#please don’t think this is some attempt to laugh at his actual pain or the pain of ppl who have hypersensitive senses

[jyoongim]

Heyyy, it’s me again, the singer anon. Can I request an Alastor x Reader where she is sent by as a spy by Vox after our fav slithery boy failed? She’s really bubbly and friendly, but she eventually grows to care for everyone in the hotel but Vox owns her soul. She torn in between getting herself killed by him and not betraying anyone anymore, or continuing the job. She goes and confesses to Alastor, breaking down and thinking he’ll kill her, which she thinks would be best so she doesn’t have to betray anyone anymore. Just breaking down in tears telling him she doesn’t want to hurt anyone but Vox has her under a contract, begging him to kill her so she doesn’t have to. Just for Alastor to call her a good girl and ughhhh some possessive smut if you don’t mind? Sorry brain rots in my head and I’m in love with him, lol. Thank you! <3 also the three requests story set off the trigger in my head, loved it! Thanks again! <3!

This been in my inbox for weeks and i finally got a plot for it!

⚠️warning: 18+! Smut smut smut! Plot if you look hard enough!

—————————————————————————————

No one suspected a thing.

You were sent to the Hazbin Hotel after Sir Pentious miserable attempt.

Your orders were simple: ”Keep an eye out on that old fossil. I want to know why that fucker is sucking up the Lucifer’s daughter”

And you did just that…you were executing your mission flawlessly.

Until you began to care about those who stayed at the hotel.

Until you began to grow closer to the Radio Demon.

————————————————————————————

You had been staying at the hotel for a few months now and its been great!

Charlie was always finding new ways to help the residents build bonds and encouraging everyone to do their best.

At first, you were arrogant, playing along until you actually saw the the demons there were actually changing even if they didn’t admit it

But now, you thought of the princess as a friend, along with everyone else.

Especially Alastor.

Now that you’ve been around him, you’re not sure why Vox hate the demon so much.

Alastor was funny, kind (in his own twisted way), and truly looked after the hotel.

A soft smile curled on your lips as you thought about the demon, but the ringing of your phone interrupted such thoughts.

Vox.

You took a deep breath and answered “H-Hello?”

”Tonight’s your chance to take out that prick and after that come home” he demanded.

You blinked “what? B-but Vox…” you bit your lips “But it’s actually nice here. The hotel isn’t a scam…a-and everyone is a lot nicer than we thought ” Vox laughed “Oh baby please! Nice? You actually believe in that redemption crap? You think that they’ll let you stay if they knew why you truly were there? Hahaha! Oh my dumb little girl, how naive you are. ” 

You pouted, a frown on your face “I want to stay”

Vox growled through the phone “ah ah baby you don’t make demands remember?” 

Electrical shocks ran through your body from the collar you wore.

You gasped in pain “I OWN you. Did you forget that? You do whatever I say when I say it. Now I expect you home before morning or I will kill you.”

The phone call ended and you were in tears.

You didn’t want to go back. 

You liked being at the hotel and able to be yourself. 

You liked the friends you had made here.

You would do anything for them, even if you had to die to make your wrongs right.

————————————————————————

“Come in” the voice answered after you knocked on the door. You were sweating as you stood outside of Alastor’s door.

You had decided that if you were going to tell anyone why you were at the hotel, it would be Alastor.

You opened the door and walked into his radio studio.

”Hey Al” you said weakly as the demon spun around and smiled at you “Hello darlin! What do I owe the pleasure?”

You fiddled with your hands.

”I want to tell you why I came to the hotel”

Alastor quirked a eyebrow, smile widening as he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch.

”Do entertain me of your tale my dear”

You were in tears by the time you finished telling Alastor everything.

Of Vox and his plan.

The deal between you and Vox.

The reason you came to the hotel.

Everything.

”I-I’m sorry! So so sorry! I-I just didn’t know what to do!

Kill me! I deserve it! J-Just let me say my goodbyes first. I would rather you kill me than Vox! Please!” You cried, hands covering your face as you sobbed.

Alastor had been quiet for the entirety of your confession. He had half a mind to kill you when you told him of your deal with Vox.

The pesky television didn’t know when to mind his business.

His eyes focused on the collar around your neck.

 You were Vox’s and by contract, he wasn’t allowed to kill you.

And he wasn’t. No he had grown accustom to the pretty demon who seemed to light the hotel’s halls.

However…he could override Vox’s ownership of your soul.

You flinched when you felt a large hand pat the top of your head. You looked up through teary eyes ay Alastor, who just sported a soft smile.

”Now now my dear don’t you worry. I appreciate that you came to and confided in me. What a good girl you are.” His smile stretched as you sniffled, looking at him with glossy eyes.

”Y-Youre not g-gonna k-kill me?” You asked looking down.

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, claws finding their way under your chin to make you look at him

He rolled his eyes ”Oooh my dear of course not…” His fingers trailed down your neck, toying with your collar. “But I am in a bit of predicament”

You wiped at your eyes “how so?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would rip you to shreds and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear” his pupils turned to dials and his smiled turned wicked. You felt your heart stop a little.

He calmed down slightly “however I have another idea to break your deal with Vox” 

He smiled at you as you tilted your head in confusion.

”I know just the thing hehehe”

————————————————————————————

You whimpered as you tried to hold yourself up against the force of Alastor’s thrusts. “A-Al!” You whined as the demon tugged your hair to pull your body into his. A deep growl vibrated through you as Alastor sunk into your weeping heat, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you.

“Fuuuucckk!” You hissed, eyes rolling into your skull as your body buzzed with pleasure.

Alastor pulled your body til your back was flushed against his chest, his sharp teeth nipped at your skin before latching on and marking you. You winced as his tongue lapped at the blood, he purred as trailed his tongue up your neck.

”To think Vox had such a sweet cunt all to himself. Ooh darlin you’re wasted on him. But you’ll be a good girl for me wont you? You seem to love having a real cock fucking you” he chortled, giving you a harsh thrust. His hips grinded up into your ass, coaxing your cunt to take every inch over and over.

Your gummy walls tightened around him as you whined at his words. You could barely focus on what he was saying, not giving two shits either as he bullied your insides.

”I-I can be a good girl please please oh fuck! Aah! Aah!” You whined. Alastor’s large hands trailed up your body; kneading, pawing, and squeezing at your supple flesh. Pausing at your bouncing tits to tweak your hardened nipples, sending currents to your abandoned clit.

“I know you will baby” 

He nudges his head into yours, to gain your attention and capture your lips with his, swallowing your moans as one of his hands moves down to toy with your puffy clit.

Your body jerked as he rubbed tight circles on the bud; your cunt fluttering as slick dripped down your thighs.

”Ill make a deal with you darlin” he whispered against your lips, lidded eyes staring into yours, as you mewled, wanting his tongue back down your throat. 

“I keep this little mishap under wraps and in return you belong to me. Youre free to do whatever your heart but im no pushover m,a cherie.”

His thrusts sped up as he pinched your clit.

You keened, pushing your hips back into his, trying to follow the motion of his fingers, seeking to reach your orgasm.

”Do we have a deal?” He purred never breaking his pace.

Your collar let out blue sparks, Vox’s way of ‘reinforcing’ his control over you. You whimpered as the shocks edged you, but Alastor let out a deep growl as he wrapped his claws around the collar.

”Do we have a deal?” A snap of his hips pulled a moan from your throat.

”oh! Yes! Yes! F-fuuuc-cckk”

Static ran through your body causing you to jerk as your orgasm washed over you, your collar fizzled out as Alastor’s cock pounded your cunt, riding your orgasm out.

The wet SQUELCH! Of your cunt echoed as high pitched whines left your throat. 

“That’s a good girl. Cummin all over my cock. Feels better than that robot huh? Yeeesss fuck! Take my cum darlin take it”

Your eyes crossed as your mouth opened in a scream. Alastor crashed his lips on yours, tongue pushing through your lips and pulling you into a heated kiss as he pumped you full of his cum.

Alastor let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, cock coated in creamy essence and smiling as he watched your cunt clench around nothing and dripping cum.

In your dazed state, you faintly heard a snap and a cool sensation coated your neck.

Instead of the sapphire jeweled collar, a gold chained ruby hung from your neck.

Alastor hummed as he rubbed your tired body, smiling wickedly as he slotted back into your soppy heat. You moaned softly as he rolled his hips against you.

”now lets send that mediocre podcast a proper video”

[pucksandpower]

Live Like We Want To

Charles Leclerc x Wolff!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Summary: there’s only one thing harder than keeping a relationship between two of the paddock’s most prominent figures hidden … keeping a relationship between three of the paddock’s most prominent figures hidden

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request

The drivers settle on the awkwardly shaped white couch, microphones clipped carefully to the collars of their shirts, waiting for the pre-race press conference to begin.

Lewis fiddles with his Mercedes cap, lost in thought. Lando and Daniel banter back and forth, Lando ribbing Daniel about his recent attempts to be artsy on Instagram and Daniel giving as good as he gets.

The moderator steps up to begin the press conference. After a few standard questions about the track and the upgrades the teams have brought, it’s time for the driver questions.

A reporter looks over at Lewis. “Lewis, you and Y/N seem very close lately. There’s been speculation you two might be dating. What do you say about that?”

Lewis opens his mouth but before he can respond, Daniel jumps in. “Oh come on, we all know Lewis is way too old for Y/N! She needs someone younger and spicier.” He winks at the camera.

Lando chuckles. “Too right, mate. Y/N deserves a fun guy who actually knows how to have a good time, not someone almost eligible for a senior discount.”

Lewis forces out a rehearsed laugh. “Hey now, I’m not that old!”

“Face it, the age gap is just too much. She needs someone closer to her own age, like me!” Lando says with a grin.

“You?” Daniel scoffs. “Please, Y/N needs a real man to show her a good time, not some baby-faced kid.”

“Who are you calling a kid?” Lando shoots back. “I’m mature for my age!”

Max, who has been quiet up until now, suddenly pipes up. “Actually, I think Y/N and I would make a great match ...”

The other drivers swivel their heads to look at him. “You?” Daniel says in disbelief.

“Why not?” Max shrugs. “We��ve got a connection.”

Lewis grits his teeth, struggling to stay quiet. He wants to tell them all to back off, that you’re taken. But he knows he can’t reveal the truth about your relationship, as much as it pains him to stay silent.

Lando laughs. “Mate, she’s way out of your league!”

“Oh yeah? I could get her if I wanted to,” Max says defensively.

Daniel grins and claps Max on the back. “Ooh, those are fighting words! You don’t stand a chance.”

Max crosses his arms. “Maybe she likes a bad boy. I’m more exciting than any of you.”

“Exciting? You?” Lando pretends to yawn. “All you ever think about off the track is sim racing! That’s not exciting, it’s dull.”

“Hey! Sim racing is very intense and takes a lot of skill,” Max says indignantly.

Lewis has finally had enough. “Alright guys, maybe we should change the subject. I’m sure Y/N can decide for herself who she wants to spend time with, without all of us bickering over her.”

Lando ignores Lewis and looks back at Max, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I bet I could get Y/N to go out with me before you can.”

“You’re so on!” Max says.

Daniel shakes his head. “Woah now, let’s leave the poor girl out of your competition. Especially since neither of you have a chance anyway.”

“Oh really? I suppose you think you’re the obvious choice?” Max says sarcastically.

“Obviously!” Daniel replies with a cocky grin.

As the three younger drivers continue with their posturing, Lewis pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. He catches the moderator’s eye and nods, signaling it’s time to move on.

The moderator clears his throat. “Alright, next question ...”

After the press conference ends, Lewis hurriedly gathers his things. As he’s walking out of the media center, Max catches up to him.

“No hard feelings about all that, mate?” Max says sheepishly.

Lewis musters up a smile. “Of course not. It was all in good fun.”

“Cool.” Max nods. “For what it’s worth, I don’t actually have a thing for Y/N. I was just messing around back there.”

“I know, I know,” Lewis says, clapping Max just a tad too hard on the shoulder before turning to go. Over his shoulder he calls out, “May the best man win!”

Max laughs and shakes his head as Lewis walks away.

Lewis enters the Mercedes garage and immediately spots you chatting with the engineers. His heart skips a beat like it always does when he sees you. A vision in a crop top and skinny jeans, your hair cascading over your shoulders as you lean over a data sheet, nodding intently.

So beautiful.

You glance up and spot Lewis. Your face lights up, a radiant smile spreading across it. Lewis grins back, the stress of the press conference fading away.

He waits until you’re done talking to the engineers, then pulls you discreetly aside. In an empty meeting room, Lewis wraps you in a tight embrace.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling your hair.

You cling to him. “I missed you. How was the press conference?”

Lewis hesitates. “It was … interesting.”

You pull back to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there were some questions about us. Our relationship.”

Your eyes widen. “What did you say?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry, I didn’t reveal anything. But the other drivers jumped in with their opinions.”

You groan. “Do I even want to know?”

Lewis runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Well, apparently I’m way too old for you. Daniel, Lando, and Max all started competing over who would be your best match.”

You snort. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know, I know,” Lewis says. “I wanted to tell them you’re mine, but ...”

“You did the right thing keeping quiet,” you say gently, taking his hands in yours. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy, keeping our relationship a secret.”

Lewis sighs. “I just hate not being able to claim you as my girlfriend in public. Having to pretend I don’t care when other guys flirt with you.”

You squeeze his hands supportively. “I know. But my dad would freak if he knew I was dating you. He’s so overprotective. And the press would have a field day if they found out Lewis Hamilton was seeing Toto Wolff’s daughter.”

“You’re right,” Lewis says. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You smile softly at him. “Just think, one day we won’t have to hide anymore. We’ll be out and proud for the whole world to see.”

Lewis grins. “I look forward to that day.” He pauses, gazing at you tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Lewis glances around quickly before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. All the stress and frustration of pretending melts away as your lips meet.

You come up for air a few moments later, both flushed. “We should get back before someone notices we’re gone,” you murmur.

Lewis nods reluctantly. “See you after quali?”

“Definitely.” You give him one more quick peck then slip out of the room, back to the bustle of the paddock.

Lewis watches you leave, his heart full.

One day there will be no more hiding. One day you’ll be free to share your love with the world.

He just has to be patient. You’re worth the wait.

***

You’re sitting outside of Mercedes hospitality between practice sessions, chatting with Mick Schumacher. Mick is eagerly telling you about his experience getting to take the W15 out in FP1 that morning when Charles Leclerc wanders over.

“Hello Y/N, Mick,” Charles says with an easy smile.

“Oh hey Charles, what’s up?” You say casually, hoping he makes this quick. Ever since that silly press conference, Charles has been popping up everywhere trying to get your attention.

“Not much. You’re looking beautiful as always,” Charles says, ignoring Mick and focusing his gaze on you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Um, thanks?”

Mick glances between you two and starts to stand up. “I’ll give you guys some space.”

“No, stay!” You say quickly, grabbing Mick’s arm. You turn back to Charles. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to come say hi, see how you’re doing.” Charles drags over a chair and sits down close beside you. Too close.

You slide your chair away ever so slightly. “I’m fine, thanks. Just hanging with Mick.”

Charles nods, but his eyes stay fixed on you. “Have you given any more thought to grabbing dinner sometime? I know this great little restaurant in the city, very private and intimate.”

“That’s really nice of you, but I’ll have to pass,” you say politely. Mick looks back and forth between you two, a faint smirk on his face.

Charles pouts. “Come on, it would be fun! No pressure, just two friends enjoying a nice meal.”

You resist the urge to laugh. Does he really think you’re that naive? “Sorry Charles, but I’m going to be really busy this weekend. Raincheck?” You have no intention of ever taking him up on the offer, but maybe it will get him to back off for now.

“Playing hard to get? I like it,” Charles winks.

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying what you really think. Time for a subject change. “So, you feeling good about the race this weekend?”

Charles sighs, finally moving away from the topic of dating you. “I think the car has potential, but Red Bull are still the ones to beat.”

You nod. “Very true. They have been especially dominant here the past few years.”

“We’ll see what happens. Maybe I can get pole and shock them all,” Charles says with a smile.

You chat about racing for a few more minutes before glancing at your phone. “Oh shoot, I have to get going. Meeting with my manager.” You stand up quickly. “See you later Charles. Bye Mick!”

Charles grabs your hand as you start to walk away. “Leaving already? At least let me walk you to your garage.”

You pull your hand back, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “I’m fine, thanks. Stay and chat with Mick!” You give them a little wave before briskly walking off.

As you make your way through the paddock you hear footsteps behind you. Glancing back you see Charles jogging to catch up with you. You bite back a groan.

“Y/N, wait up!” Charles calls after you. He hurries to your side, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I just thought I should properly apologize for being so forward back there. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

You stop walking and turn to face him. “It’s okay, Charles. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

He looks relieved. “Good, I’m glad. The last thing I want is to upset you.” He shuffles his feet, looking down shyly. “I really do think you’re amazing, Y/N. Any guy would be so lucky to be with you.”

You soften a bit. As persistent as he is, you know Charles is a good guy at heart. “Thank you. I think you’ll find the right girl someday.”

“Well, I was rather hoping the right girl was standing in front of me now,” Charles says earnestly.

You shake your head. “Charles ...”

“I know, I’m being too bold again,” he says. “Please, just consider it? One dinner. If you hate it and never want to see me again, I’ll accept that.”

You hesitate. Maybe it would be easier to just go, let him down gently in person. But no … that’s too risky. If word got out it could compromise everything with Lewis. As much as you want to set Charles straight, you just have to keep playing hard to get.

“Like I said, just too busy right now,” you say firmly. “I should get to my meeting.”

Charles nods, looking slightly dejected. “Of course. Well, the offer stands. I’m not giving up that easily.” He smiles and heads off with a small wave.

Over the next two days Charles remains persistent, finding excuses to talk to you in the paddock and complimenting you endlessly on social media. You continue dodging his invitations, letting him down as gently as you can.

Sunday morning you’re doing a photoshoot for British Vogue, posing on the track. Charles happens to walk by as you’re finishing up. He saunters over and leans on the barrier, watching you intently. The photographer notices him hovering and suggests you take a quick picture together.

Charles immediately hops the barrier and throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. You plaster on a smile as the camera flashes.

“Beautiful! What an attractive couple,” the photographer gushes.

You extricate yourself from Charles’ grip. “We’re not … I mean we’re just friends,” you mutter.

“My mistake!” The photographer says. Charles just grins.

After the photoshoot ends you try to make a quick exit but Charles catches up and falls into step beside you.

“One picture together and we’re already mistaken for a couple! It must be a sign,” Charles says playfully.

You resist rolling your eyes again. “Clearly you’re not getting the message here. I’m not interested in anything beyond friendship.”

Charles just smiles wider. “Ah, but friendship is the basis for any lasting romance. I’m happy to start as friends and see where it goes.”

You stop walking and turn to him. Time for some straight talk. “Charles. Listen to me. I do not want to date you. At all. Please stop asking.”

Charles’ smile finally falters slightly. “I see. My apologies, I clearly misread the situation.”

You feel a twinge of guilt at his crestfallen face. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Let’s just forget it and move on.”

Charles nods, looking thoughtful. For a moment you think maybe he’s finally going to back off. But after a pause he says, “Well, since romance is off the table for now, friendship it is.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Is this guy for real?

Oblivious to your incredulous expression, Charles just keeps talking. “The season’s almost over, but I look forward to seeing much more of you next year when Lewis is my new teammate.” He winks.

It takes you a second to process his words. When they sink in your eyes go wide. “Wait, Lewis is joining Ferrari next season?”

“Oh, has it not been announced yet?” Charles grins mischievously. “My mistake. Forget I said anything.”

You grab his arm. “Charles, tell me!”

He mimes zipping his lips.

You groan in frustration. “Ugh, fine. Keep your secret for now.” You’ll get the truth out of Lewis later.

Charles just smiles innocently. “See you around, friend.” He strolls off with a little wave, finally leaving you in peace.

You shake your head as you watch him go. Next year is sure to be interesting with Charles around. But you take comfort knowing that no matter what, you and Lewis can get through it together.

***

The 2025 season kicks off in Melbourne. You’re wandering the paddock under the bright Australian sun, dodging TV crews and trying not to get run over by the team scooters zipping every which way.

As you pass by the Ferrari garage you peek inside, spotting Lewis talking to some engineers. He glances up and meets your eye, giving you a subtle smile before returning to his conversation.

Your heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s been nonstop media obligations since arriving in Albert Park and you haven’t had a moment alone with Lewis yet. Between his big move to Ferrari and the speculation about your relationship, you’ve been the center of attention.

You linger nearby, hoping to snag a private moment with Lewis. As you hover just outside the garage you hear footsteps approaching. Glancing over you see Charles strolling up, looking effortlessly cool in his team kit.

“Well hello there,” Charles says with a grin. “Come to wish me luck before qualifying?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “You caught me. I snuck over to send positive vibes your way.”

Charles chuckles. “I knew you couldn’t resist coming to see me.”

You shake your head amusedly. Same old Charles. “Actually I was looking for Lew-” you stop yourself just in time. “Um, just wandering around saying hi to everyone!”

Charles’ eyes gleam knowingly but he doesn’t call you out on your near slip-up. “Of course. We’re happy to have Lewis join the Ferrari family. Should be a fun season.”

You nod. “Definitely. I might have to frequent the Ferrari garage more often,” you add teasingly.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Charles says. “In fact, there’s an open seat on my side of the garage. You’re more than welcome to join.” He smiles invitingly.

You hesitate, tempted despite yourself. Before you can respond you hear Lewis calling Charles from inside the garage.

“Charles! The debrief is starting soon, let’s go.”

Charles turns back to you with an exaggerated sigh. “Duty calls. But think about my offer, yeah? Plenty of races left this season for you to cheer on your favorite driver.” He winks before jogging into the garage.

You catch Lewis’ eye as Charles brushes past him. Lewis gives you a questioning look, silently asking if you’re okay. You smile reassuringly before blowing him a subtle kiss and walking away.

Over the next few races you find yourself spending more time with Ferrari than you expected. You tell yourself it’s just to support Lewis in his first season with a new team, but a small voice in your head whispers that it’s really to see Charles.

Despite your better judgment, you can’t deny enjoying Charles’ flirty banter and shameless pursuit of you. And clearly he doesn’t intend to back down now that Lewis is his teammate. If anything, Charles seems more determined than ever to win your affection.

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix rolls around, you’re dangerously close to having a full blown crush on Charles. Sitting in the Ferrari garage watching him joke around with the mechanics, you have to refrain from staring at him too obviously.

After qualifying, you wait around hoping Lewis or Charles have time to sneak away for a bit. You spot Lewis first and flag him down. He follows you to a secluded spot behind the paddock.

“Great lap today,” you say, rising on tiptoes to kiss him congratulations.

Lewis smiles against your lips but you can tell his mind is elsewhere. “Thanks love. Listen, can we talk?”

You pull back, brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, what’s up?”

Lewis runs a hand over his face. “I wanted to ask how you’re feeling about this whole situation with Charles.”

You tense up slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And if I’m being honest … I’ve noticed some looks going the other direction as well.” Lewis keeps his voice neutral and non-accusatory.

You bite your lip. No point lying to him. “I’m sorry. I tried to ignore him at first but he’s just so charming and persistent. I swear nothing has happened between us though!” You add hastily.

Lewis rubs your shoulder reassuringly. “I believe you, don’t worry. But it seems there might be some mutual attraction there, even if you haven’t acted upon it. I think we should discuss that openly.”

You nod slowly. As nerve wracking as this conversation is, you appreciate Lewis’ calm approach. No jealousy or accusations, just honest communication.

“You’re right,” you say. “I’ve been trying really hard not to, but I can’t deny feeling drawn to Charles.” You look down, ashamed to admit it out loud.

Lewis lifts your chin gently. “Hey, it’s okay. Emotions aren’t always rational. I’m not upset with you.”

You smile gratefully. “You’re the best, you know that? What did I do to deserve someone so understanding?”

“Just got lucky I guess,” Lewis says with a wink, making you laugh. His expression turns serious again. “But we should figure out what to do moving forward. Any ideas?”

You take a deep breath. Time to put all cards on the table. “Well, there is one possibility. But it’s a bit unconventional ...”

Lewis raises his eyebrows. “I’m open to anything. What were you thinking?”

You rush out your words before you lose your nerve. “What if we brought Charles into the relationship? As in, invited him to be with us?”

Lewis’ eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t immediately shoot down the suggestion. “You mean the three of us, together? Huh.”

He looks thoughtful. You fidget nervously awaiting his verdict. This could make or break everything.

Finally Lewis meets your anxious gaze. “I admit that’s not what I was envisioning … but I’m not opposed to at least exploring it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Really? You’d be open to trying?”

Lewis nods slowly. “If we all discussed it openly and set clear boundaries, I would consider it. I want you to be happy, Y/N. Even if that means expanding our relationship.”

You throw your arms around him. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to have your support with this.”

Lewis hugs you tight. “Of course, love. We’re in this together.”

You chat excitedly about the possibility of bringing Charles into your private world. It’s risky, but maybe just crazy enough to work.

“Why don’t we invite him up to the penthouse tonight and see how the chemistry is?” Lewis suggests.

Your pulse quickens at the thought. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Lewis kisses you softly. “Alright then, it’s a date. I think you should go talk to Charles.”

Tonight will determine if you move forward as a trio or close the door on this tantalizing new dynamic. Either way, you’re grateful to be exploring it together with the man you love.

***

You smooth down your dress for the tenth time, nerves and excitement warring within you.

Tonight’s the night.

Taking a deep breath, you glance around the penthouse one more time. Candles cast a soft glow, music plays quietly in the background, and wine chills on the counter. Time to see if this fantasy can become a reality.

Lewis emerges from the bedroom looking unfairly hot, designer shirt hugging his muscular frame. He wraps you in his arms from behind, meeting your anxious gaze in the floor-length mirror.

“You ready for this, love?” He asks, lips brushing your neck.

You shiver and lean back into him. “I think so. Are you sure you’re okay with it though? We can call it off if you’ve changed your mind.”

Lewis smiles reassuringly. “I haven’t. We’ll take it slow and see how it feels. No pressure.”

You smile back gratefully. “Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?”

“Mm, feel free to say it more,” Lewis teases, making you giggle. He kisses you tenderly. “Let’s do this.”

Right on cue, the doorbell rings. You and Lewis exchange one more weighted look before going to answer it.

You open the door to find Charles standing there, looking ridiculously handsome as always. His eyes widen almost comically as he sees Lewis over your shoulder.

“Lewis! What are you doing here?” Charles stammers out.

You bite your lip to hide a smile. “Why don’t you come in?”

Still looking baffled, Charles steps inside. You lead him to the sleek living room, Charles glancing around in confusion.

“Have a seat,” Lewis says kindly. Charles perches on the edge of the grey suede couch, visibly wondering what the hell is going on. You and Lewis sit across from him on the loveseat.

“So … is one of you going to explain what’s happening?” Charles asks slowly.

You look to Lewis. “Maybe you should start?”

Lewis nods and turns to Charles. “Right, so I’m sure you’re very confused about all this. But there’s something Y/N and I need to tell you.”

He reaches over and takes your hand. You give it a supportive squeeze.

“Y/N and I are together. Romantically,” Lewis reveals. “We’ve been dating in secret for over two years now.”

Charles’ eyes bug out of his head. “You two are … WHAT? Since when?”

“Since midway through the 2022 season,” you explain gently.

“But … but ...” Charles splutters. He looks between you and Lewis, dumbfounded. It would be comical if you weren’t so nervous.

“I know this must be shocking to hear,” you say. “We’ve had to keep it very quiet.”

Charles drags a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand. If you’re together, why am I here?”

You glance at Lewis. “Go on,” he says with an encouraging nod.

You turn back to Charles. “Well, the thing is … we’re very attracted to you too, Charles.”

Charles freezes, eyes zeroing in on you. “You … you are?” He whispers.

You nod, holding his gaze. “I tried to ignore it, but I have feelings for you. And Lewis and I have discussed exploring what it would be like if the three of us … were together.”

Charles just stares, mouth agape. You start to worry you’ve broken him.

“Charles?” You prompt gently. “Thoughts?”

Charles visibly shakes himself. “I just … I need a minute here,” he mutters. He puts his head in his hands, taking a few deep breaths.

You nod understandingly and fall silent, letting the information sink in. After a tense minute, Charles lifts his head.

“So you two want to try some kind of … polyamorous relationship? With me as your shared boyfriend?”

“Only if you’re interested,” Lewis clarifies. “We know it’s unconventional.”

Charles chews his lip thoughtfully. “And you would be okay sharing her?” He asks Lewis.

Lewis squeezes your hand. “It’s not about possessing her. It’s about all of us wanting to explore something together. I trust you both.”

Your heart swells with love for this incredible man. Charles looks touched as well.

“I appreciate you putting your trust in me,” Charles says earnestly. “This is a lot to process but … I’m open to trying.” He looks between you and Lewis. “I want this. If you’ll have me.”

Joy and arousal flood your body hearing those words. You glance at Lewis to confirm.

He smiles. “We want you, Charles.”

Charles’ eyes darken. He stands up from the couch and closes the distance between you. Gazing down at you, he brushes his fingers along your jaw. “Can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

You nod, heart hammering in your chest. Charles’ hand slides into your hair and he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is electric, your body lighting up everywhere you touch.

After a dizzying minute you break apart, flushed and breathless. Charles rests his forehead against yours, his eyes burning.

“I want you,” he whispers. “I want this.”

Your pulse racing, you turn and pull Lewis into a passionate kiss. You pour all your need and love into it, leaving no doubt that you want him just as much.

Lewis’ eyes are dark when you separate. Without a word, he stands and holds his hand out to Charles. Charles takes it immediately. They stare at each other for a weighted moment before Lewis reels him in for a searing kiss.

You can only watch, utterly mesmerized by the sight of the two gorgeous men exploring each other. They kiss aggressively, hands roaming over backs and arms. Finally they break apart, panting.

Charles turns to you, eyes blazing. In two strides he’s kneeling before you, hands on your thighs.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps out. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want this. I want this so much,” you affirm breathlessly.

Charles surges up to capture your lips again. Lewis moves behind you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulders. Sandwiched between them, you’ve never felt more alive.

You have a fleeting thought that you should slow down, take things step by step. But as their hands and lips worship your body, reason melts away.

Tonight you’ll explore each other fully and forge this new bond that transcends convention. Tomorrow you can discuss logistics.

Charles kisses you hungrily while Lewis deftly unzips your dress, letting it slip to the floor. His hands glide over your newly exposed skin as Charles trails kisses down your neck to your lace-clad breasts.

Lewis reaches around to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts to Charles’ eager mouth. You gasp and arch into his touch as his tongue swirls around one nipple, then the other.

Lewis captures your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans of pleasure. His hands roam your body, caressing your hips and rear before slipping into your panties. You keen against his mouth as his fingers find your slick heat.

Charles kisses his way down your trembling body until he’s kneeling before you. Locking eyes with you, he slowly peels off your panties. Lewis moves behind you, arms wrapped around you, hands still working their magic between your legs.

Charles parts your thighs and dives in hungrily. You cry out at the feeling of his mouth on you, the dual sensations pushing you quickly to the edge. Your pleasured screams echo through the penthouse as you come undone between these two incredible men.

They lay you gently on the plush rug, hands and mouths continuing to ignite fires across your hypersensitive skin. You reach for them frantically, needing to feel them too. Together you undress them with eager hands until all three of you are bare and flushed with need.

Lewis kisses his way down your body until his head is between your legs, stubble scratching deliciously against your inner thighs. His talented tongue gets to work, licking and sucking your sensitive bud as you grasp his braids, back arching off the rug.

Charles moves up your body to take a hard nipple in his mouth, fingers tweaking and plucking the other. The near-overstimulation makes you see stars, crying out louder as Lewis’ fingers join his mouth in driving you to euphoria.

As you come down from your high, panting and trembling, Charles captures your lips in a messy kiss. You taste yourself and your favorite body oil on his tongue as he grinds his hard length against your hip. Guiding him up further, you take him in your mouth eagerly, reveling in his groans of pleasure.

Lewis slides up behind you, hardness nudging your entrance. He pushes into you slowly, filling you up exquisitely. You moan around Charles in your mouth as Lewis sets a steady rhythm. Charles’ eyes are nearly black watching Lewis take you from behind.

Charles gently pulls out of your mouth, moving down to kiss Lewis passionately. Their tongues tangle as Lewis continues rocking into you. The erotic sight makes you clench around Lewis. Sensing you’re close, he reaches around to circle your clit until you shatter again.

As you float back down, Lewis slips out from behind you and lays on his back. You straddle him eagerly, taking him back inside your slick heat. Charles moves in behind you, grasping your hips. Feeling his tip brush your back entrance, you glance back and nod consent.

Charles pushes into your other hole slowly as Lewis praises you for taking them both so well. Sandwiched between their hard bodies, filled so exquisitely, you feel worshipped and desired. They find a synchronized rhythm, driving you higher until you’re screaming out your pleasure again.

Lewis follows you over the edge, your pulsing muscles milking him dry with a growl. Charles takes over, pounding into you relentlessly until he stills, spilling deep inside with a choked cry.

You collapse together in a satisfied, breathless tangle of limbs. Trading soft kisses and caresses, you bask in the afterglow of this new bond forged in passion. Staring into your boys’ sated eyes, you know you’ve found something extraordinary.

For now, you are content to let passion consume you, losing yourself in two sets of hands, two mouths worshipping every inch of you.

Tomorrow can wait. Tonight, your world has expanded to make room for three.

***

The new season is in full swing and your blossoming relationship could not be going better. Stealing moments alone is a challenge, but the time you spend together makes it all worthwhile.

The only downside is how difficult it is for Charles to hide his feelings for you in public. While Lewis has had practice concealing your relationship for years now, Charles is still learning restraint. His affection for you shines through in lingering looks and subtle touches that don’t go unnoticed.

During one pre-race press conference, things come to a head. You’re standing just off stage, watching proudly as Charles and Lewis field questions.

A reporter looks over at Charles. “Charles, we’ve noticed Y/N hanging around the Ferrari garage a lot this season. Any insight into why the daughter of the Mercedes team principal spends so much time with your team instead?”

Charles tenses, panic flashing across his face. Before he can respond, Pierre Gasly pipes up from the end of the table.

“She’s always welcome to spend time with Alpine too!” Pierre says with a playful wink your direction. “Our garage door is open for you anytime, chérie.”

Charles’ hand clenches into a fist under the table. You can see him biting his tongue, holding back from saying that you’re taken.

Lewis discretely reaches over and lays a calming hand on Charles’ arm. Charles takes a deep breath, the brief touch grounding him.

“Y/N is friends with many drivers, not just myself,” Charles says evenly. “She offers encouragement to everyone on the grid.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding. Crisis averted, for now. But the reporters look unsatisfied with Charles’ generic response.

One speaks up again. “Come on Charles, you two seem especially close lately. Anything you want to tell us about the nature of your relationship?”

Charles’ eyes flick towards you. He opens his mouth but hesitates.

Lewis jumps in. “Like Charles said, Y/N is a supportive friend to all the drivers. We’re lucky to have her around.” He steers the conversation to less dangerous waters and the questions about you cease.

After the press conference, Charles makes a beeline for you. Taking your hands, he searches your face anxiously.

“I’m so sorry. I nearly slipped up and exposed everything. I just couldn’t stand Pierre flirting with you like that.”

You smile reassuringly, touched by his protectiveness. “It’s okay, you stopped yourself in time. I know it’s not easy.”

Lewis joins you two in your hidden corner. He squeezes Charles’ shoulder comfortingly. “You handled it well, babe. I know firsthand how hard it is to stay silent.”

Charles sighs. “I don’t know how you’ve done this for so long. Lying about the woman I lo-” He stops himself. “About someone so important is torture.”

Your heart skips a beat. Lewis meets your gaze, equally affected by Charles’ unspoken words.

Taking Charles’ face in your hands, you kiss him sweetly. “I’m so lucky to have not just one, but two incredible men willing to go through all this for my sake. I promise, it won’t be forever.”

Charles relaxes into your touch. Lewis moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head. Charles covers Lewis’ hands with his own. The three of you share a quiet, tender moment before stepping back out into the bustle of race day.

That evening after the race, the three of you finally have time alone back at the hotel. Lewis pours champagne while you massage the tension from Charles’ shoulders.

“What Pierre said today was out of line,” you murmur. “But you have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours, in every way that matters.” You press a kiss to his neck.

Charles twists to capture your lips. “I know. It just drives me crazy seeing other men try to take what’s mine.” His tone is playful yet possessive in a way that makes you shiver.

“Let them flirt all they want,” Lewis says, handing Charles a glass of champagne. “She only has eyes for us.”

You and Charles both smile at Lewis’ quiet confidence. Taking your glass, you raise it in a toast. “To the apples of my eye. Here’s to a long future together.”

You clink glasses and sip, eyes locking over the rims. Setting your glass aside, you take each of their hands in yours.

“I know keeping this secret isn’t easy. But it will be so worth it in the end, when we can stop hiding and be together openly. We just have to be patient a little longer.”

Lewis squeezes your hand, emotion shining in his eyes. “You’re worth the wait, darling.”

Charles cradles your face adoringly. “A thousand times over.”

Your heart swells being surrounded by such unwavering love and support. Despite the challenges, in this moment, everything feels exactly as it should.

The rest of the night is spent getting lost in each other, reaffirming the bonds between you. Fingers intertwined, bodies moving as one, you bask in the oasis you’ve created amidst the pressures of your public lives.

Tomorrow you’ll go back to pretending, dodging prying questions and curious stares. But here, cocooned in this hotel room, you’re simply three people entwined by love. Partners promising without words to stand united until the day your relationship can step into the light.

For now, secrecy is a small price to pay for a love unlike any other.

***

The azure waters of the Mediterranean glisten under the Sardinian sun as you lounge on the deck of the yacht. Lewis rubs sunscreen slowly over your shoulders, his touch sending tingles through your body.

Charles emerges from the water, rivulets streaming down his toned chest. He joins you on the loungers, shaking his wet hair playfully over you and Lewis. You squeal and swat him away, laughing.

These past two weeks sailing around Sardinia have been pure bliss. Finally you can be as affectionate as you want, stealing kisses and cuddling close without worrying who might see. You’ve explored every inch of this yacht and each other’s bodies. After keeping your relationship under wraps, it’s glorious being so free.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” you sigh contentedly.

“Soon, love,” Lewis says, pulling you close. “Just have to get through this season.”

Charles nods, trailing his fingers down your arm. “It will all be worth it in the end.”

You smile softly at them both, heart swelling with love. “You’re right. As long as we’re together.”

You while away the rest of the afternoon trading lazy kisses and caresses, basking in the sun and each other.

That night, fireworks burst bright over the inky sea. You tilt your head back against Charles’ chest, watching the rainbow sparks. Lewis nuzzles your neck from behind, arms wrapped around your waist.

“I love you both,” you whisper as gold and purple light up the sky. Charles kisses your temple while Lewis squeezes you gently. You’ve never felt so full of love and joy.

Then, you all fly to Lewis’ villa in Brazil for the rest of summer break. The days pass in a carefree blur — lounging by the pool, sunset walks on the beach, and passion-filled nights tangled together in bed.

Charles cooks dinner shirtless one evening, playfully feeding you and Lewis bites as you sip wine. Lewis pulls you into an impromptu dance around the kitchen, the three of you laughing breathlessly.

“If only this could never end,” you say wistfully, pulling them in for a group hug.

“One day, baby,” Lewis murmurs, kissing your hair. Charles rubs your back, gazing at you tenderly.

You etch every moment into your memory, from languid mornings waking up between them to romantic picnics at sunset on the beach.

If only you could freeze time and stay in this private paradise.

But of course, time marches on. Before you know it, the break ends and you’re headed to the Netherlands for the start of the second half of the season.

Walking through Zandvoort a friendly distance from Charles and Lewis, everything feels different now. You have to stop yourself from being too openly affectionate, hyperaware of prying eyes.

Lewis senses your tension. “Soon this will all be out in the open,” he reminds you softly. The secret aspect still weighs on you all, but the promise of a future without hiding lifts your spirits.

On Thursday, just a few days before the race, you’re leaving the motorhome when your phone explodes with notifications. With a sinking sense of dread, you open social media to see leaked paparazzi shots plastered everywhere — the three of you kissing on the yacht, Lewis’ hands blatantly grabbing your rear in Brazil, you and Charles making out poolside.

You stagger back against the wall, blood rushing in your ears. This is a nightmare. Your private oasis shattered, your relationship outed in the most public, scandalous way possible.

Charles exits behind you and his face pales seeing your expression. Lewis comes around the corner a second later and you wordlessly show him your phone screen.

“Fuck,” Lewis swears. “Where did these come from?”

“I don’t know, they’re everywhere,” you say shakily.

Charles peers over your shoulder, jaw clenched. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now we need to get you out of here.”

You’re confused only for a second before you hear the swell of voices and footsteps rapidly approaching. Security won’t hold the media mob back for long.

Charles and Lewis spring into action, flanking you protectively as you hurry back towards the entrance. Halfway there, the dam breaks as reporters and cameras flood the paddock. You freeze like a deer in headlights.

Chaos erupts, cameras flashing, mics shoved in your faces, everyone shouting questions at once. Charles and Lewis shield you from the onslaught, yelling for security. Two guards appear and help navigate you through the frenzy back into the Ferrari motorhome.

You collapse on the sofa, heart pounding. Lewis paces angrily while Charles punches the wall. “Fuck! We were so careful,” he rages.

You blink back panicked tears. “What do we do now?”

Lewis sits and pulls you into his arms. “We face it head on. No more hiding. We own this together.”

Charles kneels before you, clasping your hands. “I’m with you no matter what. We’ll get through this.”

You cling to them, anchoring yourself. As long as you have each other, you can survive the storm.

You’ve just managed to catch your breath when the door flies open. Your head whips up to see none other than your father storming in, fury etched on his face.

“What the HELL is going on here?” He thunders.

You shrink back against Lewis. This is already a disaster — but your enraged, overprotective father finding out like this? You brace yourself as his glare pins you in place, demanding an explanation.

Toto slams the door behind him, eyes blazing like you’ve never seen before.

“Would someone like to explain what the hell is going on?” He shouts. “Because I leave for a few weeks and suddenly my daughter is splashed all over the tabloids in compromising photos with her secret boyfriends!”

You shrink back against Lewis, tears pooling in your eyes. He wraps a protective arm around you.

“Toto, let’s all just take a breath and talk about this,” Lewis says calmly.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” Toto snarls, pointing a finger at Lewis. “You are supposed to be teammates and instead you’re … you’re ...” He splutters, at a loss for words.

“We’re in a relationship,” Charles says firmly, taking your hand. “The three of us.”

“A relationship?” Toto looks apoplectic. “She is my daughter!”

“Who makes her own choices,” Charles shoots back. “She’s an adult.”

Toto ignores him, glaring at Lewis and you. “I trusted you with her. And this is how you repay that trust?”

Lewis squeezes your shoulder gently before standing up to face Toto. “I understand you’re upset. But our relationship isn’t about you.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Toto shouts. “I am her father!”

“Stop yelling at them!” You cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Toto falters slightly seeing your distress. Charles pulls you into his arms, stroking your hair and glaring at Toto.

“Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?” Charles snaps. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation.”

Toto looks back and forth between the three of you, anger warring with confusion. Lewis takes a cautious step toward him.

“I know this is a shock,” Lewis says evenly. “But we didn’t intend for it to come out like this.”

He gestures for Toto to have a seat. After a tense moment Toto sinks into the armchair, face still thunderous. Lewis sits back down beside you.

“Help me understand this,” Toto says tightly. “Clearly this … arrangement has been going on behind my back for some time.”

You take a shaky breath. “We’ve been together since the start of the season. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but we knew you would react badly.”

Toto drags a hand down his face. “You cannot expect me to be happy about this. My daughter dating two men at once? One of whom used to be my employee?”

“We don’t need your approval,” Charles says firmly. “All that matters is that we love each other. Right?”

He looks at you and Lewis. You both nod, Lewis taking your hand supportively.

“She’s right,” Lewis tells Toto. “We don’t need your blessing. But we want you to understand this is real, not just some fling or scandal.”

You look pleadingly at your father. “Please Vati, try to understand. I’ve never been happier than with these two.”

Toto stares back stonily. The silence stretches on. You feel Charles and Lewis tense on either side of you, bracing for Toto’s wrath.

Finally Toto sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “You’ve always been my sweet girl. My only wish is for your happiness and safety.”

He levels Charles and Lewis with a piercing look. “If either of you two hurts her, they’ll never find your bodies. Understand?”

Charles and Lewis both nod rapidly.

“We would never,” Lewis vows.

“Good. See that you don’t.” Toto turns back to you, expression softening. “This will take some adjustment. But I suppose if you’re happy ...”

“I am, I promise,” you assure him.

Toto shakes his head. “Well, try to keep the sordid details to yourself please.”

You huff out a wet laugh, wiping your eyes. “Deal.”

Toto nods stiffly and stands. Looking between the three of you, his face settles into resignation.

“I will do my best to … adjust to this,” he mutters. “But no funny business at the track!”

He points sternly at Charles and Lewis again. They both work to keep straight faces.

“Of course, totally professional at all times,” Lewis promises solemnly.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” Toto heads for the door. With his hand on the handle, he turns back.

“You’re still my little girl. I just want you safe and happy.”

You smile tearfully. “I know. Thank you.”

With a grunt and final glare at Charles and Lewis, Toto takes his leave.

The moment the door shuts, you collapse into their arms in relief. Laughing and crying all at once.

“That could have gone worse,” Charles remarks.

Lewis chuckles. “He only threatened us a little bit.”

You kiss them softly. “I can’t believe you stood up to him for me.”

Charles caresses your face. “Always.”

“We meant what we said — we’re in this together, no matter what,” Lewis affirms.

You cling to each other, coming down from the emotional rollercoaster. The worst is over. Your relationship is out in the open now. The media will have a field day, but you can weather any storm with your men by your side.

“So ...” you say with a watery laugh. “Who wants to handle the press release?”

***

The news of your relationship with Lewis and Charles has sent shockwaves through the paddock. You knew it would be a scandal, but the sheer scale of the reaction has been overwhelming.

Thankfully you’ve had each other to cling to through the firestorm. Their love and support keeps you strong in the face of snarling reporters and leering drivers.

In the Ferrari garage a few days later, Lewis has his arms wrapped around you, placing gentle kisses to your hair as you discuss weekend plans. Charles is in the engineering room, focused on prep for the upcoming race.

The two of you are in your own world together when Lando sheepishly approaches. "Hey mates, can I talk to you both for a sec?"

You tense instinctively and Lewis’ arm tightens around you protectively. But Lando’s face is regretful, not leering. “What’s up?” Lewis asks calmly.

Lando shuffles his feet. “I just wanted to apologize for all the times I hit on Y/N and crossed the line. I feel proper ashamed about it now that I know she was with you two. You deserve better from a friend.”

You and Lewis share a surprised look. Before you can respond, Pierre joins Lando, gazing at you repentantly.

“I want to also apologize,” Pierre says. “It was wrong of me to overstep boundaries and disrespect your relationship. I’m sorry.”

You bite your tongue, holding back what you really want to say. As usual, they’re ignoring you and directing apologies to Lewis instead.

Sensing your reaction, Lewis speaks up. “We appreciate you owning up to it, but I think Y/N deserves your apologies more. She’s the one you objectified and disrespected with the unwanted advances, after all.”

Lando and Pierre have the decency to look abashed. “You’re completely right, that was thoughtless of me,” Lando says. “I’m truly sorry for ever making you feel uncomfortable or pressured, Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

Pierre nods. “Please accept my sincere apologies as well. I should have been more considerate of your feelings and respected your privacy.”

You give them a stiff smile. “Thank you. Just please think about how your words and actions affect women as fellow human beings, not just as conquests or property.”

Lando and Pierre both nod earnestly before excusing themselves. As they walk away Lewis kisses your temple. “Well handled, love. How are you feeling?”

You sigh heavily. “I appreciate the apologies, but it still stings that they only considered your feelings initially, not mine.”

Lewis makes a sympathetic noise and hugs you close. “You deserve so much more respect. I’m sorry this has all been so ugly.”

You cling to him, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “As long as I have you and Charles, I can face anything.”

Lewis is about to reply when footsteps approach again. You tense, but it’s only Charles this time. His smile fades seeing your expression.

“Everything okay here?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You explain what just happened with Lando and Pierre. Charles’ eyes flash. “They are lucky I wasn’t here. I would have had a thing or two to say about them disrespecting you like that.”

You smile softly, touched by his protectiveness. “My heroes. However would I cope without you two defending my honor?”

Lewis tickles your side playfully. “We have to protect our lady’s virtue!”

You swat him away, laughing. Charles kisses the top of your head. “Joking aside, you never have to tolerate that behavior again. Not with us here.”

“I know,” you reply, snuggling into them happily. "My gallant protectors."

***

“Home sweet home,” you declare as the car pulls up the long driveway to your family’s sprawling Swiss estate.

Lewis lets out an impressed whistle from the backseat. “This is incredible!”

“Just wait until you see inside,” you grin at him in the rearview mirror.

You had kept putting off bringing Lewis and Charles here but it was finally time for them to see where you grew up.

They grab your bags as you lead them inside the grand foyer with its sweeping marble staircase. Lewis and Charles gaze around, taking in the ornate moldings and priceless artwork adorning the walls.

“I know it’s a bit ... much,” you say self-consciously.

“Are you kidding? This place is amazing!” Lewis crows, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

You give them a brief tour of the endless sitting rooms, home theater, indoor pool, and your father’s meticulously organized garage housing his impressive car collection.

Finally you bring them upstairs to the family bedrooms. With a deep breath, you push open the door to your childhood room.

Lewis and Charles follow you in, peering around with interest at the spacious suite with its canopy bed, plush seating area, and panoramic mountain views.

You watch nervously as Lewis wanders over to your bookshelf and Charles admires the view from the French doors. Waiting for their judgment, you feel self-conscious about your privileged upbringing.

Suddenly Charles points to your wall and turns to you with a grin. “Well well, what do we have here?”

You follow his gaze to the life-size posters still occupying prime real estate on your wall, relics from your starry-eyed teen years. A young Lewis from his early Mercedes days gazes broodingly down, next to a smirking teenage Charles in his Prema race suit from back in F2.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I forgot those were there!” You groan, covering your rapidly reddening face.

Lewis chuckles, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “Aww, someone had a little crush, did they?” He teases.

“It was years ago!” You protest through your fingers.

Charles pries your hands away, smiling affectionately. “It’s cute you were our fan. Never be embarrassed for having good taste in drivers,” he winks.

Lewis kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry love, we won’t give you too hard a time about it,” he says magnanimously.

You snuggle into his embrace. “How lucky am I to have manifested my crushes into reality?”

“The lucky ones are us,” Charles murmurs, stroking your hair and kissing you tenderly.

Lewis tips your chin up to meet his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You cling to each other, the outside world fading away.

Eventually you lead them hand-in-hand to your massive bedroom balcony overlooking the mountains. The summer air is fragrant with the smell of wildflowers.

Settled together on the cushions, you snuggle between Lewis and Charles as they take in the stunning panoramic views.

“It’s so beautiful and peaceful here,” Lewis sighs contentedly. “Thank you for bringing us with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you for wanting to know every part of me.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, meeting your eyes sincerely. “Of course we do. Your soul is what we fell in love with first and foremost.”

You have to blink back tears at his words. Being with them has taught you that real love runs far deeper than surface trappings.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you pull them close, kissing each with all the love and gratitude overflowing inside you.

As the sun dips behind the mountains, setting the sky ablaze in stunning hues of orange and purple, you curl up safely between the two men who see, know, and love the real you. The only home you’ll ever need.

***

The warmly lit dining room of your family estate is filled with the clink of silverware and hum of conversation as you share an intimate dinner with your father, stepmother Susie, younger brother Jack, and your loves.

Despite your anxiety, the evening has gone smoothly so far. Toto seems impressed with Lewis and Charles’ maturity and devotion to you. Susie dotes on them like a surrogate mother. Only Jack seems bored, pushing food around his plate.

During a lull in the conversation, Toto turns to Lewis. “It’s remarkable what you are accomplishing at Ferrari this season. Good to see you on top of the podium again.”

Lewis smiles. “Thank you, Toto. It’s been incredible.”

“Still, I was surprised when you first told me you were leaving Mercedes,” Toto remarks. “I didn’t fully understand what prompted such a sudden departure.”

He levels Lewis with a probing gaze. You freeze nervously, grasping Charles and Lewis’ hands under the table. You’ve managed to avoid telling your father the real reason for Lewis’ change in teams. But it seems that reckoning has arrived.

Lewis meets Toto’s scrutinizing look evenly. “Well, as you know, Mercedes has strict rules against relationships within the team. It began impeding my personal happiness. So I sought more freedom elsewhere.”

Toto’s eyes narrow, glancing between the three of you. “And when exactly did this personal happiness begin?”

You hold your breath. Lewis says simply, “During my third to last season with the team.”

There’s a long, fraught silence. Jack glances around confused while Susie presses her napkin to her lips, no doubt hiding a small smile. She’s always been your most enthusiastic supporter.

Toto’s face slowly turns an alarming shade of eggplant purple. He points an accusatory finger at Lewis. “You! You were already involved with my daughter during your Mercedes contract?”

Lewis nods calmly. “We couldn’t be public about it then. Your rules left us no choice but secrecy.”

Toto turns his glare on you. “So while I was managing Lewis’ negotiations, you were ... were ...” He seems unable to form the words.

You lift your chin. “Yes, Vati. We’ve been together since mid-2022. I’m sorry we couldn’t be honest about it at the time.”

Toto looks back and forth between you and Lewis, jaw clenched. The whole table is frozen, awaiting the eruption.

Finally Toto thrusts his chair back and begins pacing angrily. “This whole time ... right under my nose! With my star driver, in clear violation of team rules and ethics!”

He rounds on Lewis. “I treated you like family! Supported your career, fought for your contracts. And you betrayed me by sneaking around with my daughter behind my back!”

Lewis faces Toto’s tirade calmly. “I apologize for any perceived deception. But we couldn’t deny our hearts.”

He takes your hand, gazing at you adoringly. Charles clutches your other in solidarity.

Toto drags a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. I thought I knew you, Hamilton.”

Finally you can't stay quiet any longer. “Vati, stop,” you implore. “I know you’re upset, but don’t blame Lewis. We fell in love, simple as that.”

Toto sighs, looking between your determined face and Lewis’ sincerity. His anger slowly deflates.

“B��rchen, you will always be my little girl,” he says gruffly. “I just want to protect you.”

He turns back to Lewis and Charles. “But I can see you both genuinely care for her. That’s all that matters in the end.”

You smile hopefully. “So you’re okay with this?”

Toto holds up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away. I am still adjusting to the idea.” He narrows his eyes at Lewis and Charles. “No messing about, you hear me? My girl deserves the utmost love and respect.”

“Of course,” Lewis says seriously as Charles nods in agreement.

“Good. See that it stays that way.” Toto sits back down with a huff. An awkward beat passes before conversation resumes again.

Later, as you all say goodnight, Toto pulls you into a hug. “They really make you happy, hmm?”

You nod, eyes shining. “Beyond words.”

Toto pats your cheek affectionately. “Well then, I suppose that’s what matters.”

You kiss his cheek in gratitude. No matter how overprotective your father can be, you know he just wants you safe and loved. With Lewis and Charles by your side, you always will be.

***

Seven Years Later

The Ferrari garage is buzzing with activity as race day gets underway at the Italian Grand Prix. You stand with Lewis among the controlled chaos, keeping one eye on your enthusiastic children weaving through the mechanics’ legs.

“Be careful, Lou!” You call out as your daring five-year-old Louis takes a corner a little too sharply, his Ferrari cap nearly sliding off his wild wavy hair.

Lewis shakes his head in amusement. “He’s as spirited as his Papa.”

You grin proudly at your son, the spitting image of Charles, as he zooms around mimicking pit stops. Your little three-year-old Helene clings shyly to her daddy’s leg, peering up at the action with wide brown eyes that are the mirror image of Lewis’ own.

Charles emerges from the engineering briefing and makes a beeline for you. Sweeping you into his arms, he greets you with a passionate kiss. After over seven years together, the sparks between you still ignite instantly.

Pulling back, Charles grins at your slightly disheveled state. “Hello to you too,” you laugh breathlessly.

He winks before turning to give Lewis a tender kiss. Your unconventional family drew some skepticism at first, but your extraordinary love has proven unshakeable.

The kids chorus “Papa!” and attack Charles’ legs. Laughing, he scoops them both up, kissing their heads. “Are you ready to cheer for me, my little racers?”

Their enthusiastic cheers draw amused glances from the team. You soak it all in — your little family, together forever.

Charles reluctantly sets the kids down to focus on pre-race prep. You feel a phantom flutter in your belly, though you know it’s still too early for it to be real. Grasping Lewis’ hand, you share a private smile. Baby number three is on the way.

The race begins in a blur of excitement. Charles aces the start, quickly pulling into the lead. Louis abandons all decorum and just starts screaming “Go Papa!” at the top of his lungs. Chuckling, you and Lewis take turns occupying your hyperactive son so as not to distract the crew. Shy little Helene contents herself hugging a Ferrari-themed teddy bear, peering intently at the screens showing her Papa as he speeds around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

The laps tick by, Charles fending off the competition masterfully. As he crosses the finish line to claim victory on home soil, Louis and Helene are jumping and cheering loudly. The passion for racing already runs strong.

Back out in the paddock after the podium celebration, you and Lewis balance the kids on your hips as reporters head straight for the two of you. The questions are familiar after years in the spotlight.

“Lewis, what’s it like spending almost every weekend at the track despite your retirement five years ago?”

“I love it,” Lewis smiles, bouncing a giggling Helene. “Getting to support my husband and spend time with my family, it’s very fulfilling.”

“And Y/N, how do you manage the kids and your husband’s demanding career?”

You grin. “We make it work. We’re so proud of Charles and feel lucky to be by his side through it all.”

On cue, Helene pipes up “Papa is the best racer!”

The reporters chuckle. One asks, “How do you feel seeing Charles continue to build his legacy with Ferrari?”

“I couldn’t be prouder,” Lewis says, genuine emotion in his eyes. “He’s taken the team to new heights and really made his mark. Seeing him succeed means the world.”

Louis suddenly grabs the mic, yelling “Are we done yet?” You have to stifle your laugh.

“I think that’s our cue to wrap up,” you grin sheepishly, gathering the rambunctious children in your arms. Blowing kisses to the laughing media, you make your exit.

Back in the privacy of the motorhome, your unconventional but beautiful family shares celebratory hugs and kisses. Charles rests his hand gently on your belly, his face lighting up when you confirm the news.

“Baby number three on the way!” Lewis crows, sweeping you into an excited embrace.

Louis and Helene cheer, demanding another sibling immediately. You laugh giddily, leaning into Charles and gazing at the pure joy on your husbands’ faces. Your hearts swell with love.

This life you’ve built together has faced skepticism, but your extraordinary bond conquers all. Gazing into their eyes, you know without a doubt you were destined for each other. Hand in hand, side by side, forevermore.

***

18 Months Later

You finish strapping a squirming Cosette into her car seat, smoothing down her hair that is the spitting image of your own. “There we go, my little princess. Time to go see Opa Toto!”

Cosette babbles happily, waving her chubby fists. At just over a year old, she is the perfect blend of you and Charles, with your lips and nose and his vibrant green eyes.

Louis and Helene are already buckled into the backseat, their patience for the short drive to your father’s house wearing thin. “Hurry up!” Louis cries. “I want to show Opa my new race car!”

“We’re coming, hold your horses,” you laugh, sliding into the passenger seat beside Charles. Lewis is meeting you there after stopping at home to grab a few extra toys and changes of clothes for the kids’ overnight stay.

During the short drive, Charles keeps resting his hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing distracting circles. You try your best to keep your breathing even. After all these years together, just the slightest touch from your husbands can still ignite that spark instantly.

You pull up the long driveway to find Lewis’ car already parked outside the stately lakefront home you grew up spending summers in. Before you can even unbuckle, the front door swings open and Toto comes striding out, arms open wide.

“My lieblinge!” He booms as Louis and Helene barrel into his embrace.

You lift Cosette from her carseat and Toto takes her gently, eyes crinkling with delight. “And there’s my littlest liebling,” he coos, nuzzling her soft curls.

Lewis joins you all outside, greeting Toto with a warm hug. “Thanks again for watching the kids tonight, Toto. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course! They’re my grandbabies, it’s my honor,” Toto declares, ushering everyone inside.

Soon the kids are happily playing on the living room floor as you and Susie chat over tea. Lewis joins Toto out on the back patio, no doubt talking about the current state of the team as always. Charles wanders in from the kitchen and comes up behind you, massaging the knots from your shoulders in that way he knows you love. You have to bite back a moan, not wanting to scar your family. Susie just smiles knowingly into her tea cup.

Too soon it’s time to head out for your rare adults-only evening. You pry Louis away from showing Toto his toy car collection and scoop up a sleepy Cosette. Helene hugs you tightly around the legs.

“We’ll be back to get you tomorrow, sweetheart,” you assure her, kissing the top of her head.

Lewis takes his turn hugging the kids while Charles checks his watch. “Reservations are in 30 minutes, we should get going soon.”

You pass a sleepy Cosette to Toto and he cradles her gently. “We’ll hold down the fort, you three go and have an enjoyable evening.” He gives Lewis and Charles a stern look. “But not too enjoyable, hmm? Keep it respectable.”

Lewis just grins as Charles steps up and claps Toto on the back. “Oh don’t worry, we’ll be very respectable. Just having a nice dinner while we discuss when to start working on baby number four.” He winks cheekily at Toto while you and Lewis have to stifle your laughter at the mortified look on your father’s face.

Charles dodges Toto’s half-hearted swat and pulls you and Lewis in close. “Come on, our romantic evening awaits.”

You bid one more goodnight to the kids before letting Charles usher you out the door, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. The drive to the restaurant passes enjoyably, laughter and teasing flowing freely. For one night, you have the rare opportunity to just be yourselves, simply three lovers.

At the upscale restaurant, you’re shown to a cozy corner table lit by flickering candles. Charles orders an expensive bottle of wine while you and Lewis peruse the menu. His foot trails slowly up your leg under the tablecloth and you have to resist the urge to jump him then and there. After years together the flames still burn hot, stealing passionate moments whenever you can.

Dinner passes enjoyably, full of laughter and flirty touches. Afterwards you stroll hand-in-hand along the lakefront, the starry sky reflected on the rippling water. Lewis pulls you into a dance right there on the path, the three of you swaying and giggling drunkenly together. Passersby stare but you’re oblivious, caught up in your own private world.

Eventually you make your tipsy way back home, shedding clothes on your way up to the master bedroom. They lay you down reverently in the middle of the expansive bed, hands and mouths immediately reacquainting themselves with every familiar curve and hollow of your body. Soon you’re panting and writhing between them, their dual caresses pushing you rapidly towards euphoria.

“Need you ... both ... now,” you manage to gasp out. Without hesitation Charles is kissing you hungrily while Lewis repositions himself behind you. You cry out as they join your bodies seamlessly, swiftly bringing you to the peak again and again. Their stamina and synchronicity even after all these years together never fails to leave you awestruck.

Much later, sated and pleasantly sore, you rest comfortably sandwiched between your husbands. Their hands caress you languidly as you all come down from your highs together.

“We certainly made the most of our kid-free night,” Lewis chuckles, dropping a kiss to your shoulder.

You hum contentedly. “It was heavenly. But I can’t wait to get our babies back tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Charles agrees, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Our family is everything to me.”

You smile softly at him, heart swelling. “Our lives turned out pretty perfectly, didn’t they?”

Lewis nods, his eyes drifting around the bedroom that over the years has become a shrine to your shared journey — photos of race wins, kids’ drawings, and candid shots of your unlikely love filling every surface.

“Beyond anything I could have dreamed,” he murmurs. “Being with you both, raising our babies together ... it’s more than I ever imagined was possible.”

Charles kisses you tenderly. “We’re so lucky to have this extraordinary love.”

You cling tighter to them, emotion welling in your chest. “Every day I’m grateful we followed our hearts and created this life together.”

They hum contentedly, holding you close between their warm, solid bodies. No more words need be said. After so many years, your souls are intertwined seamlessly by the incredible bonds of your love.

Come what may, you know without a doubt that you were destined for each other. And you would choose this unconventional but beautiful life with them every single time.

[lorelune]

cicatrix

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, cathartic smut || wc: 21.5k  || ao3 ||

Both you and Jing Yuan are known to put well-being aside for the sake of others. You reckon with it.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: i've been COOKING!!!! please enjoy this very cathartic, gooey oneshot 😩💕!!!!! jing yuan is so beloved and getting to chew on him and his character makes me wanna roll around and scream (positive). thank you so much to bee (@suguwu) for talking this piece out w me each step of the way and andy (@andypantsx3) for a so helpful final read through 🥺🩷 read and enjoy loves!!!

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, author-created lore & worldbuilding, reader visibly loses weight due to bodily stress, general talk of weight and bodies, reference to pain during intimacy, a single pregnancy joke made entirely in jest

“You should go see him.”

This is not the first time Diviner Fu has told you this. It’s actually the third time. It’s her third time attempting to have this particular conversation with you, one which you are becoming increasingly adept at parrying around. 

“Who?” You lie. You already know who.

“The General?” Fu Xuan sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s awake, you know. Barely. But he has asked for you. Both while he was mostly unconscious and since he’s regained his lucidity. Go see him.”

“I’ll pass.” You shift on your knees with a heavy thump. Bone on metal. “Besides, can’t you, of all people, see I am hard at work here? I don’t exactly have the time for personal visits at the moment.”

That is not a lie. That is a steadfast truth. One both you and Fu Xuan, as the Master Calibrator and the Master Diviner respectively, fully understand.

Fu Xuan has sought you out deep within the Luofu’s inner structure. Far below the sprawl of metal-plated cities and neighborhoods, are the catacomb intestines you’ve been toiling in for... sometime now. Since whenever the Lord Ravager harnessed the Arbor, and the roots of a dead tree powered by an Aeon mutilated the Luofu’s most delicate innards. Innards you need to fix, rather than having frustrating conversations with Lady Fu.

You tap around on the interface on your wrist-bound jade abacus and curse. Your fingers are newly calloused, irritated at the tips from all of the poking and prodding you’ve had to do. You dip your hands into one of the opened buckets fastened to your belt, pulling forth when you’re sticky with iridescent sludge that slowly drips down your wrist like thick syrup. 

Returning to the utility panel you were previously working on before being interrupted, you tinker with a few of its delicate dials. All thrown off by the overabundance of... Abundance and the physical impact of the roots growth, deeper in the Luofu’s structure. You concentrate and thread quantum with the sap on your hands, trying to coax the machines into a more stable stasis. 

“At least consider it.” Fu Xuan says. Technically, she could order you, as she is on some administrative level, your superior and (from what you last heard) the acting General of the Luofu while the Divine Foresight has been indisposed. And yet, she does not force you. 

“Fine. I’ll consider it— if and when the Luofu is running diagnostic assessments with an average above fourty.”

“That’s— somewhat agreeable. But, I do think you’re being entirely—”

“Foolish?” You interrupt her with a laugh.

“Childish.” Fu Xuan taps her foot. The sound bounces around the narrow passageway, rattling into your skull. “Can the two of you not talk like adults and settle things?”

“I’m not sure what there is to ‘settle’ with him, Lady Fu.” You twitch your index and pinky finger at the same time. The internals sing, a hymn you know, the chord is a step or two too low— fucker. “He did something supremely stupid, and I am working.”

“That’s an obtuse way to look at things, and you know it.”

“In what way?” You crack open your eyes. You hadn’t realized you’d shut them. You’re sure they’re bloodshot. “What do you think about the General’s actions in subduing the Lord Ravager, Lady Fu?”

“I do believe he was reckless— as reckless as that man allows himself to be.” Fu Xuan has clearly thought about this before. Frustration pinches in her voice. “But it was not without the results.”

“So calculated recklessness is fine if, in the worst case, you end up as the Luofu’s next Arbiter General?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I am.” You say, sighing. Anger prickles under your skin. This is all easier to deal with (read: ignore) if you focus on the ship and its internals. Its stupid, destroyed, obliterated internals. “I apologize.”

“When was the last time you slept?” Fu Xuan asks.

“... Yesterday? Probably?” There’s no daylight. You conserve battery life on your various devices by keeping screens dim, so you don’t know the hour. Time has felt liquid for some time now.

“I could take over.” Fu Xuan suggests.

“You still have a ship to run, I assume. Unless the Divine Foresight was so eager to get back to work already.”

“... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.”

“It’s not necessary.” You shake your head. “I mean this as no slight, but the rate at which you would be able to complete repairs and calibrations would be at the same rate at which the ship’s fail-safes and functions are degrading. It isn’t worth it.”

Perhaps, under different circumstances, Fu Xuan would squawk at you for discounting her skills as a calibrator so quickly. She is trained, not to your degree or expertise, but in a pinch, she can complete repairs, hear the chords, see the quantum maps required to keep the Luofu and its many delicate parts and pieces functioning accordingly. 

However, the Luofu’s current circumstances do not constitute a ‘pinch’ and rather a ‘once-in-an-era disaster that nearly killed the long-lived, beloved General, destroyed the longstanding Creation Furnace, revealed the previous disgraced High Elder of the Vidhaydara, nearly reawoke the Ambrosial Arbor’. And, as Jing Yuan had told you in confidence— “It’s a Stellaron.”

And hence, you and your expertise are best-suited for the task of repairing the insides of the Luofu. 

“... Even still.” She says somewhat gravely. “This is unsustainable.”

“I recognize that.” And you do, childish avoidance of the General aside. “Once the ship’s up to forty percent attuned, the diagnostic algorithms attached to the internal citrine abaci should stabilize and begin to re-establish a self-healing cycle. At which point, my manual diagnostics and repairs will no longer be necessary at the level at which I’m completing them now.”

“What percentage attuned is the Luofu at, as of now?”

“... Twenty-seven.” This is, technically, the truth. 

(However, you have little confidence in that number, as it fluctuates heavily based on time of day and your own location within the tunnels and mechanical catacombs. You imagine this may be due to any number of things— there may be a gamma leak down deeper, where the radiation sponges are not as effective. There could still be creatures and roots of Abundance, alive in the passageways, wreaking havoc on the systems in real time. The diagnostic systems themselves could be failing, or at the very least damaged, which means that prescribing a number at all to the Luofu’s condition is a stupid idea to begin with—)

Fu Xuan says your name sharply.

“Yes?” 

“... I’m worried.”

“That’s probably for the best.” You wish there was more sympathy in your voice, but it sounds cold and outside of your body. 

(You’re so tired.)

Fu Xuan sighs, and drops to her knees next to you, peering in one the copper box you’ve been wrist deep in for the better part of ten minutes. Distractions slow down the process so immensely. 

“Your reasoning is sound, and I understand that this isn’t entirely some ploy to skirt around the General’s requests to see you.” Fu Xuan hands you a small pendant, cut of purple stone and lit from the inside out. “Please, wear this. It will transmit your vital signs and location to a monitor on the surface.”

You blanch, “Is this for you, or the General?”

“For the Divination Commission on paper.” Fu Xuan loops it around your neck. “You’re the only Master Calibrator on the Luofu. To lose track of you, or lose you, would be dire. It will also assuage some of the General’s anxieties and keep him from pestering me about you.

“The general, anxious?” You throw back your head with a laugh and withdraw your hands from the paneling. The sludge has liquified further, more mucus-y now as it drips down your forearms. You wipe away what remains with a well-used rag from your belt. “I’ve never known Jing Yuan to be anxious.”

“He is now.” Fu Xuan says simply. “Or, as much as he allows himself to be. I am not interested in delving into the General’s psychology, but I am interested in keeping you in decent condition. That pendant has an emergency function. If you tap it three times, it’ll send a distress signal with your location.”

You want to say that that’s ‘unnecessary’, but you know that’s your bad mood. There’s a reason why Fu Xuan made this journey, alone, and is speaking to you so frankly. There are bags under her eyes too.

“Thank you, Fu Xuan.” You say, softly, kinder than you have been. 

Despite your grime, perhaps mutual, you wrap your arms around her shoulders and squeeze. She hugs you back and deflates, if only for a moment.

...

The Luofu’s utility organs are built downwards, filling what would be considered the ‘hull’ of the ship, until you hit the Hall of Karma. There’s insulation between the ship’s most vital part and the weary souls of the departed, which provides you some comfort as you must descend deeper and deeper. 

The Luofu is as much a ship as it is a planet— a live ecosystem, adapted to fit the various immortals who call it home. The bowels of the Luofu are truthfully a combination of metal and plant matter— dirt and mechanical roots meant to hold the ground in one piece around you. Much of the organic matter of the ship is covered behind metal plating, lest risking a collapse.

Most of the damage you must tinker to fix occurs in the small, delicate panels that are placed in the walls every ten meters or so. They’re nondescript, mostly. Surrounded by a few various dials— a few circular meters are faded and out of use (relics from when the Luofu left its parent civilization, millenia ago), and a port to sync up a jade abacus to for more detailed readings.

Most of the data is slop to someone without training.

Even with training, your exhaustion is making the various numbers, symbols, and graphs feel like slop. 

The panel can be disconnected with a small, quill-looking tool (there’s only a small amount left on the Luofu, maybe twenty in total. The head of the tool is carved from an old, red stone, burnt in an old fire by a forgemaster long dead. You keep track of your handful diligently, lest you lose them without another smith to make them.) Once the utility panel is pried off, it reveals a suspended layer of liquid, far deeper than it looks. If you really tried, you probably could fit your entire arm in and still have depth.

Suspended in the liquid are the mechanisms that truly run the Luofu. It’s hard to describe how they fit together. It takes an affinity for quantum, a century (or three) of training, to make sense of how to parse together the ship's parts. The parts are various small machines, crystals, living ecosystems bound into balls and sustained by astrosynthesis beyond this world.

You’re used to the awe of it.

Along your waist, you carry several pots of stellar lubricant. The grease provides... some amount of slip when poking around in it yourself. It resonates with the quantum and allows you to see the stretches of energy that allow the ship to run as it does. Tender leylines, woven threads, songs and hymns that are of many familiar beats and melodies. 

Everything slips together as you pull yet another panel from a wall. The mechanisms sing out of tune, in dissonant chords, off-beat in the wrong time signature.

You dunk your hands into the lubricant, ignoring the slowly erupting burns on your forearms from over-exposure.

You shove your hands into the wall. You work. You fix. 

...

Not so long ago, you and Fu Xuan were not the only two Calibrator on the Xianzhou Alliance’s Luofu. There had been an apprentice in the Divination Commission who was studying, seeking mastery, just as you yourself had. They were more skilled than Lady Fu in the arts of calibration. You think they hailed from the Yaoqing. They were soft, gentle-hearted and young by the standards of Xianzhou natives.

So perhaps, this is why they became Marastruck in the mouth of one of the utility tunnels after seeing footage of the Divine Foresight being dragged unconscious and limp into the apothecary. Gingko leaves tearing their skin, an unholy sob turning to a shriek to cut the air. You were lucky the transformation occurred while you were above ground, and a patrol of Cloud Knights was nearby.

You’re probably lucky that you hadn’t (haven’t) succumbed to Mara. If you were a few centuries younger and less trained in the arts of meditation, you might have been swallowed up like the apprentice had been.

Jing Yuan, for all of his many games and schemes and tricks, radiates the air of someone almost infallible. He is not perfect; he has never been one for edges that are too manicured. He’s far more content dozing the afternoon away or taking a stroll through one of his gardens than hosting war-meetings. He prefers to wear plain clothes to the market in hopes he will not be recognized (though, he always is). 

But, he is strong and remarkably difficult to phase or bother in any setting. On more than one occasion, you’ve spent the evening trying to rile him up and get him to pounce, but the General is always content to watch your attempts with a lazy smile on his face. Content to sweetly watch you struggle in getting under his skin. He may be affected, but he is hard to break. If he does, it is with such grace that you wouldn’t have any idea he did break, and it feels as if you’ve somehow slipped, rather than him. He is cunning and sure-footed in a way that you can’t help but admire. 

You’re not the only one to feel that way.

(Though, you’re the only one who shares a bed with him. So.)

The Xianzhou has little place for legends, yet Jing Yuan is old enough and well-thought of enough to have become one. So, you cannot blame the apprentice for falling to Mara. Not when they, and the rest of the Luofu, saw a legend buckle at the knees. 

...

You were right about diagnostics being inaccurate. However, the reason was a mix of your two initial hypotheses. 

Parts of the diagnostic system, deep and low within the Luofu’s internal organs, had been damaged. Radiation leaks from the core of the ship, usually held back by sponges and filters, was drifting upward to damage any number of sensors and organic processes keeping the Luofu operational.

(All useless details really, none of it makes sense anymore. The ship is fucked. You must fix it.)

And you have been fixing it. 

You reek of stellar lubricant, skin stained pearly and glittery under the fluorescent lights that dot the tunnels. Your eyes ache; it’s gotten quite difficult to focus them. You’re lucky that there’s occasional spigots tapped into the walls, with some type of freshwater flowing from them, even if it does take awhile for any liquid to run. They probably haven’t been used in decades— maybe centuries. Most of the internals of the Luofu heal and repair on their own. 

A calibrator would only need to step-in in the case of a calamity.

Time has gotten slippery. Though you send up status reports (of varying quality) through your wrist-bound jade abacus, you can’t say it’s on a schedule. You do them when you have the mental fortitude to craft something acceptable for the Divination Commission to scoff at. 

You’re tired, maybe.

There are some mediary chambers between levels. Old, dust-covered rooms with a cot and some rations. Though you raid the ones you come across for emergency food stores, you don’t stay to sleep. You usually keel over on the metal flooring with your outermost robe thrown over you like a blanket. Your pillow is your own folded hands. 

It’s viciously uncomfortable, but you find sleeping difficult regardless. The offensively bright grow lights are sensitive to flesh life, and will not turn off in your presence. The floor is sometimes searingly warm, sometimes ice cold. If you stop working, your own thoughts threaten to swallow you whole. You only achieve sleep in brief moments, perhaps a few hours at a time, when you’re entirely spent. 

It is unpleasant sleep. A mix of recent horrors and faraway comforts.

(You initially heard from Fu Xuan what Jing Yuan had done.)

(Shortly after, footage was posted of the Divine Foresight, unconscious and being dragged across the Luofu for medical attention. Jing Yuan was entirely unresponsive and cradled in the arms of the Vidharayda’s... reawoken? Returned? (You stay out of Lizard Politics.) (Regardless, it still burns.))

(There’s chaos in the sounds captured on the video, the shocked, disbelieving voices.)

(You had turned off your phone (you have still yet to turn it back on) and dragged the apprentice to the tunnels. You ignored their crumbled expression and all of their disbelief. It would not serve either of you— anyone— in that moment. This was foolish of you.)

(You remember your apprentice and how their panic grew to Mara so quickly. How they looked sick to their stomach, braced against one of the entrances to the tunnels of the catacombs, clutching their skull. You urged them forward, begged them to hurry— that the diagnostics were grave. You could see the gnarled roots of the arbor already having penetrated some of the ancillary walls.)

(They looked so scared as they were swallowed by Mara. Eyes flashing scarlet, gingko leaves spilling from their mouth as they screamed. Flesh tearing to be healed wrong seconds later. Beautiful silk robes torn to shreds, body mutilated from the inside out.)

(They’d lunged at you, howling, and you’d barely side-stepped them. You ran to a patrol of Cloud Knights, overworked and clearly battleworn themselves and exhausted. Regardless, they took down your apprentice. Cut them at the back of the knees, called a Judge, dragged them off to the Hall of Karma.)

You dream of Jing Yuan often.

Sometimes, these dreams are awful.

Lady Fu had told you to visit him, prior to your initial descent into the catacombs. She said he was unconscious and battered. He would certainly recover; the General is particularly hearty. She urged you to see him in the Alchemy Commission. She said this as if Jing Yuan hadn’t just thrown himself in front of a being that rivaled some Aeons. She said this as if the Luofu wasn’t a few mechanical failures away from ceasing function and you were the only one aboard the Luofu able to stop it with any efficiency.

You dream of Jing Yuan being lanced through with his own guandao. You dream of him falling to the stone of Scalegorge Waterscape, eyes blooming red, and ginkgo leaves erupting from his shoulders. You dream of him mutilated beyond belief by beings so much more powerful than either of you. You dream of having to watch a patrol of Cloud Knights pin him to the ground as Mara consumes him.

Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.

The worst are those where you think you have woken up in bed with him. Mimi purrs at the foot of his stupid, indulgently large bed. Your cheek is pressed to his chest, warm and alive and okay, and he rumbles some laugh when you seem confused. He asks if you’d like breakfast. A bath. You should go to the markets together, shouldn’t you?

You dream of his body next to yours. Well and whole and intertwined.

You prefer to be awake; it allows you to feel like you have some semblance of control over your own mind. 

Horrors crop up into the forefront of your mind without warning often. Staying focused on your repairs helps you. Grounding yourself in the sting of the lubricant over your skin keeps your thoughts closer to the material, rather than the intangible fears that threaten to swallow you whole. 

Leaving only you to your work. Fixing. 

You wipe sweat from your brow, uncaring of the grease that smears across your skin and clumps in your hair. The panel in front of you is being particularly fuzzy. The parts are old. The impact from the Arbors sudden growth had damaged the delicate nature of the mechanisms. 

So, you tinker away.

Quantum threading, weaving, unraveling, trying again. And again, and again.

Your head pounds.

...

At some point, when checking your jade abacus, the diagnostic percentages have stopped going down. They’re actually going up, steadily and on their own.

You don’t believe it at first, but after... a while of keeping an eye on it, it doesn’t appear to be a fluke. Functionality is hovering around thirty-three percent, unfailingly, and rising a percentage every day or so. The panels you check appear to be healing themselves as well, albeit slowly. Thin, vermillion tendrils snake around in the oil to poke and prod as you have. Albeit, it’s not enough, but it provides a kernel of respite nonetheless.

Coincidentally, you run out of stellar lubricant around this same time as well.

The only option (as you’ve already pilfered the stores you’ve come across) is to ascend back to the surface of the Luofu and fetch more from the Artisanship Commission. 

You feel delirious when you rise fully and stretch your arms above your head. Your hands knock into the metal ceiling as your back cracks in at least four different places. Your knees ache. Your legs have long since cramped up. You feel stiff down to your bones, but you separate from the feeling. You must, there’s more important things to worry about. 

Ascending the catacombs is difficult. You hadn’t... realized quite how deep you’d gone for repairs. It takes quite some time to climb the thin utility ladders and weave the correct path upwards. You’re slowed by gravity and your own lethargy. The exertion takes its toll quickly, but you ignore it. You have a task to complete. 

(Your body's slick with sweat. Your vision threatens to tunnel.)

Perhaps you’ll pick up some proper rations as well. The nutritional power you had pilfered from the tunnel’s stores probably isn’t meant to be consumed in the long term. 

You come to surface through a shrouded doorway in a residential neighborhood. It’s warm, temperate as the Luofu usually is. There’s a pleasant breeze and the smell of grass and water in the air. It’s a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of oil and lubricant that you’re slicked with.

You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission. 

On your way, you get the occasional odd stare. A child points at you. You, perhaps, are covered in grime and attribute any gawking to that. Maybe? You’re due for a bath. Though with all the errands it appears you need to run, do you really have time for one? 

There’s a shop on the edge of the Artisanship Commission you duck into. The shopkeeper is speaking to another customer at the counter, but goes silent when you give him a friendly wave. You’re a regular here, after all. 

You grab as much of the lubricant as you can carry in your arms and place it on the counter, poking around in your pocket for your... phone. It’s probably out of battery.

“Could you put this on the Divination Commission’s tab?” You ask him. “It’s being used for official business.”

The shopkeeper is still looking at you, wide-eyed. Mouth hanging open. He stiffly nods and rings you up. 

Odd.

You think little of it. He slowly loads your jars into an old crate and hands it to you. 

“Be well.” You say on the way out. The shopkeeper does not reply. 

The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease. 

That feeling mounts the more you realize that people are looking at you, as you make your way to Aurum Alley for rations. One woman even tries to stop you, but you wave her off. You need to—

Get rations. Maybe take a shower. Descend again because there’s no way the systems can be sustained and heal fast enough on their own. You must work, you must toil.

And you mustn’t visit Jing Yuan.

Not yet. Not until you can forget how he looked, slack and half-dead in the arms of his men. Perhaps you should forget the face of the returned High Elder as well. You’ve— you’ve put together that he and Jing Yuan have some type of history. You know from the whisperings that the man saved Jing Yuan. 

(You can’t ever save him. You are not a fighter. You’re a well-paid mechanic.)

Rations.

You’re stopped before you ever are three steps into Aurum Alley by a group of Cloud Knights.

“Halt.” One of them says, raising her weapon. 

“... Pardon?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. The crate in your arms is too heavy for this. “Can I help you?”

“Please wait,” the tip of her guandao shines, “you are the Divination Commission’s Master Calibrator, correct?”

“... Yes?” You sigh. “I apologize, but I must get past you. I’m on official business. Supply run.” 

The Knight rotates her blade to the butt of it against your chest, applying light pressure. Holding you there, tucked between several buildings and fairly out of sight. Your stomach drops. 

“I can’t allow that.” 

“... Excuse me?”

You’re about ready to snap at the nervous-looking knight once more, but you’re interrupted. The sound of quick feet over stone stops behind you and frigid air begins to spill down your neck. You turn your head painfully over your shoulder. 

Yanqing, the fierce little thing, is poised behind you, spitting steam and frost. His gold eyes are angry, teeth bared. He looks exhausted. 

“You are being detained,” he says, angry and sharp.

“What?” You snap, turning to face him. He looks ready to raise his blade against you, hand twitching at his waist. That’s not your concern at this moment. “Yanqing— what are you—”

Yanqing’s eyes are shiny and wet.

Oh.

“You’re being detained by order of the Divine Foresight.” He says, voice unwavering despite the tears beading against his lower lashes. 

...

Yanqing seems like he’s seething as he leads you to one of Jing Yuan’s personal gardens. It’s on a terrace, high above most of the Luofu, far-away from any of the Commission's that may bother him when he is attempting to relax.

You know this garden well; it’s your favorite spot to relax in with Jing Yuan.

He leads you directly to Jing Yuan who is standing on an overlook, hand behind his back as he stares out over a roiling sea. The waves crash far below, the sound a mere echo. His shoulders are slack. He hardly looks angry. It’s rare that he ever does.

“General.” Yanqing says— he is angry. “I’ve brought them.”

“Oh?” Jing Yuan turns, a pleasant smile stretching across his face. “You found them?��

“Yes, in Aurum Alley.” Yanqing salutes and steps to the side.

You cross your arms and try not to cry.

Jing Yuan looks fine. He’s clearly in one piece. Whole. Whole. No visible injury, no new limp as he steps closer to you, examining you just as intently as you examine him. 

It’s a horrible relief to see him fine— even if you should scold him. If you had the energy, you would. You would rake him over the damn coals for endangering himself as he did. You will, later. Maybe. But for now—

“Am I done being detained?” You ask, malice in your voice. “I have work to do.”

“No hello?”

“Fine. Hello.”

“Hi,” Jing Yuan says more gently, beckoning you to a lovely looking pile of silk pillows and a thick mat. The perfect spot for a midday catnap. “I’m afraid I do intend to keep you for a bit longer. Sit, please.”

You don’t budge.

“Jing Yuan,” You say his name. Your voice doesn’t wobble, and you’re grateful for it. “I do not have time for this.”

He hums, “You do.”

“You must know the Luofu’s internals are shot.” He must, right? You need to get back. You need to keep fixing. “I do not have time for tea and a chat. Be forward with me, please.”

Jing Yuan, who has already sat down on the silks, looks up at you. He’s perfectly poised, relaxed like a big cat, but with sharp, watchful eyes. He’s choosing his words carefully, albeit quickly. 

“Did you know the Matrix of Prescience resumed function earlier today?” He tells you. “Early this morning, it awoke. Diviner Fu says the function is still minimal, but improving by the hour.”

There’s a wave of relief hearing that— at least the Divination Commission can resume somewhat normal activity. Fu Xuan is probably overjoyed. Maybe. You should check— you need to check. There may be calibrations to reconfigure on the surface. Aeons, there probably is and you’re foolish for not addressing those yet. You should. 

Jing Yuan says your name, gentle but unyielding, “Stay with me.”

“I’m— I’m glad the Matrix is working. But, there’s still much that needs to be addressed Jing Yuan. The Luofu’s fail safes— the vitality transmitters— the gamma diffusers—”

You feel overwhelmed and nauseous. You want to lay down and cry. You want to run away to the nearest hidden entrance to the tunnels and work. So badly do you want to flee, hide, and toil and fix this stupid ship.

(Because, you can’t look Jing Yuan in the eye for too long. He’s safe, but the memory of him half-dead is still living in your mind. It’s murky, but there. You need it to die. You need it to stop. You need—)

Jing Yuan takes your hands in his own. It shocks you out of your spiral as his thumbs graze your knuckles. It hurts. You wince without thinking to muffle it. Chemical abrasions and hives litter the skin of your hands. It tracks up your arms to your elbows, you see now. 

You flinch and try to pull away, but Jing Yuan keeps you there. Suspended.

“I had a meeting with the other Arbiter-Generals, just the other day.” Jing Yuan sounds wistful. “I was surprised to find out that every other ship in the Xianzhou Alliance’s fleet has at least four Master Calibrators. They were shocked to find the Luofu only having one.”

“That sounds embarrassing.”

“It was, perhaps,” Jing Yuan laughs in a good-natured way. “The other Generals were quite kind, and have sent a handful of Master Calibrators to the Luofu to assist with repairs. They’ll be here in the next day or so.”

“... Really?”

“Yes.” Jing Yuan sighs. “I’ll owe a favor or two, but it’s more than worth it.”

You don’t know what to think.

“I have to—”

“You’re actually being placed on a somewhat indefinite leave.” Jing Yuan then yanks you down into the pillows, to the thick mat, and into his arms. “I’m afraid I’ve missed you terribly. You’ve been incredibly difficult to track down.”

“I was just in the tunnels.” You try to push away from him. “Fu Xuan gave me this little tracker.” 

You tap the pendant on your chest.

“You went deep enough into the Luofu that this pendant only pinged your location every few days.” Jing Yuan raises you up, so you’re perched in his lap. You steady yourself on his chest. His living, breathing chest. “At one point, it didn’t register your vitals for a week.”

Jing Yuan says this quietly. It’s admission, given the tone of his voice. He sounds a bit stricken, almost pained. His brow is scrunched as he rubs up and down your shoulders.

“... A week?” 

“Indeed. You scared me quite badly, you know.”

Something in you aches. Guilt rises up your throat, but you don’t give yourself much time to examine it. Not yet. 

“You’re one to talk.” You murmur, hitting a fist against his chest angrily. “You threw yourself in front of a Lord Ravager?”

“A necessary blow that ensured victory.” Jing Yuan says simply. As if he is speaking about a feint during a sparring match, or a risky move in a star chess game. “A worthwhile opportunity, really—”

“You could have died.” You snap at him, finally looking at him down your nose, baring your teeth. You are tired and angry. It feels like you could swallow the sun and you would be fine with exploding. 

“I could have.” He hums. There’s more that he wants to say, you can tell. You can imagine what he could wax on about—

(“It would have been worth it if it guaranteed the Luofu’s safety.”

(“Am I not going to die already? I would think it be better to give my life for the safety of the people, rather than be decimated by Mara.”)

(“There are worse ways to die.”)

“You’re so foolish.” You want to cry. Maybe you are. Your head is pounding and your eyes hurt. “You can’t do that.”

“Ideally, I wouldn’t—”

“No, stop, just—” You grab his cheeks in your hands and bring your nose to press against his. You meet his eyes, gold and molten. “You cannot sacrifice yourself in such a way. I beg you to be selfish. If for no other reason than to give me a proper goodbye.”

(Jing Yuan had been distant in the days leading up to the Arbor’s reawakening. He’d been dodging your calls, ignoring pre-scheduled outings, and skimping on sleeping in your bed. When you’d seen the videos of his limp body and heard from Lady Fu that he was still unconscious, there was, perhaps, a moment where you believed that that was it. You wouldn’t get a goodbye. You’d only see a ragdolled corpse to mourn.)

What you’re asking of Jing Yuan is a siren song of Mara. You know this. To yearn is to suffer. To be attached is to suffer. To cling is to suffer. And suffering is to mara. You both know this. You dance with the stars and their weavings often enough to be suspended somewhat above other immortals— such things seem small in avenues of Aeons and destiny. 

Jing Yuan, however, is a master of separation. Meditation. He is quiet about the skills he’s cultivated. You notice them though— the way he measures his breathing, the conscious effort he makes to keep himself loose and slack. The way his memory is diced up, not from incensed Mara sprouts, but from missing pieces. Tragedies that have either been removed or blotted out from his own practice.

To save him from being swallowed by Mara.

And yet, you beg him to remember you. 

You almost retract, recoil, and run. This is too real. You have been in the General’s bed for who knows how long. It doesn’t matter that you have been his partner for the last several decades. You’ve never asked him to keep you in his thoughts— keep you like this. It has always felt too unfair of a thing to ask. 

“You,” You spit through tears, “Cannot leave me so cruelly. Not like that. Let me be precious to you, Jing Yuan, if only for a short time.”

There is no such thing as being endless without consequence, but perhaps the General can spare you his affections, truly, for a brief moment. Maybe it’s a pipedream. Maybe you’re delirious from lack of sleep and hunger and the high of feeling Jing Yuan solid and whole beneath you is simply too much.

Jing Yuan coaxes you to keep your head up when you try to duck into his neck. He buries a hand in your hand that quickly slides down to your nape. He holds a wide, warm palm there to steady you.

“Dear,” Jing Yuan strokes down your cheeks, rubbing away tears you can’t stop from falling. His smile is melancholy, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a broken smile. “I’m quite remissed. Have I not made it clear that I already think of you in such a way?”

You swallow.

“Probably not.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize— just— say it.” Not on his deathbed, or Mara-struck in chains and gnarled with Ginkgo leaves. 

Jing Yuan pauses, rubbing away tears from under your eyes and squeezing his hand that lingers on the back of your neck. He opens his mouth, flounders, then closes it. Then speaks.

“Beloved,” He begins and you’re already breaking. “I am sorry that I haven’t made it clear to you that you are dear to me. There are certain things that I cannot promise you as they are outside of my control as well as yours. But what I can assure you is that you are so incredibly dear to me. If I must continue to live as I do now, I would like to do so by your side. I apologize for not being forthright.”

“... So, no throwing yourself in front of Lord Ravagers?”

“... Sacrifices must be made.” Jing Yuan says, though his voice is, perhaps, more mournful. 

“You are not a sacrifice.” You swallow, the words burning you as well. “You are much more than just foder. You are— you’re dear to people. Dear to me. You are not to throw yourself in the line of fire as part of a convenient plan.” 

“I will not make you a promise that I cannot keep.” He is too duty-bound; it’s a practiced thing. You’ve heard he was once laze-about oaf who could barely handle a sword. You try to appeal to any remnants of that man.

“Then at least tell me.” You urge, beg. “Maybe there are other options you haven’t thought of. You get stuck in your head, you know.”

“Do I?” His smile turns mischievous and teasing.

“You—!” You headbutt him lightly and he rolls you into the silken blankets. 

The moment your back touches the softness below you, skull cushioned in the palm of Jing Yuan’s hand, you can feel exhaustion catching up with you.

“You must heed your own rules, love,” Jing Yuan tells you, covering your body with his. Silver hair falls in a veil around you. It’s like starlight. The memories of oil and machine parts feel far away. “No more running yourself ragged. Or hiding in the utility tunnels for a month.”

“... A month?” Your words slur. There’s no way you were down there for a month.

“Actually, a month and a week.” Jing Yuan says. His hand smooths over your front with a front. “You’ve lost weight. And as effortlessly radiant as you are, you do look quite poorly. I’m sure it’s nothing an indefinite, relaxing, extended, paid-leave can’t fix, hm?”

“Thas’ so long,” You say, your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re slipping.

“I know.” Jing Yuan kisses your forehead and remains there. “I missed you terribly.”

You want to say more. How desperately do you want to tell him, “I missed you too. I couldn’t stop thinking of you dying. I dreamed of your bed and warmth and wanted nothing more.” But your body is simply too tired. The... month of exhaustion catches up with you within the silks and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.

Jing Yuan hushes you when you whine, grabbing at him to drag him closer.

“Rest now.” He tells you. “You need it. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jing Yuan holds you in the soft blankets, flush against downy pillows and the plush of his chest. One of his hands finds home around your waist, the other over the crown of your head. 

You are tugged down— not in the bowels of Xianzhou’s Luofu, but into the arms of a lover and the hold of a deep and inexorable sleep.

The next time you’re awake, you’re swathed in buttery linens and pleasantly warm. Your world is fuzzy and unfocused, and at first you think you are dreaming.

It’s simply too pleasant.

Your cheek is pressed against Jing Yuan’s bare chest. You can tell from the softness of your cheek squished against the softness of his pectoral, along with the bit of silver fuzz that tickles your nose. He smells like you remember— notes of cedar oils and herbs, mixing with the scent of his own stale sweat from whatever training he completes with Yanqing. 

It’s comforting and familiar. This is why it must be a dream.

So you cling to Jing Yuan. The arm thrown over his chest constricts. The leg you have loosely thrown over his own tangles and hooks him closer. You shimmy higher to press your nose to the underside of his jaw and inhale. 

Jing Yuan chuckles, a rumbling thing that’s hoarse with sleep, “Good morning to you too.”

You do not open your eyes. Rather, you squeeze them shut, and cling to the dream.

His hand glides up your back, finding home on your waist once more before giving you a squeeze, “You can sleep more, you have quite the deficit to make up for.”

You grumble. You’re practically on top of him, like it would prolong the pleasant illusion your mind is creating. 

Your own palm rests over his chest, and you pause. There’s a texture that’s new. Scar tissue beneath your finger tips that runs little rivers over his flesh. Jing Yuan’s breath hitches as you trace them. You pull away from the safety of his throat to peer down at his chest. New scars litter his chest, all connected webs of damage. The skin is puckered and freshly healed.

This is not a dream.

“Oh,” you say, softly. 

“I apologize. Your favorite canvas has been a bit marked up.” Jing Yuan sighs. 

“Jing Yuan.” You squeak and bat at his chest. “Don’t speak of your body and condition in such a way.”

“Why not? I so have missed your marks on me, you know. It’s been a lonely recovery period—”

“Jing. Yuan.” You tug at his hair playfully. “It is too early for you to be teasing me.”

“I don’t think it’s ever ‘too early’ for such things.” Jing Yuan laughs. “Besides, I think you quite like it.”

“Cruel man.”

“You wound me.” There’s no bite to either of your voices. Just something warm and underused. 

You press a kiss to his cheek and nudge your nose into the pudge of it, “Truly?”

“No.” Jing Yuan pulls you up by your waist, holding you flush to him as he turns to face you. You are chest to chest, nose to nose. “There’s no need to worry about the nips of a kitten, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You awful, awful man—” You say with a burgeoning smile that you can’t help but wear. 

Jing Yuan cups a large, warm palm against your jaw and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s indulgent, just like the ridiculously-sized bed you’re entangled in and the silken sleep pants you can feel him wearing. Your smile into it— you missed this. 

Why did you miss it—?

Oh. 

You pull away, eyes widening, “Jing Yuan, the ship. I have— repairs. I have to—”

He silences you with a quick kiss, racking his nails down your back and you gasp.

“The repairs are being taken care of by a few honored guests from the Xuling and Yuque. Diviner Fu is their point of contact and guide for the duration of their stay. They will be completing the remaining restoration while you enjoy your leave.”

“I mean—” You flounder, panic is bursting in your chest. “They can contact me— I know what needs to be fixed, I can at least make a list—?”

Jing Yuan hums, grip getting tighter around your hips. It’s a shadow of something you’ve seen in him before— it’s a bit possessive. 

“Once again, dear, you are on indefinite leave by order of the Seat of Divine Foresight by the Arbiter General himself.” He reminds you with a glint in his eye. “You needn’t make any lists or instructions for our guests. Diviner Fu is more than capable of directing them as necessary. Actually, I believe she’ll quite like it.”

“You’re pulling rank on me?” 

“As I have every right to do.” Jing Yuan doesn’t relent. More sweetly, he continues. “As your lover, I would also be much happier to see you recovering in bed than anywhere else.”

“… Are the gardens off limits?”

“No, though I’d recommend giving yourself a few days of minimal activity.” Jing Yuan frowns then. “I don’t believe you realize it, but you are quite weak at the moment.”

“... Really?”

“Lady Bailu’s cloudhymns are quite advanced these days.” He rubs a thumb below your eyes, over what must be a dark circle. “But, her skills mostly lie in healing flesh wounds and disease. You are malnourished, dehydrated, and... overall rundown.”

“... The Dragon Lady is going to give me an earful, isn’t she?”

“In time.” Jing Yuan laughs. He brings one of your hands up to his face to press his lips to your knuckles. No longer covered in burns and irritated hives, but still bearing light scarring. 

Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.

“Do I need to prepare?”

“Perhaps not as much as you think.” Jing Yuan hums, pulling the sheets over your heads. “She examined you while you were asleep a few times. She has already scolded you plenty, even if you don’t remember it.”

“Did I wake up at all?”

“Barely. It was almost concerning.” Jing Yuan tugs you closer and tucks your head under his chin. “I did manage to have you sip some water and give you a wipe down though. Admittedly, you do need a proper bath.”

You nearly moan. 

The idea of a bath is downright erotic. Though you don’t feel as greasy and as sticky as you could, given Jing Yuan had kindly gotten the worst of it off of you, the idea of being truly clean sounded pornographic.

Especially, given you were at Jing Yuan’s residence, and in addition to his indulgently large and comfortable bed, he also had an indulgently large and opulent self-heating bath. The idea of having a long soak and scrub has you burying your face into Jing Yuan chest and squeezing around his middle.

“I want it.” 

“A bath?” 

“Yes. And you. And a meal. Lots of things, actually.” Enough to make your head spin. It feels like your slowly waking mind is all out of sorts. 

“Let’s start with a meal and a bath, then.” Jing Yuan offers. “Perhaps after a nap?”

You don’t need to be persuaded. 

It’s a kinder sleep you sink into. Less bottomless and far warmer. Jing Yuan kisses you breathless and a bit stupid as you drift off, chuckling against your lips as you grumble and grouse at him, before being tugged down into sleep once more.

...

“How are you feeling?”

You ask Jing Yuan this as you give yourself a pre-bath rinse behind an ornate screen. The wet cloth clutched in your hands drips fat droplets of water onto the polished, glass tile beneath your feet. Soap clings to your body, falling into little rivulets, taking the worst of your grime down the nearby drain. Watching the iridescent bubbles distracts you from the weight of your own words.

You’ve been wanting to ask Jing Yuan this for—

(Weeks, probably, actually, in the time of the Xianzhou Alliance’s calendar. At least you since you saw him nearly lifeless in the grainy cell phone footage.)

Since you have woken and were sleepily led to Jing Yuan’s opulent, resplendent private baths, at least.

From the other side of the screen, Jing Yuan answers, “I feel fine, dear.”

“Physically?”

“I’ve had more than enough time to recover.” 

“... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.”

You hate asking this, but you know it’s necessary. You’re sure Jing Yuan is being monitored for Mara-onset symptoms; there’s no way he couldn’t be. You don’t see any obvious ones. But, Mara is the most extreme of afflictions. 

He laughs again, and you can feel him shaking his head like it can shake off your concern, “I assure you, I’m more than fine. Having to be responsible for so much paperwork again is painful, but doable.”

He’s dodging your question, albeit with less finesse than he normally would. 

“Would you blame me if I doubted that answer?”

“No, not at all.”

You sigh and rinse the last of the suds from your body. It’s tedious, this roundabout game with Jing Yuan, but he is rarely forthcoming with personal information. Whether that’s memories of his life before you entered it, political stratagem, or his own mental state— it’sall veiled. You’ve gotten more adept at playing his games, but you truthfully don’t know if you have the energy to try.

You rub your hand over your face. One thing at a time.

You pluck the robe Jing Yuan had supplied from the top of the screen and wrap yourself in the (thin, wispy, objectively indecent) garment. It’s not doing much to cover you at all, as the light, silken fabric clings to the wet curves of your body. You appreciate the attempt at modesty in the same way you appreciate Jing Yuan idling on the other side of the screen. 

You feel like a doe on uneven ground still. Jing Yuan probably expects this.

He guides you to the bath, steering into more light-hearted chatter. He tells you what Yanqing has been up to since he has resumed his office, once again asking for swords and seemingly training with a new vigor and intensity. He has been begging the General to spar with him all hours of the day. Or, call back his newfound friends from the Astral Express for a round or two. Qingzu will be taking a much-needed vacation in the coming weeks. Jing Yuan’s carmelias and bluebell astrums have begun to bloom. 

You nod along, only half-there. 

Jing Yuan eases your robe off your shoulder as he speaks. His voice is low and a bit rough from his own nap. The broad planes of his palms and fingers smooth over your shoulders and peel the fabric down. His thumb worries the marred skin of your forearms.

“We’ll make sure your next meals are particularly hearty. These should heal up quickly, wouldn’t you say?” He coaxes. 

You nod, staring at the burns. They’ll be nothing but worn-looking scars in a matter of weeks. 

Your robe is slung over a cart, filled with a collection of luxurious bath oils and soaps. Jing Yuan only has a few indulgences— his sprawling, soft bed, his many gardens, and his opulent, resplendent private bath laid with emerald green glass tiles and a sunken tub that could’ve been counted as a pool given its size. You’re grateful for it— though you’ve only used it a handful of times. The General has a habit of taking quick showers, unless he has the better part of the day to lounge in the perfectly-warmed water.

You try not to linger on your own nakedness, though you can feel Jing Yuan surveying you. There must be bruises on your waist from the heavy belt you were wearing. Visible weight loss too. You busy yourself by untying the sash of Jing Yuan’s robe and pulling it from his shoulders. It had already been somewhat open, revealing the marred expanse of his chest. Thin, spidery scars that clearly stretched over most of his body.

Typically, Xianzhou Native bodies heal with little scarring. But, these wounds were carved by a Lord Ravager. You’re unsure if they will follow the same logic. 

You will love Jing Yuan, obviously, regardless of any lasting marks. But the thought still makes you sad— something in you aches. You trace the scars leading down from his chest to his softened tummy to the v of his hips. His cock is soft between his legs. It’s too dark in the bath to tell if the scars extend there as well. 

“You look troubled.” He says, pausing his stories.

“I worry for you, so much.” You tell him. 

Meeting his eyes is difficult. The honey-stone color of them looks darker in the dimly-lit chamber, but you can easily see the crease between his brow. There’s clear concern, perhaps a bit overwritten by his need to conceal his hand.

Perhaps he is too tired himself to be as careful as he usually is.

(Good. If there’s anyone who he can let his guard down around, Aeons, let it be you.)

Jing Yuan helps you into the tub. First, he enters, sliding into the steaming water with a shudder. He extends his hand to you as you take unsure steps onto the slick tiling. The water is the perfect temperature— not too hot, but pleasantly warm in a way that won’t lead to overheating. You hide your body under the water and sink up to your chin and sigh.

It feels heavenly.

Jing Yuan chuckles as you do and smoothes a hand over the top of your head. He’s already reaching for a few bottles on the nearby cart, pouring a few under the steady gurgle of water that flows from a wide tap. It’s entrancing to watch— equally as entrancing is the breadth of Jing Yuan’s shoulder, marred by the scarring. He’s beautiful in a way that makes your stomach knot.

You end up settled with your back pressed to his front, laid in his lap, almost dozing as he massages shampoo into your hair.

“I’m filthy, aren’t I?” You ask.

Jing Yuan hums, “I’ve never seen you this unkempt, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses the back of your soapy skull. “You needn’t apologize for anything. I’m not upset with you.”

“... Okay.” You concede. He goes back to dutifully washing your hair, then follows it with conditioner and securing your hair up and out of the water as necessary. His idle talk has stopped, the space filled by the running water and your own breath.

“May I wash yours?” You ask. 

“You still have your body, love.”

“I know,” You reply sheepishly. “At least let me get your conditioner in?”

Jing Yuan laughs, and coaxes you to turn with his big hands wrapped around your waist under the waist. You spin his lap, straddling him. It’s a precarious position, but you... missed it. Nudging yourself closer, you lean into him, chest to chest, and deflate.

He laughs, something rich and warm that radiates from his body into your own, “It really is hard work, bathing, isn’t it?”

“No,” You muffle your words into his collarbones. “Just give me a minute.”

“Of course,” His arms wrap firmly around your waist, locking you together. He’s hot— he runs like a furnace even when not in a toasty bath. There’s a bit of sweat dripping down his neck and you’re tempted to lick it away.

Maybe later, for now you bask.

You bask in the fact that Jing Yuan is here, warm and alive. You want to commit him to memory— better than you have. If it forsakes you to Mara in a few decades, you do not care. You had forgotten the softness of his chest, the curve of his waist and the point of his nose. The details of Jing Yuan had become so fuzzy in such a short time. You’re sure Lady Bailu would assert it had something to do with your ‘chronic sleep deprivation’, but you’re not sure if you agree with that potential diagnosis.

Spending too much time attuned to immaterial quantum fields erodes your psyche, probably. 

“So deep in thought.” Jing Yuan runs a head down your back. “Take a break to rinse, hm?”

“I haven’t gotten yours in yet, though?”

“We can take our time. Besides, I bathed this morning. This is all for pleasure.”

“... Pleasure, huh?”

Jing Yuan flashes you a grin burgeoning on mischievous, “Yes, pleasure, in whatever form that may come. Is that what’s plaguing you, dear?”

“No, not at all.” You sigh and lean back from him, cupping his cheeks. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jing Yuan says. His cards are showing— his voice is straining, pitched in a way that indicates he’s sad in his chest. The thing between your ribs aches.

“I was worried.”

“So you have said.” Jing Yuan cajoles you down, slipping your head half in the water to rinse away your conditioner. He suspends you with a single arm. His musculature is obscene. 

“How could I not be?” You clench your jaw. “I saw videos of you being taken to the Alchemy Commission— you— you looked—”

Half-dead. 

Corpse-like. 

Steps from death’s door.

On your way to the grave.

Dead.

Jing Yuan calls your name, rubbing soothing little circles over the small of your waist, “I’m well now, dear.”

“But you almost weren’t.” Your voice breaks. You don’t mean for it to. You tuck yourself into his neck and hide.

You don’t want to cry, but you can feel something welling up from within your guts. It’s the thing you pushed down relentlessly in the bowels of the Luofu. As you tinkered and toiled in the depths of the ship, you never let this ache spill over, lest you drown. Whether that’s in Mara or a less permanent type of suffering, you do not know.

“But I am.” Jing Yuan assures you. “I am here now, aren’t I? Whole and in one piece.”

You know this. You know this. But— You drag your fingernails over his shoulder blades. Jing Yuan shudders as you do.

“It’s hard.”

“I know.” 

The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.

“I thought you were going to keel over in the gardens when Yanqing first brought you to me.” Jing Yuan confesses. “I’d been pestering Lady Fu on the hour for any updates about your whereabouts and communications.”

“... I wasn’t communicating with anyone, though.”

“I know.” Jing Yuan has a thread of... contempt to it. “I wish you would have.”

“What could I have said?”

“I’m not sure,” Jing Yuan tangles a hand in your washed hair and tilts your face to meet his. “But, I’m sure you would’ve found the right words.”

He kisses you. Or you kiss him. Who’s to say.

You don’t have the right words— you may never. Certainly not in your mind or on your tongue now. The thing that rises in your throat is carnal and old and writhing— want. Verging on need. You struggle to keep the kiss chaste, closed lips pressed together after so long apart

Perhaps Jing Yuan has a similar depth that’s clawing at his insides. 

He tilts his head, dragging you closer. Close as can be. He kisses you in a silently desperate way. You accept his advances and tangle your hands in his hair. Tug him closer and closer and closer.

(Don’t go. Please don’t go. Not yet.)

(Not until we’re both split apart by gingko roots and dappled in noontime sunlight.)

You gasp his name as you break apart for breath, smoothing your thumbs down his cheekbones and jaw. His pupils are blown and desperate.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, always so polite.

“Please—” 

Jing Yuan kisses you again, deeper and pulling you into the depths of the bath. His hands trail down to your thighs, squeezing along the way. Calloused and wide, familiar. The feel of them is coming home, you hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

You keen against his lips and Jing Yuan laughs— the gall of that man.

His flips you easily, caging you against the edge of the pool. This way, he has height over you. He looms, casting a flickering shadow in the amber light of the beeswax candles scattered about. You swallow as you watch droplets of water slide down his throat, chest, tummy. His forearms make you feel dizzy.

“May I have you?” He asks, once again. “Not yet— but I don’t want to progress if you’re not feeling fit for it.”

“N-No,” You feel desperate, you sound desperate. Sensitive and clawing, the beast that you buried in the depths of the Luofu crawls out of your throat and wraps itself around you. Tears spring to your eyes. “Please? Just— be slow—”

Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.

He thumbs over the fragile skin beneath your eyes, as if wiping the stray tear could wipe away the dark circles punched there as well. 

“Of course.” He assures you and presses his lips to your forehead.

...

Jing Yuan takes ‘slow’ both seriously and literally. You are both grateful and horribly frustrated by this. You almost regret not telling Jing Yuan to simply bend you over the lip of the bath and fuck you senseless, though Jing Yuan probably would not have granted you that even if you had asked. He loves to savor when he can. Bedding you is no exception— even under more typical circumstances.

And these aren’t typical circumstances.

Perhaps you should’ve known Jing Yuan intended to break you apart and stitch you back together.

He doesn’t escalate things much further in the bath, despite petting down your sides and seeming to always have his lips on you. You wash his hair as you’d ask to, scratching at his scalp and relishing the almost-purr he lets out as he wraps himself around you. When you start to just barely grind in his lap (squirm, more than anything), he is quick to still you with an iron-like hold on your hips, pinning you down and over his thighs. 

“Not yet,” He tells you, nipping at your jaw. “Be patient.”

You huff. 

Jing Yuan takes charge of finishing washing you, using gentle touch and a soft cloth from your ankles to the crown of your head. His touch lingers, starting some low burning flame low in your gut that you have a feeling won’t be quenched for quite some time. 

It’s tortuous. It’s wonderful.

After you towel each other off, he leads you back to his rooms, only in the damp robes and undergarments he’d dutifully remembered to bring along. The silk clings to Jing Yuan’s bulk as he walks beside you. His hand is on your lower back. Little bugs chirp in the courtyard gardens you pass. There’s the gurgle of a fountain. The soft breeze that Luofu always keeps, even on the most temperate days of summer. It’s all so different from the acrid smell of lubricant and the ambient machine hum you had become so used to.

“I’m only on leave, not house arrest, correct?” You ask as you enter his wing, to his bedroom. 

He locks the door behind you as you step inside. 

“No, no house arrest.” Jing Yuan hums as he strips off his robe. You want to bite him. “You’re free to roam within reason.”

“Does ‘within reason’ include the nursery that outlander keeps in the Exalting Sanctum?” 

“Of course. Though I may assign you a chaperone.”

“Really? Would you send Yanqing with me for a quick run to grab a new shrub or two.”

Jing Yuan laughs, something rich and full that rolls over you like a fleeced quilt, “I figured that I would be your chaperone, dear. If you’d allow.”

“... You’re making this sound like a date, General.”

“Am I?” Jing Yuan smiles so honeyed, it makes something in your chest begin to crack. You lay your hands on his bare chest and hold your ear to his chest. He laughs when you do. “I’d like it if it was. If you’d have me.”

“Of course I would.”

You say it so simply.

You want to crawl into his body and live there, and break any spindly seedlings of Mara away with your own two hands.

Jing Yuan kisses you, walking you back into the door. His lips are soft, a bit chapped in a way that’s familiar and comforting. You run a hand up and down his chest, stopping to squish one of his ample pecs. You muffle a laugh into Jing Yuan’s lips as he stutters out a groan. Sweet, sweet man. 

“I missed you,” You tell him once more, hoping your words seep past the seam of his lips, down his throat and sink into his guts. 

Jing Yuan responds by pressing you into the door, using the warm line of his body to flatten you to the wood. His kiss verges on desperate, tongue insistent at the seam of your lips, hands tugging you close, close, closer. You yield to him, whining as his tongue licks into your mouth, the taste of him so familiar it makes you ache.

You tug at his hair and urge him closer, if that is possible.

His touch is searing as he breaks away, panting, eyes hot. Scalding. His hair is down, drying to a fluffy, untamed mane around his cheeks and shoulders. It’s charming. You thumb over his cheeks with a smile. He leans into your touch while giving you a soft smile.

“The reign you have over me.” He sighs. You don’t get a chance to question him— his thigh slots between your own and your breath catches with the contact.

You haven’t been touched in so long.

You cling to his shoulders and just barely grind on his thigh— as much as his hold on your waist will allow. Jing Yuan’s kisses trail from your lips to over your cheeks and down your throat. He stops at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, nosing into the spot.

“Such a lovely scent,” He hums.

“I-I bet I smelled horrible before, h-huh?” You laugh as he begins to worry a patch of skin. Tender and fragile, perfect for bruising.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say that.” His teeth graze your throat and your head falls back into the door with thud. Jing Yuan shields your skull with his hands a beat later. “You’d be surprised how many times we’ve shared a bed and you’ve reeked of your favorite brand of astral lubricant.”

“Jing Yuan!” You shriek with a laugh and bat at his shoulders. “You’re so cruel.”

“What, do you not like when I tease you?”

“Scoundrel.”

“I think you do like it.”

You missed bantering with him.

“I love you.” You tell him. He knows— you know this. Declarations of love are rare for the long-lived. At least so directly— to care so deeply is to damn yourself to a faster descent into Mara. Though, to live and deprive yourself of companionship and love is to be dead while living. There’s a tender balance between connection and detachment. Both you and Jing Yuan are intimately familiar with it and indulge together.

Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.

It hurts, enough that you jolt and squirm against his body. Jing Yuan holds you into place, sucking on the skin he’d sunk his teeth into. It’s higher on his neck than he’d usually mark you. 

(He’s leaving it to be seen. You are Jing Yuan’s, loved and held.)

(What a wretched man.)

By the time he pulls away, you’re panting. Tears have welled up on your lash line. It hurts and it hurts even more when Jing Yuan runs a high thumb over the quickly rising skin. You gasp and Jing Yuan catches your chin in the wide palm of his hand.

You meet his gaze, intense and lighting-vibrant. You’re panting with an open mouth. 

“How lovely.” And he presses a kiss to a corner of your mouth. 

Jing Yuan guides you to his ridiculously large bed (that could surely fit up to five bodies and a fully grown, white lion.) The sheets have been changed, though you have a feeling they’ll be dirtied again by the morning. 

It’s gentle, the way he hastens you higher up the mattress before giving you a light shove into a mound of pillows. You hook your legs around his waist, drawing him as close as he’ll allow. 

He massages the meat of your thighs. His gaze goes long, and a bit unfocused, though it's trained on you. 

(You wonder what he’s thinking. Jing Yuan is so careful, always so ginger and measured in his steps. Still, there’s a fire in him that you often overlook. It’s the part of him that keeps a lion as a housemate, raised a young boy into a champion, and... you suppose urged him to become the Luofu’s sacrificial lamb in the face of the Destruction.)

You gulp, throat bobbing. Perhaps, you know your General to be a docile, indolent man who prefers naps and board games too much else. Perhaps you have overlooked, or rather forgotten, that you once saw the Divine Foresight as a warlord, given what you’d read about him in the data banks during your studies on the Yuque. 

Jing Yuan’s hand drifts down your front. You’re still wearing your robe. Gentle touch peels it away, leaving you in just a pair of thin panties. They’re a soft, breathable fabric— the kind that will surely show your interest in the General. (You have a feeling Jing Yuan picked them out for that reason expressly.) 

Jing Yuan presses the pad of his thumb over your clit through the fabric. 

You aren’t expecting it, and arch your back with a squeak. His hand lays hot at the innermost part of your thigh, at the fragile skin where it meets your more sensitive parts. 

“I-I thought you said you’d go slow.” You squirm. 

“Of course.” Jing Yuan remains unmoving, applying just enough pressure to be maddening. “I intend to.” 

With how sensitive you are, you need him to be slow. Your body feels tender out of the bath— cooked and raw all at once. Your muscles still ache from your time in the tunnels and you feel... atrophied, if anything. 

Jing Yuan must know this, and you trust him to keep his word. 

He makes his way home between your thighs, laying over your front to kiss you once more. This is slow, every lick and nip thoughtful, every barely-there roll of his hips is intentional. You’re not sure where he finds the restraint. 

You pet through his hair, softening incrementally with each soft touch he gives you.

He pulls away, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed. It’s cute to see the General so disheveled. He’d never look this out of it and starry-eyed outside of this shared bedroom. It makes you giddy. You smother his cheeks with kisses and let him muffle laughter into your skin. 

It’s all soul-splitting.

It’s good. The proximity is warm and inviting. You missed the richness of his bed, the scent of incense and the candles you stock the room with. You missed the roll of his muscles underneath your fingertips and the mirthful glint that flashes in his eyes whenever he thinks he has you on the ropes.

You were so scared of losing this.

It hits you in the chest, caving you in, breaking rib and bone. You were so scared— terrified that this dance you’ve become so adept at sharing with Jing Yuan would end before you were ready for it too. You know that you’ll both fall to Mara, it’s inevitable— but you don’t want it to happen yet. You’re not ready for the final flourish. You weren’t ready for Jing Yuan’s cradled, near lifeless body to be the dying gasp of the partnership you had.

You know it's foolish to think this way. Things— all things, are bigger than mortal minds. Paths cut by the stars, brushstrokes by Gods and Aeons that dictate the lives and destiny of all. You are one mind, one body, one tender spirit. You cannot fight against such forces. You will be crushed.

But, for now, you savor. Take each moment and be grateful even as it slips, honey-warm and molten, between your fingers to be replaced by another in the next instant, equally as lovely. Piled on each other. It is enough. 

You crush Jing Yuan to you, hard and fast enough that the wind is knocked out of him, “Please be more careful with yourself.”

I can’t lose you just yet.

“I will try.” His voice is a comforting curl over you. He strokes over your temples and forehead.

“N-No, you must.” 

You don’t know the words yet for what you want to tell him. The feelings are too large, too unmanageable. Maybe attuning to the Luofu’s quantum fields has rotted your brain. You’ve lost your words. 

With some cajoling, you flip Jing Yuan onto his back. 

Sitting up over his hips, you set upon his neck. First with soft kisses, just as he gave you, then with nips and stronger bites. Then a chomp below his jaw. His hips crest upwards, his hands spasming around your waist as he holds you steady. The sounds that leak from him make you want to crawl down his throat. 

You suck and bite at the mark until you’re satisfied, pulling away to see his pale skin bruising darker by the moment. You admire the popped blood vessels with what must be a dreamy expression on your face.

“Leaving your mark on me?” Jing Yuan asks, breathless and light. 

“It’s only fair.” You kiss his smile, sharing it, “Just as you did to me.”

Running your hands down his chest, you frown at the scars. 

“What if I joined the Cloud Knights?” You ask him. 

Jing Yuan looks a bit... surprised, “Why would you do that? Though, perhaps, giving up your position as Master Calibrator would be reasonable, given recent events.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You watch the rise and fall of Jing Yuan’s chest with an ache in your own. “If I was stronger, I could protect you, couldn’t I?”

Tears well up in your eyes.

Jing Yuan opens his mouth to speak, you hear his inhale, but you cut him off, “I-If I was a fighter, or just a Diviner, couldn’t I help more? Could I— could I have stopped this? Or stop something horrible from happening in the future? I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

It should be a bit funny, maybe, that you’re sitting on the waist of the half-hard Divine Foresight, in tears, asking him if you could protect him. A man treated as nearly infallible, a legend amongst people who so rarely have them. He has an eternal spirit gifted by an Aeon tied to his very being. 

And yet you, something of a mechanic and professional tinkerer, beg to protect him.

“Oh, [Name].” He says, mournful. 

You swallow down a sob and tears drip from your eyes to splatter on his chest. Your vision blurs and you rake your nails down his chest. More raised marks— yours struck on him this time. Jing Yuan winds a hand in your hair, strokes down your neck, tries to calm you but it's hard. You can’t catch yourself. 

“I’m s-sorry—” You tell him between gulps of air. You’re supposed to be being bed right now, fucked stupid and more brainless than you already are, but you’re crying and the panic welling up in your chest feels bottomless and vast. 

“No apologies,” Jing Yuan hushes you, rubbing away tears. “You’re alright. I understand.”

“You do?” You snort. It’s blotted out by a proper sob that you hide in Jing Yuan’s chest. 

“How could I not?” He rubs over your dark circles under your eyes, then the bruising around your hips. The softness around your waist that’s not as plump as it was a month ago. “Do you think I didn’t contend with traversing the tunnels myself and pulling you out by your scruff?”

“... You did?” 

He pauses. 

“Everyday.” Jing Yuan admits after a moment. Any admission from him is hard earned. 

“Oh.”

You blink, and cry all over again because you feel silly and foolish all over. He hushes you, petting over your cheeks, back, hips— anywhere he can reach. He’s good at soothing, knowing what strokes to provide and where. 

“Did you think I didn’t worry?”

“I—I don’t know,” You shake your head. “You had more important things to worry about, right? And— and you were recovering.”

“I asked to see you, you know.”

“... I was told.”

“What did you think that meant?”

“... I don’t know.” You don’t. “I just— I was being a coward. I was scared to see the extent of your injuries before the ship was repaired fully. I wanted— I wanted things to be okay. I didn’t want to go to the surface and see that Vidyadhara who saved you.” 

“... Dan Heng?”

“Sure.” Lizard. Fucker. 

“... You’re jealous?”

“No.” Oh, yes. Entirely. “I just— he got to carry you. I have to join the Cloud Knights and get strong enough to do so myself. It’s only fair. You’re mine, not some lizard’s.”

Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens. 

You besmirch the not-quite outlander easily. You do not know him— you’ve heard whispers. Nothing from Jing Yuan, and you do not pry at his past (and he doesn’t pry at yours.) You know they have a connection from before your time on the Luofu. You don’t fully know its nature, but judging by the passing... grief that Jing Yuan wears, if only for a moment, you can guess. Infer.

(Something of lovers. Almost lovers. If nothing else, Jing Yuan cared for him very much.)

“You needn’t worry about Dan Heng, dear,” he gently. says. “Such things are in the past now. He has moved onto a different shore, and is quite happy on the Astral Express.”

“... He’s not coming to steal you?”

“No,” he laughs, looking mournful again. “I’m certain he has no interest in such things.”

He speaks so sadly. Not heartbroken, it’s not that fresh. He speaks through a wound with a type of melancholy that resonates in your chest like a minor chord. You resist the urge to say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ 

“Do you wish he would?”

Jing Yuan pauses.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Not anymore. We have both grown.”

And he pets over your cheek before kissing you. You know he’s telling you the truth. 

...

Jing Yuan does not allow haste, and neither do you. Perhaps, you both are feeling fragile. You keep breaking each other open, only to help the other reassemble their pieces a moment later. 

Jing Yuan enjoys savoring physical contact, regardless of circumstance or propriety. He steals touches in public in a way that’s indulgent, but never overt. He licks into your mouth with the pace like cooling honey. Each does is meant to brand. You’re meant to feel it, feel him, for as long as the moment will allow. He savors you with hitches of his own breath, a desperation of his own bubbling under his surface. 

You can be a bit shy when he truly gluts himself this way. It’s so overt. It tears something in you, and reveals a squishy, softer center that you’re anxious to show anyone. Even a lover like Jing Yuan who has shown you time and time again there is nothing to fear, other than his own foolhardy decisions. 

Jing Yuan probably likes it when he gets to be this slow. Peeling back layer after layer of you, forcing you to luxuriate in the unfamiliar warmth, and be reminded that he is there and sturdy. 

Jing Yuan is laid between your thighs, your legs over his shoulder. His thick forearm is braced across your navel, your hand held in his. Your fingers are intertwined. His other hand pets at the back of your thighs as you shudder. 

You’re sensitive.

Jing Yuan eats your cunt with the pace of a man who has nothing to lose, no phases of the moon to observe, and something to prove. He laps at your center, squeezing your hand with each jolt of your hips against his mouth.

The stroke of his tongue is slow and unhurried. He’s enjoying himself, savoring your taste, humming and groaning when you inadvertently grind against his mouth. During a more routine fuck, Jing Yuan enjoys when you anchor yourself with a grip in his hair and fuck his face. Any impulse you could have to indulge in such a way tonight is quelled. His grip is unyielding on your hand. Your free hand is tangled in the sheets, occasionally shakily pushing Jing Yuan’s mane away from his forehead so you can watch him tongue fuck you with the pace of the lazy, sunbathing cat.

You drop your head to the nest of pillows behind you with a groan and throw your arm over your eyes.

Jing Yuan chuckles against your cunt and flicks his tongue over your clit. He sucks and you want to sob. He hasn’t let you built up to any release— it’s long form teasing, it’s torture. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, sticky from your own slick and his saliva. You’re messy.

(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)

Jing Yuan had made a point to tease you in your thin panties before putting his mouth on you at all. Stroking over the fabric, barely dipping his fingers under the thin, lace waistband. He kissed your covered pussy until you were almost tearing the sheets in your balled up fists. 

Jing Yuan still hasn’t put anything inside of you. You know it will be— tight. Jing Yuan has large hands and a proportionally large cock (that most Xianzhou Alliance gossip forums still undersize). Part of his slowness is necessary. 

The tip of a finger teases your hole and you kick at his back in surprise.

“F-Finally giving in?”

“I’m not giving in at all,” Jing Yuan pulls away from your cunt to speak, wet and sloppy around his mouth. Eyes half-lidded and so, so content. “I’ve never had anything other than the intention to open you on my tongue and my fingers. What gave you any other impression?”

“Bastard.”

He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.

“Yours.”

You smile, stupid and a little love drunk, and stroke his hair, “Mine.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze darkens for a moment— something passes there. A thought you can’t read from him or glean anything from. The headiness of the moment temporarily breaks, and for an instant you think that something is wrong. You almost push yourself off the bed in a fit of concern—

But Jing Yuan begins the slow press of his finger into your cunt. 

You gasp and squirm, flinching almost. Jing Yuan bears his weight on your waist and keeps you in place as you do, intently watching your expression and parted, wet lips. You’re flayed. It’s just a finger, but it feels big. His fingers are big— a bit calloused, but softer than you’d think.

As he sinks the digit into you, you pant. He kisses your clit, encouraging you to open up for him, murmuring little words of praise that sit in your brain pleasantly but are hard to make distinct. You go slack into the mound of pillows as his mouth returns to your cunt, the single finger fully inside you, resting as you tremble. 

With a suck to your clit, he crooks the finger up.

It feels good. The spot is tender. Jing Yuan knows just where to apply pressure, the pace and angle are so, so good. He’s memorized this part of you. A month apart isn’t going to remove that knowledge. 

He teases you like this— never letting you rise too close to release. The roiling tendrils of arousal in your gut stay there, like stoked embers without tinder to light anew. You take it— you take what he gives you. You relish each touch, lick, and kiss.

“Jing Yuan—” You gasp his name as he removes the single finger to begin to stretch you with two.

Two is— it’s a lot. Normally, it wouldn’t be. Maybe, you’d beg for more, and beg for more faster. But now, two stings and aches on your insides. You claw at his hair and whine in the back of your throat. Jing Yuan hushes you and spits on his fingers, the extra bit of lubrication helping somewhat, but you’re tight and wound.

“Are you alright?” Jing Yuan asks as he massages the most sensitive spot in your cunt. He asks genuinely, not as a tease.

“‘S tight,” You squeeze out, wiggling your hips. 

“Am I being gentle enough?”

“Uh-huh,” You pet over his forehead. “Thank you?”

“Of course.” Jing Yuan chuckles. “Does it feel good?’

“Y-Yeah,” You whine as Jing Yuan curls his fingers, thumb pressed against your clit and rolling the pearl of itl. “I-It’s unfair.”

“What’s unfair?” 

“That you make me feel s-so good,” You don’t know how else to articulate it. The feral thing in your chest crawls over your body once more, and jerks your hips for more of his touch. You urge his fingers deep, wordlessly beg for more pressure against your cunt.

“You’re so sweet,” Jing Yuan coos, rising to his knees and taking one of your legs with him. Your middle falls open. It feels... vulnerable. You feel exposed and sliced. Your stomach churns for a moment. You nearly ask Jing Yuan to stop.

(Except, Jing Yuan has fucked you enough times to know that you don’t enjoy the physical vulnerability of your sensitive core. It sets you off. He knows that you prefer to cuddle with his massive hand against your belly. He knows you even wear clothes that provide some protection, billowing fabrics and belts. You’re a sensitive thing.)

He slides his broad hand over your belly, and presses down as he leisurely pumps his fingers in and out of your core. The pressure of it burns— scalds you and your arousal feels white hot. He’s prodding you from the inside and the outside, and you feel something bubbling up.

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says with a catlike smile. “Would you like to come?”

“P-Please—”

Jing Yuan hums, slowing, almost ruining the impending crest, but clicks his tongue and continues. It’s a farce, a little game he’s playing, and much to your (enjoyed) frustration, you’re his other player.

“I would love to hear you beg,” Jing Yuan croons, leaning over your form, bending your leg at an angle that is unfair in all regards. “But, I’d also like to be kind tonight. I think you deserve it— you need it, don’t you?”

“I—” You do. His hand quickens and with his other, he braces behind one of your knees. He ducks down to retake his place between your thighs, eating your cunt with a persistence and vigor that has your eyes roll back in your head. He drills your insides with a deep, steady rhythm that. Maybe could get you pregnant.

Who's to say. 

“I’m—” You gasp, ready to beg regardless of what Jing Yuan wants or expects from you. You want to give him everything. 

“That’s it. Let go.” He beckons you and you break. 

Your orgasm slams into you. The teasing and playful edging made you sensitive and like a livewire. When you finally cum, you choke on your own breath, eyes rolling back into your head, and you shove your face into a pillow to muffle the half-sobbed moans that spill from your lips out of your control.

Jing Yuan continues his ministrations through it. Dutifully. Unyielding, even as you twitch with oversensitivity and wisps of exhaustion.

He gently lowers your trembling leg with a sweet smile. He pets you like a cat.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softened in a way you only get to see. 

“Thank you.” Your words slur as he settles beside you, tucking next to you. 

He’s hard— so hard that there’s a wet patch on his bottoms from pooling pre. You can feel the length of him against your thigh, and you reach for him. You should really grab some oil—

Jing Yuan stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“Slow, remember?” He reminds you with a grin that is mischievous. “Let’s take a break, just for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” You look down. 

The bulge of him makes your mouth water. 

“Entirely.” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your wrist. “How about a quick snack, hm? I can fetch some fruit to cut.” 

“... That would be nice.”

“Would you like peaches?”

“P-Please.” Your voice is watery and small. Jing Yuan looks smitten to hear the tone. “... Meldberries too? And apples?”

“Of course,” Jing Yuan looks happy. Relieved. Deflated in a way that makes you realize that he had been so tense before. Since you met him in the gardens, haggard and exhausted.

(You’re in his bed, sated and watery and being taken care of.)

“Can I come to the kitchen with you?” 

“Are you sure you can walk?” Jing Yuan teases, thumbing at your trembling inner thigh, littered with fresh bruises.

“I can now—” you huff, playfully indignant. “We should bring some back. For... later. When I can’t walk. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” Jing Yuan tilts his head, eyes half-lidded and amused. 

“Oh, don’t act so innocent!” You laugh and headbutt him lightly. If you had more energy, you’d play fight with him and ruffle the sheets up more than they already are. “I’m sure you’d like me immobile by the time you and your ridiculous cock are through with me.”

“... Ridiculous cock?” Jing Yuan can’t hide the laughter in his voice, or the flush on his cheeks. “So cruel.”

“I— I forgot how big it is.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

You gesture, panicked, below the covers to the bulge and still growing wet spot, “Your dick is close to the size of my forearm, Jing Yuan. I can see it without... seeing it.”

“You’re so complimentary.” He practically giggles. “So sweet. I had forgotten how sweet orgasm makes you. Or, is this your fatigue talking?”

“... Both? I missed you.” You say, using your un-held hand to pat Jing Yuan’s covered cock with a smile. “Missed this too.”

Jing Yuan almost squeaks at the unexpected contact. He apparently is just as sensitive as you. He hides his light blush in your neck, and you can’t help but laugh, and think about how sweet the peaches will be when cut by your lover’s hands and shared from the same plate.

...

Jing Yuan keeps his word. The early evening stretches into late evening, every touch and sensation coaxed and unhurried. Slow-stretched sugar, lest it shatters. 

In the kitchen, Jing Yuan cuts you a plate of peaches while you rest on his lap, watching the hypnotic carving of his knife with half-lidded eyes. He feeds you slices on a small fruit fork while sending off a message or two from his jade abacus. He carries half a dozen other fruits back to his bedroom and prods you for a more substantial meal order at some point. 

You finish off the last few slices while draped in his robe, dazed from your previous high. You feel— out of it. Raw and scraped out. Not much different from how you felt during your time in the utility tunnels, but instead of feverishly working, you’re in the warmly light room of your lover. His warm hand is splayed on the small of your back, rubbing little circles. 

You want to ask him:

“How do you do this?”

And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:

“Do what?”

And you would say:

“This.”

This: 

The way your mind resists fullness, empty by familiar nature. You’ve been cored, like the apple Jing Yuan dutifully cut and fed to you. Your thighs continue to shake. You’re bruised, marked, all his, in a way that cows and strokes the feral part of your mind still half-convinced this is all an elaborate illusion.

How could any of this be a fabrication? When Jing Yuan is so warm behind you, happy to bask in your presence while you bask in his. Jing Yuan’s contentment is infectious, it always is— but so quickly, he has stripped you of your ability to parry it. You can’t hold concern. You can barely hold your body upright. You want to fall into him, ask to take more, and hold him until you simply can’t anymore.

You do not ask Jing Yuan how he undoes you. Predicting the conversation seems— easy. Too easy. (Probably because calibrating a machine meant to sustain a civilization for weeks on end does damage that’s yet to be fully healed. Prediction is a symptom of overuse, divination a side effect. A cumbersome one.) You can imagine the way Jing Yuan would dance with his words, effortlessly sparring in a way that you simply couldn’t keep up with. You are already disarmed. You need his candor, and nothing is more honest than the General’s body.

“Come here.” Jing Yuan beckons you into the sheets to lay with him properly.

(It’s uncanny how he can predict your needs like a diviner himself.)

You follow his direction and let him tug you into his side. Your cheek rests over his chest, soft and a little rounder than it was when you first met him. He’s gained weight since then— which is good. He’s always been bulky under his uniform and regalia, toned muscle from centuries of training and sparring. But there wasn’t much else to him— he used to skip meals if it was too inconvenient to eat. If you were sharing a plate, he’d offer you a larger portion.

It was something so slightly self-deprecating. At first, you hadn’t noticed it. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, he is keen and clever in all regards— but his ego has stayed in check for as long as he’s been Arbiter-General. He commits this quiet act of self-harm, so miniscule that most wouldn’t bat an eye. His lack of appetite was a manifestation of some burden— as he will continue to live and slowly waste away, why should his body not as well?

You’d like to think you’d broken him of his destructive eating habits. Or, at least contributed. Warm meals, arm-in-arm snacking on street foods at night. Vendors are always happy to give the Divine Foresight a free treat, even if he offers them strales every time. He eats well around you, and you know it extends farther. He takes lunches with Yanqing at least once a week. There’s a stash of homemade honey oats and dried apricots stowed in his desk. 

You are glad he eats. That he is full. 

You appreciate the feel of him under your fingertips, how he has softened and grown a bit less worn during his own leave. He deserves a vacation. Maybe, you’ll sit on his cock and beg him to fucking retire with the promise you’ll be happy to stay that way for as long as he pleases if he does. Anything to keep him this lax and soft. You want to commit it to memory, but you still feel fuzzy.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughs as he speaks, busying himself with the tacky skin on the nape of your neck. He pets you there.

“Yes.” You grab his chest, thumbing dangerously close to his nipple. “You feel nice.”

“I’m glad.” Jing Yuan says, tone curling and smitten. You feel drunk with it. He hums. “You seem a bit lost. May I guide you back here?”

“I don’t think I am.” You pout. “I’m here.”

“Are you sure?” 

“... Fairly sure.”

“May I try anyway?” Jing Yuan asks. “It would make me very happy too.”

There’s no harm to it, really.

“I’ll be good.” He adds and holds your wrist so tenderly in his palm. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Jing Yuan drags the thin skin of your wrist over his lips, kissing the flesh as he does. It’s reverent, slow as he promised. He peeks up at you as he does, a curtain of his silver hair almost obscuring the warm gold of his eyes. There’s want there, so caramelized that it makes you ache. 

Jing Yuan rolls you, so that he’s above you, sitting over your hips. It’s— not too heavy. The weight of him is comforting if nothing else. The heat of him is grounding as he hovers over you, nosing at your jaw, nipping bruised skin. He licks the brutal bite he left earlier and you yip. You don’t have it in you to chastise him for it— you— you maybe like it too much to do so. 

Like this, it’s easier to notice how Jing Yuan wants. How his hand is sliding between over your sternum, between your breasts, down the soft line of your belly and navel, and back up again. It’s slow, radiating a yearning that sinks down into your organs heat from a hearth. He thumbs over the line of your throat and kisses you.

He’s more insistent now, licking into your mouth immediately, keeping his rhythm slow and actions drawn out. 

Jing Yuan pulls back just enough to speak, warm breath over your lips, “You’re doing so well.”

You feel warm in your cheeks and tug him closer. If only you burrow in his flesh bones, flush the marrow out to replace it with yourself. You’d do it if it meant keeping him upright for longer. 

“I’m right here.” Jing Yuan hushes you, gathering your wrists in one hand. You hadn’t realized desperate little keens were leaking from your throat, soaking the room. Jing Yuan doesn’t seem to mind. “No need to fuss. You’re alright.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, you feel out of your body. 

Jing Yuan knows this and he tethers you to him with a kiss and firm touch, “I’m sure. You trust me, don’t you?”

“So much,” you admit. 

Jing Yuan looks down at your softly, expression beginning to shatter. He is a difficult man to work with— he wears many faces, several hats, and speaks in riddles more often than not. To receive his honesty is— a fucking gift. You want to hold it in your hands and swallow it. His hair falls over his face as he peers down at you, thumbing over the lines of your throat.

“You’re so good.” He says gently, quiet. Like it’s a secret for the two of you. “You’d do anything I’d ask you to right now, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, then think about what he asked. You still would. Probably. Maybe give him some grief along the way, “As long as you’re not too mean about it.”

“Oh?” He teases. He teases, even now. Even when your core is exposed and you’re bare and he’s stalling despite being hard against your thigh. “You’re still so sweet when I’m a bit mean. I think you enjoy it.” 

A broken, nearly-pathetic noise drips from your lips. You clutch at his arms and try to bury your face in the sheets. Your face feels so warm, it's making you dizzy.

“No need to be shy,” he sounds smitten, a smile bleeding into his tone. He kisses you with it, again and again until you’re breathless and stupid once more. He pulls back until you’re nose to nose, hand drifting to the apex of your thighs. 

You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer. 

“Patience, love, I’ll give you what you need.” He tells you and kisses the corner of your mouth. You believe him.

Jing Yuan settles himself between your thighs, holding them open with his own. He is not a small man, and it leaves you very exposed. More exposed than you would like, and it makes something in you writhe. Jing Yuan hushes you, soothes you as he’s so good at doing as he drenches his fingers in oil.

(The first time you fucked, you did not do this step. Oil and any type of lubricant was skipped, and you paid the price the next morning with a bit of light bleeding and an ache that would send Jing Yuan to the Alchemy Commission to fetch some specialty painkillers. He was very apologetic the morning after, guilt-ridden even. At some point, he started carrying little vials on his person and insisting lubricant be used regardless of how impromptu of a lay it was.)

(That is all to say that Jing Yuan’s cock is huge and has the capability to break you.)

He presses a finger into you— it goes in easily, slides with the aid of lubricant and your own slick.

“Oh,” Jing Yuan breathes, gaze drifting from your parted lips to the finger he sinks into you. “You’re so wet.”

You want to be snarky. Of course you are, he’s already had you on his tongue earlier in the day— now, he’s been teasing you, playing with you, and being sweet with you. How could you not be? It’s the only natural response to your lover treating you in such a way.

However, you do not get a chance to show him any sass as he crooks his finger upwards and rubs the pad of his thumb in a familiar pattern, little circles over your clit. A gasping moan spills from your lips and Jing Yuan holds you down with his free hand on your hips. He pets you when you shake and yearn for more too quickly. 

“‘S okay?” You ask.

“Very.” Jing Yuan smiles, beaming, almost purring. “I’ll tell you if it isn’t.”

“Okay.” You nod, feeling wrung out already. Beads of sweat rise between your breasts and drip down your skin. 

Jing Yuan must notice too, as he ducks forward to lick a firm strip over your tacky skin, groaning as he does before moving to one of your nipples. He kisses around the bud, nips just enough to make you fuss, before wrapping his lips around it. He bites, sucks, and groans into you as he does. 

You pet through his hair, scrapping your nails down his neck and back. Marking him however you can.

Jing Yuan pulls away from you, panting, and kisses you hard on the mouth. It’s a clash, really. Harsher and more desperate than he usually would give you. He’s usually not this messy, but your teeth clack together awkwardly and you swallow around the discomfort. Jing Yuan is quick to correct himself, deepening the kiss more sweetly as if to apologize. 

He slips a second finger inside your cunt, next to the first, drenching your hole in slick and lube. It’s— messy. It is wet. The sound is obscene, even if Jing Yuan is being slow and gentle with your most delicate parts. Arousal pools in your gut, and want makes you feel like a sinking puddle, spreading out over the sheets like you’re going to absorb into Jing Yuan’s lavish mattress. 

You open up for him, relax with the contact and let him take care of you as he wishes.

He presses another finger into you— this one stings, despite the preparation and slick drenching you down your thighs and the sheets below you. He moves slowly, kissing your cheeks and hushing you when you whine. 

“I’ve got you,” He smiles, and drags his lips over your cheeks. It’s reassuring, and something blooms from the base of your spine up to your throat. He gives you playfully chomp over the apple of one and you let out a little laugh. It bubbles up out of you and Jing Yuan shares it with his own deeper one.

He fans out his fingers inside you, slowly, with each thrust. It’s measured, practiced. Despite the time apart. 

Jing Yuan is hard against your leg. You can feel him, though Jing Yuan is still wearing his own robe and silks which simply will not do. Tugging, you drag it off him, and push yourself half up. You attempt to reach for his cock, you want it— him. But Jing Yuan stills his fingers inside you, clicks his tongue, and knocks you back into the mattress with a gentle (albeit firm) shove.

“Not yet.” He scolds, though there’s no bark behind it. 

You frown. “But I want you.”

“And what if I want you too?” Jing Yuan asks.

It’s something he’s never raised directly before.

He’s made such a fact known, however. You know he wants you. Jing Yuan was happy to complete a number of courting gestures, prior to becoming something of an official couple. He keeps you close, he is kind to you, he even tells you a secret or two. He fucks you like he loves you and wants you close. He leaves marks all of you, from your neck, all the way down to even your ankles and calves on occasion. He shares drinks with you in his gardens, offers you a place in his bed and somewhere in his heart, even if you’re still (after decades) understanding where that is.

But, so rarely does he state that he wants you so plainly. 

Want is dangerous. Yearning and all. Yearning must be a passing emotion if one is to resist Mara. If anything, Mara is accumulated and rotting yearning. 

Jing Yuan has lived a long life due to how he copes with yearning. 

To admit to it— it is an act of vulnerability. To admit a weakness, a thing that could tear him full of undying roots and strike him down. It is the danger of the Divine Foresight finding a partner and becoming coupled. It invites such feelings. 

You had assumed Jing Yuan hadn’t entertained such notions directly. To give them time in his mind could bring rumination. Which— could easily go sour.

“... You want me?” 

Jing Yuan tilts his head cutely, “Yes, of course. Was that not obvious?”

“I inferred,” You feel sticky and sloppy as Jing Yuan withdraws his fingers. 

He climbs off the bed, only for a moment. He shucks off the last of his clothing, leaving him bare. Candle light casts shadows over the contours of him. His cock looks— painfully hard. As he climbs back into bed, it bobs, swollen and dark red at the head. Almost purpling. It’s slick with pre that is still beading from his slit.

“... Can I suck you off?” You ask, a bit entranced. “Please?”

“Not now,” He tells you with a laugh. “Later, if you ask me nicely again.”

“Okay.” You can do that. 

Jing Yuan huffs out another laugh with a shake of his head, “Insatiable thing.”

“I missed you.” You tell him. Your voice is watery. Your own admission.

Jing Yuan flips you by your midsection, coaxing you to raise your hips enough to sandwich a few silk pillows between your hips and the bed. His hands linger over the bruises on your hips, then slide down the swell of your ass to the backs of your thighs. He pets you until you’re relaxed, boneless.

He parts from you over for a moment, rummaging through a nearby cupboard for oil. You hear him slick his cock. The sound makes you squeeze your thighs together and bury your face in the sheets. 

Jing Yuan surprises you by pressing a finger into you from behind. A sound rips from your throat as he finds your sweet spots, adding another finger quickly, then a third. You’re drenched between your thighs, so slick you feel drunk. Jing Yuan positions your legs a little wider and settles between them. 

“D-Don’t aggravate your injury,” You remember, beginning to push yourself up. A moment of lucidity as you can sense Jing Yuan lining him up. “Not on my account.”

“I won’t.” He promises, running a hand down your back from tailbone to nape to coax you back against the mattress. He presses a kiss to the base of your spine. “Always so caring and diligent.”

“I—” You cut yourself off as the head of his cock teases your folds. Rubbing. “Jing Yuan—”

“I want you.” Jing Yuan tells you, doubling back, bumping against your clit as you moan. 

“Y-You can have me,” You want to see his face, rub his cheeks. “You do have me. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Damning yourselves.

Can’t the General be selfish in lieu of his looming retirement? Can’t the Master Calibrator enjoy the company of others, and not the mechanical hum of a God Ship?

“I have you?” Jing Yuan asks, beginning to push into you.

You can’t reply— you can’t. Despite the prep, and oil, and arousal all together, it’s still tight. Jing Yuan is thick enough that it’s outlandish, and you’re feeling every inch of that girth as he enters you. You clutch your balled-up hands in the soft sheets near your head. You try to keep your breathing even but it’s hard. Jing Yuan pets down your sides, leaning over your back, whispering little words of praise and encouragement as you take him. 

“You’re so lovely. Look how well you’re doing.”

“You’re going to take all of me.”

“I’ll be gentle. I’ll be good to you.”

He is, and you don’t mean to cry, you don’t, but you do when he bottoms out, and you can feel him so, so deep, it’s in your throat. The heat of him inside you is searing. You’re changed. You’re being carved out by him anew, and he wants you. 

“You h-have me,” You tell him. You scrambled a hand behind you, shaking as you brace yourself against the bed. You manage to get a handful of his head and drag him down over your back. “Jing Yuan, please have me.”

You’ll beg for it; shame has been lost.

You want to stay here. In his bed. By his side. You want him to want the same with you. Not with old flames. You don’t want Jing Yuan to deny himself pleasure in the face of duty, as if the two cannot exist. As if rules cannot be bent or changed by the hand that rules them or the Calibrator who tweaks the vessel that you both live on. Things change. It is the nature of life and starshine.

Even with the Xianzhou Natives' lifetime, they are bound to grow, endlessly. 

Jing Yuan pauses above you, stills so deep in you. You’re worried for a moment you’ve crossed a line. That your desperation has spurred him away, rather than closer. It terrifies you. It grips you so hard that it feels like your heart could shatter to pieces.

(Your worry is misplaced.)

Jing Yuan lets out a shuddering sigh, pulling out almost completely. You panic (“no, no, no, don’t, ‘M sorry”) and nearly flip over to try and recover the situation. However— you’re mistaken.

He groans as he slams back into you, curling over your back, gathering you up in his arms, and rolling his hips. He’s scraping the insides of you. You’re raw. 

“N-No apologies,” His voice breaks. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Y—You offer me yourself so sweetly. I only feel guilty that—” 

He cuts himself off with another deep thrust that punches a broken sound out of you. Tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

“No guilt—”

“I feel guilty,” Jing Yuan punctuates his words with a cant of his hips that has you going slack in his arms, ragdolled by pleasure, “that you think you must beg to be had. I feel immensely guilty that you could have any doubt toward me as a lover.”

He guides you back down to the bed, steadying himself with a searing palm on the back of your neck and a hand leveraged on your lower back.

You really won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

“I don’t doubt y-you like that.”

(It’s less about some nebulous insecurity you keep as his lover, and more about the solid knowledge that Jing Yuan is so careful with his connections. You cannot believe yourself to be the exception.)

(Sometimes, you doubt that he has any tether to anyone. Like he’s waiting to die. No matter how fond he is of you, that this will supersede it. It damns his well being. It damns the future. But, how steadfast does it make the present? You’d like to think its enough for him to keep you as company due to legitimate desire and care, rather than balming of some wound as your insecurities tell you it could be.)

In retrospect, you’ll feel foolish for thinking so little of Jing Yuan’s feelings toward you. 

He grabs you by your cheeks in one hand, craning your neck back to face him the best you can on your tummy. He levels his face with yours, nose to nose. Eyes alight. He looks... almost angry. Jaw tight, seated and still inside you to the hilt. You’re full— bursting at the seams, but you have enough lucidity to focus your vision and see how pained he looks. Pained and enraptured, loving and loved. He’s bound up with it, the same way that you are. 

“If I could, I would keep you in this bed. If not this bed, then the gardens I would follow you into your tunnels and learn the harmonies and chords you know, even if I couldn’t keep a tune. I would keep you full like this. I would cut you stone fruit whenever you’d like something sweet.”

It’s a declaration. It might as well be a proposal.

You don’t get a chance to reply. Your breath is knocked out of you, like every thought and fear and insecurity that you’ve been shouldering. Jing Yuan fucks you with the full force of his hips, thighs bracketed with your own. It hurts— barely. Enough that you’ll feel it for days and carry a limp for just as long. 

His pace is quick and deep. He’s not chasing— he’s creating. Marking a spot inside you that’s just for him. Only him. It makes you feel giddy and stupid and you laugh through the tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s— all a lot. Jing Yuan keeps you tucked so close, pressing you into the silks sheets. He breathes through his mouth, panting against the back of your neck , sucking more marks into the skin, darkening the preexisting ones. Claiming, in a way that feels different from the hickeys he had given you in the past. 

You sob as he tilts your hips up. He drills downward, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You’re— you’re going to explode. The friction of the pillows below your hips isn’t enough to come,but Jing Yuan drilling your insides is getting you close to something. It feels like a peak you’re not meant to climb, and you sob at the sensation. Like you’re free falling.

Jing Yuan holds you closer, wrapping an arm around your midsection, and the feeling disappears.

He sneaks a hand to your cunt. First he feels where you’re joined. The sticky, sloppy mess of pre, slick and lube that you’ve made. You’ll need another bath. Maybe two. He runs gentle fingers along the seam of your cunt, where he’s slowed his thrusts so he can feel where you’re practically tethered together. 

“Taking me so well,” Jing Yuan is breathless. He rubs your clit, bracing himself over your front, and fucks you so wonderfully that your vision begins to darken at the edges.

It’s unfair how quickly he gets you to your peak, touching you like this. He knows your body, and you squeeze down around him with a cry as you crest. Your cunt clamps down as the knots in your gut unfurl. You jolt back with the sensation, overwhelming and all consuming. Jing Yuan moans behind you, a beautiful sound you want to have so committed to memory so that even when you’re riddled with mara, you’ll remember the sound. 

Jing Yuan doesn’t chase his relief, he lays over your back like a blanket as you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm and fucks you slow and deep. He only hastens when you let out a warbling little sound, something hurt from your bruised insides making themselves known.

He quiets you with a soft, dragged out whisper of praise. He thrusts harder— faster— and moments later there’s a gush of warmth in your guts that makes your eyes roll back into your head. You want to come again, and you can’t help the temptation to reach down and get off, just once— more.

Jing Yuan nearly growls as you do. He bats your hand away, flips you so you’re belly up. Your hips are raised on the mound of pillows and it hits you what he intends to do.

To have both of you.

He throws your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs shake around his cheeks as he gives them a quick kiss, before diving into his meal. He moans and groans into your cunt, out of breath from fucking you still, but no-less diligent. He fucks his cum back into your with a thick finger for a few thrust, just barely— you’ll be too sore and he knows it. 

He eats his release from your cunt. It’s— debauched. It’s so, so much and you can’t do anything other than writhe and tug at his hair. Your hips hurt, but you still find it in you to grind against his mouth. It’s— one of his favorite things. He likes to be used sometimes. This is one of his favorite flavors, when his tongue is inside of you and you drag him closer by his hair and let the friction bring you to orgasm, however long it takes.

You, truthfully, do not have much left in your body to chase this. 

Jing Yuan must know this, or he is feeling similarly— or both. Probably both. You’re too floaty and gone to tell. You’re still crying as he moves to your clit, licks and sucks until you fall apart on his tongue once more, full and sated with him. 

Both had by each other. 

You fall into the bed sheets as you finish, dragging a sweaty Jing Yuan closer. So close. He keeps you closer still, over his chest, cheek pillows on the swell of his pec (breast) and a dusting of silver hair. You’re shaking from the high— so is he. You feel like you’re going to fall into a million pieces.

(It reminds you, briefly, of how it felt when you first dropped into the utility tunnels, after the calibration apprentice went Mara-Struck. How you felt so— alone— gone. How fragile you felt sprinting through the tunnels with the knowledge that your world was being torn apart by forces beyond your control.)

(You felt small and helpless.)

The feeling is quickly extinguished— or maybe made to feel pleasurable. Jing Yuan practically purrs underneath you, petting you, stroking over your new bruises and marks. You keep a hand buried in his hair, petting over his cheeks. Staying lucid— is hard. The last thing you clearly remember was hopelessly fond, adoring, gold eyes, gazing back at you so lovingly, that they could remake you.

Perhaps, they already have.

It’s sometime later, in one of Jing Yuan’s gardens. This one is nestled, lush, in the large courtyard in the center of his home. A pond gurgles with the bubble of fat fish that swim near the surface of the water. You fed them earlier and they’re still looping, searching for an extra snack.

You lay some distance away from the pond on a blanket that Jing Yuan has designated as your ‘outside blanket’ as it is particularly large (tall enough for him to sprawl out on and more than wide enough to fit the both of you) and thick. Your head is pillowed on Jing Yuan’s arm as he is curled toward you, legs tangled with your own. It’s late afternoon, and the General is taking one of his beloved naps. You’ve taken to combing a hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp and behind his ear and contenting yourself with the little sighs and almost-purrs he lets you. 

It is good to rest.

Your leave has, overall, been quite restful. Mostly. Aside from the times that Jing Yuan cannot keep his hands of you and you end up fucking whereever is convenient before retiring to your (now shared) bedroom. The bouts leave you tired and worn, but in a satisfying way. Jing Yuan has been particularly dutiful and attentive post-fuck, always handing you chilled water to sip and offering a treat. Sometimes a fruit or a candy he has apparently been stashing away. He gives you as many kisses as you can bear, and you return the gesture as much as you’re able.

Jing Yuan has become... handiser. Needier. You’d say clingier, but as much as he tends to cling when he’s around his estate with you, it never feels overbearing. He indulges in closeness with you in a way that feels shameless in the best way. 

It’s the same in public. You’ve gone to the night markets, once or twice to indulge in street foods, and Jing Yuan is equally as touchy, albeit it’s more subtle. A hand on your lower back, standing behind you while he orders with an arm wrapped around your waist. You hold hands when you walk, or you loop an arm through his elbow if it's particularly crowded. He did these things before, but they seem more... necessary. Like he has to keep you close. The contact he shares with you is firmer. Richer, even. He’s always been intentional with you, it's his nature, but now his actions have taken on a different shape. Intentionally showing want, rather than showing closeness.

It creates both a softness and an edge to him that you are thoroughly enjoying.

There’s softness in how lax he is next to you, dozing the afternoon away after completing the bare minimum of work for the day. His cheeks are rounder, and a bit rosy. It’s warm today. It’s the softness of skinship, how you’re both seeking out each other’s barest parts, even if it's only for a moment or two of skin-to-skin contact. It’s how his care is so explicit these days. 

The edge of it is how the General is anxious, perhaps. It’s a possessive flavor that Jing Yuan has, perhaps, always has, but is simply more apparent now. His touches in public flaunt the fact that you’re clearly a couple, nevermind what gossip magazines and street whisperers will say. It’s the consistent marks he leaves on you— those visible hickeys on your neck, down to the dark, sore ones he leaves on your inner thighs and the softness of your stomach. It’s the way he commissioned a set of earrings, one for each of you to wear. 

(He had looked a bit melancholy, just for a moment, when he first presented you with them. Like a memory had surfaced but then was quickly let go and set adrift in favor of the present.)

The set is crafted with gold connected with a flat, rectangle of stone that dangles down from it. The stone is red, inlaid with gold veins. Some alloy that was probably mined on an asteroid— a rarity. They’re beautiful. You hardly know what to say when you receive yours; Jing Yuan had presented you the gift while already wearing his. 

Marking each other as each other’s. 

It’s brazen— and you like it. The beast of feeling that tore you to shreds in the utility tunnels feels far away, lately. Your extended leave has been good and you’re... grateful Jing Yuan has been quite official (and strict) about keeping you away from work.

You run the pad of your thumb under his eye. The skin is delicate, wrinkled just the slightest. It’s a tragedy, for many reasons, that you both are long-lived and cursed with Abundance. You’d like to see the crow’s feet Jing Yuan would have, if his skin did not keep itself so elastic and young.

Apparently awake, Jing Yuan grabs your wrist and brings it to his lip. He sets upon you with a lazy smile. His eyes open, just halfway, and he looks at you, so adoring.

“Are your thoughts entertaining?” Jing Yuan asks, gentle as he holds you closer. “You seem quite lost in them.”

You hum, kissing his jaw with a drag of your lips, “Not lost. Just reflecting.”

Jing Yuan hums himself, nosing into your temple. Then your hairline, where he leaves a line of kisses in his wake. You shudder with the feather-light feeling.

“Would you like to share?” Jing Yuan asks. “Or, perhaps take a rest with me? Though I am very appreciative of the head massage, I do believe you could use a rest. Unless you wish to take a stroll, and turn in early?”

“A stroll sounds lovely in a bit. I don’t mind sharing, though,” you answer. 

Jing Yuan smiles against your skin. You wish it could brand you, “I’m listening, whenever you’d like.”

You gather your words for a moment. It takes— a second. A long one. The Dragon Lady says that you’re experiencing some lasting effects from being attuned to the Quantum fields for too long in the wake of the Stellaron Crisis. She seemed confident your impairments would heal but your mind is that of a mortal. It will take time.

Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.

“I suppose I’m grateful,” You tell him. “I am glad I have a space in your life, and I am grateful that you show it to me in the ways that you do. I would be— very sad, if I was not by your side, I think.”

It is a simple way to put something much larger.

Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.

He takes a deep breath, then squeezes you to his chest. It forces the air from your lungs in a way that makes you light-headed.

“How kind are you.” Jing Yuan sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “To think of me so sweetly, without prompting. I’m very fortunate to have you as a lover. I hope you know that.”

“I try to remind myself.”

“Do I need to remind you more myself?” Jing Yuan asks, his smile turning a bit mischievous. He rolls himself over you, caging you. “I’m happy to.”

“You’ll spoil me!” You laugh and bat at his chest, slipping your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck.

“I quite like having you spoiled.” Jing Yuan contends with a cute tilt of his head. “I should resolve to spoil you more, actually. Do you have any ideas on how to do so? I’m happy to listen.”

“Jing Yuan—” You huff with an uncontainable grin. Your heart is going to burst from your chest. You would let it. You’d let Jing Yuan take its place. You practically already have. 

“I think,” Jing Yuan whispers in your ear, breath warm and sweet. “I ought to keep you in bed for the afternoon, perhaps pause the plan for a stroll until later in the evening. Starfire flies have been gathering in one of the gardens near the Exalting Sanctum— what do you say to a post-coital jaunt?”

“I mean—” You flush and bump your nose into his cheek, like a cat giving ample affection. “I don’t think I’ll be properly spoiled if I can still walk after you’re through with me.”

“So, I’ll carry you? That’s doable.”

“No— I mean— You can—” 

“I’m teasing you,” Jing Yuan murmurs with a tone so sweet and warm, you could melt into the soft blanket and soil below you. “Whatever you’d like. We can decide along the way.”

You smile.

“Yeah,” Your chest feels tight and warm and lovely all at once. Jing Yuan pulls away, and the earring that twins your own dangles, catching the falling sun in its veins of gold. “I’d like to decide along the way with you.”

It means more than this instance, it’s encompassing. To be long-lived and coupled is to tread the shallows of what could be Mara. To wear the mark of another is to dare to swim closer to the roiling beast of Abundance that none of the Xianzhou Natives can truly outrun.

But you think that, perhaps, you and Jing Yuan will be alright until that day, whenever it may be. You will spoil each other, hold each other, and take your steps while extending a patient hand to the other if they’d like to take it. You’ll listen to echoes together and learn to forget them. You’ll harmonize with stardust and Jing Yuan will play his games of many dimensional chess until he (hopefully soon) retires.

The smile that grows on your face is warm like a hearth, honeyed like a spiced tea, and kind. It splits the both of you open, and Jing Yuan kisses you like he can’t help but to do anything else. You don’t lose your grin, and you give it to him against his lips, laughing together as you share breath.

It’s sweet and lovely, you think, as Jing Yuan touches your foreheads together. You have this, and you’ll be happy to have this for as long as Fate and Aeons allow. You think that Jing Yuan will be happy too— with a coveted smile so kind given to you and a bed, shared. 

You bask in it— this. The gardens and the heat of him and the warmth in your chest, for however long you’re given. 

[melzula]

hi! i don’t know if you take requests for Korra, but if you could do a short blurb with her flirting (with a girl) please?

a/n: i am now realizing i have never actually written for korra before which is crazy to me so ty for requesting this!

summary: Korra works her charm in hopes of scoring a date with you

Despite being a good friend of the Avatar, you seem to be the only one oblivious to her feelings for you. Korra isn’t exactly the greatest at being subtle, so it’s a wonder to your friends you haven’t figured it out yet. It’s almost painful to watch, actually, as your group of friends observe her attempt at flirting.

“Hey, y/n, didn’t see you there,” Korra notes casually despite being the one to approach you first. “Whatcha up to?”

“Just catching up on some reading,” you say with a polite smile. “Tenzin let me look through the Air Temple library. I figured it would help pass the time while I’m staying here.”

“Reading, huh? I usually pass the time by training. You know, Avatar stuff,” she shrugs nonchalantly before making sure to flex her muscles. “I’m getting pretty good at this air bending thing.”

“Really? Because Jinora told me you got your butt kicked by Meelo at airball yesterday,” you note with a teasing smile. Korra’s confident demeanor immediately deflates at your words, and she’s left sheepishly tugging at the collar of her shirt.

“I was just going easy on them,” she quickly corrects you. “Didn’t want to go too hard on the kids.”

“Of course,” you laugh, and the sound is music to her ears.

“Listen, if you’re not too busy reading, I was thinking maybe you and I could grab a bite to eat? I-If that’s okay with you.”

“I’d love to!” You agree with an eager nod. “Bolin was just telling me about this great water tribe spot in town. I’ll go ask him if he wants to come with!”

“Oh, but I-”

You’re already gone in search of Bolin before she can protest, and Korra is left to stand there in defeat. She thought getting dates would be easy considering she is the Avatar, but it seems to you she’s just Korra.

“You know it’s going to take a lot more than just flexing your muscles to get y/n to go out with you, right?” Mako interjects from beside her with an amused smirk on his face. Korra only scowls in response.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be!” She accuses harshly before stomping off. Mako can only shake his head in response.

He could make things much easier for her by telling Korra that you also have a crush on her, but who is he to interfere?

[ghost-proofbaby]

mind blown (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: when you get a certain achievement while playing baldur's gate 3, it catches your boyfriend's eye.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: slight spoilers for baldur's gate 3 game, TALK OF MONSTER FUCKING/TENTACLES, you literally have the option to fuck a monster in the game and that is the premise for this one-shot. it isn't described in great detail, but is a background bit. and eddie makes fun of you for it. a lot. oral (f receiving, insinuated m receiving at the end). use of nickname "good girl". minors dni.

wc: 3.5k+

a/n: for anyone who was forced to witness me rizz the emperor on my last bg3 stream - consider this my... apology? half the time i was writing this i couldn't take it seriously so please laugh with me.

also, shout out to @hellfire--cult for the best possible divider EVER.

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: MIND BLOWN! 

You don’t even notice when the notification pops up in the lower left corner of your screen. It’s the smallest of blips, hardly signified by the quiet ding from your Steam account in a pitiful attempt to congratulate you for the monstrous crimes you were currently committing on your screen. 

But hey, you’ve got to experience the entire game, right? 

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you click on the second dialogue option, eyes locked on your screen is disbelief in your own actions, “What the fuck.” 

2. Take its tentacle in your hand, invite it in.

You watch in absolute awe as, who would have guessed, your Tav takes the tentacle in their hand, inviting the Mind Flayer in. 

Oh, you’re not seeing Heaven for this. You’re getting kicked straight to Hell, receipts pulled up of this very moment in your lifetime. That time you only cackled when your younger sibling broke their wrist? Fine. That time you let a door slam shut on some random grandma? Forgivable. 

But making your video game character fuck the tentacled-should-be-enemy? No, yeah, you’re heading straight to the flames. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

You really, really, really should have noticed the achievement notification. Should have considered the fact that this was an achievement at all. Should have considered that your achievement would be public. Should have noticed who was currently online, and who would be getting the notification of your sins. 

Should of thought of your boyfriend, in the living room, playing the very same game on your shared gaming laptop that had been reduced to solely allowing the two of you to play Baldur’s Gate 3 at the same time. 

But you’re too entranced by tentacles and embarrassment and shit, is this kind of hot? Is The Emperor kind of hot? to think of any of this until it’s too late.

One moment, you’re leaning far more forward than you had realized, drawn into the screen as your mouth hangs wide open in that continued naivety of disbelief that the game actually allowed this, and the next, two hands are landing on the back of your chair and shaking you out of the trance. 

“Shit!” you can’t help but scream, scrambling wildly to yank off your headset with flailing hands. A few of your knuckles connect with something hard, and you spin quickly to find Eddie standing there with a hand clutched over his nose, “Oh my God, baby, I’m so sor-”

“Are you fucking the mindflayer?” he all but yells, not looking to be in an ounce of pain even as he continues to shield his face where your hand had blatantly smacked him. His eyes catch the screen in the same trance you had just been under before yelling out, “Holy shit, you’re fucking the mindflayer!” 

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“You are literally fucking the space squid right now.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“You’re fucking a glorified piece of sushi right now. You are literally-”

For the second time in the span of what hasn’t even been a full minute, your hand slaps Eddie’s face. This time, it’s more purposeful, slamming your palm right over his mouth before he can continue what you can’t even be sure is teasing. 

And you’re missing the entire scene. Thank God for learning to quicksave as a reflex, you suppose. 

“Eddie, I swear to God, do not speak another word when I drop my hand,” you threaten, no real violence behind your words as he glowers at you. You can see all that mischief swirling behind the look he gives you, every possible bad idea to ever exist in this Universe manifesting in those big brown eyes as they stare widely into yours. “Do you understand?”

He nods. Your mistake for trusting him, you suppose. 

The moment your hand has dropped from him, it reveals that giddy smile, dimples screaming for your instant regret before he even opens his mouth to say, “Play it again.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Go ahead,” he waves towards the screen where the scene is beginning to wrap up, your current companions interrupting the moment in horror. If you had still been entranced, you would have been an absolute mess. But all your focus had been stolen away to the boy towering over you, “Reload the save. Replay the scene for me.” 

Your brows furrow as you cross your arms, shaking your head, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeat yourself more firmly, leaning into your stubbornness, “I am not replaying the scene for you after you just made fun of me for partaking in it.”

Eddie wastes no time pouting as he throws himself down onto the bed nearby, looking at you with unimaginably forced disappointment, “Come on. You’re no fun.” 

You hate how cute he looks right now. Bottom lip jutted out for dramatic effect, legs splayed out to straddle the corner of the bed. He leans back on his arms, torso elongating as you watch him take every steady and expectant breath. He looks determined. 

Unlucky for him, you’re just as stoic in your decision.

“C’mon,” he whines softly, changing his approach when he realizes the cocky exterior isn’t chipping away at that set look on your face, no faltering in your decision to ignore his request, “Please? We both know that I’m not going to be fucking the squid, so this is my only chance to see the-”

“He’s not a squid,” you groan, starting to turn your chair to face the screen again and continue your gameplay, “Might I remind you just how hot my guardian was prior to the whole tentacle reveal? You can’t even blame me for succumbing to this, you know.” 

His lips press together tightly, biting back a grin.

“Your guardian was very hot. But, pray tell, baby, why did you choose to fuck the tentacled version?” You’re not having this conversation. You blatantly refuse to, picking your headphones back up and beginning to slip them over your ears when Eddie’s hand shoots out to stop you, “Wait. I have an idea.” 

“I’m not reloading the save so you can see the scene, Eddie-”

“What if…. I technically don’t watch the scene?” 

You halt all movement willingly, headphones still hovering in midair even as Eddie takes his hand away. “What do you mean?” 

He leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs, sly smile shimmering on his lips as he finally abandons the god-forsaken pout. He’s radiating pride as he simply asks, “Wanna have your mind blown in real life?” 

Your entire body flushes with heat, starting to actually get embarrassed that Eddie wasn’t letting this go. 

“With God as my witness, if you do not stop making fun of me for this, I will kick you out of this room and lock the door.” 

“I’m not making fun of you,” he says slowly, inching off of the bed, dropping to his knees on the carpet of your shared bedroom, “Not in the slightest, sweetheart. I’m making you an offer.” 

You eye him cautiously as he slowly makes his way closer to you. When he’s nearly tucked under your desk, you’re quick to bring your knees up, still terribly weary and unsure of where he’s going with this. 

“What do you mean then, having my mind blown in real life?”

Eddie’s smile has gone downright salacious as he easily fits himself under the desk that holds your computer, situating himself perfectly so that if you were to drop your legs back down, he’d be kneeling prettily between your knees. 

“Reload the scene. And drop your legs, yeah?” 

He says it so casually, nonchalance dripping from his tone as if he’s just asked you to pass him salt or inquired about the weather rather than the actual request he was insinuating. It has your knees pressing more tightly together, your chin dropping on top of them as you stare down at him in the cramped space. 

“Are you… are you seriously suggesting what I think you’re suggesting right now?” you question, each word falling from your mouth slowly. 

It had been a while since either of you had really gotten your hands on one another. Not on purpose, of course. The two of you had simply fallen victim to the immersive game, spending most of your free time either playing your individual campaigns or joining one another on a multiplayer one. Afternoons melted away from gameplay, and the two of you were usually already to the point of exhaustion once you’d end up in bed together. There had been a certain lack of affectionate touches, suggestive squeezes of your thighs and faux-innocent kisses of the neck. And neither had noticed, minds equally preoccupied on thoughts of pixelated characters and harrowing journeys over a screen. 

You can’t remember the last time either of you outright suggested sex. 

“Deathly serious,” you can see the shine of his teeth as he flashes them in the dark space. You continue to hesitate until he quickly adds on, “Only if you want to, of course. If not, I can always fuck off and leave you to Squidwar-”

“I want to,” you interrupt, ignoring the new nickname for the Mind Flayer that he had started to taunt you with. You carefully let your feet slip off your chair, avoiding knocking him in the face with your ankles. He aids you, a careful hand running from the back of your knee and down your calf as he guides your legs to rest on his shoulders. The fact that you had started gaming without pants was suddenly very helpful. 

“Good girl,” it’s sort of ridiculous, the way his words cut right to your core, nearly making you let out a small gasp. Your body is suddenly very aware of just how long the accidental bout of celibacy had been, “A few rules before we begin. You’re going to reload the scene, and really watch it this time. Headphones and all, got it?” 

He places a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, and this time, you can’t bite back your little gasp. It only elicits a chuckle from him as you eagerly nod. You could care less about the game at this point, but you can’t seem to find the words to tell him this. 

“If you stop focusing on the scene, I stop eating this pretty little pussy.” 

If you weren’t so light-headed from the way his breath hits your clothed core currently, you’d probably see just how ridiculous this entire scenario was. It was downright laughable. Even a little shameful, honestly. By no means was it the weirdest situation that you and Eddie had turned into a game of sex, but it was certainly up there. 

God, you were in love with a fucking weirdo. And it made you just as weird, if not weirder, as he was. 

He gently slaps at your knee, forcing your attention to focus back on him, “Got it?” 

“Got it,” you manage to choke out just as his hands begin to trail up to your hips, playing with the lace of your panties teasingly. 

You lift yourself ever so slightly off the chair as he slips your underwear off, bringing the fabric down agonizingly slow. He has to shuffle plenty, guiding your limbs around just to finally remove the garment, but you hardly pay attention to all that awkwardness. Your Tav is still on the screen, awaiting instruction just as you were. 

When Eddie finally has your panties off, knees back to hanging on his shoulders, you can hear him let out a soft groan at the sight of you. 

“Fuck,” he sighs gently, leaning his cheek against your knee ever so slightly, “The tentacles really do it for you, huh? Already fucking soaking-”

“Shut up about the tentacles,” you groan out, throwing your hand back in exasperation, “For the love of God, please shut up about the-”

“Ah, ah,” he tsks, pulling farther away from you, “Might I remind you the whole point of this is all those tentacles on your screen right now, baby? Maybe I should have you hook up your speakers instead of your headphones just to make sure I can hear the entire scene.” 

You’d honestly forgotten about the scene at this point. It was the least intriguing part of your evening now. 

When you stay quiet, biting your lip to avoid making anymore smart ass remarks that would only prolong what you desperately wanted, desperately needed, he finally takes it as his cue. 

That damn grin, dimples and all, look up at you with all the ill intent in the world as he gestures for you to slip on your headphones. You do it immediately, and just before you’ve fully engulfed your ears with them, Eddie says, “Now, please do the honors, and hit F8 for me, doll.” 

Immediately, the only noise you can hear is the ambience from the game. One swift punch of your F8 key pauses it entirely, sudden music replacing it as the reload screen appears on the computer. Eddie waits, staring up at you for a few moments, probably having memorized just how long these damn reloads take from how much the two of you save scum in the game (Ironic, given during your first playthroughs, he’d scolded you endlessly for save scumming rather than just trusting the dice and letting it all play out.) 

After a few beats of stillness, you can see the scene prepared and ready for you to begin to click the options again to initiate the scene in your peripheral. Your eyes are still locked on Eddie’s, though. 

He makes no move to move any closer to you, though, still smirking before he finally mouths ‘watch the game’. 

It’s only once you do as you’ve been told that he has his mouth on you. 

He starts slowly as you distract yourself with the screen, peppering kisses along your knees and inner thighs, working his way towards your pussy. Teasing you, taunting you, dangling what he knows you want so badly that it aches and has you spasming around absolutely nothing. It takes more effort than you could care to admit to focus your vision on the dialogue options, and even more to remember which one is going to initiate the goddamned scene. 

When your shaking hand reaches for the mouse and finally clicks the correct option (thank God), his mouth finally hovers over your slick folds. 

Whatever the Emperor says falls on ringing ears. Subtitles are useless, the words blurring together on the screen when his tongue takes its first stride across your core. 

Your knuckles are paling from how tightly you grip your poor mouse, and you almost consider what you would do if this situation leads to you breaking such a vital piece of the shared gaming setup, but Eddie’s mouth is quick to distract you. You feel the vibrations of the hums falling from his lips just as they trail to wrap around your clit, forming suction as he gives one harsh suck that has your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. Your eyes can barely manage to stay open as you blindly click for the next dialogue option being presented.

Kiss the tentacle and hope that it’s an erogenous appendage. 

Not quite the same path you’d taken before, but it’ll get the job done. Especially when Eddie’s fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs even harsher, pressing himself even harder against you as his tongue dances over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Kitten licks, but every single one sends a bolt of electricity up your spine. 

The sound that comes from the Emperor in the game doesn’t matter to you, completely overridden by the audible groan you can just barely catch from Eddie as your headphones begin to slip off. 

Was that… a good sound? 

You hadn’t noticed you’d breathily recited the words you read across the scene until movement below the desk catches your eye, and Eddie is nodding into your cunt more eagerly than the character on the screen could ever be capable of. 

It’s the type of eagerness that has you whimpering, the kind of enthusiasm that guides one of your hands away from the keyboard and down to tangle into the roots of Eddie’s curls. 

He’s going to be the death of you. 

His grip tightens until he’s tugging your hips hard enough to bring you further slumped down in your seat, letting your thighs cradle either side of his head. His nose bumping your sensitive clit as his tongue circles teasing against your entrance. Once, twice – and then it dives in, pushing you to arch your back, a soft cry leaving you as you yank at his hair. 

With a heaving chest, you find yourself reciting another line of words from the screen despite making no move to click any options, “Do it again. Please, God- do it again.” 

He lifts to look at you at that, smiling wide with glistening lips and chin alike, “God? Oh, you’re making me blush, babe.” 

“Eddie-” you start, but a smack on your thigh from one of his ringed hands effectively shuts you up. 

“Play the game, and I’ll do it again.” 

Your hand smacks against the mouse, and you must click the right option, the exact command you’d just demanded of Eddie, because the scene continues on. 

You’re not watching the screen. Not consistently. Your eyes can’t stop flickering down to your boy, to his dark eyes shining up at you as he keeps his face buried between your thighs, the only thing giving away his current grin being the slightest crinkle beside those eyes. 

The entire sequence from before is simply playing out, just as before, but your mind stays on the feeling of Eddie’s tongue on you. When he releases one of your thighs and brings his fingers into the mix, stretching you out far more fully than his tongue had, you’re preening beneath his touch. Gasps, moans, whimpers, sobs – they all fall from your lip as he knows just how to work you. All the right touches to bring your neglected body to the precipice, practically worshiping you on his knees as the brightness of the screen exposes your face to him. Eyes tightly screwed shut, mouth wide open, lips swollen from poor attempts to keep your noises down through biting them. 

It only encourages him further. Only has him forgetting entirely about the game as well, the only goal on his mind being making you cum on his tongue. 

And you do. 

In hot waves, broken calls of his name, both hands tugging mercilessly on his hair. Your thighs are squeezing his cheeks tightly as you clench down on his fingers. 

Somewhere between all the whispers of his name, numerous squeaks of please falling from your mouth, he slows down. He gives you a chance to bask in the after-warmth of it all, your entire body buzzing as you catch your breath. You truly, genuinely hadn’t expected to cum that quickly. But it had been a while, and if anyone knew your body well enough to get you off in record speed, it was the man currently still seated on sore knees with a winning grin on his face. 

“Your headphones aren’t even on anymore, you cheater,” he teases, sounding just as out of breath as you felt. 

You detangle your fingers from his hair, retracting your hands just far enough for one of them to flip him off, “Shut up.” 

Your eyes are still closed, head leaning back almost painfully as the headphones cut into your neck. If you could live in this moment forever, you probably would. 

He presses forward, placing a quick peck to your sensitive core that makes your legs try to squeeze together instinctually, “Make me.” 

At those two words, you finally open your eyes, slowly lolling your head towards him, eyes narrowing at the challenge. 

“Get off the floor and onto the bed, and I will.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. 

The entire process somehow manages to remind you just how ridiculous the situation was. Watching Eddie clamber clumsily out from beneath your desk, cheekily flashing you the set of panties he’d taken off of you that he shoves into his pocket. Eyes glued on him as he flops himself down onto your shared bed, still looking far too proud of himself. 

Your heart swells as you look at the absolute idiot, knowing he was yours. 

“Well?” he asks expectantly, raising his eyebrows as he shimmies his shoulders jokingly, “You gonna make me or not, sweetheart?” 

You’re quick to start to jump out of your chair, just eager to be close to him again, deciding the game could wait until tomorrow. Just as you do, however, Eddie puts up a hand, biting back an even wider smile.

“I’m only reminding you because I won’t hear the end of it otherwise,” he drawls, slowly pointing a finger back towards the desk, “Don’t forget to press F5.”

You roll your eyes, but you do as he says. 

It works. It’ll save you time next time you reload the game – allowing you to skip the entire encounter, considering the way you’ve discovered there are far more fun ways to have your mind blown. 

Now, however, it was Eddie’s turn.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

(please let me know if the tagging worked!!)

[hannyoontify]

i love you - lee seokmin

member | best friend!seokmin x reader

genre | college!au, best friends to lovers!au, fluff

word count | 1.3k

synopsis | you're sick and stuck at home during halloweekend. you were planning to spend the night wallowing in self-pity and tissues, until a certain ray of sunshine disrupts your plans.

warnings | none? js food? and pining ig lol pls lmk if i missed anything

notes | i don’t rlly like this fic 😭 this was a horrible attempt at a sick fic please forgive me. not proofread

seok: heyyy seok: how’s the cold?

[name]: like death warmed up, actually

seok: oh wait i know this one seok: THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA REFERENCE!! RIGHT??

[name]: LMFAOO NICEE

seok: i do my homework :3

[name]: i’m proud of you, my pupil [name]: how’s the party?

seok: boringggg boo boo boooooo it’s boring without you seok: i was actually thinking about leaving

[name]: why? you’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks

seok: yeah but it’s not fun without my wolverine. we’re supposed to be deadpool and wolverine. me being deadpool is js. plain. boring. seok: so i’m leaving rn. wanna binge watch gilmore girls and eat pumpkin cheesecake bars that i stole from mingyu’s kitchen?

[name]: oooo yes please [name]: … and maybe some sinex? i lost mine :<

seok: no need to ask twice. i’ll be there in 20

[name]: you’re the best

The door to your apartment closed shut just as you had finished setting up your living room to the ‘BatCave’, as Seokmin liked to call it. It was something the two of you started since your freshman year when you were assigned to the dingy, tiny campus dorms and you had to make do with the small space the two of you had. There was no specific shape or structure to the BatCave. It was a discombobulated heap of pillows and blankets thrown atop an air mattress that you and Seokmin salvaged from an elderly woman’s yard sale during the spring semester in your sophomore year. 

“Here, here! I’m here!” Your ears perked up at the sound of your best friend entering the foyer and Seokmin quickly made his way to you with two big plastic bags in hand, pressing a quick kiss to your head that made your heart flutter. “How are you feeling?”

You scrunched up your nose and spoke in a nasally voice. “Sick.” 

Seokmin gave you an empathetic smile and reached into his coat pocket before handing you a box of Sinex. “Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas. Didn’t I bring you one this morning too?”

“I don't know where it went! I lost it!” You sniffled.

Seokmin busied himself with making a big show out of taking off his outer jacket, revealing his Halloween that he spent $180 on. The Deadpool costume was originally your idea, suggesting that he should buy a Deadpool onesie and call it a costume, but your best friend insisted on going full out. You thought it was ridiculous that he spent almost 200 dollars on a Halloween costume, but Seokmin thought otherwise. 

‘Go big or go home.’ Was what he had said. 

… At least, that’s what you think he said. He was way too drunk to form a coherent sentence at the time.

“Well, it’s gotta be somewhere.” Seokmin emphasized with a wave of his hands. “I’m going to change. You still have my clothes, right?”

You nodded and waved him towards your bedroom. “Second drawer on the right. It should be on the way top.”

“Thanks, this suit keeps giving me a wedgie and it doesn’t feel really…” He paused to adjust himself with a pained look on his face. “Nice.”

You watched with a smile as he disappeared into your bedroom, adjusting himself under the suit on the way. “You should demand a refund.” You called out to him.

“Oh, you bet I will!” He called back and you barked out a short laugh.

You don’t know how much time has passed since Seokmin first came into your apartment. The glass container that once held Mingyu’s famous pumpkin cheesecake bars was void, not a single crumb leftover. The ceramic mugs that were once filled to the brim with hot chocolate were empty, and the popcorn bowl resting in Seokmin’s lap was half empty.

Everything was perfect. The congestion in your nose had disappeared, thanks to the Sinex Seokmin had bought you, your fever was gone, and you had never felt more warm in your life, nestled into Seokmin’s side with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Your favorite fleece blanket was pulled up into your chin and you were positive you had reached the most optimal comfortable state possible for a human.

“You okay?” Seokmin asked quietly. You felt the low hum of his voice reverberate in his chest where your head laid and you nodded.

“Yeah… just tired.” You responded quietly. “I think the Benadryl is in my system; I’m sleepy.”

He hummed and wrapped both arms around you, pressing his lips against your temple. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You nestled yourself further into his chest and nodded again, taking note of the faint scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo and the calming effect it had on you. Your fingers searched for refuge in Seokmin’s embrace and you let out a small sigh as he began to stroke your head, his gaze still fixed on the screen, where Rory was dying Lane’s hair purple.

Your eyes fluttered closed in resignation, a battle lost against sleep and fatigue. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was Seokmin’s finger lightly tracing indiscernible patterns on your shoulder.

The gentle pitter patter of the raindrops against your window jolted you awake and you shifted under the blanket, cozying yourself closer into Seokmin’s embrace. The movie on your laptop was paused, and Seokmin had his arm under your head, his eyes closed and lips slightly ajar as he took shallow breaths in his sleep. 

The clock on the wall told you it was way too early–or late–to be awake, and you groggily rubbed at your eyes. The lights outside casted an eerie shadow on Seokmin’s sleeping face as his lashes fluttered ever gently against his skin, drawing your attention to the mole he had under his eye. 

You reached out, lightly tracing the small freckle with your fingertip. There was a familiar fluttering in your stomach as your eyes scanned Seokmin’s face, your hand lightly resting on the side of his face. He nuzzled his face against your palm, humming quietly as he tugged you closer to his chest with the arm he had resting underneath you.

Heat rushed to your face as Seokmin rested his chin atop the crown of your head. The two of you remained like that, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort as the hand on the clock endlessly ticked by. 

With every tick of the clock, you felt yourself falling harder and faster  for the man who was currently holding you in his embrace. Seokmin was your best friend, your other half. The two of you met during freshman year move-in day, and you had known him as the smiley boy who lived across the hall. But now, you were in your senior year and he was Lee Seokmin, an irreplaceable and undoubtedly, the most favorite part of your life. Without Seokmin, you were missing a part of yourself.

“I love you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could register what they were. It was barely above a whisper, spoken into the darkness where it would remain a secret between only you and the shadows.

Your words hung heavily in the air and you sucked in a quiet breath, nervous that you might’ve woken Seokmin up. There was a moment of silence, like the world was holding its breath to wait for his response, if he had one at all.

Seokmin’s eyes fluttered open and his warm, brown eyes stared into yours. Under the pale moonlight, his eyes sparkled, like pools of warm and enticing honey, drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his mole, then the hand you still had resting on his cheek.

“Sorry, I–” Fumbling, you tried to draw your hand away but Seokmin stopped you, resting his hand atop of yours.

“... I love you too.”

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[ijwrsmff]

Please… I beg for insecure Buggy x insecure reader where they both don’t think the other likes them because of their appearances or what they hate about themselves. Maybe they get some help from the Straw Hat crew, Alvida, or Mihawk and Crocodile. Just make it as fluffy as possible 💕

WE ALL LOVE THE CLOWN MAN! AND WITH THAT LOOK??? HOW COULD WE NOT!

So much fluff. Like so much.

Word Count: 1,245

It was no surprise to anyone on Buggy’s crew that the captain was head over heels for you. Just as it was no surprise you liked him all the same. Funny thing is…neither of you seemed to notice the other’s feelings. No matter how obvious it may be. 

So there Buggy sat, “relaxing” at the next island stop on his way further into the grand line. Alvida sat next to him as he banged his forehead against the table. Not his nose though. He would never. He just needed to get his feelings out, accepting you would never be his because of his own insecurities. 

Alvida sipped on her mixed drink and groaned. “Buggy. Stop. This is pointless.” If he were a regular person she wouldn’t care, but he was her friend. One of her only friends. Even though she did know he wouldn’t be able to seriously injure himself, meaning she didn’t make any attempt to actually stop him. “Is this about y/n?” 

Buggy lifted his eyes and glared at her, and said in a mocking tone, “‘Is this about-OF COURSE IT IS!” He groaned back at her, and looked at her with his chin on the edge of the table. “Sorry…I’m just losing my head.” He then removed it and wiggled his eyebrows at her, hoping she’d laugh at his joke. He would always go for the laugh. Even if he didn’t really feel it. 

She didn’t laugh. In response he dropped his silly face and went back to pouting, placing his head back on his body. He crossed his arms and leaned so far back in his chair it tipped over, causing him to fall in a funny way. She still didn’t laugh. Seriously, he made her laugh all the time. Why won’t she laugh now?

“Buggy. Sit back up you damn dork.” She had a smirk, but that was the closest to a laugh he could get from her. At this moment at least. “You’re making even more of a fool of yourself.” She shoved his drink back towards him, which he’d barely touched. “They’re so into you, and you don’t even know it. Like a damn idiot.” 

He glared at her, and talked in the very serious voice people didn’t often hear from him, “They don’t like me. They could NEVER love me!” It ended up making him sad all over again, so he downed the drink. It didn’t take long for the drink to be done, and he sighed, putting the empty glass down and flagging the waitress for another one. “I’m a fool, I have a big nose, and they have EVERYTHING going for them!” 

Alvida raised an eyebrow and said, “Go on.” Secretly making eye contact with you over Buggy’s shoulder. You had just gotten there, and was about to talk to the two of them, but Alvida subtly shook her head and directed her attention back to Buggy, who was now monologuing. 

“They’re so kind, smart, funny. Why would they ever be interested in me? I’m pathetic! I can be mean. Sometimes. Especially to marines or non-pirates. But they’re always there to keep me calm, and not go too far.” He sighed and leaned his head back in his chair with his eyes closed. “Again. They could NEVER love me.” He then opened his eyes to see you standing behind him, with a face redder than his nose. 

“Buggy…that’s not true. I love you. So much…” You looked away from him, and heard him scurry to stand in front of you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, it’s so embarrassing! It would have been too much if you saw his face, showing it was some kind of sick joke. You covered your face with your hands. 

“Hey…hey look at me.” He said in a quiet voice, not even caring about the spectacle he was making. Now that was a first. “Hey…look at me…please?” He sounded pained, but also reassuring. It was enough for you to remove your hands from covering your face. “There you are…do you…do you mean it?” 

His face practically blended in with the color of his nose at this point, and had you not been so flustered over the situation it would have made you giggle. You’d never seen him blush this much. It was…endearing. “I…I do. I do mean it. I love you, Buggy.” You tried to smile but it was wavering, hoping he wasn’t going to completely reject you. You didn’t know if that heart of yours could take it. 

His grin was wide, and his eyes watering. “REALLY? ME? WHY ME?” he pulled you close and lifted you off the ground momentarily. You squealed, but it turned into giggles when he set you back down and looked at you with what could only be described as “puppy eyes.” How could someone be so cool and so cute at the same time?

“It’s always been you. For all three years of being on your crew.” His eyes widened when you mentioned it had been him you loved this whole time. “I…was convinced you didn’t like me. Because of how I look, or my personality. Anything…and I knew you deserved better so I didn’t say anything…” You looked away from him another time, but returned the gaze when he brought a finger to your chin to make you do so. 

His eyes were so…adoring. “Baby…I’ve liked you this whole time too. You look fantastic, and I LOVE your personality. Don’t you ever say anything bad about yourself like that again.” His look turned serious, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face for long. 

“B-baby?” It was shocking but not unwelcome. But his expression turned shocked as well, not even realizing he said it out loud. Once again his face was red, and you put your hands on his cheeks as a comforting gesture. He melted into the touch, and closed his eyes. 

After a moment, he went through several emotions. Cocky first, with a “Well we’re dating now, afterall.” To flustered when you giggled, “B-Because I say so.” To shy. “I mean…if that was…okay. Like if you wanted to. If you were comfortable and wanted to date me. I mean-” 

You stopped him by leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to his nose. “Of course I want to. I’ve wanted to for years. But you’re worth the wait.” And leaned back to see him. He looked at you with a flustered expression, before he spun around to see that Alvida wasn’t there anymore. 

He huffed, “Good. It’s a moment between us two anyways.” Though he was just happy it all worked out. Buggy wouldn’t know what to do if Alvida started teasing him at that exact moment. So instead he held your hands, and looked at them. “Can’t believe I can finally hold your hands like this…”

However back on the ship, there was a raging party you’d have to walk into. Every day was really a party on Buggy’s crew, but now? Alvida and her crew were there too. Also not unusual. But Alvida stood at the helm, and screamed “THEY FINALLY DID IT!” And a chorus of cheers boomed through the ships. No one needed any details, they knew exactly what she meant. They’d been expecting this for years, knowing damn well both of you had those strong feelings for each other. 

And what a party it was, as you would soon find out. 

[yanderecrazysie]

Soulmate Song (Part 2) Yandere Bakugou

Requested on my Quotev! This turned out baaad but whatever.

Part 1: here

Title: Soulmate Song (Part 2)

Pairings: Yandere! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, soulmate AU, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, swearing

Summary: Your soulmate is not exactly what you pictured.

Your laughter mixed with the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore as you walked away. Bakugou clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t used to being ignored- much less by his soulmate.

He’d never cared about having a soulmate before. He had always scoffed at the idea of fate picking out some girl for him. But now that he knew you existed, that you had existed out here without him for so long, it made him angry as hell.

You were weak. But that wasn’t really your fault, was it? You weren’t blessed with a strong quirk like him (he’d checked the quirk registries, your quirk was laughably weak) and you hadn’t trained tirelessly to become a hero like he had. 

And the fact that you were weak just made him want to protect you all the more.

He strode across the beach towards you, hands shoved in his pockets. Maybe if he appeared casual, you wouldn’t be frightened like he knew you would be. Someone as weak as you was surely as jumpy as a mouse.

Before he could catch up to you, however, you spun around and crossed your arms over your chest, fixing him with a furious glare, “What do you want?” 

So you were fiery, huh? He liked it.

His lips curled into a smirk, “What do I want? My soulmate of course.”

Your friend gave you a look of surprise, leaning in to whisper, “Is he your soulmate?”

“You didn’t tell your friend?” Bakugou laughed, somewhat bitterly. He had kind of expected- maybe hoped- that you had told everyone you knew about your connection to a guy as famous as him.

You shrugged, “It didn’t seem important.”

Rage roared in Bakugou’s chest and he gritted his teeth. It wasn’t important? He wasn’t important. How dare you- weak, helpless, stupid you- say something so offensive?

You looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Soulmate or not, I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

A shadow fell over Bakugou’s ruby eyes as he lowered his head for a moment, trying to force himself to stay calm. He stepped closer, half-snarling, “You don’t even know me. I could keep you safe. Someone like you’s bound to get into trouble.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, “I’ve been taking care of myself just fine without you.”

“Someone with a healing quirk? Like you?” Bakugou lifted his head to grin at you, “What’re you gonna do when the bad guys come after you? Make them feel better?”

He had hit a sore spot. You came storming up to him, stabbing your finger into his chest, “Listen here, hero, I don’t give a fuck about you so just stay the fuck away from me. We aren’t soulmates, not anymore. I reject our bond.”

Pain stabbed through Bakugou’s chest and it had nothing to do with your poking and all to do with the bond between you both. Rejecting a bond was very rare and very painful, and yet, here you were, attempting to put him through that.

Your friend gasped softly and hurriedly said, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you snapped.

Bakugou’s expression suddenly changed and he nodded, “Alright, we’ll see how that works out for you. Pretty soon, you’ll be screaming for my help.”

—----------------------------------------

When you arrived home, your door was wide open. The dark entryway seemed ominous instead of welcoming. You reached for your phone immediately and dialed 1-1-0. 

“What’s your emergency?” A calm, female voice asked you on the other line.

“Hi, um, I think my house has been robbed. The door’s wide open and I’m scared to go inside,” you said, eyes trained on your doorway, looking for movement.

“What’s the address?” The emergency worker asked.

You gave her your address and there was a long pause. Finally, she said, “I’ll send a hero to your location.”

A chill ran down your spine, “Actually, could you send the police instead?”

“No, I’ve been told to send a hero to your location,” she replied.

“Which hero?” You asked, slight panic edging into your voice. You had a very bad feeling about this suddenly.

Click. The line went dead. She had hung up on you.

“Aren’t they supposed to stay on the line until the hero gets there?” You wondered wearily.

Movement caught your eye, and you watched as a figure approached the doorway, emerging from the darkness. Your heart plummeted to the pits of your stomach as Bakugou came into the light.

“Oh, honey,” Bakugou’s voice dripped with sarcasm and victory, “A robber? In your house? That’s just a shame.”

He held out a hand to you and, even though he was across the street, you stumbled backwards, trying to put even more distance between the two of you. He snickered at your frightened response, eyes swirling with excitement.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Bakugou suggested. 

“I promise I won’t bite.”

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

I Don’t Want You To Go - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 1040>

You didn't know. Well, you knew, but you didn't want to admit that you knew. It had been bubbling away for a while, but you didn't think it would actually happen. But now, sitting there, scrolling through your phone, learning at the same time as the rest of the world, your heart broke and bled scarlet.

You couldn't decide whether you wanted to laugh or cry. It was all some sick joke, but it felt like April 1st couldn't come quick enough. You read it over and over until the words made no sense and formed into a hazy cloud before your eyes.

Reading Carlos' statement was the hard part. That was the part that broke you. It made the whole situation feel a whole lot more real. You were sitting on the edge between pure fury, and uncontrollable sadness, and you couldn't fathom which you were going to topple into.

You wouldn't be where you were without Carlos, you owed everything you had to him. You wouldn't have your dream job if it weren't for him. He had recommended you way back when, in his first year at Ferrari, and the rest was history.

But now you were getting through the final chapters of your story together, and yours would have to continue on like the unloved sequel that was written for a quick cash grab. Like a cheap jab at the continuation of a character who had died off in the first book.

Messages from people flooded in, the notifications barraging the top of your phone. They all asked if you knew. It was an interesting question, wasn't it? If you knew. If you knew. If only you knew. Would it have made this easier? No.

The pain would have gone on for longer.

You shoved your phone under one of the cushions on your couch, not wanting to even see the notifications pop up on screen combined with Carlos' and Ferrari's points. It didn't bring the same joy anymore.

You'd have to go into work the next day as well. See everyone, see all the memories you had made in the form of the Maranello factory and count down the days until there'd be no more memories to be had.

Sleeping was impossible. Completely unfathomable. Absolutely undoable. You just wanted your bed to swallow you up, engulf you in the duvets then keep you there for the rest of eternity. Maybe it'd take the agony away as well. He wasn't even gone yet, but it still hurt.

Walking into the factory the next day was one of the hardest things you would ever have to do. You kept your eyes down at your feet, trying to distract yourself with work. Everyone knew you would be hurt the most by this, since they knew how close the two of you were. It was obvious.

"Can we talk?" a voice snapped you out of your daze as the voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Not right now," you whispered, trying to make yourself seem busy so that he'd go away. But he knew you better than that, and you knew he was stubborn.

"Please," he added, staring holes into the side of your face. You stood from your desk, unable to bring yourself to look at him. He walked in front of you, the prancing horse still rearing proud on his back, but, in your eyes at least, it didn't carry the same scuderia spark that it used to.

He led you into an empty conference room, and the air felt thick with discomfort. "You're really leaving?" you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. You hadn't said it outloud yet, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

"I don't have a choice," he replied, trying to will you with his mind to look at him, but you weren't taking the hint. You didn't want to cry.

"I don't want you to go, Carlos," you mumbled, your voice breaking as you screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. But the tears were strong willed as they trickled down your cheeks.

"I don't want to go either, but hey, you still have me for the whole of this season and you'll still see me around all the time after," he tried to comfort you, also fighting back the tears. He never wanted anyone to be upset by this, but it was inevitable.

"That's not enough... it's just not enough..." you said, slowly moving closer to him. No amount of time with him there would have been enough, but now you knew the clock was ticking, it felt like the hands were moving all too fast.

"C'mere," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your head into his chest. Your tears left darkened red stains, but that didn't matter in the slightest. "It's going to be OK, it's OK," he soothed, when he was really the one in need of comfort.

Keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, the other gently stroking your hair. But instead of the comforting gesture it normally was, it felt more like an unspoken apology. "It wasn't my decision," he said.

"I know," you nodded, clinging onto him for dear life. It felt like you'd blink and he'd disappear from in front of you. "You're so good Carlos, so goddamn good," you rambled, your attempts at reassuring him falling flat in your opinion.

Carlos appreciated the effort nonetheless. "I'll miss you..." you carried on, but he didn't reply. Replying would mean having to fully accept that it was over, and that he was going to be leaving at the end of the season.

He was never one for living in the present and not thinking about the future, but now was the time he wouldn't take a second for granted, and he'd work his damn socks off to make this season phenomenal. For himself, for Ferrari, for the fans.

You were showing no signs of letting go, and you wanted to hold onto him until the world crumbled out from underneath your feet. The curtains would soon be closing on Carlos' time at Ferrari, and you'd stand at the end, waiting for the encore.

A/N - I already said this earlier today, but I figured it’d be more appreciated on the end of this. ‘65 years ago today, 3 music legends died in a plane crash. That was regarded as the day the music died. For me, that was 2 days ago. I am so devastated it’s not even a joke at this point. Forza Ferrari, or whatever.’

It just doesn’t quite feel real, does it? I knew Carlos wouldn’t be able to stay forever, but I thought there’d be some sort of extension. Not Hamilton going to Ferrari. Fuming.

|masterlist|

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 10 - Convergence~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: The fight with Vox triggers memories of your life on Earth, but a familiar voice calls to you. When you wake, you find an unexpected hand has helped you but of course their aid comes with a catch. More secrets are brought to light and you must choose whose side you're truly on.

Themes: Huge warning for depictions of war/ bombings/ injuries/ death. With everything going on in the world I understand if it is hard to read so feel free to skip the ~8 ish paragraphs. The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, mentions of blood/bodily harm, slow burn, Lucifer can't take a hint, Alastor is full of surprises, eventual smut, and of course 18+

3k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (You're on it!) Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

Like a movie, you watch different places around the world flash before your eyes. Each scene, you’re surrounded by the same small group of people. A feeling of pride filled your body when you looked at them. Are these people my family? They feel like it. You knew you’d do anything to protect them. 

~~I’m here love…

A final flash puts you at an eerily familiar scene. You sit at the end of a small table, watching everyone laughing, eating, singing - just enjoying the down time together. The sound of an air siren puts an immediate silence over the tent. All eyes snap to you, waiting for your guidance. You stand from your chair, “Alright just like training guys, take your assigned positions around the camp and keep a clear - “, ringing pierces your ears as everything goes black. 

~~You’re stronger than this…

In what feels like a second, you are lying face down on the warm ground. How long was I down for? Pushing yourself to your knees, you watch blood from your face make little droplets in the dirt below you. Dust and smoke fill the air, burning your lungs when you try to take a breath. Fuck…Where is everyone? You look at what remains of the camp around you. Piles of brick, wood, and rock litter the area. The night around you is hauntingly silent, interrupted only by the occasional pop of electricity from what remained of the generators. As the dust begins to settle, you’re able to make out multiple sets of boots under rubble nearby. No…no...no…no please...

You attempt to run towards them but stumble back to the ground. A mix of dirt and blood coat the front of your uniform. Other than the pain in your side, you have no way of knowing the true extent of your injuries as a numbness washes over you. 

~~Fight…please my dear…

Sounds of tumbling brick and coughing distract you from your self-evaluation. You crawl towards the sound and find a man trying to sit up, pushing away the rubble that buried his lower body. “Thank God, you have no idea how relieved I am to - “, an involuntary gasp leaves your mouth when you see the piece of metal sticking right through him. 

He half-heartedly laughs, “I was going to make some smartass comment like - How bad is it doc? Think I’ll be home for dinner? - but uh…I think that answered my question.” Fucker always had to make jokes, even the face of death. 

“No it’s not..It’s not that bad. I just need to find my bag, I can stop the bleeding….just…k-keep talking to me.” Your hands fumble across his chest. You try to apply pressure while your eyes frantically scan the area for your medical bag, but Lord only knows where it ended up after the explosion. 

~~Please…we need you…

Warmth continues to spread under you, his blood now staining your hands and arms. He grabs your hands, stopping your efforts and gently setting them on his face, “Don’t do this - ya know how it’s going to end.” A single tear slips past your lashes and down your cheek. His breathing begins to labor, “Hey now boss lady, no cryin’. We all knew what we signed up for. This ain’t your fault.”

~~I need you…

A deafening sound fills the air followed by a blinding flash of white light.

Your eyes bolt open as you sit up gasping for air. Alastor nearly jumps out of his chair, hastily sitting himself behind you in bed to wrap his body around yours, “I’m here, dear. Breathe. You’re safe.” You try to relax in his arms while your mind reels. Was that a dream? A memory? Is that…how I died?

You look down remembering the fight with Vox. Other than a few blood stained cotton bandages, you appear to be mostly healed. “How -?” you begin to ask. Alastor tightens his grip on you, making you wince from the pressure on your still healing wounds. “Please…just…give me a moment.” he begs quietly into your neck. You feel his chest rise and fall against you with ragged breaths. If it was anyone other than Alastor, you would think he was crying. 

Gentle sounds from the wooded bayou fill the room. After a few moments, he breaks the peaceful silence, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” he breathes through a raspy voice. You lean your head back to look up at the demon. He looked just as rough as he did that night in the tower. 

You bring your hand to his cheek and pull him into a tender embrace against your lips. He sighs into your mouth as his body relaxes. He needed to feel you, to know you weren’t gone. The corners of your mouth curl into a smile, “I don’t know how but I heard your voice…through the darkness you were calling to me. Even as I dreamt of my life on Earth.” Alastor huffs amusingly, “My dear, I never left your side. Charlie said talking to you might help. I thought it was silly really but I was willing to try anything. Good to know my efforts weren’t in vain.” 

Alastor delicately brushes his fingers through your hair, “I didn’t think it was possible to feel something worse than the initial fall into Hell, but you seem to enjoy keeping me on my toes. As much as I hate to say it, you might not have made it if Lucifer hadn’t -”

“Lucifer!?” you yell in surprise at how casually Alastor mentions him, “Why would he bother saving me?” A few taps on the door interrupt before you can get an answer. Without waiting for a response, Lucifer walks into the room, “Ah good you’re awake.” he chirps casually. 

You swing yourself to the edge of the bed in an attempt to stand but Alastor keeps a firm hold on your hips, slotting you between his legs to keep you sitting. He scolds quietly in your ear “Easy love, let’s not move too quickly. You’re still healing.”

Lucifer makes his way across the room, puffing his chest out arrogantly as he leans against his cane, “There were only a few wounds I couldn’t get completely healed but you seem to be a strong one! Of course someone had their doubts.” he glares at Alastor, lip nearing a snarl. 

He did help when he didn’t need to, ulterior motives or not I should be grateful. You muster a smile and cool tone, “Well you did wonderful, sir. I am feeling pretty good to be honest. Thank you. I suppose I owe you.” What the fuck did I just say?

Alastor exhales against your neck and digs his fingertips into your sides, making you curse at him under your breath. It didn’t help how smug Lucifer suddenly looked. He nonchalantly fiddles with his suit, “Well we do have some private matters to discuss. If you’re feeling up to it of course.” No but do I have a choice?

“Sure! What’s going on?” 

“I uh - would prefer there to not be an audience, if you don’t mind.” Lucifer shuffles his cane to his other hand. Your chest hitches at the request. I rather not be alone with this man right now. Alastor notices your apprehension, “Anything you have to discuss can be said in my company. You have quite a nasty habit of putting your hands - amongst other things - where they don’t belong.” his tone cut with such sharpness even the well collected King looked visibly uncomfortable. You feel him disappear from behind you only to reappear in a chair by the fire behind Lucifer, “You may continue sir.”

Lucifer scoffs but doesn’t speak right away. You fumble nervously with your hands as his eyes burn into you. Chills creep across your skin from the tension filling the room.

“Soooooo - what did you need to speak about, sir?” you ask wearily, wanting to get this conversation over with. “I told you to call me Lucifer,” he takes a seat next to you on the bed, “And I think you know damn well what we need to talk about.” his once sickeningly sweet voice now harsh with ire. 

Cool, nothing like pissing off the King of Hell. You try to hide the anxiety building in your chest, “Lucifer, I appreciate your offer from the other day however I am staying here. With the sinners and with Alastor. I am capable of  -”

“Yes, yes - you looked quite capable as you were dying in my arms just a few nights ago!” he bites, “Do you think you’re of any use to the people you claim to want to help if you’re dead? Do you think he will actually support you in your efforts?” his eyes dart to the demon across the room.

“Oh and you will!? You want to keep me like a pet in your little castle! Remind me, how did wanting such things from Lilith turn out for you?” 

An unsettling smile crosses his face, making a pit form in your stomach, “You tread on thin ice my dear. If you wish to take low blows, fine. You’re naive to think he actually loves you. You said yourself, he just wants to use you -”

“I was wrong. I was only naive to think you did not want to use me.” you interrupt plainly. R̷͈̈u̸̦͌l̸͍̍e̴͔̅ ̷͉͛#̸̗͒1̶͍͂ ̵̮̐B̵̬̊e̷͖͐ ̵̡́o̵̡̿p̵͎͂e̴̢̋n̷̡̆ ̵͚̋t̵͕͠o̵͔̽ ̵̺̉t̶̰͗ȓ̴̠ů̷̹s̶̩̄t̴̙̅,̸̈́͜ ̶͉̓b̶̘͗ǔ̵̮t̶̯̂ ̸̝̿n̴̳̍ȅ̷͔ṿ̵̀e̴̗̾r̸̨̔ ̵̻͒ḑ̶̾ǫ̴̉ ̴͎̉ś̴̤ō̴̩ ̴̣̒b̶͉͠ḻ̸͗i̶̳̽ṋ̷̀d̶͉͒ĺ̵̘y̸̙̕

He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, “I - I don’t know what you mean. I - I saved you. I protected you when - when he couldn’t. Of course I would have never allowed you to get hurt in the first place.” Alastor clears his throat and shifts in his chair, using every ounce of restraint to not lose his tongue. His eyes pinpoint to Lucifer through a sharp grin. 

I’m not the only one on thin ice here. “I appreciate you helping me, truly. But I think we both know deep down…you’re scared. You’re weaker than you let on. Locking yourself away, ignoring your duties. Without Lilith you’ve become just a shell of the ruler you once were. And, not to sound arrogant, but I get the feeling you think I can somehow change that.”

Lucifer’s look softens and he takes your hand, eyes glued to his thumb tracing across your palm, “I’ll admit there’s some truth to your words. She was my strength. She knew how to lead better than I ever could. The city has gone to shit without her. But…” his other hand cups your cheek as he meets your gaze, “...you can change all of that. Standing by me, you can do so much good for our people. Isn’t that what you want?” his words seem to plead with you. You hear a crack from Alastor’s grip tightening on the arms of his chair. 

You shoot a glance at him, silently asking him to calm down. With a gentle touch, you take Lucifer’s wrist to remove his hand from your face, “I want to save souls, Lucifer. Charlie’s dream is incredible and I plan on helping her see it through. I do not wish to assist in the rule of Hell.” You say soft but stern, trying to make him understand. He stands abruptly to look down at you, “Does this demon share these same sentiments?” 

Fuck he does NOT let up. “I don’t understand. Why are you so against him!?” you raise your voice making the Radio Demon’s ears twitch. 

Lucifer kneels in front of you, tightly gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me…” Alastor stands to say something but you raise a hand to stop him. You wince as slender fingers dig deeper into your skin and the King’s voice darkens to a whisper, “He will never stop trying to gain more power. You want to save souls yet you stand by someone who would sacrifice anyone and anything to get what he wants. You help bring him to power…and he will destroy everything. You, me, Charlie…He - won’t - stop.” 

Your heart pounds against your chest, fighting against the thoughts racing through your mind, “How are you so sure about his intentions?” you squeak out. He gently brushes some hair away from your face, “My sweet girl, there are darker secrets to him than you know. Secrets, I fear, that will destroy you.”

“That is enough.” Alastor’s voice warns with a heavy static. 

Lucifer angrily stands back up, bringing you to your feet with him, “Why can’t you just trust me? Have I not proven myself enough? He will take away everything.” Your hands press against his chest in an attempt to keep him from getting any closer, “Please, stop! He -”

The lights of the room begin to flicker. Alastor grabs Lucifer away from you by his jacket collar and pins him against the wall, “I said that was enough.” he spits. The two men snarl nose to nose before Lucifer lets out a jarring laugh, “Oh-ho - so she really doesn’t know? How far are you going to try and bury the truth?” he peeks over Alastor’s shoulder to you, “See my dear this is what I mean. If he truly loved you, he would have been honest about his - situation.” 

Alastor pulls back and slams Lucifer’s smaller body against the wall again, seething through gritted teeth, “You have no right to -”

“W-what is he talking about?” You brace yourself against the bedpost and take a step towards them. Lucifer shoves Alastor off, sending the pissed off demon half way across the room. His body hits the wooden floor hard enough for the planks to creak beneath him. He half-heartedly struggles to pull himself up onto one knee, panting like a dog about to attack. 

Lucifer saunters over to you. You hear a low growl from Alastor as he watches the small King move his hands over your waist and his lips to your ear, “His soul is bound to another. He only needs you because your power combined can break him free. And what do you think he’ll do the moment he is unchained?” he breathes through a wicked smile. Your entire body tenses, both from shock and how intimately his hands run against you. 

He gives a coy chuckle, raising his voice to ensure Alastor hears him, “Come see me tomorrow. Alone. We can speak further on how you can repay me for helping you.” with a flick of his wrist his cane flies into his hand. You flinch as he presses a kiss to your cheek before disappearing behind his red ribbons.

Alastor remains frozen, kneeling in the middle of the room. His eyes stare into you while flickering between red and black dials. You can’t tell if he’s about to explode or break down. Although a hundred questions are running through your mind, you know better than to poke an already agitated bear or in this case, deer. 

In a moment where you should be angry or confused, where you should yell and scream, you instead do something that takes both yourself and Alastor by surprise. Ignoring the pain and soreness in your body, you drop to your knees in front of him and throw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He moves his hands up but hesitates before touching you. “Wha-what are you doing?” he asks with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. 

Within an instant, a plan forms in your head. This is going to get messy. But it’s the only way to protect me…and protect us. R̶͚̀u̷͍̿l̷̦͛ȅ̸̥ ̸͔̀#̷͇̿4̶̫͝ ̴̧̌Ț̶̈ù̷̫r̸͓̃ǹ̷̩ ̸̘̚y̴͔͊ò̵͜u̸͙͝r̸͜͠ ̶́͜w̸̮̉ẻ̴͚á̵͚k̶͎͌n̵̘͛e̶̪͐s̵̜͝s̵̛̤ ̸̼̋ĩ̸̭n̴̘̈t̷͙̎o̴̡̓ ̵̩͌ŝ̷͉t̴̺̊r̴͈̍e̶̡̔n̷̝̓g̶̭̚t̴̺̓h̸̩̓ You pull him closer and run a hand up into his hair, caressing the back of his head, “You already know the questions I have and I fully expect answers. However, at this moment, I only need to know one thing…” you move away to rest his head in your hands, forcing his crimson stare to you, “...if I help you to break your deal, are you willing to keep your chains and bind your soul to me?” Your tone is serious but affectionate. He needs to know I’m not asking from a place of selfishness. Ȓ̸̤u̷̞͗l̶̫͂e̸̛̩ ̴̬͝#̴̼̒3̶̙͝ ̷̣͂K̵̜̓e̴̘̽ë̶̤́p̸̳͑ ̷̣͘t̷̥͆ẖ̸͐o̶͉̐s̷͗͜e̷̛̻ ̵̪̍y̴͎͗ǒ̴͎u̵͘ͅ ̸͇́ĺ̵̮ö̴̧v̴̩̏ę̷̀ ̷̝̋c̸͠ͅl̶̫͑o̸͈͆s̴̟͠ë̵̢́

“Yes.” he says without hesitation. His immediate response takes you aback. The last thing you expected was the ‘all powerful’ Radio Demon to give into your request without a second thought. For a moment you are left completely speechless. 

Unassured by your lack of response, Alastor places his hands over yours, “You’ve already managed to obtain my heart and my mind. The second my deal is broken, I will give you my soul. I will give you everything.” Your heart flutters at his words. 

There isn’t a single hint of anger or regret in his voice. His eyes lock to yours as he peppers kisses into your palm and down your wrist. The image takes you back to the first night you spent with him just months prior. That night he looked hungry and desperate but now there’s nothing but devotion, a silent plea for your trust. 

You can’t fight the heat rising in your face from his affection. He always has a way of clearing your mind yet clouding it all at once. You’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart from his willingness to give everything to you. Well phase one of this plan is already going swimmingly. He cocks an eyebrow at how smug you suddenly look, reading you like an open book, “What schemes are you concocting behind those eyes?” 

You lightly peck his forehead, then his nose, stopping just above his lips. A sly grin spreads across your face, “I have a plan but you’re not going to like it.” He rolls his eyes and groans, “It involves Lucifer, doesn’t it?” 

He helps you to your feet and pulls you into him. Your hands rest perfectly against his broad chest as you smile up at him without an answer. His eyes close with a deep sigh, “My dear, I already do not like where I think this is going.” he mumbles, knowing you’ve already made up your mind. 

You stand on your toes to give him a quick playful kiss, “I believe it’s time for me to go make a deal with the Devil.” R̸̢̉u̷͙̔l̷̺̇e̴̡͌ ̷̢̿#̶̠̍2̷͊͜ ̵̤̕D̷̦̐o̴̞̒n̷̠̈́’̷͔̆t̵̪̀ ̴̬̊b̸̺͋ẽ̶͈ ̴̣͘a̴͚͋f̶͔͗ṙ̶͔a̵̻̕i̸̪̾d̵̲̂ ̸̙͗t̷̛̥o̸͕̐ ̸̟͊s̵̖̒h̸͔̊ö̷͇́ẃ̶ͅ ̷̯̓y̸̭̔o̸̮͆u̴̠͐r̷͙͝ ̶͚͝p̵͔͌ǫ̷̛w̵͔͝ė̶̝r̴͎̂

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[tarot-readingz]

band-aids

Bill Cipher x Reader oneshot || fluff, hurt/comfort ⊹₊⟡⋆ warnings: self harm injuries/relapse in self harm, brief negative self-talk and low self-esteem ⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: Bill helps bandage up your wounds and provides some awkward comfort. 💭 i needed some comfort recently, and i thought i'd maybe share what i wrote in case anyone else needs it too . bill might be a bit 'ooc', but that doesn't matter here lol . and to whoever's reading, remember that you are loved, and you matter very much . please be gentle with yourself, and stay safe, friend <3

Rrrip.

The sound of another band-aid being opened fills the otherwise tense silence. That’s the third one, and you’ll probably need another. You watch as Bill carefully lines it up across your arm, making sure it doesn’t bubble up when you move, then presses down so it sticks. It’s… oddly sweet, almost unnervingly so. You’d never have thought he’d be capable of this much care; this tenderness.

Neither of you speak for what feels like hours in your small bathroom. You’ve just finished crying, and now a headache lingers. You’re not even sure what to say, anyway. Luckily, though, he beats you to it.

“What made you do this?”

…maybe not so lucky.

You chew on your lip, pointedly keeping your gaze away from his. How do you even answer that? It’s too much to begin explaining, you don’t know where to start, and with your thoughts currently moving at the speed of molasses, all you can do is sigh. “I just…” a pause, you try again. “I…”

God, the words just aren’t going to come out easily, are they?

Thankfully (but surprisingly), Bill says nothing— no teasing, no prodding— instead going still as he actually waits for you to answer. Why is he acting so… so…

Your face scrunches up in mild frustration, then falls into something more dismayed with another huff. “I just… spiralled. I was angry, and I felt that I deserved it. And… I wanted it, I guess.” It was much more complicated than that, but it’s a start.

He’s eerily quiet, and when it stretches on for too long, it feels like it’s suffocating you— you have to say something else. 

“I thought you’d be more amused. Don’t you find pain hilarious and all that?” It’s a weak attempt at banter, and you only muster a breath of a laugh, but he doesn’t joke back. Rather, his grip on your arm tightens slightly, and his gaze remains on the cuts now hidden away under the protective band-aids. He mutters something so softly and you almost miss what he says. “Not when it’s yours.”

His words make your chest do… something. It tightens and flutters at the same time. He doesn’t admit any vulnerability out loud, it’s always indirect. Implied. You’re touched, confused, and all-around emotional. You pray that you don’t start crying again. 

“If you start thinking like that again, you’ll tell me. Got it?” Bill breaks the silence again, and his tone leaves no room for argument, but underneath it…. He’s oddly affected by this, and you really didn’t think he would be, considering what kind of person (er, triangle?) he is. You’ve seen exactly what he’s like, evil and manipulative and uncaring towards others— and for whatever reason, he makes exceptions with you. Sometimes.

Mulling over his statement, you finally nod silently in agreement, but he still doesn’t move. “Promise me.”

Now that makes your insides twinge, and as much as you want to, you don’t dare to look up at him. There’s no way Bill would demand a promise. There’s no way he’d ask, or plead for something.

But that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You don’t know how to process it.

“…Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I— okay, I promise.”

Finally satisfied, he resumes covering the tiny stripes of lacerations with another band-aid, the ripping of the paper cuts sharply through the already fragile atmosphere. He repeats the same steps, using the same level of care that makes your heart ache. You don’t realize you’re crying until you watch his hand reach up to brush against your cheek, the contact making your breath hitch and your face to heat up. 

“Hey, stop that. You’ve done enough gross leaking for the night.” He sounds awkward and mildly annoyed, and you can’t help the laugh that slips out, nor the tired smile that forms on your face, and finally, you glance up. Bill’s gaze is already on you, and you swear you can feel him brighten a little bit at your reaction. “There you go, that’s better! Besides, you gotta keep yourself together for me. Can’t have my future puppet falling apart so soon, y’know.”

You shove him, but there’s no force behind it. His hand falls away from your cheek as he laughs, and you find yourself wishing it had stayed a little longer. “Oh shush, you know that’s not happening.”

“Not yet,”

“I will drop-kick you out the window.”

“Ha! Good luck trying while all of your motor functions are inverted!”

All the while, his other hand hasn’t moved from your arm, even when he’s done tending to your wounds.

[igotanidea]

Single parent struggles : father!Dick Grayson x mother!reader

THAT!!! PICTURE!!!!!

summary/request: single Father Dick Grayson x single Mother reader? Where at some kids birthday party also can the kids be between the ages of like 3 and 4.

A/N: writing this was just so cute and heartwarming and pleasant and fluffy. I think this is going to be my new verse, so if anyone ever get any ideas in that - please ask me to write more UwU <3

***

„Thomas, please stop running around!” Y/N laughed happily when her 4 year old son slipped on the floor and run into her legs. She was quick enough to catch him, before he actually landed on his bottom and started crying.

“Sorry mum!” he grinned with the cutest smile there was, and not paying much attention to his mother’s admonishment regained his balance and followed the friends that he was chasing. “Wait for me!” he yelled before disappearing.

Her son was invited to a birthday party of his kindergarten friend, and obviously, she happened to be a tag along. Helping with the service and acting as a supervisor.  Not that  she complained. Being a single parent was rewarding, but also happened to be her bread and butter and she didn’t have many occasion to go out the house and spend time with actual adult outside of work. Sure, she loved Thomas with all her heart and never regretted the decision of having him, even when his failure of a father took off running the second he found out about the pregnancy, but sometimes she was just tired. And having an opportunity to hang out and relax and watch her son being so happy around other kids were simply heartwarming. Thomas shed too many tears and experienced sadness asking about the other parent and Y/N swore, that to the maximum of her  abilities, she would protect him from that pain.

“God….” she muttered to herself, gathering the fruit bowl from the counter. “I swear the kids never get tired……” her son’s energy was exhausting, but the serene expression in her eyes were showing the truth feelings behind the sigh. Lost in her own thoughts Y/N turned around not noticing the man standing right behind her, bumping straight into the sculpted chest, immediately being caught by two strong arms, the bowl serving as some sort of airbag.

“I know, right?” the man let out a laugh still holding onto her “I’m dealing with the same problem with my daughter. Don’t know who said that girls are quieter and more polite than boys but it does not apply in this case.”

“Hello Richard.” Y/N tilted her head “didn’t see you around for a while.”

Richard Grayson, more often than not called “Dick” was the treat for all the mothers. Handsome, well-build, kind with charming, boyish attitude and most importantly, single father. Rumor has it that the mother had some mental problems and one day escaped the hospital where she and the daughter were getting some treatment and observation, took the kid and left it on the threshold of Dick’s house before disappearing herself. Despite Dick’s attempt to locate her (and boy, that man definitely had the resources, being the son of the Bruce Wayne) he never succeeded, giving up after some time.

And that gave the soccer mothers plenty of opportunities to get him involved in all possible kids’ activities. Kindergarten play? Picnic? Cinema sally? Birthday party? He was pretty much everywhere. Much to all the husbands’ displeasure.

But, since both he and Y/N were the only single parent and  the subjects of many rumors that gave them the opportunity to get close and become really good friends. After all, there’s no one better to understand the struggles of raising a kid alone.

“Yeah….” He scratched his head awkwardly, letting go of her arm “I’ve been running after Abby, making sure she does not get in any troubles. But it seems like the fire is fought for a moment and I can finally catch a breath. “

“Really?” Y/N mocked putting the bowl away, crossing arms over her chest “guess the apple does not fall far from the tree, right? Abby takes a lot after you.”

“Are you calling me a troublemaker?” Dick caught his chest and his eyes widened in a fake shock. “Me?”

“Yes.” She teased “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe a bit” he muttered taking a step forward. This made Y/N take a step back and in no time she was trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. “But there’s one more thing me and Abby have in common.”

“And what may that be, Mr. Grayson?” she raised an eyebrow, observing his face carefully and impatiently awaiting the answer.

“We both happen to like the member of the l/n family.” He smirked, grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him closing the distance between them.  Her hands found a way towards his neck, locking around it and bringing his lips down for a kiss. It’s been a while since they had any opportunity to be alone, and they were not going to miss it. Even if that meant making out in a messy kitchen in someone else’s house, hiding from their kids. They were acting like teenagers, sneaking around and trying to keep their relationship a secret. And despite the fact that they were both adults this courtship was gentle, careful, soft. They have been hurt before and the cautiousness was making them both take it slow.

But obviously it didn’t mean that there was no passion between them when Dick grabbed onto her tighter, wanting her closer, his hands travelling around her back, sneaking under her shirt, craving to feel her skin, but still keeping the slow, loving pace.

“Behave….” She mumbled into the kiss, but not really stopping him. “Someone can see us…..”

“Oh, please…” he fought the urge to roll his eyes, moving to brush her cheek, jaw and neck in the teasing attempt to make her whine for him  “you can’t keep your hands to yourself either.” The bastard was right since her fingers were playing with his hair, pulling lightly.

“I can stop….” She started withdrawing her hands but he was quick to grab her wrist keeping it in place.

“Don’t.” his soft whispers and touches were literally making her melt. “I missed you, Y/n. I missed this…. us……” God, how she loved his attention, even when he pulled back and stopped kissing her, instead looking her straight in the eyes. “I .... wish to have more of you just for myself…..”

“I know. I feel the same.”  She smiled and her eyes glistened. Before she met him, after Thomas’s father left, she didn’t believe she could find love again. But life can be surprising and even if they haven’t really said the L word to each other,now she was trapped in the arms of a man who did love her with the undying passion and with whom she felt save and taken care of us as never before. And every time they stole a kiss or a secret touch or just talked or spent time together she felt like crying because of that warm feeling inside her chest and belly. This time was no different as  few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Crying again?” Dick cupped her face, brushing those drops away with his thumb “don’t cry on my account princess.” He brushed his nose over hers, forehead meeting forehead, eyes closing, breathing each other in.

“How can I not?” she sighed deeply, unable to hold back everything he was making her feel. “Dick, I….”

“I know, baby. Trust me, I know.” he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead, rocking her gently to the sound of music coming from the garden causing her to smile again.  

He knew.

He knew the heartbreak, the pain, the unanswered question why. He’s been through it all. And it was not his intention to play around with Y/n’s emotions and feelings or to hurt her. Ever. Not with everything she’s been through.

“I’m not like him…..” he whispered, almost inaudibly and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.

“How long do you think since one of the mums start looking for you to move the chairs or ask for another stupid favor?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Are you jealous?”

“And what if I am?” she twirled a strand of hair on her finger, eyes fixed on his.

“Well, than I’m flattered, but you have no reason for that, baby.” His hands intertwined with hers, caressing tenderly “I lo…..” he almost said it. Almost.

“Daddy?” a quiet, girl’s voice cut him off and it took massive amount of energy to muffle the annoyed groan. Of course it was kids who interrupted him.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he pulled back

“I cut my finger….” Abby pouted, her gaze switching between her father and Y/N. “what are you doing?”

“We were just getting some fruits for you.” the older girl smiled “I’m gonna go and let your father take care of you, little one. See you around, Richard.” She moved away from him and with one final lingering secret brush of hands left him, still aching for her, not able to ever get enough of her presence.

“Daddy?” Abby asked again once Y/N was out of sight.

“Yes?”

“Do you like Thomas’s mum?”

“Do you?”

“She’s nice and pretty. And gives the best hugs. “ the girl frowned, thinking deeply “so yes, I think I like her.”

“That’s good to know.” Dick smiled pecking the top of Abby’s head.  He was not going to let this woman out of his life and his daughter’s acceptance was very important for the future purposes.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Not sure if you've seen it but could you please do a Graves siblings x Denji from Chainsaw Man style reader?

I’ve never seen Chainsaw Man, not an anime guy- but reading up the Wiki gave me some idea

Andrew and Ashley Graves x Denji Style!Reader

It’s been said many times your impulsivity and general unawareness would be your downfall

Mostly by old farts who think of you as nothing but street trash

It’s not your fault you never finished high school. Not your fault you never socialized properly as a child.

They can fuck off for all you care

But in this moment…you hated how right they were

Your breathing was staggered, air becoming a commodity as you felt blood fill your lungs. Your body curled up into itself, clutching your stomach. Everything hurt. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to be alive.

Footsteps became distant, leaving you in this cold- trash ridden alley, the pricks taking your wallet- and dignity- with them. Not like they’d find much, you had about 20 bucks to your name. They’ll be back for more eventually.

Most kids got their father’s eyes, some their noses- not you. No. Your father oh so graciously left you with his debt to the fucking mob! Asshole thought putting a new hole in his head would get him out of it, and it did- but all that fell on to you. You swore that as your swollen ear was pressed to the concrete, you could hear the prick laughing from hell.

You were gonna die here. You knew that. At least then the debt will finally be gone, you don’t have a kid to pass it along to and you’re an only child. Maybe they’ll track down your mother?….

You groan in pain, though it’s a pitiful attempt to call for help. No one will come find you. They’ll probably think you’re just some homeless person wallowing in their misery.

You tried to open your eyes, but unfortunately they were both too swollen to accomplish that. Tears pricked the corners and fell down your cheeks- causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt too much to cry, but you couldn’t help but sob as breathing became harder and harder. Your throat swelled in pain, you couldn’t swallow down the blood filling it.

Air slowly left your body as you drifted into unconsciousness….the last thing you remember feeling was a hand on your arm.

By all accounts, you should be dead

You wish you were dead

But god is a sick fuck who kicks around their most pathetic toys for entertainment

And you’re one of his pathetic toys

You slowly came too, the feeling of trash bags no longer cushioning you- but rather an actual cushion.

It smelled of cigarettes, but it was honestly preferred over wet garbage

Your body felt sore, but significantly less bloody

In fact….you were patched up

Poorly, some bandages were loose and some were way too tight- but it was better than exposed wounds that could get infected

You attempted to lift yourself to a sitting position, but the pain was unbearable. Along with that, any motions you continued to make were interrupted by two voices,

“Oh hey- woulda look at that. A zombie.”

“Oh my god!”

You couldn’t even register what was happening before you felt someone at your side. Helping you up was a guy, around your age you estimated, with messy black hair and striking green eyes. He struggled to hold you up and grab a pillow, so he narrowed his eyes over the back of the couch.

“Give me a hand would ya!” It wasn’t so much of a question as a demand.

“God! Alright alright, hang on.”

Shuffling noises became closer, but it was all behind you and it hurt to try and turn to inspect. From what you could hear though, the voice sounded more feminine and significantly more chill about this situation than the guy.

Speaking of which, the guy carefully lowered you on to some pillows, a couple throw ones from the dingy couch and one more fit for a bed. You got a better look at the owner of the feminine voice.

She was shorter than the guy, same messy black hair- only this time tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a soft shade of pink. She stared at you unamused while the guy hovered over you worriedly. It made you anxious. What sucked even more was you didn’t know who these people were, and why you were here! Last you remembered you were dying in an alley! The fuck?!

“Oh shit- uhm-“ the guy bit down on his finger to think, “Fuck what do we do?”

“Beats me,” the woman shrugged, “It was your idea to bring them here.”

“THE FUCK IT WAS”

You flinched at the sudden change of tone.

He pointed a finger at the woman, who stood unphased still, “You are not putting this on me- not again! You had the bright idea of using them for—“ he paused, suddenly remembering your presence. If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve said something, but instead he grabbed the woman by her wrist and led her into the bathroom with her protesting the entire way.

Finally, with your changed seating position and privacy, you could examine where the hell you were. Taking a look around at the peeling wallpaper, stained carpet, and two dingy beds (one surprisingly made despite there being two occupants)- you deduced it was a motel. A motel with very thin walls that allowed you to vaguely pick up on the two’s hushed conversation….

“….lets just ditch them.”

“No! We can’t do that…..might go to the police.”

“Maybe not….they looked like a bum.”

“Ashley!”

“Well? Am I wrong?”

The rest was a back and forth of deciding your fate while you sat by, twiddling your thumbs….or you would if you could move your arms. At least you learned the name of one of your saviors….or captors in this case.

Moments later, the guy and Ashley exited the bathroom- standing before you, one significantly more tense than the other.

“Uhm- sooooo, hi.” The guy started.

“Hey…” your voice was still strained from pain, “Look I heard you two in the bathroom….I won’t tell the cops anything.”

“Yeah, cause you’re not leaving.”

Crickets. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I….” You blinked, “I’m what?”

“See- here’s the thing,” Ashley strode forward, ignoring the guy’s protest, “You’ve seen our faces, and thanks to these thin ass walls you know my name at least. His is Andrew by the way—“

“Ashley!”

“What? I’m not going down alone!” She retorted before turning to you again, “So, you can’t leave.” She sounded a little disappointed.

You blinked, still processing all of this. Did you just get kidnapped?? You took in the figured of your captors, their body languages vastly different. But…in some sick way….this benefited you.

The mob thinks you’re dead. You can’t just walk free now, not in case one of their members finds you alive and reports it back to their boss. And these guys are already on the run from what it seems…

You can work with this.

Andrew Graves

The more comfortable you became to this situation- the more it was apparent you and Ashley were tiring Andrew out

He had grown used to his sister’s impulsivity, but your own was new territory to him

Also a new source of gray hairs…

Honestly, you assumed he hated you

But….despite what he says- you believed Ashley when she told you that bringing you along was his idea

Things still felt tense, just the two of you

And you’re still not entirely convinced he enjoys having you around

But that just made the moments where your brazen antics made him laugh all the more enjoyable

To an extent, Andrew was patient with you

He took care of a lot of the social and book smarts stuff, areas you lacked in

It felt nice having someone take care of it, instead of chastising you to do better

Andrew stared at you in quiet disgust, his elbow rested on the diner’s table. In your run, the three of you decided to stop at this diner to eat. The place was littered with 50’s memorabilia- neon signs, a jukebox, obnoxiously plush booths to sit in. Great if you ignore literally everything about the 50’s!

You had settled next to Andrew, sitting closest to the wall while he took then end. Ashley had seated across from you two, but she had since gone to the bathroom, leaving just you two.

Seated on the table in front of you was an array of sauces, each opened for you to dip your fries into. The concoction of sauces were a mess on your shirt, face, and hands- something Andrew visibly recoiled at.

Andrew scoffed, “Y/N-“ you looked up, “C’mere.”

Reaching over you, Andrew grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the sauce on your face- to which you squirmed at irritably. Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Hold still!” He became a little more aggressive with his cleaning, “God- has anyone ever taught you how to clean yourself!”

You decided to fight back in the only way you could think of, and that was by throwing a sauce covered fry at Andrew. You both paused as the projectile stuck to his sweater before it pathetically peeled on and on to the floor below you two. You blinked. Andrew blinked, then grabbed a fry, and threw it back at your face.

What followed was an in booth fight of several things being thrown: sauces, food, punches- ending with Andrew getting you in a headlock.

“Say it!”

“Never!”

“Fucking say it!” Andrew tightened the headlock as you flailed about.

You wheezed, “Ah! Asshole I can’t breathe!” You tried to pry his arm away, “Fine! Uncle! Uncle!”

With that, he released you- leaving you wheezing as you scooted away. He had that smug grin on his face though, a grin of victory. You flipped him off.

“Dick.” You muttered.

Andrew grabbed a napkin and began cleaning himself off, “You started it friend, I finished it.” He turned to you, pushing his basket of untouched fries to you, “Here. Most of yours are on the floor.”

You looked at him, tentatively reaching your hand for the basket before quickly pulling it to your side- feasting on them like a rabid raccoon. Andrew no longer watched in disgust, but a strange fondness in his eyes.

Ashley Graves

Maybe part of the reason Ashley kept you around was because you went along with her ideas

They were about the same thought process you had, so why not

You two always beat Andrew in votes for how to navigate a problem

And somehow always ended up pushing through it

Maybe she just liked how obedient you were with her

She’s easy on the eyes, and who are you to argue with a pretty woman

She never chastised you for your antics or behavior, but rather rewarded it

“So good Y/N!”, ruffling your hair, squishing your face while cooing all this praise

It felt….nice

So it made you feel terrible whenever it got taken away

Ashley was easy to upset, you learned that

You’d precariously tiptoe the line, and eagerly await the affection when she recovered and liked you again

You wished you never made her upset…

The air felt thick with tension, Ashley’s back turned to you as she looked out the window. It was just the two of you in the backseat of the hitman’s van, Andrew having stopped on the side of the road for a bathroom break. You didn’t know what you did wrong- but it must’ve been something to make her upset with you.

You tentatively reached out a hand, debating whether or not to grab hers. Before you could make the decision, she pulled it away without looking. A small whine arose from the back of your throat, like a hurt dog.

You wish you were a dog sometimes.

A dumb dog who couldn’t mess things up, maybe then she’d love you again.

“Ashley…” your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

“What?” Her voice felt like a knife stabbing at your heart.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you lowered your hand.

Ashley’s body made the slightest movement, “For?”

You tensed. Genuinely, you didn’t know what you did, but it must’ve been something. You gulped, looking down at the floor of the car, “For….” You grimaced as you couldn’t think of anything.

Ashley sighed, turning to face you. Her pink eyes stared into your own, you shrank a little at her glare, “Genuinely- you don’t know what you did?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Ashley sighed, apparently seeing you on the verge of crying was enough for her to open her arms to you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself into her arms- face burying itself into the crook of her neck as you sniffled. You felt her hand tangle itself into your hair, almost petting you.

“There there…” she shushed, “You’re forgiven.”

It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders as she said those words, you held on to her tighter- not wanting to let go. Not wanting to lose the one person who didn’t make you feel stupid or like a burden or annoying or- any of those things.

Ashley made you feel warm. Ashley made you feel good. Ashley is good.

And you want nothing more than to be good for her..

[streamluckybyriize]

I actually have no idea what this is?

Anton (RIIZE) who would only take so much before he snaps (warning- I’m trying to make Y/N as deserving of this as I can do if you start hating her, TWINS)

Anton whines, his 8th orgasm denial still fresh. His cock painfully hurts, his breathing short and shallow. “please…I’ve been good..” he moans quietly as your hand makes contact with his red, swollen tip. He has been good. Anton’s middle name is good. He’s always been nice, he always listens to you. But, you’re feeling cruel. So, you continue to edge him. “fuck…oh fuck please let me c-cum.” Anton begins moaning loudly, your wrist stroking him faster. “you wanna cum?” You coo at him.

“please!- oh fuck- shit” Anton can feel the edge coming closer. His chest heaves, his thighs shaking as he almost finishes, just about to. But so frustratingly, your hand quickly slides off. “not this time, pretty boy.” You giggle. You then get off the bed, walking to across the room to find some ribbon to tie him up. You don’t hear Anton getting off the bed, walking towards you until you feel him. You feel his warm breathe fanning down your nape, sending shivers down your spine, which don’t go unnoticed. You clear your throat, turning around to face him. you strain self control to not stare at his god-like body. “And what do you think you’re doing? You don’t want to start acting up now do you..?” You think you have the upper hand, until Anton’s hand slides to your neck, encasing it. Your face drops- he’s not trying to take control, is he?

He then pulls you by your neck, manhandling you to the bed where he tactically throws you on it. He starts at your pants, sliding them off with ease. He rips your tank top in half, startling you. “You’ve been so mean today. Teasing me, torturing me as if I’ve misbehaved. For what? To be a bitch? To just get your hands on my dick because you’re nothing but a fucking slut?” His strong hands rip your panties, no longer needing them. Thankfully, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Hm? Well, answer me. Answer me, slut.”

You whine, suddenly embarrassed at how he’s staring at your naked body. He slaps your cunt, jolting your body upwards. “Anton!”

“I asked you a question.” He slaps your clit again. Tears form around your eyes as the spanks become more sharper, more quicker, even though the pain seems to last forever. “I’m sorry!” You choke out. “I’ll be good for you. Just please, touch me.” Even though he’s causing you physical pain, you are so beyond turned on right now. he chuckles, mocking you precisely. “That’s what you want? To be pleasured, to feel good?” He asks. you can’t tell if this is a trick question but you don’t care and race to answer. If it’s not, at least he’ll do what you say. “Yes, please Anton. Please touch me.” Your hands rake down his body, over the crevices of his abs and every curve his delicious body. You stare into his eyes, and you see something you’ve never seen before. “I don’t think you really deserve that though-“

“God anton hurry up!” Your impatience wears thin, and you attempt to roll him over so you straddle him, but he’s planted in that exact spot and you can’t flip yourselves over. He laughs- he actually laughs.

Laughs at you as you become huffy.

He leans down to your ear. “If you want me to actually touch you, get rid of that fucking attitude first.”

[soraviie]

you're oblivious.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff + crack  ━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: lowkey inspired by a video of Hoseok being oblivious to BTS. Literary wise is not that complicated but it's humourous

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON:

sAVE HIM

Literally 

He’s struggling so bad bro it’s not even funny 

Fights the battle against your ignorance on two sides

By night, he’s your suave secret admirer, leaving behind finely crafted letters of adoration that would put the brightest of the Romantic Age into a second grave

By day, he’s fucking shitting himself

Knees weak, palms sweaty, mom’s spaghetti 

“This is made of silk,” he tugs at his own shirt during a short elevator ride

“Hmm,” comes your reply and from the gleam in your eye, he might just bear this suspicion you’re orbiting Mars right now

Alas he can’t stop

Because Holy SHIT! You’re here! Hi!

(truthfully, in the beginning, he was somehow much more put together, wowing you with sleazy smiles, breathy laughs and all the glory of that fuckboy gene that sleeps somewhere in his DNA but after that flew over your head and he listened to a podcast about the scarcity of sincere romantic gestures and the respect of polite admiration, the attempts to seduce you grow exponentially worse with time)

“It’s not velvet because it doesn’t feel velvety. Or tweed. Because obviously, it’s not…tweedy.”

“I see,” you conclude, dead to the world. “Have a nice day, Mr Kim.”

Watches you leave, bites on his fist, bites on his shirt, sulks the day away

plEASE just let him talk to you, I beg

Wants to hear your opinion, your insights, what you like and dislike, everything

Thus he tries to break the ice by initiating the dumbest subjects

“Grape?” he leans against the table, a total playboy. “Thoughts?”

“Of a singular grape?” you clarify

He sweats. “yEah.”

“None,” you reply flatly

So think a teenage boy with a crush but more wholesome

If he’s ever seen talking to you and/or trying to subtly touch you (which is another thing on its own) know that the last twenty minutes were spent shitting, screaming, vomiting

Ah! The Touching!

Tries to be subtle and casual - a hand over your shoulder because of some vague reasons, plays with your clothes a lot while pointing out this looks pretty on you 

HAND! ON! LOWER! WAIST!

The excuse is he’s just guiding you where you need to be 

And where you need to be is in his arms

And his bed he's actually so horny for you damn checking out left and right and then feeling conflicted over it because as a man...!

All this circus is, of course, detrimental to everyone’s mental health 

It is deeply painful to watch

Yoongi probably goes around citing the long-term health damage this inflicts upon him 

In the end, Namjoon is ousted by someone in the group. Anonymously but still the e-mail “Go out with Namjoon, he’s the one writing the letters. You have 24 hours.” is accompanied by “sent from Jimin’s iPhone”

YOONGI:

What have you done

You’ve created a monster!

When the saccharine first stage of catching feelings is gone with no results, honey boy, shyly twitching and squirming at every sentence, smiling softly at you in the distance, is no longer

This is Min Yoongi a.k.a. Agust D a.k.a. don’t wear converse a.k.a. the infamous Tokyo deliverer

Because, yes, Yoongi is not the stone-cold bastard everyone thinks he is, he’s actually a caring, considerate man interested in the simple life not the grand scheme of the universe

But you must remember - what Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets

You’ve ever seen shameless Min Yoongi?

Lord

He will not give a single shit

Will sit in your lap even with 1000 chairs available, invites you to dinner all the time with some handwavy excuse

Turns into his version of a whore (wears one layer instead of three)

(tight, white t-shirts displaying the Min Buffgi agenda, hello)

Points at a tattoo parlour and says you should get each other’s names engraved then he sort of laughs but does he??

Has  created a ship name for you and does bring it up at any moment he pleases to be fit which is coincidentally all the time

Definitely says “this is because I like you” in passing

But all in all, you can sEE it in HIS EYES!

They sparkle! 

Requests your presence like a tyrannical king if he’s feeling down

Gives you probably weirdly affectionate names like “heater” or “vitamin water” meaning you make him warm and energized

Sorry, he just can’t get anything like “honey” past his lips so “solar panel” it is

To keep you around him longer plays his favourite version of the game "two truths one lie" which is "all lie, pure shit"

Basically says the most blatantly untrue shit so you would sit and debate that coconuts in fact do not migrate due to birds

Sometimes he's still not up to talk and wants to just submerge himself in the music but even so, oftentimes he's okay with you chilling on the couch doing your own thing

Basically having a crush for him means wanting head pats and then doing the absolute most to receive them (while taking good care of you in turn)

JIN: 

Clings

He doesn't usually do that so that's how everyone knows something's up

Back hugs because it’s cold, back hugs because it’s warm, it’s raining in Madagascar, he doesn’t care

Paradoxically, says the most ego-inflated things whilst sweltering red like a forest fire

“Look at me, haven’t I passed even my normal rate of attractiveness? I’m definitely 12 today,” says he whilst pushing hair out of his forehead, thus showcasing the flaming ears

He will NOT! have anyone embarrass him during this crucial time!

If any one of these degenerates opens their foul fucking mouth to spill the practice conversation he had between himself and the mirror, he will kICK THEM INTO THE SUN!

Lame, couple puns

All the time

Neverending

He has to rehash them after a while

Really wants to make you laugh :(

Wants your compliments so bad, he's fishing for them every second of the day

hehe fishing get it because he likes to fish

“Doesn’t this shirt match my hair?” he asks

“Hmm. You look like a grapefruit.”

Turns away in shame, palm over mouth

Definitely hands RJ so you could watch over him

It’s his child so he wants only the most elite care and seeing you play with the plush has him melting in heart-shaped goo

Ooo! Smooth Jin has entered the station! He’s boarding the train! Look at him go!

Whispers in your ear, establishes his dominance over the seat next to you, makes up the most random bullshit for you to touch him - can you adjust this, adjust that, could you help him brush his hair etc.

Oh, and if you don’t take proper care of yourself, he activates his strict care mode

You know those moments when Jin becomes The Eldest? Hot

“All life is precious,” says with a frown but one born out of worry standing in front of you, arms on hips as you sit there with your head hung low. “Your’s even more so don’t be careless with it.”

But after scolding he treats you either via food or by saying he's just worried for you

Definitely offers to do something for you and throws fake tantrums about it

"Ah, __________, I can't believe you're making me pay for this meal!"

"I'm not ??? I can pay for my own share if your rich ass is so stingy."

Pouts to the max -

"Yah, you don't think I can take care of you?! Yah, you're underestimating me. Oh, ____________ you won't be underestimating ever again!"

HOSEOK:

Doesn’t embarrass himself quite as much as the rest 

He’s actually kinda chill about it

Perhaps because he’s been the oblivious one in the past and he’s reserved himself

And he doesn’t want to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable

One word that comes to mind - solid

(not that, you pervert)

Trustworthy you know

Offers a ride everywhere whenever he can especially from home to work and back

Do you need something? He’s got it. Do you want extra help? He’ll do it

You're sad?

He'll cheer you up in no time

So really becomes like your rock

Starts nonsensical conversations as well but unlike Namjoon he actually succeeds

“This one they had in pink last year, it was all over Instagram. How is it purple now?”

“Dunno,” you look at the flowers. “Maybe different species. Maybe they repainted them. Purple is trendy right now.”

“Haha, borahae.”

Then plucks one flower and tugs it behind your ear

“There. Pretty.”

Feeds you a lot, really attentive

Doesn’t really care what you see him as for now - a friend or a helpful guy - as long as you’re living good, he’s happy :’)

The only thing giving away his crush is the constant playing with his ears to alleviate nervousness

And the handmade jewellery, for sure has by now given you ten to twelve handmade bracelets which he nearly passed away when gifting

Whenever he sees them on your wrists gets ultra shy but happy cause this might actually happen in due time

JIMIN:

Did I say save Namjoon? Save this guy

You don’t know what his deal is? He doesn’t either

Know of his duality? Prepared to be exposed to it on a rhythmic rotation from here on out

Was he just yesterday, playing with your earring, whispering in a sultry, whiny tone:

“Why don’t you like me, __________?”

“I do like you.”

“You could like me a bit more. I would really like it if you would.”

And is he now, on this fine fucking day, hiding behind Namjoon whispering into his ear to tell you you’re doing a great job?!

Yes. 

He’s feeling shy today :(

Lingering touches all the time

It’s a scientific fact published in the new issue of an international medical journal - if he’s going ten minutes without touching you, his kidneys, lungs, stomach and tendons experience abrupt and painful deterioration 

So you better get your ass here asap :)

He’s stretching? Somehow hugging you. You’re sitting? His hand is on your thigh

HAND! ON! THE! THIGH!

It's like an entirely new brand of love for him and there are many different flavours to this

Calming, comforting, jealous, they’re mine back off

Cutely annoys you for attention

Like standing in the doorway, asking you 1000 times if he’s cute or not, sing songs your name for no reason

Oh my god, mentions your name at random times of the day, sometimes while singing, sometimes improvising a tune, sometimes just underneath his breath

You're always on his mind, so naturally, it sits on his tongue all the time as well

A stream nay an ocean of compliments, not just to you but to everyone whose listening

Or is forced to listen

Like Taehyung whose ear he has yapped off already

Because to him, you are the best and everyone else should also think that

“Hey, isn’t ___________ so cool these days?” “You always look so bright!” “Thank you, _____________, you’re an angel! We can be a fairy angel duo!”

And then the other shoe drops

Shameless Jimin is a menace and a half

Biting his lips, laughing breathily, sorta being a dom

“Don’t pout, _________, brats don’t get awards” :)

“You should look only at me, got it” :)

Just really sweet, cute, menacing, really caring and attentive if you’re feeling down

Oh and lest we forget his special soft whiny voice! In full throttle when you’re around

“_________, we should be around each other for a very long time.”

TAEHYUNG: 

:)

:)

:)

Does this seem menacing? Because Taehyung is

Where does one even start with this little shit?

Says the most heinous, out-of-pocket shit. 

“__________, I want to see what our children would look like.”

And if you somehow manage to not see it, when Taehyung is as subtle as the asteroid that plunged Earth into the Ice age, that’s fine he’s just going to be even bolder :)

Treats it almost like a game

The more oblivious you are, the more he’ll hammer through the walls of blindness :) don’t worry :) he’ll succeed next time :)

Unlike Jimin who probably has a laugh of “how they’re so blind”, his laugh says “you’re so cute :) I’ll get you next time”

Gift giving!

Waffles, flowers, little jewellery brought with no excuse or explanation

Always ropes you into doing something together, even if it’s something silly

He’s confident but it is warm and yeah kind of cocky but with no malice behind it

It’s like he’s oozing a pink romantic light from within

Watches out for you, like proper gentleman stuff - walks on the side of the road in case of splashes, pulls out the chair, waits for you to finish work to accompany you home 

But no personal space you just have to live with it

If there’s music can and will dance with you ranging from a slow waltz to nuzzling you whilst swaying

Definitely does weird things like if you bump into something, he must “inspect the damage” which means sitting you down and lowkey and respectfully admiring you and softly touching you (in appropriate places, you pervs)

If he annoys you so much, you threaten to put him in a chokehold, he looks like a man in the gate of Heaven

Honey, darling, lovely is a must

Has his gallery full of pictures of you (taken consensually) though I always imagine them as being super blurry

He's a blurry sorta guy

Says he misses you a lot even if you haven't gone anywhere

Definitely has had a conversation about your past lives and that you must have met at some point

He’s persistent but not in a creepy way, only does this much because he sees you being oblivious but not weirded out by all these gestures

Definitely and 100% insists that his angel brought you to him 

JUNGKOOK:

If there wouldn’t be a child protection squad engaged at all times, he would have already snapped his neck trying to impress you

Giggles a lot!

Sort of jokes about it

Like if you somehow end up lying next to each other, he will say something like “oo the air changes, it’s becoming heavy”

Definitely adds your gestures to the infinite list to mimic

But genuinely does pick up your habits because he’s watching you a lot

Protective! To the max!

If you’re scared of anything, anything at all, be it a stranger or a moth, he’ll be there to avert the threat

Calls you his dog’s other parent for sure and instructs Bam especially to protect you

Very cuddly once he gets to know you

At first not really talkative mostly just reacts to you, laughing along your jokes, commenting on how good you’re doing something but then asks for your opinions, invites you to play games and such

If you’re mad at him - the literal impersonation of 🥺

Holds your hand while walking sometimes and then teases himself for it???

Who knows what goes on in that head

Gets jealous and definitely glares if someone is trying to make moves even if you’re not together

Afterwards, he pouts and whines

"They're not even that great. I can do all that and more"

Does and promises to do stupid things to impress you, like if you need to move a table, he’ll definitely bust through the wall and say all cool like “I can get it by myself, don’t worry” only to strain his muscles 

Shows off his tattoos and if you want to get one as well will be so enthusiastic, you’ll get the best parlour in the city, the most thorough care afterwards provided by him of course

At times when he’s talking and you turn to look at him, his brain stops and there’s audible error noise coming behind those eyes

Sometimes he stutters when speaking to you, especially if trying to be smooth but he’s doing his best

Actually, he's the hottest when he's not trying

Like he's driving you back home, music on the low playing all sexy and he's like clicking his tongue while leaning back into the seat

And that does something to your brain, breaks through the wall and surmises a point that this dude is actually kind of hot

And he's taking special care of you

He then turns and chuckles taking in your wide eyes

"Do I have something on my face?" he asks. "Or have you begun liking me, ____________?"

You blush and look out the window

"It's nothing"

He doesn't push further but secretly hopes to high heaven you do

Has told about you indirectly to his mom by asking questions about how people like to be wooed

But then definitely has that shy smile when she teases him about it

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[lemons4u]

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧 ➜ 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

notes ! i wanted to write something sweet like this before i published pt 4 for the alhaitham thingy. also ayato’s part is really short bc i felt lazy

scaramouche ☆

this guy takes forever to realize he’s fallen in love with you.

like he’ll start to realize that your CONSTANTLY on his mind, and he’d be so annoyed. he despised you for constantly appearing in his mind. he thinks your wasting his precious time.

when he realizes that he’s actually in love with he is flustered asf. he doesn’t believe that he can love someone, not after all the pain he went through.

but here you were.

after months and months childe (his secret wingman) finally convinced him to confess to you.

and he’s straight up like that song that goes, “i’m gonna confess to you valentine’s day.” and it’s already a confession.

once you tell him it’s already a confession he is so flustered, like his whole face is flushed red and he tries avoiding you for the rest of the day.

he didn’t even give you the time to tell him you return those feelings, he already thinks you rejected him and he’s whining like a little girl in his room.

eventually though, childe forced you two in a room and you two are both are forced to confess 😭

it’s awkward but sweet.

all scaramouche really cared about was the fact that you actually loved him.

it made something in his chest feel tingly.

alhaitham ☆

he realizes it quickly, he starts to notice how he feels happy in your presence. he noticed how you make his heart do jumping jacks.

yeah he’s fallen for you.

at first he just simply puts it off as some stupid “crush” or whatever, but eventually he realizes his feelings are deeper than that.

he wants to be yours. and you to be his.

he wants to make you smile everyday.

so one day he pulled you aside to puspa’s cafe to chat. and at first you were scared, but you accepted.

when he confessed he said it in the most formal way possible, which made you almost laugh.

“[name]. i want to discuss an important topic with you.”

“i believe i have romantic feelings for you. i fully understand that you may not return them but please hear me out.”

literally smiled when you told him you also loved him.

you were a little shocked but you couldn’t help but you completely melted as soon as you saw him.

he didn’t even try to hide the fact he was happy.

cyno ☆

you kind of figured he liked you before he found out himself.

he made it a little obvious.

one. he was always clinging around you.

two. he literally could not stop telling you jokes and he was actually eager to talk to you. (as an introvert too)

three. he always got jealous whenever you hung out with kaveh or tighnari.

and if you were ever with alhaitham… he would straight up try to drag you away.

“no… [name], don’t talk to alhaitham. he’ll make you go crazy.”

low key kind of clingy but it was cute so you didn’t mind it.

secretly, you kind of also had a little bit of a crush on him… okay… a big one.

and soon those feelings developed into love, and you were sure cyno felt something for you too — but surely it was just a crush, nothing more. he couldn’t actually love you.

however, cyno was madly in love with you as well. and he was going to confess.

how exactly? a cheesy love letter.

yes he would definitely write a love letter, because he’s too embarrassed to tell you himself.

and this lover letter would contain the weirdest romance puns that made you cringe slightly.

it was fine though, the attempt was cute.

the next day you practically had to chase cyno down to tell him you felt the same. (he was just embarrassed guys, don’t make fun of him)

“y-you feel the same?”

very flustered.

ayato ☆

i feel like he’s really straight forward with his feelings, like he’s able to organize his thoughts REALLY well.

so it didn’t take long for him to realize he’s fallen in love with you.

and once he did find out he automatically started acting different, always coming to your aid right away.

he wanted to assist his love in any way possible.

of course, you noticed he was becoming a little protective so you grew curious, and you decided to ask about it.

“oh? it’s nothing really… i’m just in love with you.”

with this you became instantly flustered and he teased you to the point where you had to also confess your feelings.

“stupid bastard…” you muttered to yourself.

you couldn’t help but love him though.