tennis. It’s creepy."

Lando rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Maybe I’m just... happier," he said, almost daring Oscar to make fun of him.

Oscar stared at him for a beat longer than necessary. Then he smiled — real and wide — and clapped Lando on the shoulder.

"'Bout time," he said simply.

And Lando felt it, deep in his bones — the way change sneaks in when you’re not looking.

—

The whispers started then.

Tiny things.

Jon joking during a debrief about Lando "finally being a human again." A mechanic muttering under his breath, "Whatever he’s doing lately, it’s working."

No one said her name. No one knew.

But Lando did.

Every smile. Every lighter step. Every deep breath that didn't feel like it might choke him —

It all traced back to her.

To the girl who handed him a terrible cup of diner coffee. To the girl who laughed at his terrible drawings and beat him at trivia. To the girl who never once asked him to be anyone but himself.

The things he carried used to be heavy. Expectations. Guilt. Fear.

Now he was starting to carry something else.

Hope. Home. Her.

And for once, he wasn’t afraid of the weight.

———

Chapter 11: The Space Between Us

It should have been just another night.

Pizza. A stupid romcom playing on her tiny TV. Them fighting over who got the last slice (he let her win, obviously).

Nothing special. Nothing earth-shattering.

Except, everything about her was starting to feel like home.

—

Y/N was sitting cross-legged on the couch, sketching lazily on a cheap canvas balanced on her knees. Not serious, just doodles, jokes, lines that curled and stretched into something messy and alive.

Lando sprawled beside her, feet kicked up on the coffee table, tossing a gummy bear up in the air and trying (badly) to catch it in his mouth.

He missed.

Again.

She snorted, not even looking up. "World-class athlete, huh?"

"Don’t mock me," he muttered, launching another gummy with more dramatic flair.

It bounced off his nose.

She laughed so hard she had to put the canvas down.

He grinned, basking in it — the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled at the edges, the easy way she existed around him without expecting anything.

God, he thought, chest tight, how am I supposed to tell her?

Because he had to.

He couldn't keep her in the dark anymore. Not when she mattered this much.

Not when he was falling for her so fast it left him breathless.

—

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it at first, tossing another gummy bear and — miracle of miracles — actually catching it.

"Finally!" she cheered mockingly, raising her arms like a referee signaling a goal.

He bowed deeply from the couch, grinning like an idiot.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

She frowned, reaching over and tapping the screen.

He moved too late.

A string of notifications flashed across it — Zak Brown: "Need you to review media schedule for Monaco ASAP." Jon: "Sky Sports wants the updated PR package, don't forget..." McLaren PR: "Final approval needed for your feature story."

Her hand froze mid-tap.

Their eyes met.

For a long second, neither of them said anything.

The movie kept playing — a background hum — but the room had shifted.

The bubble they lived in cracked just a little.

Not broken. Not shattered.

Just… cracked.

Enough to let the truth start to bleed through.

"You..." she started, voice slow, careful. "You're... not just a karting guy, are you?"

Lando swallowed hard.

"No," he said softly.

He sat up, hands knotting in his lap.

"I should've told you sooner," he said, voice rough around the edges. "I didn't want to lie, I just... I liked being 'just me' with you for a while."

She set the canvas aside, facing him fully now.

Waiting.

Not judging. Not running.

Waiting.

He blew out a breath.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver," he said finally. "For McLaren."

Silence.

Only the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the movie’s muffled dialogue filling the space between them.

Y/N blinked once.

Twice.

Then, to his complete shock — she smiled.

Small. Soft. A little sad, but sure.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "That... makes sense."

He stared at her, heart hammering so hard he thought it might crack his ribs.

"You’re not..." He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Not freaking out. Not treating him differently. Not shrinking away.

She shook her head slowly.

"You’re still you," she said simply. "Still the guy who sucks at drawing and cheats at trivia and eats more gummy bears than anyone should legally consume."

He let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh and maybe something else. Something wrecked and grateful and so in love he didn’t know what to do with it.

"You’re not mad?" he asked, voice breaking slightly.

She smiled wider, bumping his knee with hers.

"I’m only mad you didn't trust me sooner."

The words hit him like a gut punch.

Because she was right. And because she still wasn’t walking away.

She was still here. Still choosing him.

Lando scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to pull himself together.

"I’m sorry," he said thickly. "I was scared."

Y/N’s voice softened.

"I get scared too, you know."

He looked up sharply.

She shrugged, eyes shining with something he couldn’t name yet.

"Scared that if I let someone close," she said quietly, "they'll leave when they see the mess."

He exhaled shakily.

"I’m not leaving," he said without thinking.

The words slipped out — raw, unvarnished, real.

And she looked at him like maybe — just maybe — she believed him.

—

They didn’t say much after that.

They didn’t need to.

They just sat there knees brushing, hearts pounding, the space between them growing smaller with every shared breath.

And somewhere in that cracked, messy, beautiful night, Lando realized something he couldn't take back:

He wasn’t just falling.

He had already fallen.

———

Chapter 12: Somewhere Only We Know

The days after Lando told her the truth felt... different.

Not bad. Not awkward.

Just more.

More glances held a little too long. More touches that lingered longer than necessary. More silences that said everything without saying a word.

—

One night, they ended up at the same diner where it all began — the Bluebird Diner — tucked into their old booth, pretending not to notice how their knees brushed under the table.

Y/N doodled absentmindedly on a napkin, humming along to the jukebox in the background.

Lando watched her — the way her hair fell across her face, the soft curve of her smile — and felt something so sharp and tender in his chest it almost hurt.

He wanted to bottle this moment. Save it for when the world inevitably tried to tear it apart.

Because it would. He knew it would.

Nothing this good ever stayed untouched.

—

Outside, the night buzzed with the low hum of neon signs and distant traffic. They lingered by his car, neither wanting to leave first.

"You know," she said, voice light but eyes serious, "you don’t have to keep pretending the world isn’t watching."

He stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged, kicking a pebble across the parking lot. "I mean... I see it. The looks. The whispers. The people snapping pictures when they think you’re not paying attention."

He looked away, throat tight.

"I hate it," he muttered. "I hate that it touches you, too."

She stepped closer, bumping her shoulder against his.

"Hey," she said softly. "You don't have to protect me from your world. I'm not afraid of it."

He closed his eyes briefly, fighting the surge of emotion that rose up.

"I'm afraid of losing this," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "This — us — whatever we are... it feels like the only real thing I have left sometimes."

She reached out, fingers brushing his hand.

"You’re not losing me," she said simply.

And he believed her. God help him, he believed her.

—

But reality had other plans.

The next morning, the headlines started.

Not full-blown scandal. Just... whispers.

Grainy photos snapped by some kid outside the diner. A blurry shot of Lando holding the door open for Y/N. Another one of them laughing by the car, heads tilted close together.

The captions were worse.

"New girl? Mystery companion? Has Lando Norris finally been tamed?"

Lando stared at his phone screen, a sick feeling curling low in his stomach.

It wasn't her fault. It was never her fault.

But he knew what came next. The curiosity. The questions. The pressure.

He couldn't — wouldn't — drag her into that world unless she chose it.

And he hated that choice was even necessary.

—

That night, he picked her up without saying where they were going.

Just,

"Pack a bag. Something comfortable. Trust me."

She didn’t question it.

Just grabbed a backpack, threw on a hoodie, and climbed into the passenger seat with a smile that cracked him open a little more.

—

They drove for hours — past city lights, past towns that flickered and faded, into the wild, open darkness of nowhere.

Finally, he pulled off a side road, tires crunching over gravel, and parked near a cluster of old cabins nestled against a quiet lake.

No paparazzi. No fans. No noise.

Just them.

The real world — the hungry, clawing, endless real world — left behind like a bad dream.

Y/N climbed out, stretching her arms over her head, staring up at the blanket of stars above them.

"This is..." she breathed, spinning slowly in the gravel. "This is magic."

He watched her, heart in his throat.

"It's ours," he said quietly. "Just ours."

She smiled at him — wide, unguarded, beautiful.

And in that moment, Lando swore he’d do anything to protect this. Her. Them.

No matter what came next.

Even if the whole world tried to tear it down — he was ready to fight for it.

For her.

———

Chapter 13: Everything All at Once

The swing creaked under them as they rocked lazily back and forth.

The mug of hot chocolate sat forgotten between them, the stars blinking overhead, the lake whispering against the shore.

Y/N tugged the blanket higher around her shoulders, nudging his side with her elbow.

"You’re quiet," she said softly.

Lando leaned back against the swing’s chains, staring up at the sky.

"Just thinking."

"That’s dangerous," she teased, a smile pulling at her mouth.

He snorted, bumping her back lightly. "Harsh."

She shrugged, grinning. "You set yourself up for it."

He smiled — real, wide, the kind that made her chest ache — and let the silence stretch for a beat before speaking again.

"You ever think about how small we are?" he asked quietly. "Like... look at all that," he gestured up at the sky, "and we’re just... here."

Y/N tilted her head, looking up. "Yeah. I think about it all the time."

"You scared of it?" he asked, glancing sideways at her.

She shook her head. "Nah. It's kinda beautiful, isn't it? Being small. Means you can still choose where you want to go."

Lando looked at her — really looked at her — and felt something shift low in his chest.

God, how did he get so lucky?

How did he find her when he didn’t even know what he was looking for?

—

He noticed her shiver, just barely, and before he even thought about it, he reached out and tugged the blanket tighter around her.

Their hands brushed. Paused.

Stayed.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, vulnerable.

He swallowed hard, his heart thudding so loud he was sure she could hear it.

"I don't want to lose this," he said suddenly, voice rough and broken around the edges.

Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring herself to him without even realizing it.

"You’re not going to," she whispered back. "You’re stuck with me now."

He let out a shaky laugh — part relief, part terror — and leaned in before he could talk himself out of it.

The kiss was soft at first.

Gentle.

Almost hesitant.

Like asking a question neither of them had the words for yet.

But she answered — God, she answered — pressing closer, threading her fingers through his hair, breathing him in like he was air and she had been drowning.

The swing creaked under them, the blanket slipped off their shoulders, but neither of them cared.

They were too busy trying to memorize the shape of each other.

—

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, Lando closed his eyes and whispered against her skin.

"I think I was falling before I even knew it."

Y/N smiled — small and stunned and beautiful — and whispered back,

"Me too."

He kissed her again because there was no other way to survive it.

Because love had been blooming quietly between them for weeks — in stolen glances, stupid trivia games, late-night coffee, and messy drawings.

And now it was here.

Messy. Breathless. Unstoppable.

Everything. All at once.

———

PART 2

[marvelslut16]

Broken hand

Pairing: Dr. Trinity 'Trin' Santos x reader

Synopsis: Reader breaks her hand and meets the prettiest knight in shining armor doctor she has ever seen.

Word count: 1.7k+ of pure nothingness

Warnings: Broken bones, no gruesome explanations though. Emotionally abusive father, so nothing new for me. Sucky writing, I wrote this at 2 am and didn't proof read, whoops. I don't even know if I like it all that much.

A/N: Hey, hi, hello. So was forced to watch The Pitt with my parents, and jokes on me, I fell in love with it. So, this is loosely based off myself. I fell at work back in November and I'm like 90% sure I broke my hand, but I never got it checked because I thought I could be a tough girl and deal with it. Anywho, haven't posted a fic since fictober, and here I am back with a brand new fandom. Please send in requests for The Pitt, I'm obsessed atm.

Also have an idea for a part 2 to this, reader takes Trin to a family event and reader's dad is pissed that Trin is around and she still refuses to put up with his shit.

With every hour you were stuck in the ER waiting room, your fathers temper grew shorter and shorter. After five long hours in the waiting room you’ve come to the conclusion that you should have just sucked it up and dealt with the pain, or at the very least gone to urgent care instead, but that  was closed when you arrived at the hospital hours ago. You’re approaching six hours when someone finally calls your name, and you can head to the back. You’re shown to your bed, and by the time you get situated three doctors are in the room waiting for you.

“I’m Dr. Langdon, and this is Dr. King, and Dr. Santos,” your eyes widen ever so slightly when they land on Dr. Santos, and if you didn’t know any better you would think hers did the same thing. All of those years on stupid dating apps, and all you needed to do was injure yourself to find the prettiest woman in Pittsburg. “It says in your file that you think you broke your wrist?”

“Are three doctors really necessary?” your irritated father asks from your bedside before you can even respond to the question. 

“This is a teaching hospital, sir,” Dr. Langdon responds, his own frustration thinly veiled. 

“It’s fine,” you speak up for the first time, voice small. “Nice to meet you three, I’d offer to shake your hands, but it hurts to grip things.” You let out a little self deprecating giggle.

“Does it hurt when you do anything else?” Dr. Langdon asks while lightly grabbing your hand to check for swelling. “It doesn’t look that swollen.”

“See, I told you it was fine,” your father mutters. 

“Actually, you can fracture your hand and have no noticeable swelling,” Dr. Santos adds, stepping to the other side of your bed, half blocking you from your father’s view.

“Um,” you give Dr. Santos a small smile before responding to Dr. Langdon’s earlier question. “It hurts when I grip, twist, bend my wrist to make my pinky closer to my wrist, and when I put pressure on it. It’s the outer part that hurts, the area below my pinky and ring finger.” You gesture towards the area, hand still being looked over by Dr. Langdon.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, twisting your wrist outward.

“Yes,” you whimper a little, Santos glaring at Langdon over your head. 

“Okay, do either of you have any questions for the patient?” Dr. Langdon asks his residents. 

“How did you hurt it?” Dr. Santos asks in a calming tone, one that earns strange looks from the other two doctors. 

“Um, well I slipped and fell at work, and I caught myself mainly on my right hand. It started to hurt pretty much right away, and I could barely move it without crying,” you admit the last part quietly, embarrassing yourself in front of the cute doctor. 

“Did you know, it’s better to fall without tensing your body, and rolling upon impact, it keeps you from landing roughly on one body part and breaking it,” Dr. King adds from the foot of the bed, pushing up her glasses. 

“Not helping,” Dr. Santos snaps, while Dr. Langdon also makes a face to the other doctor to let her know that he agrees with Santos for once. 

“That’s what I've been telling you for years, don’t be such a dumbass next time,” your dads irritation clearly growing throughout the consultation. 

“That’s me, just a dumbass,” you look down at your hand, refusing to meet the gaze of anyone in the room. “But yes, I did know that, um, I was falling in the direction of a wall, so it was either my hand or my head hitting the wall. I figured hand was the better option.” 

“Sir, why don’t we step out in the hall for a moment,” Dr. Langdon addresses your father. “Dr. King and Dr. Santos can ask some follow up questions in private.”

“I’ll stay where I god damn please, she’s on my insurance still, so I’m staying with her,” your dad yells, and you can practically hear the rest of the ER grow quiet for a few seconds. 

“Sir, she has to change into a gown and they have to take her for a urine sample, before we can take her for and X-ray,” Dr. Langdon tries to reason with your father.

“Do you have a smoking area around here?” your father grunts, conceding in his own way. 

“Yeha, I’ll have Nurse Evans show you where it is,” Dr. Langdon holds the curtain open for your father and closes it behind them when they exit. 

“I’m 25, so if I get injured again next year you won’t have to deal with him,” you laugh, breaking the awkward silence with the two female doctors. 

“Does he always act like this?” Dr. Santos asks, an annoyed clip to her voice.

“To an extent,” you nod for no one's benefit, you don’t even know why you’re telling her this. “He doesn’t do well when he or someone he cares about is hurt, so his way to cope is to get angry. Something about him not being in control, blah blah blah.”

“It doesn’t mean you should have to deal with that,” she’s staring at you so intently you feel like you could melt right into the bed. 

“Maybe not, but he’s not gonna change and the less I fight him the faster his moods go away,” you admit, never looking away from her gorgeous green eyes. 

“We have to ask you some routine questions,” Dr. King interrupts your staring contest. “Like Dr. Langdon said you’ll have to have an X-ray done so we need to know if you're pregnant.”

“Nope,” you answer right away.

“Even if there’s a possibility of it, we don’t want to hurt a fetus by exposing it to radiation,” Dr. King continues.

“I’m not pregnant, I’m a lesbian so… never slept with a guy,” you swear you hear a quiet inhale from the dark haired doctor standing next to you. “But I know you won’t take my word for it, so where’s my cup,” you hold out your good hand expectantly. 

Sure enough your urine test proves that you aren’t pregnant, so you’re put in line for an X-ray. An hour after that you finally get it done, and according to Dr. Langdon you fractured your triquetrum and hamate bones. Dr. King is walking you back to your bay after letting you change back into your street clothes in the bathroom. You both stop short when you hear an agitated voice from the other side of the curtain, a voice that certainly isn’t your fathers. 

“Your daughter fractured two bones in her hand, and she handled her pain a lot better than most of the men I’ve seen come through here this week with less severe injuries. Ya know, I’ve known men like you, men who think they can walk all over the women in their lives, but you can’t. One day she’s gonna realize that she doesn’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore, and you’ll lose her forever. Show some damn respect for your daughter.”

“Who do you think you are-”

“Someone who cares more about your daughter and her health than you do right now. So get your act together, they’re going to put a cast on her and when it dries you guys can head home.”

Dr. Santos throws the curtain open and you come face to face with your gorgeous knight in shining armor. Nobody has ever had the guts to stand up to your father, especially not for you. You can’t read the expression on her face, and she’s stomping off through the ED before you can even form a sentence. 

“Guess I can’t say I’ve never broken a bone anymore,” you try to lighten the mood with your dad, sitting back down on the hospital bed. He doesn’t respond, and Dr. King informs you that someone will be back in a few minutes to wrap your hand, before she takes off across the ED. 

You’re shocked, but thrilled, when Dr. Santos returns with the supplies to put a cast on your arm. You’re dad huffs and leaves to have another cigarette when he sees who it is. Being alone with Dr. Santos for the first time, you're forced to confront the fact that you more than likely stink after eight hours at the hospital. The last thing you want to do is embarrass yourself in front of this gorgeous woman.

“You’ll have to come back in six weeks to get this cast off and have another round of X-rays to see if your hand healed properly. We can set up an appointment, that way you don’t have to wait for hours,” Dr Santos says, as she dips the plaster in water and starts wrapping it around your hand and arm.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” you can barely breathe when you fill her fingertips ghosting across your skin. 

“I also brought some pamphlets on mental and emotional abuse,” she’s staring directly into your soul as she tells you this. 

“Uh, thanks, but I don’t really need those. I’m fine, I’m moving out next month, it’ll be okay. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, and he’s just turning into a crotchety old man,” you absently play with the hem of your shirt with your non-plastered hand. “Thanks though, and thank you for what you said to him, no one’s done that before.”

“Well they should,” she says assertively, slipping you a piece of paper with a number on it before going back to wrapping your hand. “And if you don’t want the pamphlets, at least take this, it’s my personal number. If you ever want to chat, I’ll be there to listen, I've dealt with men like that, I understand. It may take me twelve plus hours to respond, but I promise I will,”

“That I’ll do,” your face morphing into a goofy love struck grin, clutching tightly to the paper like it’s a life line. 

“And, maybe, you’d like to go on a date with me sometime,” she ventures, laying down the last bit of plaster. 

“I’d love to,” you giggle like a love struck teen.

“My name’s Trinity by the way,” she smiles back at you, leaning in ever so slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Trinity, definitely makes my fall worth it.”

[eternalstarrlight]

Unfinished

(An Elriel story idea I've had since last year.<3 I figured I'd try to finish spiffing it up and go ahead and share it for Elriel Month. It doesn't really coincide with any of the prompts, but I hope ya'll like it!)

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Author's Note: Please keep comments and interactions respectful, I know there is a lot of debate of who will lead the next ACOTAR book, as well as who the couple will be. If you don't like Elriel as a ship, that is totally fine, you are entitled to your opinion, just as I, and others are. Scroll or read on, the option is yours!

Thank you for those who stay and read this lovely little thing I wrote :)

I do not own ACOTAR, nor any of it's affiliated characters, this is merely fanfiction to enjoy and gush over.<3

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Birdsong floated through the open windows of the kitchens as a pair of arms slipped around Elain's waist. An answering smile bloomed across her lips, knowing full well who stood behind her. "I'm busy right now, you know," she teased playfully to her captor, even as her body relaxed into the familiar embrace.

"I can see that," a soft male voice returned, sending shivers down her spine. A pleasant hum escaped her, just as he asked, "What are you making today?"

"Fruit pastries," she supplied, lifting her hands to showcase the flour coating her palms. A faint puff of white powder clouded the air as she made a gesture to the dough waiting to be rolled out.

"Sounds delicious," he murmured into the golden waves of her half-unbound hair. "Though," a subtle growl entering his voice, "there are a few things I'd say are even more so." The words danced along her skin as he nipped her ear, nose trailing down the column of her throat.

Red stained her cheeks as she craned her head back to look at him. "Az," she softly admonished. But that beautiful face held no remorse, only a carelessly splayed grin and a mischievous twinkle that lit up those hazel eyes of his.

An unspoken promise of things to come.

Her breath caught, and she swallowed hard. "I have to finish this," her whispered words were half-hearted. She knew he knew that, heard it in her voice, as the the green hues in those hazel eyes deepened, flaring with a mixture of heat and amusement.

"By all means, finish." The words came out like a dare, a temptation... because they both knew, it wouldn't take much convincing to get her to abandon the task entirely.

Her breathing grew shallow, and his smirk stretched wider. Oh yes, he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She couldn't seem to tear her gaze from him as he teased, leaning his head in even closer, "What are you waiting for?" His breath a caress against her cheek as her eyes drew half-mast.

"You should hurry," his voice deepening, "there's something I need to finish as well." Azriel's fingers began making small, tantalizing swirls across her stomach, and she bit her lip, not missing how his eyes lowered, drawn to—

"Elain." She heard her name as if from a great distance. Odd, she thought, confusion knitting her brow, Azriel's mouth hadn't opened.

"Elain." It came again, and she blinked hard, her surroundings slowly coming into focus, as if waking from a dream.

She was still in the kitchens, hands covered in dough and flour... but the winged male who'd stood behind her just moments ago was now nowhere to be seen.

"Are you alright?" Nuala's concerned voice drifted through the fog of Elain's thoughts. "I've been calling your name for over five minutes."

She blinked again, realization crashing over her.

Everything that'd just occurred... had only been in her mind. It wasn't real... had never been real... just a mere figment of her imagination.

Her heart squeezed painfully at the undeniable truth...

He was never here.

The sudden screaming of the kettle jolted her. "I'm sorry," Elain finally responded, finding her voice, "I guess I was lost in my thoughts."

"It's fine," her friend said, worry still written on her face, and Elain could tell that Nuala knew it was a pitiful half-truth, that there was indeed something more going on behind Elain's lack of response, her brief lapse from reality.

And of course there was. Elain had been having random daydreams like this for weeks now... Usually rare, scattered here and there, short and fractured, consisting of an image, a sound, a few seconds of dialogue. But there had been other ones recently. Longer ones, that were so immersive they seemed to pull her from reality and into the world of dreams. It'd have terrified her, if she hadn't already lived through something similar two years prior.

And yet, she struggled to figure out what it all meant. The fractured images, the waking visions... Perhaps it was her powers reawakening, forcing her to acknowledge them... or maybe she really was losing herself to madness... or maybe...

She huffed a sigh... maybe it was simply her own foolish heart stirring up those secret, tucked away desires of hers. Her mind colluding with said heart to conjure up impossible, forbidden fantasies just to plague her.

"If you need a break," Cerridwen interjected from her place at the stove, "we can finish this."

"Oh no," Elain said quickly, beginning to knead the dough again. "I can finish—"

She trailed off, mind flashing to Azriel's previous words, You should hurry, there's something I need to finish as well.

She gasped, flushing to the tips of her ears.

Elain wrenched her hands from the dough in front of her. "You're right," she consented half-breathlessly to the twins. "I think I need a break... and fresh air."

Without waiting for a response, she frantically wiped her hands on her apron, yanking it off and tossing it on the nearest counter before fleeing the room.

Before she could properly consider where to go, she found herself already making her way toward the gardens. Somehow, it always felt easier to breathe there amongst the earth and flowers.

Feet trailing the well-worn path, she decided she'd check on the new rose bushes she'd put in, if there were any new buds needing tended to.

Thankfully, the summer heat had tempered off the last few days, the evenings akin to dipping one's feet into a cool riverbed. She was especially grateful for that now, as the breeze that'd settled in felt like a much-needed balm against her overly warm skin.

The tenseness in her body loosened as she entered the color splashed greenery of the gardens. She let her fingers trail over furling leaves and various flower petals as she pivoted around meticulously trimmed hedges and made her way to where the roses were planted.

A smile claimed her lips as she rounded the last corner, eagerness to assess the flowers dousing the last remnant of her spiraling thoughts regarding the occurrence in the kitchens. But before she knew what was happening, she ran straight into something.

No... someone.

Elain gasped at the impact, head jerking up at the same time she noticed hands at her shoulders. Hands that caught her before she'd slammed fully into the person they belonged to. Hands that were adorned with faded scars... hands that she longingly wished to feel against her skin...

She'd recognize those hands anywhere.

Azriel.

She stilled at the sight of him, blinking several times, questioning if she was seeing things. She had to be, right? She knew he wasn't here, couldn't be here... he'd left two days ago on a mission and wouldn't return until tomorrow.

Irritation instantly flooded her, hand-in-hand with frustration at herself for her mind summoning him once again. She jerked back from his hold. She had to put a stop to this, had to try to grasp some semblance of reality and cling to it for as long as she could.

So, she did the only reasonable thing she could do.

"You!" She pointed a finger at him, some residue flour dusting out from her hand, "Go away." As if her command was enough to banish the apparition before her.

The male in question blinked, obviously taken aback by her display, "I'm sorry?" Confusion laced his tone, his usually absent shadows making an appearance to twirl around his towering wings.

"You should be," she scowled, not bothering to hold back her ire. "Stop following me around," the words coming out as a hiss.

His cheeks darkened with color as those mesmerizing hazel eyes grew wide, his elusive companions pausing as if to study her. "Elain," despite the apprehension she heard, the sound of her name on his lips made her heart quicken. "Are you alright?" He inquired, instinctively shifting toward her, those magnificent wings fluttering a bit.

At his question, a bewildered laugh escaped her before she threw all rationality to the wind. "Alright? Alright!?" She choked over the word, half-hysterical. "No, I'm not alright, and do you know why?" She didn't give him time to respond. "All you do is ignore me... well, the real you... it's like I don't even exist to him anymore. And now, I keep seeing you," she flung a hand over at him, "dream you, everywhere."

"Can I not have some peace?" Desperation leaking into her voice, "I know my mind's probably just over-compensating for me missing you after months of tactical evasion. But do you know how utterly torturous it is to constantly see you, only to wake and discover everything wasn't real?" Tears misted her eyes for a moment before she wiped them away.

"This has to stop," she stated firmly after taking a calming breath, "it's getting out of hand. Last week it was the library when Lucien was visiting—" Had she imagined it, or did Azriel flinch? "—then it was in town while I was shopping with Feyre, and now..." She swallowed as she remembered the ordeal in the kitchens, the other times hadn't been like that... so intimate and... a soft pink warmed her cheeks, "If you don't stop... appearing... people are going to believe I'm going mad!"

A whirlwind of emotions twisted his features, too many for her to identify them all. But she did see his concern... sadness... frustration... a flash of anger... At her? She wasn't sure. But she knew that face well enough to know that he looked tormented by what she'd said, like he was warring with himself over his next action.

Then, without a word, he took a step forward.

And for some inexplicable reason, perhaps it was sheer desperation to wash that look from his face, she threw up a hand for him to stop and blurted, "Whoa, if you think you're 'finishing' what you began in the kitchens, think again."

He froze in place, face carefully blank, staring at her. The same way she'd imagine he'd stare if she'd declared she was to marry the High Lord of Spring and she was departing this very hour.

She snorted at the thought and crossed her arms, at least that look was gone, "You know, you always disappear when—"

"What happened in the kitchen?" He abrupted asked, cutting her off.

Elain's face burned as heat suffused her cheeks. He wanted her to say it? But instead she said, "Don't you know?"

Silence was her only answer.

Her mouth dropped open with bafflement. He didn't remember. She scoffed, offended. The audacity. Her doe brown eyes narrowed, "If you've forgotten so easily, then it doesn't bear repeating... much less, doing."

She pivoted on her heel, planning to stalk away as she muttered under her breath, "I can't believe—"

"Wait!" Azriel called out, closing the distance to gingerly snatch her arm, halting her departure.

She spun around, exasperation threading her voice, "What do you want?"

His eyes searched hers, darting back and forth. His stare so deep and intense, she found it hard to breathe.

She inhaled slowly, before purposefully arching a golden-brown brow at the male. For a moment, she felt a little bit like Nesta.

"This isn't a dream," the words came out soft as he finally spoke. "I'm really here. Now. With you."

Her face contorted, perplexation pinching her forehead.

"Nonsense," she murmured, scanning him, "you're not supposed to be back yet..." She trailed off, recalling how they said you could pinch yourself to know if you were dreaming. But she knew she was dreaming, she had to be... so she tried a different approach.

Without warning, she lifted her hands, abruptly capturing Azriel's cheeks between her palms to squish his face.

Pure, undiluted shock rippled over his features, and she had the sudden urge to laugh at his expression.

And before she could restrain it, a giggle slipped out, and then another, and another. She couldn't help herself as the laughter poured out of her at how ridiculous he looked.

She was practically cackling with the delight of a madwoman when there was a loud clearing of a throat.

Synonymously, both their heads whipped toward the sound, discovering Rhysand standing a few feet away. "May I ask what exactly is going on here?" The High Lord not seeming too pleased by the scene playing out before him.

It was in that moment, Elain knew, she knew that what Azriel had said was true. This wasn't a dream, it was real, and she'd just—

She tore her hands away from Azriel's cheeks as she stuttered, "We— I—" Her gaze jerked back to the Shadowsinger's, taking in the vague handprint-shaped flour smears on either side of his face. Her own blooming bright red before draining of color, "I'm so sorry."

She retreated back a step, and then another, almost into the aster blossoms behind her.

"Elain," Azriel offered gently, almost consolingly, as he stretched a hand toward her... as if hoping to keep her there.

Her brown eyes were impossibly wide as she gave a slight shake of her head, like a deer caught before a predator.

"Well?" That commanding voice of night came again, startling her. She peeked over at Rhys nervously, having temporarily forgotten his presence, before re-meeting Azriel's gaze for a fleeting moment. Just a moment, before, just like a deer, she spun and darted off, lifting her skirts indecently high to sprint through the foliage and flowers.

"Elain, wait!" Azriel yelled after her, "We're not finished!"

Heart in her throat, her stomach flipped at the familiar words, but she didn't dare glance back over her shoulder, didn't dare cease her full-out run. But if she had, she would've seen that the tortured look had returned to Azriel's face... Would've noticed the scowl painted over Rhysand's as he stared at Azriel... noted the tattooed hand that held him back from pursuing her.

Even so, Azriel's words followed her on the wind, and she knew he was right. There was much left unfinished between them, and they could only run away from that for so long.

[lesbianlaracrofts]

I'm not a writer, but this came to me in a vision and since I wrote it, I thought I might as well let it see the light of day. Yes, this ignores the recent events, so don't ask me what happened to Bobby in this universe, I do not see, I do not hear.

Buck finally has Tommy in front of him. After their ill-fated morning after, he took some time to really think things through and decide what he was feeling and what he wanted to say to Tommy. He knew from the start that he wanted to apologise, but it took him a couple of weeks to prepare himself for how else this conversation could go.

So now Tommy is in his house again, in the very same kitchen they last spoke in. And Buck is fumbling it. He tries to speak the apologies he had rehearsed in his head but the fear of this ending badly again makes him stumble.

Tommy, sensing his nerves and perhaps taking pity, raises a hand to stop Buck.

"No, look, this is not all your fault. I'm not proud of how I handled that morning either," Tommy interrupts.

Then, he takes a breath, gathering his thoughts into the words he wants to say. That's something Buck had noticed and quietly admired about him, how he seemed intentional with what he said. There were rare moments where Tommy appeared to talk without a filter — that fated morning being one of them. Since then, Buck has had time to analyze that, and part of him regrets not taking the time to take in that rare moment of unfiltered verbose from Tommy, but the other part is still too upset to feel guilty. Because, what does it say about them that, seemingly, one of the only times Tommy spoke his mind was to imply something so mischaracterising of Buck?

"I think I pride myself in being a level-headed guy, but, clearly I'm not, at least not when it counts," Tommy continues. "Put me in a helicopter, and I will successfully fly it into gunfire and hurricanes, but ask me to have an honest conversation with someone I care about, and I'm a mess." He lets out a chuckle that, while self-deprecating, isn't exactly humorless.

Throughout their relationship, Buck had found himself laughing at Tommy's darker, and sometimes self-deprecating, brand of humor, but he can't find it in himself to laugh along just now. He wants to defend his boyfriend—his ex-boyfriend. But he quenches the urge by the stream of the coveted honesty pouring out of Tommy's mouth.

"I don't think I ever actually thought you had feelings for Eddie," he looks at Buck, mouth tight and straight, no humor now. "But I do that: No matter how well things are, it's like I have this rolodex of fears in my mind that I can't help but pick something out of. And once I pick something, I roll it around in my head until it drives me crazy. Usually I cut my losses before it can even materialize, but that morning I just blurted it out." He breaks the eye contact to rub a hand across his face. In that same movement, he moves to rest against the counter behind him. That adjustment could simply mean Tommy is getting tired and needs something to rest his weight on, but Buck doesn't think it's a coincidence that the hand movement works to cover Tommy's face and the change in position turns his body a little away from Buck. But he's been learning, and the maneuver peaks Buck's attention. Pay attention here, his instincts say; this is what he doesn't want you to see. And Buck sees it: Tommy is hurt, and he's embarrassed that he's hurt.

"I see now that I was fishing for reassurance. But It wasn't fair of me to blurt it out like that and expect you to respond in real time, in a way that assuaged my fears. No, actually, even if I had come about it in a more thought-out way, it was not your job to fix this anxiety I had built up by myself in my head. I put you on the spot and then put too much stake on how you reacted. I think part of me just wanted to be right about my fears, to be right about how things have to go wrong and I can't have what I want. So when I got the answer that vindicated that, I just left."

Buck is stunned silent for a moment because this is a side of Tommy he hadn't considered yet. An insecure, impulsive, anxious side. A side that Buck relates to so badly that the rush of empathy and affection climbing up his throat robs his voice for a second. But he he doesn't want to keep Tommy hanging, so he pushes through it.

"N-no, but wait, Tommy," Buck makes several aborted movements towards his ex before deciding on grabbing the counter to his side with his left hand while the right one he uses to gesticulate; otherwise, he can't get the words out. A compromise: 50% free to express himself, 50% tied to something solid so he doesn't go overboard. "I—yes. You shouldn't have left like that. You barely gave me time to process what you said and what that meant for our relationship. My mind was split between wondering if you'd spend our whole relationship expecting me to cheat on you—" At that, Tommy winces and says, "God, no," which is reassuring, but Buck has to press on. "And being hurt that you would suggest Eddie leaving was a good thing while I was already upset about that. But that wasn't fully fair to you either because you didn't know all the details of how it went down and how upset I was. We hadn't talked."

"Seems like that's the theme for us," Tommy quips, and Buck glares at him but can't completely suppress a smile.

"But other than that," Buck continues, deciding to go for broke. "I was insulted. I don't get why people don't understand this, but it's insulting that they keep suggesting I'm hopelessly pining for my straight best friend. I'm not an inexperienced teen; I know the difference between friendship and romance. I'm an adult who knows how desiring and being desired feels like. And I don't need to settle for unwanted pining when I can have the real thing whenever I want it," he's huffing a bit because he shouldn't even have to say this. He wants the people in his life to treat him like the experienced adult he is. He realizes he probably needs to have this conversation with his sister as well.

"But," he continues. "I know you didn't want to insult me. I knew it even before, and now I'm just more sure of it. S-so, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lashed out and tried to hurt you back. Y-you have to know, I didn't mean it, what I said about not having feelings."

"You would be within your rights to say that. I pushed you for a reaction, and that meant I had to be ready for an honest answer I didn't like," Tommy shrugs.

"T-that was not an honest answer" Buck says, words coming out too loud with the horror of Tommy actually believing that he doesn't have feelings for him. "I was just being an ass, don't—please, believe me, that thing I said couldn't be further from the truth."

Tommy levels him with a searching look before the corners of his lips twitch and then curve a tiny bit up. "Okay, Evan. I believe you," he promises.

"Okay," Buck repeats, relieved. However, his mind is a bit empty now, hearing his name like that and seeing that smile. "There's probably more we need to talk about, but..." He feels himself move, and that smile his eyes are glued to is growing slowly, a teasing edge to it, plus some hopeless affection, if Buck is not wishful thinking.

Tommy is moving too, body pushing away from the counter and realigning to face Buck. His body language is changing to a more open one, and Buck wonders why that is until he sees arms raising to receive him, and he realizes he's been entering Tommy's space.

"God, Tommy," he rests his hands on Tommy's arms, lets them roam upwards until he grabs both sides of his face. "I missed you so much. That's something else I wanted to say. I'm sorry I didn't—it seems like there's never enough time for me to say everything I want to say."

"Then I'm sorry I keep cutting our time short," Tommy says, his brow furrowed in what looks like real sorrow. Buck is feeling tears gather in his eyes, and, even though he knows Tommy is not like him in this, not quick to tear up, he doesn't need to see tears to know what he is feeling. "I want to give you, us, more time." Tommy swallows what's probably some saliva and a lot of old doubts. "I want to try to give us a long time."

Buck has a feeling that, even now, Tommy is holding back from saying more. That filter of his, working hard. But that's alright because they have time. 

"Okay," Buck says, already pulling Tommy in for a long-awaited kiss. Tommy goes willingly, pliant, some of the armour shedded and making him lighter.

"I believe you, Tommy," he says right before he won't be able to speak for a while.

[iicehoon]

GYM TIME | BF!SUNGHOON X READER ︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

warnings : none (unless you think there are let me know)

There was nothing more aggravating than watching your boyfriend, Sunghoon, drenched in sweat from across the gym while feeling completely helpless.

Firstly, you were in public, so you couldn't just approach him and start making out with him if you wanted to. Second, it wasn't practical to run across the large gym and jump on him while he was lifting weights; that would be dangerous. Lastly, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep your composure if he ever found out what you were really thinking.

The small smirks he gave you affected you more than you could possibly imagine, and he knew exactly how he made you feel inside and out. You sighed as you grabbed your water bottle and made your way over to Sunghoon.

However, halfway there, you were stopped by a guy who couldn't seem to take a hint. He approached you with a smile, scratching the back of his head. "Hi, I saw you across the gym, and I usually don't do this," he said, “but you were so pretty that I wanted to shoot my shot."

You awkwardly laughed, squeezing your water bottle tightly in hopes of not yelling at him to get away.

"That's nice of you," you started, smiling awkwardly. "However, I'm here with my boyfriend, and it wouldn't be best for you to try anything."

The guy scoffed in disbelief. "He isn't even with you! What kind of boyfriend is he?" he asked, making your eyes widen. "If I were him, I would never leave you alone like, ever, in hopes that nobody would try to talk to you."

A shadow loomed over the guy in front of you, and you looked up to see Sunghoon raising an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from the guy to you, "Well, I'm not with her because I know I can handle any guys if needed," Sunghoon's voice interjected confidently.

The guy's eyes widened, hearing Sunghoon's deeper tone, slowly turned around. "I guess I'll take my leave now," he said with a hint of fear, quickly walking toward another room of the gym.

"Hey, Hoon," you smiled, wrapping your arm around his bicep.

"I'm going to need you to grab your duffle bag and let’s go," Sunghoon huffed. You tilted your head in confusion. "But you're not even done with your routine."

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he bent down and whispered into your ear, "I can do something else to substitute my routine."

A blush spreads across your face, and your smile widens with joy as what you had been dreaming of from the very start finally comes true.

You let out a laugh and grabbed his face and gave him quick pecks on his cheeks and then on his lips before hurrying into the locker room to grab your things.

As you walked outside toward the car, you could feel Sunghoon staring at you, and you began to sway your hips even more, enjoying the attention you were receiving.

In a flash, he was by your side, pressing you gently against the car. “You have no idea how hard it was to finish my last set with you looking like that,” he whispered, one hand resting on your waist, the other brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You blinked up at him, heart racing. “Oh, I had some idea.”

He smirked, that same infuriatingly sexy smirk that started it all back at the gym. “Then let me show you what happens when you keep teasing me.”

a/n: idk the last time I wrote anything,, I wanted to do smth because I am LITERALLY procrastinating my finals..... I really wanna get back into writing / smau but I have 0 ideas.

NOT EDITED

[iceclew]

Some added story below

music recommendation, as always :3

----

“Bernard said, you needed something?”

"Henry! Yes indeed. There's an excort planned for Sasau tomorrow. Hanush ordered some additional gifts, quite valuable goods that is. I need you to accompany them, since the roads are pretty stuffed with all sorts of scum at the moment. You'll be heading quite early at daybreak, so be ready, will you?"

“But a trip to Sasau and back is like… at least a day’s effort.”

“Which is why you are heading out early, are you not listening?” a nervous breathed laugher was heard, but Hans did not look up from the book he’s been engrossed in.

“But tomorrow is-”

“I know, what day is tomorrow, Henry.”

…

Henry stood there in silence. Waiting. From experience he could tell Hans’ rough and rushed tone would disappear, once his impatient first impulse subsided.

“…. Listen.”, the lord of Pirkstein and just recently officially recognized lord of Rattay closed the book in front of him with a firm quick movement, before his hands got to rest on its cover.

"I can't…have you here. I can't…do this…to you. I don't want to…force you to be on my side…when I'm…getting married.."

Henry followed Hans' gaze and both ended up starring into the rustling warmth of the fire pit. The wooden pieces cracked tirelessly. Hans must have added new logs to the flame right before Henry entered the room. A certain numbness had settled in Henry's spine days ago. Initially a small inconvenience, it grew to gain weight close to flour sacks by now. Heavy, perhaps even filled with something sharp and dark, hidden deep inside. It was hard and slow work but undoubtedly it had to be taken care of, whether he liked it or not.

"Hm. Hanush will be upset. He personally ordered me to be there, I recall quite well."

“I don’t care about Hanush anymore, Henry… He should have waited with the council’s meeting, if he’s really that picky ‘bout the orders he gives out. Things changed….”

Henry let his eyes be hypnotized by the dancing flames in front of him. A fire, warm and bright. Steady but still dancing with its full force and energy. A sight that had burned itself into his mind months ago, when times were different for them. Burdens far bigger than today’s had been hanging on his shoulders, but the fire pit and it’s warmth still burned for him back then. Just like they did today.

“Get up.”

Barely notable a small smile ran across Hans' face,"Ordering around nobility again, are we Henry? Will you ever learn."

“Please.” Henry was not able to hold back a smile for himself now.

Flames jumping eagerly around the chimney next to him. Hans put down the book he was still holding and got up from his chair. Just like that Henry's fingers were all over his space again. Slightly lifting up his own hand from his side and aimlessly intertwining with his own.

"Whenever being by your side. There is no force with it. There never was, Hans. If you want me to be somewhere else, I'll be. But I will always be right next to you, whenever you want me to. Because I want to, and that desire will always outweigh everything else I'll have to deal with."

The quiet, steady cracking of burning logs finally filled the entire room.

.......................

Fuck it's been quite some time, since I last wrote stuff... like...really storytelling, not just brabbling out all my thoughts about something...

I don't know why but I don't like my Hansry art just ...yet... it's ...not quite... something's still off.... and probably it's just me not able to get out of my brain again with these... therefore I hoped adding some story would get me on track or smth... :)

[danieyells]

"Lulu~!" Taiga called out cheerily as the doors to the VIP room were pulled closed behind him. Romeo glared up over the corner of one of his security laptops at the sudden intrusion, but he couldn't truly be angry at his underlings for letting Taiga in without question. No matter their factions, Taiga was Captain at the end of the day and they all listened to him. Except Romeo, of course.

"What is it now." He returned his eyes to the Eyes In The Sky on his screen, carefully monitoring the cameras for any foul play. Despite that he was paying close attention to everything happening, somehow what Taiga said next was a surprise.

"Ran out of cash again!" The boss laughed, throwing himself carelessly onto the couch nearest Romeo, as he snapped his head towards him with fury in his eyes. Taiga only grinned in response. "Gimme some more money and I'll pay you back, eeeh, before tomorrow morning!"

"Are you serious, you BTH!?" How Taiga's luck worked never really crossed Romeo's mind--he assumed it was part of his stigma or his pact--but he knew he was being honest about getting the money back to him eventually as Taiga always wound up with more than enough. It didn't make his frivolity regarding wealth any less annoying however. "How did you lose all of it!?"

"Gyahaha! If you keep yelling like that, your pretty voice's gonna get all raspy, Lulu!" As if paranoid, Romeo reached for the drink on the table. "You've been watching the cameras, you shouldn't have to ask me how I lost. That's just how gambling is. You win some you lose some."

"Why should I give you more money if you're just going to lose it all!?"

"Because you know I'll make it all back." He wasn't wrong. He always paid back what he owed, usually with interest Romeo hadn't even asked for. Taiga put his arms behind his head and made himself comfortable, watching Romeo try and bring some semblance of calm to himself before he started getting wrinkles. "You know I don't lose in the long run."

"And what happens when you don't." Romeo sounded tired. He returned his attention to the cameras, not wanting to be distracted. "What happens when someday you lose it all and I'm not there to give you more?"

Taiga rolled over, resting his cheek on his hand. His eyes never left Romeo's face. "All you've gotta do to make money in this world is get your hands a little dirty."

His sharp grin widened as Romeo cringed. "I'd prefer not to have to get dirty at all."

Taiga reached a hand out towards Romeo's scrunched brow, to which Romeo leaned far out of his reach, judging his filthy hand. "That's what you've got me for, Lulu." He took his hand back and smiled at him. It was almost gentle, as sweet a smile as someone as vicious as Taiga could manage.

"I'm here so your pretty hands can stay pretty and clean." Taiga crossed his arms under his chin, resting them on the armrest. "I made you a casino so people would hand you everything they've got for a chance at fortune, and so you could see people who judged you feel just as bad as you did when you lost everything. You've got me so you'll never lose everything again, not for long."

". . .and why do you do all of that?" Why do all of that for someone he fights and terrorizes and hurts and hasn't gotten along with for months, if not a year? Why do all of this, saying it's for him, then give him more problems? Taiga's sweet smile turned toothy again. It was still a little sweet even with the row of fangs in his mouth.

"I do all this so someday I come home--to my own place, not to this place--" Taiga scooched closer to Romeo, draping his arms over the arm of the couch to loll comfortably. Romeo glanced at him to make sure he wouldn't try and touch him again before returning his gaze to the EITS. "I come home, a mess of blood and shreds of someone else's life. And you look up and tell me to stop tracking blood on your floor."

Romeo blinked and looked back at his grinning captain. ". . .why am I there?"

"And I drop a stack of cash in front of you and you stop being mad for long enough to say 'good job, BTH. Your dinner's in the kitchen BTW.'"

"This little story of yours sounds one trip to Mortkranken away from me being KU."

". . .'Knocked up?'" Taiga cackled after giving the acronym a thought. "Gyahaha! I mean if that's all it takes to get you to sleep with me, we could go to Mortkranken right now and take the rest of the week off!"

"It's Sunday."

"It'll be a long week." Taiga rolled over again, and Romeo snapped at him for putting his shoes on the couch. He was ignored, as always. "You wouldn't be the one cooking, by the way. You pay people to cook and clean. With the money I give you."

"And the Institute?"

"Eh. Jin calls me if he needs something or someone dead. Sometimes I still help out because anomalies taste better than just about anything else I can eat."

"And what's the timeline for this little prediction of yours? If that WNP is in charge it must be a ways off."

"Not sure yet. Just making my plans for the future." The ideal future. One he won't want to abandon. It won't be this one, he's pretty sure. But it's nice to think about.

"And what exactly am I doing in this future?"

"Whatever you want, Lulu!"

"And you think I want to spend the rest of my life with you!?"

"I think you'll want the sure thing. And you and I both know I can be the sure thing. And I don't think anyone else will be able to afford," Taiga rubs his fingers together to emphasize the monetary meaning, "to give you the life you want without asking for anything in return."

Romeo watched Taiga silently, trying to banish a blush from his face. Taiga watched the EITS, occasionally criticizing the choices of customers, the behavior of dealers, and the casino overall, insisting Romeo make changes he knew he wasn't listening to.

The distant thought of returning to a carefree and wealthy life like in his youth, the only payment he had to make being that he would see Taiga every day, didn't sound bad at all. The only bad part(aside from that he would ultimately be relying on Taiga of course) was that it sounded like Taiga imagined him staying home all day.

He didn't particularly want to work hard--he would happily lean into the brand influencer lifestyle, or perhaps become a socialite and do nothing but attend parties and events(the thought of attending an Institute event and matching fake smiles with Jin for photos crossed his mind making his eye twitch--perhaps not that)--but he couldn't imagine himself not getting restless after a while.

Perhaps he would find a creative outlet--get into fashion design maybe--or. . . .

He imagined himself doing what he does now. An unassuming front business hiding illegal activities. Perhaps he wouldn't have to handle the more sensitive things himself, in such an ideal world--Taiga would give him trustworthy people who would dirty their hands at his command--but the ones with debts would grovel at his feet and be at his mercy nonetheless.

The thought of losing everything again crashed the rising high of this shared daydream.

". . .There are no sure things." He finally sighed, trying to get a grip on what he'd missed on the cameras while zoned out. "Least of all with money. And gambling."

"Yeah, yeah." Taiga agreed, of course. Anyone in their line of work would have to know how fragile wealth and power were. "But do you really think I won't be able to make back what I'm asking for? C'mon, help your boss out~!"

"You already lost everything I gave you!" Taiga laughed and admitted that was true. Nonetheless, Romeo pulled his wallet out of his pocket and fetched a decent amount of yen to offer to him. "Your interest is double the total. Per day!"

"I'll give you triple by tomorrow afternoon!" Taiga cheered, hopping up and snatching Romeo's whole wallet and heading out the doors before he could do more than aim his rifle at him in protest. "Thanks, Lulu~!"

"YOU BTH, GET BACK HERE--!" Romeo yelled after him, slamming a fist into the table and starting to rise. He grit his teeth, hearing Taiga laugh through the slammed VIP room doors, but didn't want to abandon the cameras in case there was more trouble than Taiga out there. Tucking the intended loan away in his pocket, he watched Taiga exchange a large amount of his money for chips and make his way to a table and put a stack down and play. He cursed his name and resumed security, occasionally glancing at wherever he caught Taiga's red head, counting the chips as they increased with every win.

By the time it was time for him to take a break(watching screens all day would do terrible things to his eyes, for one thing) and a certain 'BB' had arrived to keep an eye on the cameras for him, Taiga had made enough to pay him back. His luck was the only somewhat reliable part of him.

He kept playing anyway, perhaps set on that triple repayment. Taiga didn't think of money as strictly as Romeo did--he made it, he threw it away, if he lost it the biggest problem was hearing Romeo complain, not having no money. Romeo envied that lackadaisical mindset. Once upon a time he felt similarly--money was something to be spent, and he would always have it.

Taiga had no problem getting money one way or another, even if Romeo wasn't fond of his methods.

If not for Darkwick he'd likely never have to borrow a cent from Romeo.

Taiga's little fantasy crossed his mind again, the idea that he was the closest to a 'sure thing' Romeo could safely get. Of a life as cushy and privileged as he could want, his only payment that he would have to deal with Taiga for the rest of Taiga's life(because he most certainly would outlive that buffoon.) Essentially the sugar baby of a yakuza.

Well, sugars didn't usually live with and care for the houses of their benefactors.

He'd jokingly called the imaginary future version of himself a housewife, but that was the closest thing he could imagine between them in such a scenario.

That Taiga would be his Blundering Thoughtless Husband.

He slammed his hand in frustration against the bar, cursing Taiga's name and finishing his drink before demanding the laughing Rui make him another.

"It really is good to hear about you guys spending time together again, though!" Rui chimed, sliding Romeo his spritz. He hadn't told him the whole story though, just that Taiga had taken his wallet but he had enough to pay. "It's like all's right in the world when you two are together, y'know? You were together when we all got here, so it doesn't feel right having you apart!"

Somehow that only made him feel more embarrassed. Him being with Taiga being right.

It had always felt right.

Taiga had also proved right about his gambling, passing Romeo his wallet and several stacks of ¥10,000 notes when the vice captain returned to Sinostra a little tipsy, before making his way to the depths of the ship where his own room was, complaining to one of his guards about being hungry again.

Romeo counted it once he'd returned to his own room. Exactly what had been in his wallet times three.

A shower and a lengthy bedtime beauty routine later, and Romeo lied in bed, drifting off after a long day.

He hated it when Taiga was right.

But he hoped Taiga might be somewhat right about a better future.

[innytoes]

Happy birthday, @onlygenxhere!

Julie groped for her alarmclock, trying to get the steady beep-beeping to shut up. Her head was killing her.

But instead of her alarm clock, her hand hit something warm, that yelped. She pried her eyes open, squinting confusedly at the - admittedly cute - guy she'd apparently just smacked in the face.

This wasn't her room. And she was pretty sure it wasn't his either, given how he was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his head seemingly pillowed on his arms until Julie had so rudely smacked him awake.

The beeping continued, and she looked around.

Oh. Hospital. That was a heart monitor.

"What happened?" she asked.

"So um, you remember how you were about to go on at Open Mic Night at Eats and Beats?" the cute boy asked her.

She nodded. She hadn't even told anyone about it, too worried she would chicken out like she had done for the last three years.

"Well, I was kind of showing off a guitar trick to an audience member and didn't realise you were behind me and um... I-kind-of-brained you-in-the-head-and-knocked-you-unconcious-I'm-so-sorry," the guy blurted out. He looked really, really guilty. "I got you flowers and a get well balloon and a cute plush bunny because they didn't have any bears that said 'Sorry I knocked you out' so..."

Julie blinked at him. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was that he was very cute... or maybe it was the early morning light streaming through the windows. "You stayed by a stranger's bedside all night?" she asked. The boy stopped rambling, then nodded.

"Well, since I kind of just smacked you, we're even," Julie decided. "Though maybe you can buy me some breakfast when I get out of here."

The boy's smile was hesitant, and relieved, and beautiful. "Deal. I'm Luke."

"Julie."

[i-havenothingelsetopost]

genuine question, do you like maths?? i have a vague feeling i saw your post of tags or something that said something about it but i cannot figure out if it was in fact you or if it was even positive ahahah

Yeah that was me! I don't go looking for math problems, but when I happen to do them, I tend to enjoy it. Wasn't always this way — elementary school math was about speed and memorization and I hated that — but I had a really good teacher in upper secondary school, and it became about creative problem solving. It feels the same as writing a poem in meter or managing to untangle a really bad knot in a ball of yarn.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

its so important to me that you know how much ive already cried over this wip and its literally only been two days

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[talkorsomething]

Hit my arm yesterday and while i dont THINK anythings like broken or anything like that it does hurt in minorly concerning ways

[tojisbbg]

gang baby

❝she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit!❞

♡ sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier ♡

sypnosis: you're just a girl. yeah, you can't decide between five hot LI's presented to you in the popular otome game, love and deepspace, but that's okay. who said you can't have them all? literally.

wc: 11k (lots of smut beware)

a/n: valentines day special!! guys, don't question it, ok? i wrote this with my whole pussy. ok bai. (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: all lads LI's x fem!reader (yes, you read right), gangbang, slight plot, reader gets transported in lads universe, smut (no details, find out hehe), all acts are consensual, not edited. disclaimer: not based off tomorrow's catch-22!!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"fuck!" you yelled out in frustration, chucking your phone off your bed as the poor device fell on the floor with a loud thud. you could hear your best friend giggling from your laptop, making you shoot her a sharp glare.

"shut up." you sneer, but it only fueled her laughter more.

"damn, infold really hates you, bro." she pokes further at your miserable failure, making your shoulders slump in defeat as you grumble.

"i can't believe it. i've been grinding for two months straight to save up fifteen thousand diamonds for the valentines day banner! i was sure i'd pull them all, and you're telling me i only got two out of the five?? this is a fucking joke." you ranted, making your friend hum as she understood your anger.

"yeah, i'd be mad as hell too. but hey, at least you got sylus and caleb. just watch the rest on twitter or something." your best friend tried to comfort you, but it only made you pout.

"but i want them all." you sulked, making her roll her eyes.

"you're such a whore." she sighed, making you grin.

"duh, why choose one when i can have them all." you nonchalantly responded.

"yeah, yeah, forgot you had no shame." she shook her head in disbelief.

"man, i don't know what else to do. i literally milked the game dry, there's no other way i can get more diamonds for more pulls before the event ends. this is so unfair." you whined, fingers tangled in your hair.

"you can always-"

"no. i'm not giving those greedy hoes my money." you cut off her suggestion, your tone stern.

you were a poor college student who worked part-time at a stationery supply store (living the aesthetic life while crying over classes and fictional men); money's tight, and you're not about to spend hundreds on this because you know it'd become a horrible habit sooner or later.

despite being broke, your spending habits were outrageous.

"yeah girl, then i don't know what to tell ya. i'm chilling with my rafayel card. oh shit, it's almost three in the morning, bitch. we have class tomorrow, go to sleep." she yawned tiredly.

"you're leaving me just like that? after i went through so much pain and trauma? is this how deep our ten years of friendship runs? just say you hate me and want me to die a slow painful death." you dramatically rambled, making your best friend rub her temple in faux annoyance as she groaned at your stupidity.

"when i see you tomorrow, i'm gonna slap you. goodnight, hoe." with that, she hung up.

you closed the lid of your laptop and placed it on charge, stretching before standing up to go pick up your phone. you noticed the small cracks on your screen as you walked back to your bed.

you unlocked your phone, noticing how the lads server kicked you out. you exited the app, clicking on it again as you were met with caleb's face.

so l-long for longe-ge-... before fa-fa...dust

so long for-for-.... fading-fa..-dus..

so-so...lo...ng-..fading...

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the app glitch horribly, the audio was choppy and produced crackling noises. the graphics were disoriented and there was a pop-up notification saying you needed to upgrade your memory.

you could feel your irritation rise once again, getting tired of this shit as you decided to deal with it tomorrow or something. however, every time you tried to exit the app, it wouldn't let you.

your phone literally froze.

"great. just fucking great." you sarcastically murmured.

not only did you not get the limited cards you wanted, you were broke (in the real world and in lads), you're screwed for your morning classes and your phone is currently on its last breath.

also, you were hungry as fuck right now, craving for some five guys.

"fuck this." you sighed in defeat, settling your phone next to you before laying down to sleep. you figured that eventually your phone would turn off once the battery died, so until then you just turned to the other side and ignored the device.

soon enough, fatigue took over your body as you were slipping away into a deep slumber.

unaware, your phone screen turned off momentarily, before flickering on once again as the screen crackled and glitched before stopping.

data retrieval complete, memory upgrade...

successful.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred in your sleep, eyebrows pinched together as you felt a cold breeze run across the bare skin of your thighs and arms.

nonetheless, you don't remember leaving your window open, it was the middle of february. you groaned, eyes still shut tight as your hand reached down, trying to locate your blanket.

"comfortable, sweetie?" you heard an oddly familiar, deep voice suddenly speak.

did someone break into your house? and why the hell did your mattress feel so hard and cold?

your eyes shot open, adjusting your blurry vision as you realized you were not in your bedroom. you were laying on the cold, dirt ground and it made you panic.

you helplessly sat up and noticed the long pair of legs in front of your body, making you look up as you saw the towering figure of a man. the night sky was dark, making it hard for you to make out his face.

"who are you? and what the hell am i doing out here?" you asked, but your voice barely came out as a whisper.

a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, before he bent down to come eye-level with you. as soon as you met the bright, ruby red orbs of his foxy eyes; your jaw dropped in horror.

no. fucking. way.

"shouldn't i be the one asking you those questions, sweetie?" sylus smirked, head tilting as he keenly watched your facial expressions.

"you're not real. i'm dreaming, yeah, just a dream that feels too real." you blurt out, a breathy laugh scratching your dry throat, trying to calm yourself from freaking out as your heart leaped to your chest when he directly looked at you.

"a dream, you say? hmph, you're a strange one." he shook his head before grabbing your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips. the warmth of his rough hands, which were definitely double the size of yours, made you shiver due to the contrast of your cold ones. he bit the side of your palm before gently sucking on it, making you jolt from the sudden sensation.

sylus watched you with pure amusement glinting in his eyes.

"you're like a scared little kitten, so expressive." sylus commented, making you swallow harshly.

well, this definitely was not a dream, thanks to sylus's help for that confirmation.

but the question was.... how the hell did you end up here?

suddenly, there was rustling in the distance, making his eyes twitch as he became alert. sylus slightly shifted closer to you, now scanning the area for the intruder.

"miss bodyguard?" with a dramatic gasp, you heard rushed footsteps approach you. it was hard to miss the hues of indigo, pinks and blues in his eyes along with the striking dusky purple hair that was a little more visible thanks to the moonlight.

"r...rafayel?" it felt odd saying his name out loud, it almost made you feel a little schizophrenic.

just a bit.

"duh, who else would it be? what are you doing here in the N-109 zone at this hour. also, the hell are you wearing? so not creative or fashionable." rafayel questioned, of course, not forgetting to throw in his snarky little insults along with it.

"what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" you glared at him.

"it's the middle of february and you're dressed like it's a hundred degrees outside." the lemurian smirked down at you.

you cursed at yourself for going to bed in shorts and a thin shirt. well, to be fair, it's a cute snoopy set. also, who in the hell could've predicted this to happen!?

"she wanted to have a little sleepover with the wanderers that lurk around here." the dragon teased, making your face heat up.

"i did not." you mumbled under your breath.

"uh-huh, you're not really in the position to defend that claim." rafayel egged further.

"whatever, what are you doing here? you usually don't go out of your way to come to the N-109 zone." you tried to change the subject, remembering from his anecdotes that he usually has third party people as his "networks" to gain intel.

"just some business you shouldn't sweat your pretty little head over, cutie. but, you know, we should really talk about what your business is with the leader of onychinus." he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between you and sylus.

"it's nothing, uh, i don't even know him." you chuckled nervously, making sylus look at you with a sharp look.

"is that so, kitten? you wound me. and here i thought we had something more than just... acquaintances. i guess those nights of naughty touches, kisses and naked glances mean nothing to you, right?" sylus shamelessly bullet-pointed, his tone dropping an octave lower as your cheeks grew warm.

on the other hand, rafayel's eyes widened at the revelation.

"you fucked the leader of onychinus?! woah, woah, woah, pause. what about everything that happened between us?? we had sex in my bathtub, the hotel and don't forget-" he was flabbergasted, only to be cut off by sylus.

"you were messing around with this half-baked fish, sweetie? i'm disappointed in your taste. if you planned on two-timing, you could've selected a better opponent for me. this is just... offensive." he snarked, his red eyes beaming with irritation as he looked at rafayel, who's face grew dark from his brash words.

"what did you say to me, you fucking crow? half-baked fish? i'm the god of tides, a majestic lemurian. you dare to speak to me like that?" rafayel's voice became husky, languid footsteps towards the other man.

"h-hey, hey, let's all calm down. there's a very logical and reasonable explanation, i swear." you tried to mediate between them, but it didn't seem like they planned on giving a flying shit about what you had to say any time soon.

"y/n? there you are. i've been blowin' up your phone for hours. thought a wanderer got to you and i got worried about how i'd pay the rent by myself." xavier walked from the shadows, his words laced with a gentle joke as he approached you and the other two men.

holy fuck, this was not good.

"and who are you guys?" the ash-blonde male asked, eyes narrowing before looking down at you.

"xavier." you meeked, not even knowing what to say anymore.

"why are you seeing other guys, y/n? am i not enough? you know i don't like it when you hide things from me. i thought you learned your lesson after i punished you for choosing lumiere over me." xavier now towered over you, his voice laced with envy as you gulped.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

"xavier, i promise i can explain. this is all just a-" you tried to somehow pull an excuse out of your ass, but your brain was fogging up.

"pipsqueak?"

"y/n? what an odd place to be at during such an odd hour, you left your patient copy in my office."

two other figures emerged from the sides, making your eyes close in disbelief, wishing that you could somehow disappear from the face of earth right now.

why the fuck are they all here.

at the same time.

"you've got to be kidding me." you covered your face with the palm of your hands.

"caleb? i thought you were dead." zayne spoke in a monotone, glancing at his childhood friend.

"wow, i missed you too, zayne." caleb rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. however, the small spark of tension barely lasted before caleb looked back at you.

"care to explain why you're in such a dangerous zone at this time? you know you can't hide from me, pipsqueak. what connections do you have here? who are you seeing? was locking you up in the attic not enough for you?" caleb lectured, his voice gruff before zayne decided to add on to the fire.

"you're utterly reckless, your heart condition isn't getting any better." zayned pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

all five on them now circled you, bickering and arguing with each other along with bombarding you with questions. you balled your fists in annoyance and frustration.

"shut up! oh my fucking god, i don't know, okay?! i don't know how i ended up here, so stop asking me. fuckin' hell, i can't even get a moment to breathe or think because all of you little shits won't shut up for a second!" you snapped as you stood up, making all of them look at you with surprised eyes.

you gulped, feeling a little cornered as you have five insanely tall, broad and buff men look down at you; like helpless prey.

caleb was the first person to break the momentary silence, grabbing your arm to pull you towards him.

"let's go home, pipsqueak. i'll cook your favorite tonight since it's valentines day." he smiled, only for your other arm to be tugged backwards as you yelped.

"home? her home is with me, we're roommates. i think you got the wrong person." xavier calmly replied, but his words were laced with venom.

"she's going nowhere with either of you. she's my bodyguard and i need her to come back with me to my studio. y'know, in case some scary wanderers are lurkin' around." rafayel pushed xavier to the side, intertwining his fingers with yours before giving you a charming smile as he attempted to walk off; only to bump into someone.

"i don't think so. she's been out here for so long, i might need to give her an exam to make sure she's okay." zayne cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you felt like you were the rope being tugged in tug-of-war. sylus deeply sighed at the situation and before you knew it; in one smooth swoop you were now in the strong arms of the leader of onychinus.

"what fools. she's in the N-109 zone for a reason. for me, of course. come on, sweetie, you must be freezing. let's go inside." sylus look down at you with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

you groaned, squirming out of his hold as sylus let you, watching you get back on your feet.

"this is ridiculous! you all are acting like a bunch of kids, fighting over me like i'm some kind of toy. none of you own me!" you stood your ground.

"fine, then why don't you choose?" sylus scoffed, crossing his arms. you grew quiet, looking at each of them before averting your gaze to the ground.

"i... i can't." you whispered.

"you can't? or you don't want to?" xavier snickered.

"you're the one who's been toying with us. we deserve an explanation, no?" rafayel grinned.

"explanations are too time-consuming, actions speak louder than words. so, how are you gonna fix it, y/n?" hazel eyes peered at you with intensity through the glass lenses.

oh, you're so fucked.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

everything happened so fast, you didn't know who swiped your panties off or unclasped your bra.

you felt betrayed at how they evilly plotted against you, telepathically agreeing to punish you for your unfaithfulness. what happened to hating each other? so, here you were now, splayed on the soft mattress in sylus's room; like art on a display.

they drank in the sight of you, perky tits spilled out as the smooth glaze of your skin glimmered under the dim lighting of the room. their eyes were full of hunger, eye-fucking you as you grew shy under their intense gazes.

"s-stop staring at me like that." you whined, looking away as your face reddened at the attention.

you felt someone stroking your thighs, making you shudder as you looked in front of you, seeing caleb gripping the supple fat of your plush thighs.

"never knew you were such a dirty little slut, princess. all these years of knowing you... and to think you were capable of this? how naughty." caleb smirked, prying your thighs open as you gasped.

but, your lips would soon be sealed with zaynes as he kissed you roughly. his pillow-soft lips molded with yours, the smacking sound of saliva filled the room. a big, veiny hand came up to cup your cheek gently as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, licking the wet muscle before sucking it.

caleb used his thumb to spread your soaked folds apart, watching the lewd string of your arousal connect them both. your clit was puffy from being neglected, a sheen of wetness covering your cunt; making his mouth salivate. he leaned down, mouth hovering above your pussy.

"fuckin' beautiful." caleb swore under his breath, the warm air fanning above your aching cunt, giving you goosebumps. you moaned into zayne's mouth, feeling caleb's warm and wet tongue lick a fat stripe up your cunt.

"hope you didn't forget about us, cutie." rafayel pouted, licking at your nipple before wrapping his lips on the swollen pebble. sylus soon followed his footsteps, greedily kneading at your other tit before leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses on the soft mound.

meanwhile, xavier's lips were buried in your neck as he punished you with licks and bites on the expanse of your unmarked flesh.

"ngh~ xavier!" you whimpered against zayne's lips, the doctor now nibbling on your bottom lip.

he licked the side of your neck before softly clamping his teeth down, suckling and leaving a purplish bruise. as a soothing apology, xavier kitten-licked the fresh mark before moving down to your collarbone with wet kisses.

caleb continued to lap at your wet cunt, his saliva mixed with your juices dripped down his chin. the tip of his tongue circled your clit before suckling on it, making your legs tremble as a moan ripped out of your throat as you tried to close your legs.

"f-fuck.. hnghh.." you cried out, feeling him plant his palms on your inner thighs, forcing you to keep them open. caleb peered up at you from between your thighs, amethyst eyes glaring at you as his lips were glossy.

"don't interrupt me when i'm eating." he huskily spoke before slapping your dripping pussy, producing a wet 'pap!' noise. you yelped because of your increased sensitivity, not having enough time to recover before he dove back in.

with one last wet smooch, zayne released your lips before crawling down right next to his childhood friend. they exchanged a quick look, a mischievous smirk dancing on the colonel's lips.

"oh? was my tongue not enough for you, princess?" he lowly spoke, pinching your inner thigh as you bit your bottom lips.

"ahh... need z-zayne to help... please?" you begged, making him scoff. zayne couldn't help but grin with pride, your words stroking his ego a little.

"you heard her, move." zayne pushed caleb a little to squeeze himself between your legs, taking off his glasses before throwing them to the side. caleb, utterly betrayed, seethed with jealousy.

"so that's how you wanna play? fine." caleb accepted it as a challenge, but of course, he won't let neither of you get the last word.

zayne ignored his little childish outburst, digging in as his scarred hands rested on your lower stomach before his fingers stroked the expanse of it, gently moving to the side to hold your hips; caressing your smooth skin while tracing the faint stretch marks decorating it.

your puffy clit peaked out of your wet slit, making zayne lean down to press a wet smooch on it. you shuddered, mouth gaping open as your breathing quickened. zayne dragged his tongue up your sopping folds slow and languidly, the tip of his tongue digging into your wet pussy. the difference in how zayne and caleb ate you out was clear. caleb liked to eat your honeyed cunt like a starved dog, as if it was his last meal; unlike zayne, who liked to take his time and savor the taste of your sweet cunt.

"mhmmm.... zaynee~" you slurred his name, drunk in pleasure as he took his time to lap at your pussy, suckling and nibbling on your clit. amethyst eyes bore into the back of zayne's head, fuming with anger and envy.

caleb's fingers dug into your thighs, making you wince in pain but soon it deliciously simmered into the pleasure you were getting from zayne's tongue. the colonel snickered, watching how slick your pussy was from saliva and your juices, deciding to toy with you as revenge.

you felt the pads of caleb's middle and ring finger brush against your hole, probing the tight opening. you groan, feeling him push in both fingers at once.

"c-caleb!" you stuttered out, feeling him scissor his fingers in and out of your tight hole; the thickness and length of his digits rubbing you in all the right places.

suddenly, xavier roughly grabbed your jaw, squishing your chubby cheeks in his hands; forcing you to look at him. the expression on his face was dark, eyes clouded with lust and possessiveness.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself, dirty girl. you like having four other guys touch you, hm? this mouth is fucking filthy, maybe i should clean it, yeah?" he smirked, blue eyes sharply peering down at you.

"x-xav.." you were cut off by his grip tightening just a little more, making you wince.

"shhh... not another word, my dumb little girl. now i just wanna hear you gagging on my cock, 'kay?" xavier unbuckled his belt before unzipping his pants. he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, making his hard cock spring against his abs, your eyes widening at the sight.

his dick didn't have a lot of girth, but fuck it was long. xavier tapped the blush pink tip of his leaky cock on your lips, spreading his precum all over them like it was your own personal gloss. his thumb rested on your chin before pulling it down, forcing your mouth to open as he slid his cock in; the ash-blonde male let out a shaky sigh.

both sylus and rafayel continued to paw at your tits, biting and sucking on your nipples. with a lewd 'pop!', they released your swollen bud, eyeing their shared masterpiece as your tits were littered with hickies and trails of saliva.

"why don't you return the favor, sweetie? these cute little hands of yours seem empty." sylus gives you a toothy grin, bringing your hand to the tent forming on his pants, making you palm him through them. a deep groan escaped his lips as your hand stroked him through the rough fabric of his leather pants.

rafayel now sat on his knees by your other side, grabbing your wrist before bringing it up to his lips. he kissed the soft, warm flesh of your wrist; inhaling the scent of your skin as he let out a moan.

"you smell so fucking good. god, it's driving me insane." he breathed out, licking your pulse point before gently biting down on it. rafayel continued to sniff and kiss your wrist, using his other free hand to undo his pants and pull his aching cock out; stroking it as it throbbed in his palms. he teased his slit, spreading the sticky precum all over the tip.

your eager hands fumbled with sylus's belt as you tried to undo it, a little difficult because your mouth was still full of xavier's cock and forced you to maintain eye contact with him; as if looking at anyone else in this room would make his existence perish. but, sylus decided to be kind enough and help you because who is he to deny you?

you dug your hand inside his boxers, eyes widening as you realized that you couldn't even fully grasp his dick. he was fucking hung, thick and long, not lacking in any area. a guttural moan escaped his lips, feeling your soft fingers caressing his balls.

you took out his cock from the confinement of his boxers, stroking the shaft of it as your fingers teased the throbbing vein that ran on the underside curve of his dick. sylus threw his head back in pleasure, a soft whimper heard as his chest heaved.

"feels so fuckin' good, sweetie." he praised, your hand still lazily moving up and down his thick meat.

you felt the tip of zayne's nose nudging your clit, providing more stimulation as he continued his assault on your sopping wet cunt; his tongue flicking at a leisurely pace between your folds. caleb matched the rhythm of zayne's tongue, finger-fucking you with deep and hard strokes.

your moans were muffled by xavier's cock as he drove his hips into your mouth; your cheeks hollowing as you tried to not graze the skin of his dick with your teeth. you could hear the soft grunts and whimpers falling from his lips, eyes closed in bliss as he still had your cheeks firmly squished between his fingers.

"fuck yeah... you were made for this, takin' my cock so well." xavier breathed out, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

you could feel the pressure of zaynes tongue slurping your clit along with caleb's fingers abusing your cervix collide. the familiar knot began to settle in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your eyes screwed shut, toes curling in pleasure.

caleb could feel your walls contracting, you were definitely close and as much as he would love to see you cream all over his fingers; you've been cruelly unfair to him.

xavier lazily opened his eyes, cerulean orbs looking down at you half-lidded. he scoffed, watching your face flush as saliva trickled down the corner of your mouth. you opened your eyes briefly, he watched as they rolled back from the pleasure you were recieving from your childhood friends.

he pulled his cock out of your mouth, glaring down at you.

"nghhh~ p-please..!" you mumbled against his tip, crying out in pleasure as you tried to kick your leg forward to get away from the two men ravaging your pussy. however, both caleb and zayne pinned your legs down.

"focus on me." xavier scowled, and in one swift and hard thrust, his cock slid down your throat as far as you could take him. your eyes blew wide open, as you gagged on his dick. he was being nice earlier, but now you really pissed him off.

you had the nerve to think about those two when he was being kind enough to rinse that dirty mouth of yours with his cock?

"fuckin' ungrateful brat, ignoring me when i'm stuffing this filthy mouth full of my dick." he panted, fucking your face as tears streamed down your face and drool dripped down your chin.

zayne and caleb continued their combined attack, making you scream as your felt zayne sucking on your clit harder while caleb's fingers continued to rub against your walls at a faster pace.

suddenly, all sensation was lost as caleb pulled out his fingers while simultaneously grabbing onto the back of zayne's head with his free hand; yanking his hair back to unlatch his mouth from your weeping cunt. your eyes widened as tears streamed down your face, your hole pulsating at the feeling of nothing.

"only good girls get to cum." caleb darkly chuckled, zayne wincing in slight pain as he swatted the hand that yanked his hair.

"do that again and i'll fucking kill you." zayne murmured, making caleb roll his eyes.

"mmphh...!" your cries were muffled as xavier continued to use your throat as his personal fuckhole. he continued to shove his dick deeper, a small bulge forming on your throat as he pressed against it.

"there we go." xavier grinned sadistically, continuing to chase his high.

"h-hahhh... fuck, gonna cum." he panted, face flushing as he threw his head back, driving his hips forward. you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards his lower stomach; shoving his cock deep in your throat one last time as your nose was buried in his soft pubes.

"shit.. shit- hnghh... take it- fuck, take it all." xavier moaned, his thick cum painting your throat as he came so much. your mouth became overloaded with his cum, leaking through the corner of your lips as you tried to swallow as much as you could. he pulled out, watching your gasp for air as you coughed.

"what do you say, slut?" he darkly asked.

"t-thank you." you breathed out, voice croaking.

"good girl." xavier smiled wickedly, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, your tongue peeking out to lick it.

with the intense throat-fucking session with xavier and the cruel denial of your orgasm, you forgot about sylus who was still painfully hard in your hand.

"come on, sweetie, i know you could do better. want some help? yes, no, maybe so?" sylus whispered huskily, leaning down to bite your ear before kissing your temple.

"s-sorry.." you sniffled, still extremely sensitive.

"poor baby, don't cry. i'll help you." he cooed, grabbing your hand before spitting on it. the warm feeling of his spit made you shiver, he brought your hand to his cock; guiding you as you used your spit coated hand to grab his dick again.

this time, his hand firmly stayed on yours, tightening the grip. the silver haired male moaned, moving your joined hands up and down his throbbing cock; fucking your wet fist.

"hnghh... yeah, f-fuck..." sylus panted, thrusting his hips into the makeshift hole he made using your hand. his foxy eyes narrowed, bright ruby orbs rolling back as he rasped out swears from the absolute pleasure he was feeling.

rafayel hovered above your naked torso, his pretty cock resting on the valley between your tits. he grabbed his dick, giving it a few strokes, whimpering at his own touch before looking down at you.

"you're so beautiful." the lemurian whispered through labored breaths, face flushed as his mixed indigo eyes peeked at you through a half-lidded lust-filled stare.

rafayel swallowed harshly, guiding the tip of his leaky cock to your nipple; circling the hard bud as his precum coated it. your breath hitched, watching him use his hard cock to paint streaks of his precum all over the expanse of your hickey-littered chest.

he then spat on his hand, rubbing his spit all over his dick to lubricate it before settling it between your soft tits. using both of his hands, he squished your tits together to squeeze his warm cock between them. the whimper leaving his mouth was almost embarrassing from how loud and needy it was.

without a second more of hesitation, rafayel began to rut his hips forward, thrusting between your tits. he stroked your nipples before using his thumb and index finger, pinching the swollen buds and rolling them between his fingers.

"ahhh~ rafayel! f-feels good...!" you moaned, watching the blush pink tip of his cock peek through your cleavage every time he motioned his hips forward.

"hnghh... love your tits so much, cutie. so soft... so tasty and cute." he breathes out a small chuckled, eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he continued to thrust his cock between your boobs. his precum coated the valley of your tits, making it easier for him to slide between them.

while he continued his ministrations of using your titties to fuck himself, you focused on making sylus cum. you increased the pace of your hands, feeling his hand tightening the grip on yours, the vein on his cock pulsating as frequent deep whimpers left his lips. your thumb caught his slit, teasing it as he could feel his balls tighten.

"hmm... gonna make me cum, kitten." he groans, continuing to pump his cock using your hand until you felt the warm, thick wads of his cum dribble down your fingers. his hands slightly trembled, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

"fuck, that was... so hot." sylus chuckled, releasing your hand as he watched you bring your cum covered fingers to your mouth; licking his release as you hummed in approval.

he could feel himself get instantly hard again from such an erotic sight.

"you're mean, darling." he shook his head, making you grin.

you broke away your gaze from sylus, watching rafayel fall apart as he desperately groped your tits.

"h-hahhh... need y..-your help, cutie! please?" he pathetically begged, swallowing harshly as his hips stuttered. rafayel grabbed your wrist once more, smelling your scent and licking your flesh; groaning at how intoxicated you made him feel. the tip of his tongue traced your fingers before encasing them with his soft lips, sucking and biting on your digits; indigo eyes looking at you with a pleading look.

you smirked, knowing that it'd be easy to tease him. you were basically at all of their mercy, but knowing you still had just a little bit of power against him at least; it made your heart beat in your pussy.

"you poor thing, need my help?" you pouted, faux sympathy written all over your face. the others watched in amusement and rafayel's horny-fucked brain couldn't even have the dignity to feel embarrassed.

"p-please... promise i'll be good, so good." he breathed out and you smiled in satisfaction, sitting up before pushing him back. rafayel now sat on the mattress, hungry eyes watching you sit back on your knees.

you leaned down, squishing his cock between your tits before sliding them up and down. rafayel's eyes screwed shut in pleasure, countless of goans and whimpers slipping out of his tongue; showering you endlessly with praise.

"y-yeah cutie, just like that... nghhh~ gonna make me cum." rafayel shamelessly moaned, mouth gape open as his breathing was uneven. you stuck your tongue out, lapping at his tip before wrapping your lips around it; suckling on it as if it was a lollipop.

you rubbed your tits together on his shaft, using your mouth to suck the rest. your drool trickled down from his swollen tip to the squishy tight slit created by your tits; making his cock slide with ease. the sounds produced was obscene, shlick shlick shlick. rafayel could feel his body tremble in pleasure, stroking your hair as his balls twitched.

"gonna cum! h-hahhh... p-please, cutie!" his lips were swollen from how much he bit them. soon enough, his hot cum was painting your tits, dripping down your nipples as his cock throbbed.

"fuck.." rafayel sighed, stroking your cheek as he glanced at what he did.

mentally clicking a picture to remember for the rest of his life when he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

"better?" you innocently batted your eyelashes, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

"you little minx." his breath hitched as you turned your face to the side, catching his thumb between your lips to give it a small suck before biting it playfully.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself a little too much, brat." you heard a daring voice break the moment, looking up to see a mean caleb glowering down at you.

you swallowed harshly, looking at rafayel for some help, but the cheeky lemurian only grinned at you; eyes twinkling with trouble as he moved away.

"you like being used like this, don't you? have you forgotten who's in control here?" now, xavier came into view as he scoffed, taking in your pitiful state.

"i think it's time that you learn your place." caleb suddenly pushed you towards the ash-blonde haired male, making you gasp as you were now sitting on his waist; hands pressed against his bare chest. you could feel the curve of xavier's hard cock press against your ass, making you unknowingly grind against the throbbing length of it to seek for some friction.

"tch, look at you. you're like a fuckin' bitch in heat." xavier snickers, holding down your hips with a bruising grip, making you wince. you felt the tip of his dick slip between your wet folds, his hands maneuvering your hips to help you glide on him. a breathy whimper leaves your lips, feeling his sticky tip caress your achy clit.

you hear the clinking sound of caleb's belt being undone and in what felt like mere seconds; you could feel his warm body heat radiating behind you. his lips grazed your nape, the tip of his nose gliding on your skin. he left wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, trailing down the deep passage of your spine; making you arch forwards from your increased sensitivity.

xavier on the other hand fondled your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples. his fingers moved down, brushing against your hips. suddenly, you felt his tip prodding your tight hole, making you gulp.

they were all so fucking big and thick, you were wondering how you'd take them all. god, you couldn't even use process of elimination to figure out who'd be less painful to take in.

however, all that thinking flew straight out of your ears as xavier planted his feet on the mattress; harshly thrusting upwards into you. a croaky moan ripped out of your throat, your head lolling back to caleb's chest as you breathed heavy.

although xavier wasn't that thick, he was long as fuck; he couldn't even bottom out fully inside your cunt. you could feel his tip kissing your cervix. while caleb continued to place bite marks and lick at his work, xavier paid no mind to his counterpart; fucking you at a brutal pace.

"hnghh~ a-aahh... xav! w-wait!" you tried to slow him down, but that only made him go faster. he grabbed your hands which were resting on his lower stomach, pulling you forwards as you fell on his chest; away from caleb's touch.

the colonel scowled at the loss of your skin, glaring at the ash-blonde male in front of him. xavier didn't care, his hand finding purchase to the supple fatty flesh on your ass, spanking you hard as you yelped in pain and pleasure. your eyes squeezed shut, trying to form coherent words.

"you know i hate it when you don't look at me while i'm fucking you. open your eyes, y/n." he tapped your face, forcing you to look down at him. you bit your lips, trying to prevent another moan from flying out of your mouth, feeling xavier's cock rub your wet velvety walls just right.

his tip continued to bruise your cervix, his thrusts were deep and hard as he made sure you felt every inch of him in you. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his shaft, your juices dripping down to coat his heavy balls as you felt your thighs burning.

"hope you didn't forget about me, princess." caleb whispered, hovering behind you as you felt him grope your ass cheek. your eyes widened as you felt him spread them, his index finger gently grazing your other untouched tight hole.

"nghh.. wait, caleb! h-hahhh, never did it there before." you confessed, making him chuckle.

"well then, i'm glad to be your first here. don't worry, i'll make sure you're ready for me." caleb's words did seem genuine but rather because of the fact that he was about to touch you and feel you somewhere no one ever has.

you nodded at his words, too fucked out to even care about anything else. you were more focused on cumming, your cunt puffy and weeping from being neglected the last time your orgasm was denied; thanks to caleb.

so, you definitely didn't wanna get on his bad side again.

caleb spat on his fingers, bring it down to your ass before spreading the sticky spit on your hole. you soon felt his wet digit push through the tight ring of muscle, making you wince in pain as you breathed heavily.

"f-fuck... hurts.." you whined, but it would soon dissipate as xavier continued to drill into your pussy, distracting you from the pain of having caleb's finger in your ass.

it took some time but eventually the colonel was able to finger-fuck your ass with two of his fingers, meanwhile, xavier thrusted up into your leaky pussy that sheathed his throbbing cock. the ash-blonde haired male rubbed your clit to provide some more stimulation, your body trembling once you felt caleb withdrawing his fingers from inside you.

caleb sat on his knees, spreading your ass once more before leaning in, the tip of his tongue dragging from where you and xavier were connected; all the way up to your ass hole.

"ah! caleb!" you cried out, feeling him land a glob of spit on the tight hole before pulling away. caleb grabbed the base of his cock, his tip was a reddish-purple; angrily weeping precum as he stroked himself a few times. you could hear him groan behind you before feeling his wet tip squish against your hole.

"c'mere." caleb commanded, a hand coming down to gently grab your jaw, pulling you back to him. he tilts your head up, making you look into his eyes; leaning down to press his lips on yours in a searing kiss.

that's when you felt the burning stretch of his fat tip pushing past the tight ring of muscle in your ass, a pained cry leaving your lips, only to be muffled as he swallowed it; not letting go of your lips. tears pricked your eyes, feeling him slowly feed his cock into your tight ass, inch by inch.

the kiss with caleb was rough and messy, full of tongue and spit. the wet smacking sound of his lips clashing with yours as he drinks in your moans was so erotic. as his cock was now thrusted deep in your ass, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size. his hand still firmly grabbing your jaw in place to not break away from the kiss while the other played with your tits.

meanwhile, xavier continued to give you nice slow and soft thrusts in your cunt, paying close attention to stimulate your clit. you were so full of both of their cocks, your mind was blank.

all you thought of was dick, dick, dick.

it was embarrassing and greedy, how full they made you feel, how good the burn felt as they both stretched out your holes.

it was definitely a pornographic sight.

as you grew used to having both of them inside you, caleb was the first to quicken his pace, pistoning his hips into you as his cock began to rub your walls. following in suit, xavier tried to match his rhythm, fucking your cunt with more rigor. your mouth gaped wide open, unable to respond to caleb's kiss anymore as you were too cock drunk.

"a-a..ahh! nghh~ feels so good!" you cried out in pleasure, feeling them both rub against the thin barrier that separated the two. you could feel your lower stomach churn in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you began to drool from the corner of your mouth.

"what a dumb little slut, fucked your brains out already?" you heard xavier darkly chuckle, pinching your clit as you yelped at the sudden sharp sensation.

"p-please... wanna cum so bad! x..-xav.." your throat was parched as you tried to control your breathing, your lower stomach tightening as you could feel the familiar build-up of your orgasm.

"tch, you're moaning his name when i'm stuffing you full of my dick? where are your manners, pipsqueak?" caleb's tone was gravely, glaring at you with a look that could only make your knees grow weak, his grip on your jaw tightening just a little to remind you he was still here; balls deep in you.

"s-sor.. hgnhh.. sorry! please, c..caleb.." you stammered out, feeling the alternating push and withdraw of their cocks syncing together; turning your brain into mush.

displeased with your switch up, xavier yanked you forwards by your arm, squishing your cheeks together.

"you deceitful vixen, running to him when you don't get what you want? i'm the one taking care of this slutty pussy and you have the nerve to beg him? the fuck is wrong with you." xavier seethed with anger, his hips bucking into yours with more intensity; making you wail out in pleasure.

"i'm sor-" you tried to helplessy apologize again, only to be pulled back by caleb; the start of a tug-of-war as if you were a toy.

"don't fucking apologize to him, princess. you're mine, so when i say that you can cum, then you cum." caleb whispered, making you shiver as you sniffled out a cry.

"please.. fuck, please- i can't! t..too much.." you whimpered, making them both scoff.

"you can take it." both caleb and xavier sneered, making you whine.

"ungrateful brat, wanting us both and now you're saying it's too much?" xavier slapped your clit, making you jolt. you felt caleb bite down on your shoulder, the cold metal of his dog tag pressed against your warm, flushed skin.

you felt them twitch inside you, throbbing thick cocks rubbing against your insides. caleb and xavier continued to slide in and out of you, making your body grow hot.

"fuck, fuck, please! s-so close..!" you breathed out, feeling xavier's thrusts grow sloppy as with one final hard thrust; he emptied his balls inside you. his thick, warm cum filled your cunt as you quivered, his hips still rolling back in you.

your head was spinning, both of their scents were intoxicating. their hands were groping, slapping and stroking every bit of skin exposed to their lustful eyes. both caleb and xavier's thrusts held no mercy, battering your cunt and ass as your thighs felt like jelly. you squealed, feeling your walls tightening as you desperately squirmed, trying to lift yourself off and escape.

"where are you going? don't run away, i'm not done yet." caleb yanked you back to him. caleb's grunts and groans got louder by your ear, his arm wrapping around your stomach to hold you down in place; his cock fully in your ass as he shot fat wads of his sticky cum.

before you could process anything, they sadistically exchanged a cruel smirk, pulling out of you as your holes gushed out an obscene amount of their mixed cum.

"n-no! no! hnghh.. w-why.." you sobbed at the loss of contact, the fullness of their cocks gone as your orgasm was destroyed for the second time.

"since we weren't enough, why don't you go ask the others." caleb pushed you to the side, making you collapse on the mattress as tears ran down your cheek.

you looked up and noticed sylus and rafayel looking down at you, an unwavering glint pinned on your ruined form as they waited for your next move. it was humiliating, how you were begging them to let you cum; but it was too much.

you were going insane, needing some relief.

you weakly crawled to sylus and rafayel, sniffling as your body began to shake. your thighs were dripping with xavier and caleb's cum, your messy holes pulsing and aching.

"sy.. raf.. please, make me cum. i-i... i promise i'll be a good girl." you desperately pleaded, fat teardrops running down your flushed cheeks; making them both groan as your pathetic state only made their cocks harden.

"poor little kitten, they were so mean to you, weren't they?" sylus cooed as he wiped your tears away, tone honeyed with gentleness but with an undertone of mischief.

you nodded helplessly, leaning into his touch as you nuzzled your cheeks into his palm. you kissed the inside of his hand, licking the warm and rough skin.

just like a kitten.

sylus grinned at your antics, amused at how compliant you were. however, he wasn't that mean; he'd humor you.

"need us to make her feel better, cutie?" rafayel teasingly spoke, long fingers running across your slit as you whimpered; the tip of his digits circling your clit.

"mmphh, y-yes... please.." you bit down on your lip, tasting the metallic taste of blood.

"alright, sweetie. we'll help you." sylus chortled, leaning against the headboard. he grabbed your hips, spinning you around in one fluid motion, your back now facing him. he then lifted you up before placing you on his waist, as if you weighed nothing.

you yelped as sylus hooked his beefy arms under your thighs, pulling them up to your head; putting you in a mean full nelson. the sudden pressure and stretch made your cunt gush out more of the cum that was fucked into you earlier, soaked pussy lips spread apart as you were now exposed and on display in a very vulnerable position.

"s-sylus!" you shyly meeked, making him hum.

"what? don't be selfish, sweetie. you know the fish is an artist, let him see this masterpiece." sylus bit your earlobe.

rafayel settled between sylus's legs, now in front of you as he shamelessly stared at your messy folds. he salivated as it took everything in him to not just lean down and makeout with your tempting cunt.

"stop lookin'." you whined, feeling how intense his gaze was. however, rafayel just gave you a breathy chuckle.

"why not? she's sooooo pretty." he licked his lips, flashing you a boyish grin, making your heart leap into your throat.

the lemurian lowered his head, pressing gentle kisses on your soft stomach, dragging his lips up your navel until he reached your tits. he sighed in bliss, smoothering his face between your boobs as he kissed and licked the mounds of flesh.

his dick rested on top of your pussy, sticky tip parting your folds as he rutted his hips; sliding the length of his cock against your slick covered cunt. his tip repeatedly nudged your clit, rubbing it as you moaned in bliss from the heavenly contact.

your hand found purchase in his dusky, purple hair; carding your fingers through his soft locks. you tugged on his hair, making him moan as the vibration rumbling from his lips were felt on your nipple as he sucked; making you choke out a moan.

the silver haired male kissed your temple, smiling.

"come on, sweetie, need you to hold your legs up for me so i can take care of you." his voice was groggy, releasing your legs before grabbing your hands to help you lift them as you obeyed.

"there you go, good girl." sylus praised, grabbing the base of his cock, swiping it a few times between your messy folds, nudging his tip on your hole. you moaned at the feel of his cock deliciously rubbing against your aching pussy.

"p-please... nghh- no more teasing." you were breathless, feeling rafayel once again capture your nipple in his mouth, suckling as if his purpose in life was to worship your tits.

"if you say so, sweetie." sylus compliantly shoved his inches in you, feeding your greedy hole his hard dick. your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back as his fat girth stretched your cunt; sliding in with ease because of your arousal along with xavier and caleb's shared cum.

rafayel watched your hole eagerly swallow up sylus's cock, gulping at the sight as his dick was painfully hard; globs of precum dripping onto your clit.

"so tight even after all that? how cute." sylus lets out a huff, slowly moving his hips upwards to give you some slow and deep strokes; tip squishing against your cervix.

"h-hnghh... fuck... feels so good, sy." you moaned, turning your head to the side to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. he happily accepted, sucking on your bottom lip before swiping his tongue against it for permission to explore your mouth.

his hands firmly grabbed your hips before planting his feet on the mattress, grounding both himself and you before pounding upwards into your dripping cunt. your mouth flew open from his sudden shift in pace, and he took that chance to shove his tongue in your mouth; exploring every cavern and crevice. both of your tongues mingled and tangled, sucking and licking as drool trickled down your chin.

"fuck, cutie... you look so hot like this; it's tempting. i can't let the crow have all the fun now, can i?" rafayel's fingers stroked your thigh, leaning down to kiss your plush thighs, gently biting the soft skin.

"ahhh... raf.." you whimpered, biting your lip as you feel his tip poke your ass hole. you released one of your legs, pressing your foot on his chest to stop him.

"hm?" the lemurian tilts his head in confusion at your sudden action, stopping his advances.

"n-not there... need you and sy at the same time.." you licked your dry lips, words barely coming out as a whisper. rafayel's eyes widened at your request, sylus's ruby orbs mirroring the same bewilderment.

"naughty girl, you want us both in this sweet cunt of yours? you think you can handle it?" sylus teased, a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

you nodded frantically, your foot running down rafayel's chest as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile; eyes barely open as you gazed at him with a dazed look.

"i can handle it, p-promise." you assured, making rafayel grin.

"well you heard her, crow. make some space." he grabbed the base of his shaft, now aligning his cock with your hole that was already occupied with sylus's thick cock. the silver haired male scoffed, rolling his eyes before momentarily stopping his thrusts; letting rafayel ease into you.

a screamish-moan ripped out of your throat, your walls clamping instinctively on both of their cocks; both men grunting in response as the space became tighter. your eyes swelled with tears, the salty warm fluid streaming down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to the painful stretch of having two giant cocks lodged in your cunt at the same time.

"shh... there, there, pretty girl. it's okay." rafayel tried to console you, his words barely making it to a full sentence before his voice betrayed him; a strangled whimper slipping off his tongue.

"i gotcha, sweetie." sylus mumbled against the skin of your nape, his hand snaking around your waist, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub soothing circles on the bundle of nerves to distract you.

the both of them allowed you to adjust to their cocks, providing additional stimulation to help you relax so that your walls aren't as tense. rafayel's teeth grazed your nipples, teasing and flicking the pebbled buds while sylus's fingers worked their magic to affectionately pinch and stroke your clit.

"nghh~ feels good... hnnghh- need more." you whined, moving your hips on your own accord, wincing as you could feel both of their dicks rubbing against your velvety wet walls.

"ya sure you're ready, cutie? we have all night." rafayel let out a shaky laugh, half-joking.

"moveee." you bucked your hips, making sylus chuckle.

"someone's impatient, not that i mind." with that being said, sylus once again began to slowly thrust into your pussy. he grunted, feeling his cock graze against rafayel's, the sensation feeling a little weird but he ignored that fact.

rafayel moaned at the sudden friction, his hand wrapping around your calf to push it by your head; mirroring your other leg which you still held up obediently. rafayel leaned closer, pressing against you before latching his lips onto your; kissing you senselessly.

you moaned into his mouth, feeling the both of them pistoning into your tight, dripping hole. rafayel hissed as he felt your fingers tug his hair, angling your jaw to deepend the kiss.

the room was full of wet skin slapping followed by the lewd sound of your pussy gushing out your juices; coating their cocks in your arousal as it dribbled down to their balls. rafayel's lips continued to suck and kiss at your swollen and bitten once; his tongue suckling with yours before pulling away as a string of saliva connected you two.

he pushed himself off of you, bringing the leg he held for you towards him. he kissed your ankle, running the tip of his tongue down to your calf before kitten-biting the flesh of it.

"mmphh... you taste so fucking sweet." rafayel swore under his breath, thrusting his cock deeper into your weeping hole. sylus followed in suit, both of their tips bruising your cervix.

"shit... you're taking us both so well, sweetie." sylus praised, now matching the movement of his fingers that were once leisurely rubbing your clit to the pace of his thrusts.

in seconds, everything shifted.

their gazes darkened, clouded with need and hunger. you squealed, feeling both sylus and rafayel thrusting in and out of your cunt with no mercy as their movement didn't falter.

not once.

they were so perfectly synced together, as if they were one.

"a-ahhhh~... f-fuck! please, please, please! so close... god! i'm gonna cum!" you choked on your tears as you sobbed, the pleasure you were feeling was intense.

your eyes rolled back, toes curled as you were gasping for air. both men grunted and moaned; focusing on chasing their high.

"how bad you want it, kitten?" sylus groaned, fucking his hips upward as you whimpered.

"so bad, fuck, need it so bad!" you desperately answered, convinced that you wouldn't survive another ruined orgasm.

"yeah? ask nicely, where are your manners, cutie?" rafayel snickered, driving his hips into your; pelvis meeting yours with brutal thrusts that made your body jerk.

"h-hahhhh... oh my god...- please, please, please. let me cum? i promise i'll be good, so fuckin' good. please raf... sy... need it so bad." you threw out every last ounce of dignity within yourself to beg them with your last bit of voice.

both men, clearly satisfied with your answer, feed your cunt with their cocks using an unforgiving pace of thrusts. rafayel's hips were a bit sloppier, but they were fast and needy, like he was scared that you'd disappear. in contrast, sylus's pace was slow but his thrusts were hard and deep; making sure his tip met your cervix with every movement of his hips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." the silver haired male let out a guttural moan, eyes screwed shut as he could feel his cock pulsate; vein twitching as blood flowed with adrenaline.

rafayel shamelessly moaned on top of you, panting like a dog as he continued to fuck his dick into your wet hole.

"open your mouth." he demanded and too fucked out to even decipher his intentions, you obeyed. rafayel spat into your mouth, the thick glob of spit coating your tongue before you swallowed it.

"good girl." rafayel grunted, feeling his balls tightening as he was close to cumming as well.

your stomach knotted, the build-up of your orgasm even more stronger as your gummy walls clamped down on their cocks viciously.

"auughh~ i'm cumming! fuck.. hnghh..." you choked out a moan, eyes screwed shut as hot liquid squirted out of your cunt; coating rafayel's lower abdomen. you creamed on their cocks, body twitching as you feel both of them creampie you; shoving their sticky and gooey cum deep into your womb.

your juices and their cum dripped down your thigh, coating sylus's balls as you could hear his breathing become uneven from the aftermath of such intense pleasure. rafayel collapsed on top of you, still mindful to not crush you with his entire weight.

"so tired..." he childishly whined, biting your nipple playfully as you huffed.

"you're heavy, raf, get off." you grumbled, making him pout as he smoothered his face between your boobs once again.

"nah, you're too soft." he argued, making you roll your eyes.

"i feel sticky and gross.." you mumbled, noticing how the room was a bit more quieter. xavier was passed out on the couch and caleb left the room a few minutes ago for whatever reason; zayne watching the whole scene intently from the edge of the bed.

you locked eyes with him, noticing the slight blush on his face. he cleared his throat, looking away.

"perhaps a hot shower might be nice." he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"yeah, it does sound tempting." you hummed.

"need some help, sweetie?" sylus offered, but his tone had a hint of mischief.

"i got it." zayne suddenly spoke up, walking over to where you were sandwhiched between rafayel and sylus. he pushed the groggy lemurian over, making him groan.

"hey! i was comfy." rafayel complained, making the doctor roll his eyes.

"it's my place, surely i know my bathroom better." sylus snickered, making zayne narrow his eyes.

"if i could perfom hundreds of heart surgeries, i'm sure i can figure out how to work your damn shower." zayne snarked back with an equal amount of bite, making the silver haired male smirk.

"touche, she's all yours, doc." sylus chuckled.

zayne sighed, scooping you up in his arms before heading into the bathroom; locking the door behind him.

"you look... fucked." he blurted out, making you laugh at his dry comment.

"wow, thanks, i didn't know." you playfully rolled your eyes, making him crack a small smile.

"that was... intense. after you shower, i could get you some painkillers to help with any soreness. can you stand?" zayne asked with a flicker of concern in his hazel orbs, settling you on your legs and lightly loosening his grip; only for your knees to wobble as you held onto his bicep for support.

"i guess not." he answered his own question, making you chuckle.

"mind helping me out, doc?" you asked, peering up at him with a girly smile. zayne felt his heart skip a beat, heat creeping up to his neck.

it's not like this would be his first time being intimate with you, but you still made him feel incredibly nervous.

"if you insist, then i don't mind." his tone was soft and gentle. you smiled at his agreement, taking off his glasses. you leaned onto the sink for support, watching him undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt; revealing his chiseled chest.

fuck, his physique was like a greek god.

he undid his belt, zipping down his pants before kicking them off together with his boxers; his cock springing to life as his pinkish tip was a little swollen while dripping with precum. you leaned forwards, now pressed against him as your bare chest rubbed against his.

zayne groaned at the intimate skinship, his cock rubbing against your soft thighs. your hand reached down, grabbing the shaft as you experimentally gave it a few strokes.

"let me take care of you." your voice was a bare whisper, making him shudder. but, to your surprise, he shook his head.

"no, you don't have to do this for me, i'll get myself off or something. just ignore it, okay?" zayne tried to convince you, but it only made you frown.

"but i want to... i've been wanting to feel you the whole night." you pressed soft kisses along his jawline, making him swallow harshly as you saw his adam's apple bob.

"then let me make it up to you since that bastard pulled me away from you. i'll make you feel good, baby." he lifted your hips, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as his cock was now nestled between your folds.

he walked inside the shower, pulling the glass doors to close it before turning on the water; adjusting the temperature. you cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours to seal his lips with yours.

zayne moaned into your mouth, molding his lips with yours as he softly kneaded your ass. your tongue poked his bottom lip, seeking for entry which he happily granted. you kissed him with a needy vigor, sucking his tongue as you stroked his wet jet black hair.

pulling away breathlessly, zayne looked down at you with swollen lips. he attacked your neck with kisses, making your whimper as you felt his tongue graze your flesh, softly tracing the hickies left on your skin with the tip of his tongue. he moved down to your tits, sucking your nipples as your hand held the back of his head; pushing him closer as you moaned.

"mhmm... feels so good, zayne." you praised, watching him tug your nipple between his teeth before giving it a deserving suck. he soon lets go of your swollen bud, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"i'll be gentle, okay?" he assured, making your chest feel warm and fuzzy as you nodded; wrapping your arms around his neck.

zayne grabbed the base of his cock, tapping your clit a few times, making you jolt. he smirked at how responsive your body was, aligning his tip with your hole. with a firm grip on your hips, he begin to sink you down on his hard cock, slowly shoving his inches inside you.

your mouth formed an 'o' shape as your eyes shut tight, feeling full as he bottomed out.

"s-so full.." you moaned, feeling him slowly thrust inside of you as the curve of his dick molded so perfectly in your wet walls. you clenched down on him, making him grunt at the sudden tightness.

"you feel so good, babygirl." zayne whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek and temple before sliding you up and down his dick. you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent as you kissed his neck.

this felt so new compared to what happened just minutes ago. the others fought over you like you were some piece of meat to claim; but zayne treated you like you were made of glass.

he was so gentle with his touches and strokes, you could almost cry.

zayne's tip nudged your cervix with every push of his hips, now having you pressed against the wall to have a better hold of you so that he can drive his hips into yours faster. your cunt weeped with arousal, gummy walls coated with his precum.

his thrusts were sharp yet slow, making sure it applied the right amount of pressure and friction to make you feel like you were seeing stars. his balls slapped against your ass, your nipple between his lips.

"hnghh.. love your cock, zyane. g-gonna cum.." you let out a shaky breath, clenching down on him as your increased sensitivity betrayed your body, not allowing you to hold onto your orgasm for too long.

"it's okay, baby. you can cum." he grunted against the wet skin of your tits and you didn't realize how intimate and erotic the whole sight was.

a choked out whimper escaped your throat, your cunt clamping down on him as you squirted all over his cock. your body twitched and trembled at your orgasm, panting as you leaned against his chest.

"shit, please... i need you to fill me up." you begged and that's all it took him to bust a fat load of his thick, hot cum inside your hole.

"fuck.." he swore and god it sounded so hot coming from his mouth.

the bathroom was filled with the sounds of uneven breathing and the running showerhead.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred awake, groaning as you now laid on your back. sunlight beamed into your room, making your eyes burn as you tried to crack one of them.

"fuckin' hell.." you cursed under your breath, adjusting your vision as you sat up on your bed. your head was swirling as you held it in pain, wincing.

it was all a dream.

you slapped yourself, not believing how delusional you became to believe that whatever the hell that was could be reality.

"yeah, i'm losing it." you sighed deeply, scratching your head. you tapped your phone screen, reading the time as your eyes blew wide open.

fuck, it was well past noon, meaning you missed your morning classes already.

"you're kidding me." you huffed out in annoyance, leaning back on the headboard as you unlocked your phone.

you saw the many, many, many missed calls from your best friend; making you snort.

as you swiped through your applications, your eyes fell on the love and deepspace icon. memories of your strange dream replayed fresh in your memory, your body weirdly aching.

you brushed off those thoughts, clicking the icon as you wondered if infold fixed those weird bugs and glitches by now. you were surprised to see the app back into shape, running in good quality as you logged in with ease.

"huh, weird." you mumbled to yourself, calmly collecting your daily’s.

until you realized you had five unread messages.

hey pipsqueak, hope you're not still mad at me for being a bit mean to ya. i'll cook for you when you come back :p

hope you're not missing me too much, sweetie. come back and i'll take you for a joyride.

cutieeee! i miss you already :C come back soon, okay? need my personal pillow back.

if your throat is still sore, come back so we can have hotpot together. it'll be my treat.

have you taken those painkillers like i told you to?

your jaw was wide open, not believing your eyes. these texts seemed way too real to be automated.

"what the fuck." you quickly opened your front camera, only to see the faint purplish marks decorating your neck.

holy shit, all of that was real.

a smirk etched on your face as you quickly tapped the facetime app, ringing the only person you knew could stand this news and have a silver of faith in you to be convinced.

"finally decided to call me back? thought you died in your sleep or something." your best friend nagged at you, making you chuckle.

"you won't believe what happened last night." you giggle, making her roll her eyes at you.

"let me guess, you had a dream about all the lads guys fucking your brains out." she responded with a bored voice.

"even better."

---

a/n: hehe, if you made it to the end, kuddos to you cuz rereading through this was a pain the ass. if you couldn't tell by now, this was very self-indulgent, so i got carried away. hope you guys enjoyed it tho!!

[helielune]

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.