#still works without them. but it's more fun with them in it

[wetforsylus]

Sweetest Temptation

☆ summary. secrets out! turns out the most loved teacher in your school had a soft spot for you. now how were you going to reciprocate your feelings to him on the field trip you both were assigned to?

pairing. teacher!sylus x fem teacher!reader

warnings. teacher!sylus, teacher!reader, Luke and Kieran being the best wingmen (again), fluff, kinda one sided hatred, yearning, secret spilling, one bed, teasing, tension, slight crack fic, p in v, oral (f receiving), hotel sex, overstimulation, fingering, nosebleeds, kissing

wc. 4.7k (goodbye)

a/n. another long fic!! enjoy? <33 might be a little mistakes which ill fix later, sorry.

Ever since you started working in your godforsaken elementary school, a certain teacher seemed to get on your nerves, well, only for a bit.

Sylus was perfect – that's what everyone said. Every teacher seemed to love him, even the students. Hell, even you liked him for a moment.

One day, your little school was hosting a fun fair. It was great, at first. You were in charge of the cookie stall, handing out the chocolatey treats to kids. The first hour was surprisingly running at a moderate pace, until your stall started to get a little too crowded not even minutes later.

And since nobody else was working with you, the principal just made Sylus join you without letting you get a say.

Great.

You weren’t complaining, even if the kids were becoming a handful, they were still easy to handle, plus you also didn’t really need Sylus since it was such a small task. But the moment he headed over to your stall that was already mistake number one. It's a shame he was popular ‘cause the small crowd that was once there just duplicated in a blink of an eye.

“Wha-”

Sylus stood behind you, his large figure looming over you as he was probably grinning at the kids and laughing with them. After he was done playing his egotistical show in front of the audience he pulled away from you, fingers gliding along your waist before he stood next to you.

You stare at the crowd of kids in front of you and sigh, grabbing onto the cookies and handing them out, one by one. As you were still handing out the sweet treats you glanced at Sylus who was doing nothing except staring at you with crossed arms, leaning against the stalls frame.

You raise an eyebrow at him and dart your eyes to the cookies, nodding your head to the kids, “aren’t you gonna help? Principal didn’t call you here for nothing.”

“You seem to be doing fine yourself, sweetie.”

You scoff and reach under the stall to grab another box of cookies, “well can’t you see half the school is here? At least help so the line could go by quicker.” you lecture, grabbing a wrapped cookie from the box and slapped it on his hand.

“Yeah! I want to get cookies from Mr.Sylus!” One kid cheered and the other kids took it as a hint to start chanting Sylus’ name until he gave in.

Sylus let out an amused chuckle and held your hand which still had the cookie resting between both yours and his palms.

“How about this, kiddos. I’ll give a pair of kids,” Sylus pulls his hand away, and with his other hand he raises up the number two, “one cookie to share amongst each other, just so the line could go quicker… and,” he looks under the stall at the boxes stacked on top of each other and back at kids which were already lining up in pairs.

“Seems like we don’t have much cookies left.” a mocking frown played on his lips and he already hands out the first pair their one and only cookie. God he was such a liar because there was way more than enough, but you decided to keep your mouth shut.

When you both were almost done handing out everything, the fair was already coming to an end, there was just one more pair who had to get cookies.

You reach in the box for the last cookie but Sylus also seemed to reach in at the same time.

Mistake two.

“Let me give it to them,” you say, gripping tighter on the cookie which felt like it was gonna shatter if Sylus even tried to also grip on it. But Sylus didn’t even care what you said, his large fingers curled on the treat and he pulled lightly.

“Come on, the kids seemed to love when I gave them the cookies.”

“I was originally running this stand so I should give the last cookie.” you say, pulling the cookie closer to you, trying to grab it away from his hands, and that seemed to be mistake number three.

In a snap! the hard shelled delicacy shattered in the wrapper and you groaned at Sylus, letting go of the treat and pinching the bridge of your nose, “I knew that was gonna happen.”

“Don’t worry. Hey, Kieran, Luke." Sylus snapped his fingers at the twins and kneeled down to grab two cookies from under the stand, handing one to Kieran and giving the other cookie to you.

“Since you’re my favorite student, you’ll get one cookie,” Sylus chuckled a crooked smile playing on his lips before he turned his body to you, leaning in, his hot breath ghosting over your skin before he whispered, “now treat your favorite student.”

You could feel his smile creeping near you and you lightly pushed him aside before handing your cookie to Luke, “Since you’re my favorite student, you’ll get the last cookie.” you smile.

Luke immediately takes the cookie and smiles back at you, “thanks miss! Knew you were the best!” he giggled and walked away with his brother following suit.

When the pair was at a good distance away from you and Sylus, you immediately started lecturing him, poking at his chest before your serious voice was the only thing spitting at him, “Seriously? that was the worst idea giving two people one cookie?!”

“You know we wouldn’t finish giving them out before the fair ended so I decided to speed it up.” Sylus reasoned, lifting up a box with one arm and placing it on the table before unassembling the stalls rods.

“We still had a bunch of cookies left?”

“It’s not the end of the world, sweetie,” he said, taking out the large piece of paper that was printed in bold letters ‘free cookies’ off the stand and rolled up the paper, throwing the scroll aside.

“Plus, we have extra for the staff – and us.” Sylus continued, heading over to the next stall to take down. “Anyway, why don’t you help me take down these stalls. The principal said we had to do it.”

“Whatever.”

And that was just one incident that made you just a tiny bit annoyed. But a few weeks after the fair, Sylus’ and your class usually meet up and do activities together, so the day you were meeting, it was going perfect… until two students decided to make you a little curious.

---

“Everyone, line up so we could go to Sylus’s class.”

Your class listened and they stood in a single file line and followed you to his class, and the second you walked in, the room turned into a war. Kids were already playing around with each other and you didn’t bother trying to stop them.

You leaned against the wall as you watched the kids play around, draw, or talk with each other. It was peaceful, until Sylus came up to you, his hands resting in his pocket as he strutted to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Having fun?”

“Yup.”

Sylus laughed in response and stood next to you, his arm hovering inches away from yours. The silence between the two of you lingered for a moment and before either of you could speak to each other, the same twins from the fair rushed up to the two of you.

“Miss! We drew a drawing of you and Mr.Sylus!” Luke giggled, shoving the paper in your hands. You stare at him with widened eyes and glance down at the paper. The drawing showed a picture of two stick figures together, arrows indicating who was who and also had a heart between them.

“Isn’t it cute?” Luke asks.

Sylus leaned in and rested his head on your shoulder as he stared at the drawing, “cute, huh?” a low chuckle left his lips, making the paper almost slip out of your fingers. Sylus’s hot breath tickled against your skin before he whispered against your ear, “what do you think, miss?”

“Is it cute?”

You sigh and smile at the twins who were anticipating your answer, “yes, it is cute. But why Sylus and I?”

“You both looked at each other quite romantically!” Luke reasoned.

“Do you even know what that means?” you laugh, still inspecting the drawing.

Kieran nodded and raised his hands in mock surrender, “I can preach on that. I mean-”

Sylus immediately shut the twin up and laughed awkwardly, glancing at your confused stare and glaring at Kieran who only scrunched his eyes at him.

“You don't want to go down my list of favorite students now, right, Kieran?”

Now you were curious, just what was Sylus hiding from you?

-

-

A couple days after the fair ended and Sylus was sitting at his desk, marking up some homework his kids gave in, Kieran was held back in class for an extra few minutes to finish writing the homework.

When he was done he went over to Sylus who was completely zoned out, staring at the paper with dilated pupils, his pen resting on his lower lip as a light smirk creeped up his lips.

“I’m done Mr.S, what are you thinking of?”

Sylus shook his head in response and stared at Kieran who was holding out his homework to him. He took the paper and sighed.

“Don’t tell anyone, not even your brother, okay? because he’s in her class-”

“Ah so it’s about Luke’s teacher! Luke was saying a lot about you and her.” Kieran interrupted as he placed his hand on the side of Sylus’ desk.

“Did he, now? What did he say?”

“Well when the huge crowd was in line and waiting for cookies, me and him were in the back, and the first thing Luke noticed was how you were looking at her!”

Sylus chuckled and put his pen down, leaning on the back of his chair as he turned his head to the little kid next to him, “Oh really? What else?”

“Then when we were the last ones to get the cookies, we both noticed how the two of you were fighting over the cookie like an old couple!”

Sylus barked a laugh and shut his eyes, shaking his head in agreement. “I guess you’re right about one thing, and it's how I look at her. She's hardworking, I like her.”

A beat of silence echoed through the room and he looked at Kieran who had a knowing smirk plastered on his lips.

“Dont you dare tell your brother, or her. Or you're going down my list and I'll end up failing you. I want to be able to tell her myself.”

Kieran only nodded in response and turned around, “won’t tell anyone, promise.”

He definitely crossed his fingers once Sylus looked away.

-

-

Sylus eventually pulled away from Kieran and scrambled back to you, his hands finding their way to his pocket as he put his nonchalant persona back on.

“Hey I forgot to mention the field trip happening in a couple days.” Sylus whispered in your ear, quickly glancing at the class before pulling away, and clapped his hands together to shut the two classes up.

“Listen up, kiddos.” Sylus alarmed. The kids eventually shut their lips and turned to Sylus and you, waiting to see what he was going to say.

“I forgot to mention but we have a field trip in a couple days, so i’ll get permission slips for you to sign and you will give them back to me by tomorrow, alright?”

The classes cheered in excitement, making it look like a football stadium watched their team win for the first time. Sylus laughed at their reaction and headed over to his desk to get the permission slips.

Once he left you immediately turned to Luke and Kieran who was smiling at the announcement just made.

“Kieran, what did Sylus tell you?”

“Can’t tell you, you’ll find out soon though.”

You sigh and stare at Luke who only shrugged his shoulders in response, a playful grin creeped up on his lips as he tried to hold back his giggles.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head in disbelief. Sylus was already almost done handing out all the permission slips and only had two more left – for Luke and Kieran. He headed over to the three of you and slid the papers in the twins' hands.

“Whatcha talking about?”

“She wants to know what you said to me a few weeks ago.”

Sylus hummed and eyed at you, a glint of teasing filled in the crimson iris, “well, if you really want to know, I'll tell you on the trip.”

“You better not be lying, I'll ask them after you tell me.”

“Whatever makes you happy, sweetie.”

---

The day of the field trip came quicker than you expected, since the trip was something that required the classes to stay overnight at the place, you only got ready in a quick outfit and headed to school.

Once you got to school Sylus was waiting by the staff room, drinking coffee as he leaned against the wall. The second he spotted you he quickly downed his drink and walked over to you.

“Ready? Looks like you just got out of bed.” He jokes, stopping meters away from you and eyed down your outfit one more time.

“Whatever you say, let’s go. And you better tell me what you told Kieran.”

“As you wish.” He raises his hands in mock surrender and turns his heel towards you, following you to your classroom.

When you both got there, a handful of kids were already in the class, sitting and talking to each other.

Once you finished taking your class’ attendance, Sylus did the same thing and when everyone was here you all led everyone to the bus.

“Sit where you want, don’t cause too much of a disturbance, okay?” You warn. The kids nod at your words before hopping on the bus.

When everyone got settled the only seat you had left was next to Sylus. You walk up to the seat and stare at the empty space next to the window, how sweet of him. Sylus looks up at you with a smile and pats the seat next to him, which you eventually sit on moments later.

It took a while to get to the destination but when you all made it to the hotel, hours later, you were beat. Everyone made their way off the bus and followed Sylus inside the hotel, who was soon giving instructions to the kids before showing everyone to their rooms.

And to your surprise, you had to share a room with Sylus.

Great... Right?

When you both reached your hotel room you flung open the door to be met with one bed, can’t this day get even better! You walk in the room and drop your things on the bed, sitting on it and resting your head on the headboard.

“Come on, we got stuff to do, can’t wait for this day to be over.” Sylus groaned, dropping his stuff next to yours and brought his hand out to you.

“The quicker we get this done, the faster you’ll know what I said to Kieran." Sylus smirked and beckoned his hand for you to take, which you hesitantly take moments later.

All you both had to do for the rest of the day was show the kids around the little museum next to the hotel. So that's what you and Sylus did, you brought both of your classes to the museum and taught them a bit of the sculptures and paintings and such.

As you were walking with your group – which was basically your class – Luke seemed to be the one who was acting suspicious, giggling almost every minute and kept glancing at you and back at the Sylus’s group which was a bit far from yours.

When break time approached Luke stayed by your side and Sylus randomly popped up near you, with Kieran following suit. The twins eventually stood next to each other and talked amongst themselves while Sylus did the same with you.

“How is it?”

“It’s not bad.” you hum, pressing your finger on your bottom lip and looking around the class who was still talking with each other.

“Yeah? You’re right.”

Once break was over and you got a little conversation from Sylus and the twins, you had to go back to touring around.

And after another excruciating couple of hours you were finally done, everyone headed back to the hotel and it was already nighttime somehow. When you reached your room Sylus was surprisingly not following you so you rested on the bed and waited.

But as time went by and Sylus still wasn’t back you were getting impatient and strutted over to the door, flinging it open just to see Sylus talking with the twins again.

“Please will you just tell her you like her?” Kieran said, pointing at the door, unaware it was open.

“N- Oh. Hey sweetie.” Sylus tried to smile at you but his lips kept twitching at the awkward situation you just walked into.

“Come in Sylus, kids go back to your room.”

Sylus and the twins nodded, splitting ways and eventually making their way to their room. Sylus brushed past you and you closed the door when he got inside, staring at him with crossed arms.

“Secrets out now, huh?” he chuckled, sitting on the bed and stared at you, his eyes flickering at your lips and back at your eyes. And you hate to admit he looked good looking at you like that.

You walk a couple steps to him, locking eye contact the whole time before you stopped just inches away from him, your legs being caged around his large muscular thighs which were lightly holding onto you tighter, not wanting you to leave.

“So… what's your answer?”

“Why?”

Sylus stared at you with a confused look, raising an eyebrow and scoffing as if you told him a joke for an answer.

“I mean, was it not obvious?” he muttered, sliding his fingers around your waist and ghosting his hand there for a few moments, probably hoping you’d say more than just a few one word answers.

“well.. I could kind of see it?” you say awkwardly, resting your hand on his shoulder, gazing at his pinkish neck, growing darker at every word that slipped out of your lips, how cute.

“That doesn't sound convincing.” he muttered, leaning closer and cupping his other hand around your waist, lightly holding on to your figure, and in a second he flipped you over on the bed, panting at your shocked gaze beneath him.

“Well you didn’t answer my question. Why?”

“You want the whole reason? Well I guess you could say when I was working on the cookie stand with you, something about you only being focused on the work-”

Your mind was buzzing at every word coming out of his lips, the way he was praising you with that voice, the way he sounded so genuine with his words that you thought always came out as a joke made you feel funny inside.

It wasn't that you hated him, well after the spring fun fair, you did, just a little bit. But after being so focused on work you didn’t have time to play with his games, so him teasing you around wasn’t your priority. Yet, after seeing all the signs, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, the way his fingers grazed along your body, it was so obvious now.

“–so then after-”

God you couldn't take his voice anymore, you wrap your arms around his neck and beckon him closer. He paused his words and gaped at your flushed face, silently begging for him to shut up. A playful smirk played on his lips and he leaned in closer, his eyes flickering at your lips then at you again.

“So, do you believe me–ngh”

Sylus’ words got cut off when you pulled him to a hungry kiss, your lips crashing onto his in a needy manner, tongue gliding against his rough, padded flesh before sliding in his mouth, tasting every inch of him.

His tongue met yours, tying together in a knot that you wished couldn't be untied. Sylus grabbed the side of your face and plunged himself deeper into the kiss, taking the moment he wished for, for granted. Minutes later he pulls away and drags his lips lower on your body, removing your clothes at the same time.

His fingers fumble on your clothing, sliding the silked fabric off of you, admiring your bare body beneath him.

He immediately cupped his palms on your knees and spread your legs apart, eyeing the fabric covering your pussy before tucking a finger under your panties and slid them off.

Sylus ducked his head down, his nose nuzzling against your skin, savouring the moment, slowly. His thumb presses on your clit, making you jolt in spot and wrapping your legs around him.

He chuckled, a buzzing vibration rushed through your body and before you could process what was happening Sylus draggeddd his tongue along your sensitive folds.

He pressed the tip of his tongue against your fluttering hole, stimulating you, making your legs already quiver at the feeling of him barely inside you.

“ngh- Sy”

Sylus nodded and plunged his tongue inside you, his fingers locking onto your thighs tighter as every thrust pummeling deep in you felt like you were going to melt. He scooted himself closer, devouring you like a hungry animal.

“Wait- gonna-”

“Already?” he mumbled against your soaked pussy, pulling away for a second to stare at you, he licked his glossed lips with a smirk and sunk his head between your thighs when you weren’t saying anything. But god, as much as it felt good you wanted more than just this.

You look down at his focused figure, working inside you like he was rushing overtime at work. A faint chuckle left your lips as you watched the scene, trying to ignore the fact your lower half was pounding hard.

Your fingers lock around his neck, teasing the warm, flushed skin, making his breath hitch beneath you. Sylus muttered something incoherent and glared up at you, his whole face was practically red and shit, he looked hot.

After a few moments you tried, really tried holding it in but the more passionate he was, the more you actually couldn’t handle just his tongue. Your breathing speeds up as his grip tightens harder.

Chanting your release, he only pulls away inches away from your face, staring at you with a twisted smile and just a glance at the sight of him made you come on the spot, how embarrassing.

Sylus chuckles and lifts himself off of the ground, staring at you with a hungry look, his glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose before he pressed himself against you, slowly grinding himself against you. A whine left your lips and you buck your hips against his, causing a grunt to leave his lips.

“I know it's random and you probably didn’t expect it,” Sylus states, bringing one hand to his belt and fumbling it off, throwing the material to the side, causing a clack! to echo through the room.

“But? hngh”

Sylus presses his finger on your stretched cunt, slowly sliding it in, pumping in and out as he watched you squirm beneath him, he didn’t really think of what he was going to say, it all just happened all of a sudden, but deep down, he didn’t care, he liked it.

“But..” another finger was added and with his other hand he removed his pants, the indent of his hard cock traced along his boxers and you couldn’t help but accidentally stare longer than intended.

He chuckled at your reaction, spreading you out further before slipping his boxers down and took his fingers out, tapping his tip against your entrance. “Do you want it, sweetie?”

You gulp, and flicker your gaze at his shaky hand, holding back every drop of sanity he had left. The answer was so obvious, it was right in front of him.

“Well since–Ah!”

Seems like he crumbled at your two words. You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pushed his tip inside you, and fuck you felt full. He kept a slow steady pace, rolling his hips back and forth, head yanking back at the feeling of you for the first time.

“You’re perfect, kn-knew you were.” he muttered, biting his bottom lip as he shoves himself deeper, seeking for more of your warm touch. You swallow a moan and arch your back in pleasure, feeling him sink himself and hit the right spots.

“Please-”

“Please what, sweetie?” Sylus teased, his lips quivered as he tried to keep his playful persona on display but when he made eye contact with your teary flushed face, he couldn’t help but lose his mind at that specific moment.

The rhythm that was once there was completely washed with urgency, hunger, desire.

“hah- w-wished for this moment for–ever.” he whined, fucking whined. His breath got ragged by the second and you couldn't bear to open your eyes, you were too much in a haze to even move your body.

You clench around him, feeling his cock twitch inside you, a groan left his lips and he hissed at the feeling. Your hands soon find his arms and you grip onto his biceps before staring at him with a crooked grin.

“Mm did you?” you breathe, managing to try to tease him back but through your blurred vision you noticed an odd expression plastered on his face and his movements seemed to quicken faster. But then a…

drip

Your eyes widen and you blink away your tears to look at Sylus – expecting him to be crying but fuck, blood dripped down his chin as he stared at you with gritted teeth.

“Are you–”

“M fine, j-just don’t move…please.”

You stare at his face, filled with hundred of emotions rushing through him, his eyes glowed in the dimly lit room as he tried to calm himself down, but you could feel him aching and pounding hard, very deep in you.

One wrong move and–

Well, shit.

Only the twitch of your body caused him to flinch in his spot and spurs of his warm cum jolted right through your insides. A broken moan left your lips as you tried to contain your breathing, feeling him sigh in relief.

“Sorry.” he muttered, rubbing the blood off his chin, staring at the mess under you, pupils swirling at the sight of his and your cum pooling out of your bruised hole, and fuck he could go on forever.

He eventually slid away and plopped onto you, his lips soon finding your neck as he tried to maintain his breathing again.

“You think you could go for another round?” he whispered against your skin, sharp canines sink deep in you as he suckedd on you like a lollipop.

“Well…”

“Hm?”

Fuck it.

---

That seemed to be the biggest mistake you agreed to, because the next morning you woke up in a fresh pair of pyjamas but your lower half seemed to be aching.

You and Sylus ended up doing so much rounds, his stamina was great – you almost passed out half way. Most of the night happened in a haze and you hoped Sylus could forget about most of it.

You got a fresh pair of clothes and headed to the bathroom to change before heading to the lobby, where you assumed Sylus and the rest of your class was.

And when you got down, seems like everyone was down there.

You walk over to Sylus and kids who were sitting and talking amongst each other as they waited for the bus.

Luke and Kieran stood amongst the two of you, smiling up at you both hoping to tease you both further but Sylus flicked their forehead and shook his head, "don't say a word."

"Aw man," Luke pondered, grinning at Kieran before turning his body to you, "Miss what did you and Sylus talk about last night?!"

"Well.."

"So do you like him back?" Kieran interrupts, obviously ignoring Sylus's warnings minutes ago.

"Well–"

A loud honk was heard from outside and seemed like the bus was already here.

"Oh won't you look at that, the bus is here! Let's go kids." You say, nodding to the door and directed the kids inside.

"Was worth a shot." Kieran muttered, glancing at Sylus who was only smiling at you.

a/n: the thought of sylus having a nosebleed during sex turned me on oh my god

[lazy-ahh]

IM ALSO IN PHAINON BRAINROT ERA SO IM INFECTING YOU INSTEAD BZZTTT. ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

okay hear me out, reader hand makes phainon matching bracelets for him and them to wear. the bracelet is sun and moon themed with phainon being the sun and reader being the moon.

and phainon is over the moon (aha get it) when you gift it to him. he never takes it off and boasts to it to everyone like, "look at this gorgeous bracelet my (not yet) partner made for me!!"

basically insane mutual pining for both sides >_< 🤍 I LOVE UR WORK SO MUCH AUGHHHH

SUN AND MOON

pairing phainon x gender neutral reader

phainon has always been the sun—bright, untouchable, dazzling everyone in his orbit. but when you gift him a handmade bracelet (a moon to his sun, a silent confession woven in thread), he realizes for the first time what it’s like to burn. (they never teach you how to survive being loved by the moon.)

author's note hahahah thank you so much for requesting this, sugar!! you have no idea how happy it made me—for the past few days, i’ve been absolutely itching to write more for phainon, but you know how it goes. my brain goes flatline with ideas, i start five different drafts, then end up staring at them like "….no. this isn’t it." and boom! into the void they go. (why am i like this??)

but then your request came along, and suddenly, the words just flowed. something about phainon being ridiculously soft over matching bracelets? him showing it off to literally anyone who glances his way? the mutual pining?? ohhh, you get me. this was so fun to write, and i might’ve fallen even harder for him while working on it. (oops.)

seriously, thank you so much for showing love ever since my first phainon one-shot—it means the world to me that you enjoy my silly little words. i hope you enjoy this one-shot! <3

phainon isn’t used to gifts—real ones, the kind that settle heavy in his palms and heavier still in his chest. sure, he’s been given things before: finely crafted trinkets from fellow chrysos heirs (polished to perfection, yet sometimes feeling more like obligation than affection), or tokens from citizens (bright-eyed and hopeful, their admiration sweet but fleeting).

he treasures them all, of course—presses each one carefully into memory with a practiced smile and a graceful bow, makes sure to wear each offering like a badge of honor, even if just for a day. but they’ve never stuck. never settled under his ribs like a second heartbeat.

but this? this is different.

it had been an ordinary day—wake, bathe, dress, endure the endless cycle of duties that came with being a chrysos heir. not that he’d ever complain; he’d carved his purpose into his bones long ago, and no amount of monotony could dull that resolve. but sometimes, the weight of it all made the hours drag like lead.

lately, though, the fatigue had eased. ever since you and your companions fell from the sky (quite literally), amphoreus had felt… lighter. brighter. and you—oh, you were something else entirely. a whirlwind of kindness, slipping into his life like sunlight through cathedral glass.

you helped without being asked, whether it was hauling crates for merchants or standing back-to-back with him in battle, your laughter ringing sharp and bright over the clash of steel.

when the weight of his duty pressed too heavy on his shoulders, you'd bump against him with a grin, tossing out some ridiculous joke about "heirs and graces" or calling him "your deliverance" in that terribly formal voice you only used to mock greedy nobility. it should've been annoying. instead, phainon found himself playing along, flourishing a dramatic bow or clutching his chest like you'd wounded him, just to hear that startled chuckle of yours.

and that was the thing—you matched him. not just in battle (though the way you moved together made his pulse race), but in the quiet moments too. when he'd sigh over paperwork, you'd slide a cup of tea across the table, the exact way he liked it. when he muttered some sarcastic remark under his breath, you'd catch it and volley back something even sharper, your eyes sparkling with mischief. for the first time, phainon didn't have to be the chrysos heir or the flawless deliverer. he could just be... himself.

phainon doesn't know when it happened—doesn't remember the exact moment you slipped past all his carefully maintained boundaries and became as constant as his own heartbeat.

maybe it was when you first fell asleep on his couch, boots still caked with amphoreus dirt and one arm dangling off the edge like a knocked-over puppet, snoring softly with your mouth slightly open. phainon had meant to wake you—really, he had—but the way golden hour light caught in your lashes made something in his ribs squeeze too tight. he'd just... draped a blanket over you instead (and maybe lingered a second too long tucking it around your shoulders).

or maybe it was the notes. those ridiculous little scraps of paper you'd leave everywhere—stuck to his coffee cup with "DRINK ME :D" in your neat handwriting, the smiley face lopsided like it had been drawn in a hurry. phainon would sigh, rolling his eyes with all the theatrical flair of a stage actor, but his fingers would trace the edges of the paper anyway.

he'd keep it stuck to the cup for days, carefully peeling it off before washing and pressing it back on when dry, until the ink blurred from condensation and the corners curled beyond saving. the morning he woke to find it finally disintegrated, he stared at the blank ceramic with a pathetic pout for a full minute before making his coffee, and if it tasted more bitter than usual—well. that was between him and his pathetic heart.

somehow, you'd become part of his daily rhythm—greeting him with sleep-soft smiles in the morning, filling his too-quiet kitchen with off-key humming as you burned your eggs (every. single. time.), draping yourself dramatically across his desk when paperwork piled too high just to make him laugh. he'd hosted other chrysos heirs before, of course, but they never stayed long—too put off by his careless clutter or his habit of singing terrible ballads while bathing.

(aglaea stayed. but phainon will have to think twice before inviting her again. she had accidentally seen the insides of his closet and... phainon shudders when he thought of what happened after that.)

but you? you fit. like sunlight through his stained-glass windows, you colored everything brighter without trying. you didn't just share his space—you made it feel like home for the first time, with your terrible jokes echoing down the halls and your warm hands always finding ways to brush against his, casual as anything. phainon should've been unsettled by how easily you'd carved out a place beside him. instead, he found himself leaning into your gravity, helpless as a moth to flame.

and now here you were, scuffing your boot against the cobblestones, one hand nervously scratching the back of your neck—that telltale habit he’d memorized. your other hand clutched something small, held out like a secret. "i made you something," you murmured, voice feather-soft, as if the words might dissolve if spoken too loud.

his head tilts just a fraction too far to the right, the way it always does when he's trying (and failing) to play casual. "oh?" the word comes out airier than he intended, voice skipping up an octave on that single syllable. "for me?" there's that familiar teasing lilt, but his fingers have started drumming against his thigh—a nervous staccato rhythm that betrays how his chest has gone suspiciously tight.

he slings a hand onto his hip, the picture of effortless grace if you ignore how his other hand keeps flexing like he's physically stopping himself from reaching out. it takes every ounce of self-control not to sink to his knees right there in the dirt, not to cradle whatever you're offering like sacred relics.

when he says "partner, you shouldn't have," it comes out half-breathless, the end curling upward with barely-contained delight despite the way he's mentally kicking himself.

gods, he sounds like some starstruck recruit receiving their first medal, not a seasoned chrysos heir being handed—what, a trinket? a scrap of fabric? it doesn't matter. you touched it. that alone makes it priceless.

you nod, unfolding your palm to reveal two bracelets—one adorned with a golden sun charm, the other with a silver crescent moon. the beads are carefully strung, alternating between warm amber and cool blues, like the sky at dusk. "this one’s yours," you say, lifting the sun bracelet. "and this one’s mine."

phainon’s breath catches.

he’s not sure what to say. for once, the ever-eloquent, ever-charming man is speechless. his fingers tremble slightly as he takes the bracelet from you, turning it over in his hands like it’s something sacred. "you… made this?"

"yeah." your laugh flutters like a moth around candlelight, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "i thought—well. you’re like the sun, y’know?" the words come out soft, almost apologetic, as you gesture vaguely toward the sky. "all… bright and warm. and i’m…" your thumb brushes the moon charm on your own wrist, a self-deprecating little smile tugging at your lips. "not. so. moon." you shrug, like it’s an afterthought, like you haven’t just pressed the universe—a piece of your heart—into his palms with trembling hands.

phainon’s breath stutters. the bracelet is cool against his skin, but it burns where it touches, branding him with the weight of your quiet confession. his fingers curl around it—around you—and when he looks up, his expression cracks open like dawn over a battlefield: devastating in its naked awe.

he wants to press a thousand promises into your palms in return, wants to carve open his ribs and show you how you’ve taken root between them. but nothing in his vaults could equal this.

nothing exists that could equal this. so he does the only thing he can—he gives you the shattered, gasping thing that used to be his heart, wholly and without condition.

because you’re wrong. so terribly, beautifully wrong. if you’re the moon, then you’re the kind that pulls tides, that guides lost travelers home, that spins the very world on its axis.

and phainon? he’s just a speck of stardust caught in your orbit, content to burn up in your glow if it means he can linger here, just a little longer, in the light of a love he’s done nothing to deserve.

phainon’s throat feels dry.

he doesn't even pretend to hesitate. the bracelet is on his wrist before you can blink, he holds it up to the light with wide, shining eyes, turning his wrist this way and that as if checking how the sun catches on the beads—if he had a tail then it might as well be wagging hard enough to knock over furniture. (it is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. after you, of course.)

"it's perfect," he breathes, voice gone all soft and wonder-filled. then his grin goes lopsided, the kind of giddy that makes his nose scrunch adorably—like he's trying and failing to play it cool. "i'm never taking it off. like, ever-ever. try and stop me."

"wow, never?" you tease, rocking back on your heels, hands flying up in mock surrender. "i don't think i quite believe you—" you reach out like you're going to snatch it back, laughing when he yanks his wrist to his chest with an overdramatic gasp. "what if i made you a better one? with, i don't know... actual craftsmanship next time?"

"nope!" he chirps, cradling the bracelet protectively. "this one's mine now. it's already imprinted on me. like a baby duck. or a uhh... really clingy barnacle." he's beaming so hard it looks like it hurts, all bright eyes and delighted crinkles at their corners.

"okay okay!" you yelp, laughter bubbling up as you shove at his shoulder, face burning. "dramatic much? fine, keep your tacky sun charm." but your eyes keep darting to his wrist, shining with something unbearably fond.

phainon had already made up his mind the moment those beads slid onto his wrist—this bracelet would become part of him, as permanent as his own pulse. but seeing you now, all flustered giggles and sparkling eyes, your fingers nervously brushing against your matching moon charm like you still can't believe he actually wears it? oh. oh no. now it's not just a promise, it's a sacred vow carved into his bones.

(he imagines archaeologists finding his skeleton centuries later, still clutching these sun-faded beads, and thinks: good.)

and he doesn't.

not when training leaves it smudged with dirt. not when bathwater turns the threads dark and heavy. not even when (as predicted) you knock an entire cup of hot chocolate onto it during dinner, your horrified apologies dissolving into laughs as he proudly declares the new stains "part of its charm."

the bracelet stays, as constant as his heartbeat—and just as irreplaceable. even when he's elbow-deep in his duties, the sun charm gleaming amidst all the gold and finery like a little declaration: i'm loved. see? someone chose me.

he catches himself staring at it often, thumb brushing over the sun charm absently, his chest swelling with something unbearably fond.

(and if he sometimes, in his most private moments, presses his nose to the beads just to see if they still smell like you—well. that's between him and the bracelet.)

૮ฅ・ﻌ・აฅ

"i wonder what's got our esteemed deliverer looking like he won the jackpot," dan heng murmurs, watching as phainon practically bounces between unimpressed merchants, shoving his wrist in their faces with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever presenting its favorite stick.

trailblazer leans against a nearby crate, squinting at the scene. "maybe he found a really good product to add to his skincare routine? dude's been glowing brighter than the amphoreus sun lately." they pause, then gasp dramatically. "or! or maybe he did win the lottery—"

"he owns three properties, perhaps even more," dan heng deadpans, not looking up from his scroll. "somehow i doubt earning a ton of money is the cause of... whatever this is." he gestures vaguely at phainon, who's now twirling in place to better showcase his wrist to a very confused fruit vendor.

trailblazer's boots scrape against cobblestones as they spring up with all the subtlety of a fireworks display. "well there's one way to find out!" they announce, already striding forward before dan heng can grab their collar. "hey phainon, what's got you all—mmph!"

an armoured hand clamps over their mouth mid-sentence, yanking them backward so abruptly their feet briefly leave the ground. mydei hauls them behind a market stall with the efficiency of someone used to containing disasters, his composure barely masking the slight panic and irritation in his eyes.

"must you always," he hisses through gritted teeth, "invite chaos directly into our lives? do you seriously want that fool to saunter over here and ramble about some stupid bracelet?"

dan heng materializes beside the struggling trailblazer like a particularly done-with-this-nonsense shadow. "bracelet?" he asks, one eyebrow climbing toward his hairline as his gaze flicks between mydei and the distant, still-gushing phainon.

mydei exhales like a man carrying the weight of the entire holy city, dragging a hand down his face in that particular way someone does when questioning all their life choices. he puts a full two steps between himself and trailblazer before crossing his arms with enough force to make his biceps bulge.

"that absolute fool," he mutters, watching phainon practically glow as he shoves his wrist under some poor spice merchant's nose. the sunlight catches on the beads—a sun charm dangling proudly amidst the threads. "has been showing off that damn bracelet that your companion made for him. even i've had enough of him rambling about it for hours, even during our training."

dan heng's lips quirk up just a fraction. "so that's what's been happening." his mind wandering back to you acting nervous and jittery as you tried to quietly hype yourself up and practicing what to say when you finally handed the gift to phainon. "i wondered why they'd been practicing knotwork at three in the morning last week."

"jealousy doesn't suit you, your highness," trailblazer sing-songs, wisely keeping dan heng between themselves and mydei's wrath. "we could put in a special order for you—maybe a little crown charm? though it might clash with your whole 'disapproving aura' thing you've got going—"

the temperature seems to raise several degrees as mydei's glare could melt steel. "i'd rather wear a live scorpion."

"hmm. as i thought," dan heng murmurs, watching phainon literally skip to the next stall. "though i suppose we should be grateful. this is marginally less disruptive than when he tried to serenade the entire market square last week in an attempt to calm the people protesting."

mydei huffs through his nose, the sound of a man who's given up on dignity entirely. "i suppose it could be worse," he concedes, watching phainon practically dance between market stalls like a puppy who's been given a new toy.

all three of them wear identical expressions—the particular mix of fondness and suffering reserved for people who are practically prone to disasters a little too much.

and oh, what a disaster he is.

"look at this," phainon declares to a very confused flower vendor, shoving his wrist forward with the reverence of someone displaying holy relics.

the sun charm catches the light as it spins, throwing little golden dots across his grinning face. "my partner—well, not yet, but—they made this! see how the beads catch the light just so? and the stitching here—" his finger traces the threads with absurd tenderness, "—they must've redone this part at least three times to get it perfect. for me. can you believe that?"

the word partner sits heavy on his tongue, sweet as stolen honey. it's ridiculous, really—he'd called you that for weeks as a joke, a placeholder, something to tease you with when you got flustered.

now it burns in his chest like a brand, too big and too true. he wants to say it properly, wants to press the word into your palms like an offering: partner not as comrades or companions, but as two celestial bodies caught in each other's orbit, inevitable as dawn.

phainon tucks the moment away like a pressed flower between parchment—precious, fragile, waiting. for now, he'll cradle this gift of yours against his pulse, let it warm him from the inside out. but soon. oh, soon.

he'll learn the exact way you take your coffee (two sugars, stirred clockwise). he'll memorize every nervous habit—how you chew your lip when concentrating, how your fingers flutter when lying.

he'll collect all the quiet, ordinary miracles of you until he can craft something worthy in return. not grand gestures or gold-lined promises, but something true. something that says i see you as clearly as you've always seen him.

one day, he'll work up the courage to slide a matching ring beside that moon bracelet. one day, he'll say "partner" and mean it in every sense that matters. one day, he'll kiss the calluses on your fingers from all that careful knot-tying and whisper "my turn" against your palms.

but for now? for now he lingers by the marble archway, content to watch you tumble through the garden with a pack of overexcited chimeras. your laughter rings clearer than a fountain's chime as a baby chimera pounces on your sleeve, its wings flapping wildly while you pretend to lose balance.

"oh nooo," you drawl, collapsing dramatically into the patch of grass as three more creatures come barreling into the pile, "i've been defeated by the mighty lord fluffkins!"

sunlight filters through the jasmine vines, painting dappled gold across your smile—the same gold that now lives permanently around his wrist. one of the smaller chimeras tries to nibble at your bracelet, and your resulting gasp of betrayal is so theatrical it sends phainon's heart into somersaults.

he leans against the pillar, content to memorize this: how your nose scrunches when a chimera licks your cheek, how your fingers move with such gentle certainty through tangled fur, how effortlessly you love things. the realization settles warm in his chest—he could wait forever if it meant seeing you this happy.

after all, the sun has all the patience in the world when it comes to the moon.

you, meanwhile, wear your bracelet like a secret victory, fingers constantly finding their way to the moon charm—not to hide it anymore, but just to feel the weight of it against your skin.

sure, you still get flustered when phainon catches you admiring it, but now there's a new boldness in how you let it catch the light during conversations, how you "accidentally" brush your wrist against his whenever you walk side by side.

sometimes you catch his gaze lingering on it during strategy sessions, and instead of looking away, you'll flick or turn your wrist just to make the beads shimmer. the way his breath hitches is worth every bit of embarrassment.

other times, when he's busy showing off his to some poor, trapped merchant for the fifteenth time that day, you'll lean against his shoulder and chime in with, "how'd you know it took me three tries to get the knotting right?" just to watch his entire face light up like you've hung the stars yourself.

it's silly, really. just woven thread and cheap metal. but when the sunlight hits them just right, turning both charms into mirror images of each other? well. phainon would battle a thousand enemies before letting anything happen to these silly little bracelets.

what absolutely wrecks phainon—what sends his pulse skittering like a startled rabbit—is catching those quiet moments when you think no one sees. the absentminded way your thumb rubs across the moon charm while you're lost in thought, wearing that soft little smile usually reserved for sunrise viewings and particularly fluffy chimeras. the way your gaze drifts from his face to his wrist during conversations, your lips quirking like you're sharing a secret with yourself.

it drives him insane.

he wants to kiss you. he wants to whisper against your temple all the words that clot in his throat—how you make ordinary moments feel sacred, how he treasures every scar and freckle like constellations only he gets to map.

but for now, he collects these fragments like prayer beads: the way you absentmindedly touch your bracelet when you hear his voice, how you lean into his space when explaining its design to curious townsfolk, your shoulder warm against his arm. how sometimes, when you think he's not looking, you press the moon charm to your lips like it's a secret promise.

for the way the sun and moon orbit each other, always close, never quite touching.

(not yet.)

this was such a joy to write—thank you so much for the lovely request, sugar! there’s something so tender about phainon, this larger-than-life figure, being completely undone by something as simple as a handmade gift. the idea of him treasuring it, showing it off to anyone who’ll listen (and even those who won’t), lives in my mind rent-free. i like to think he’s the type to hold onto little things like this, to press them close to his heart like they’re something sacred. and of course, reader matching his energy—quietly proud, just as smitten, but a little more subtle about it—was the perfect dynamic to play with. i lowkey would've been showing it off too. trailblazer and dan heng would NOT be able to catch a break LOLOL thank you for reading this, and as always, please feel free to reblog and share your thoughts!

[angelumcaedis]

If you don’t have a historical injury to compare it to, another good way to describe pain symptoms (especially chronic pain) to a doctor/doctor-adjacent professional is in terms of how distracting it is and what it stops you from doing.

When I went to physical therapy for my shoulder/neck issue, which is one of those chronic posture/ergonomics injuries and possibly psychosomatic to some degree (it gets worse with mental stress more than anything else). I know I don’t really feel pain ‘normally’ (I have a stupid high pain tolerance for a variety of reasons, neurodivergence among them) so I tried approaching from a ‘how does it stop me’ point of view.

On a normal day, the pain was annoying, but I could forget about it/work through it without it getting much worse. On a bad day, I kept shifting positions because it made sitting uncomfortable, and activities like loading or unloading the dishwasher made it much worse. I could still do those activities, but I would need to rest after for the pain to get better, and on a really bad day it was distracting enough that I couldn’t focus or work, and I’d have to call out sick. Sometimes all I could do was lay on my back with a heat pad under my neck.

I learned that put my pain around a 2-4 on the 1-10 scale on a normal day, and ranging from 5-7 on a bad day, 7 generally being where I’d need to call out from work, and on days where it stopped me from doing fun/relaxing things, that’s when we’re talking 8+.

When in doubt, explain how it stops you from doing things (i.e. bending over makes it worse, can’t crochet anymore, etc.) or when it hurts (is it worse right after you wake up or at the end of the day? Do certain activities make it worse?) or what you have to do to make it go away (are over the counter pain meds not working? Does heat/cold help?)

If the answer to these questions is “I can barely do activities that I normally enjoy, I can’t follow a conversation, all I can think about is the pain/what I’m doing to alleviate it” - yeah, that’s an 8-10.

Looking at a pain scale that actually describes that functional breakdown was a game changer for me, a version is linked:

(Happy to report that with PT and mental health interventions we’ve got me down to 0-1 on a good day and 4-5 on a bad day, very rarely more than that now. KT tape is a wonderful thing.)

i was a kid asking questions like "when you say to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10 do you mean relative to what i have experienced before or what i could theoretically experience in the future because what if i say 8 and then later i get twenty billion papercuts and i realise relative to that this pain is a 1" and they would reply "just focus on what you know, you literally had your foot ran over by a ford focus" and id say "well exactly but it could have been both feet which i know would surely be worse" and it still took years to diagnose me as autistic

[soulsforsales]

“Try me”

summary: your ex might still be hopelessly in love with you. The only problem? He’s crazy:)

a/n: wrote this at 2am and literally had so much fun maybe I’ll do a part two hehe^^

“You want me to beg, sweetheart? I’ll beg. Say the word.” Jason’s voice doesn’t hint at the desperation you can clearly see in his eyes.

He’s in your kitchen again. After he broke up with you. After he left you behind for weeks, wondering if he was even coming back this time. After he did come back with red rimmed eyes and a stubble on his jaw. After he left—over and over and over fucking again.

You cross your arms, despite the way your heart races. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. Though his hair is longer, as if he couldn’t be bothered to cut them off, you usually did that for him anyway. Jason Todd doesn’t know how to take care of himself, it used to be your job. And you loved doing that. You loved… loving him. But you had to stop before the your love for him swallowed you whole.

Because Jason Todd is a complicated man. Because you could’ve spent your whole life loving him and it still wouldn’t have been enough to silence the demons that sit in his head.

“It wouldn’t matter.” You tell him, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m with someone else now, Jason.” His name is still soft on your tongue, but it doesn’t change anything else. You are with someone else now. Someone who stays. Someone calm and steady and… normal. Someone who works a day job and sleeps in at night. Someone who doesn’t disappear for days. Someone without scars and ghosts. Someone… almost boring.

“Oh please,” Jason’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife, “we both know the boyfriend thing is temporary. Let’s stop pretending.” You sigh, you know Jason well enough to know that the swagger he’s showing off is to hide whatever vulnerability he’s feeling at the moment.

“I’m not pretending. I’m very serious, Jason. I’m happy with him.”

Jason steps closer, blue green, glowy eyes fixed on you in a way that used to make your breath catch. It still does. He walks closer and closer until your face almost hits his chest and you have to look up to face him.

“Jas—“

A hand comes up to brush against your cheek. You stiffen. “I miss you,” it’s whispered to you. Jason’s eyes searching your face for something—anything. Gone is the cool guy act, and before you is the Jason you so clearly remember. He’s all soft touches, and teary eyes, lips parted in wonder that he’s not sure this is actually happening. That after everything, he’s touching you again.

“I’m sorry,” another whisper. He leans in until the familiar scent envelopes you whole and you breathe him in like you’ve craved to for so long.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I fucked up. So, so bad. And I don’t know what to do to fix it… I… but I can, okay?” His palm moves to the back of your head when Jason drops his forehead to yours. Your breaths mingling. “God… just… just don’t do this to me.”

He’s so close that for a moment, you almost falter. All others thought float from your brain except the ones your body whispers to you. You could kiss him right now, fill your mouth up with the familiar taste of him. You could—

You won’t. You can’t.

Because Jason isn’t promising you wonders for the first time. You shake your head, pushing him back with a hand on his chest.

“No. No… there’s nothing you can fix. It’s over, Jason. We’re over.”

His jaw clenches, “the fuck we are.”

You stare at him, scoffing. You really can’t believe this guy sometimes.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“You know damn well what I mean!” He yells, hands flying in exasperation. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want this guy! This—this fucking trust fund asshole—what’s his name again? William? Walter? Fucking British twit…” you just stare as Jason rambles on. You can almost smell the hatred and jealousy coming off of him. But more than that, is fear. A silent terror. One that says he’s lost you for good this time.

“Jason—“

“Bet he sleeps through the night, huh? Does he fuck you like I did, baby? Does he make you scream like I did? Does he make you feel good en—“

“Stop it!” Your voice lands, loud and clear and Jason—for once—shuts up. You push both hands through your hair. “Do you hear yourself? This is crazy, Jason! You left me! You refused to step up! You—I loved you! I loved you so much and what did you do with that?! You threw it out the fucking window. You—“

“I know!” His scream cuts through, eyes glassy and red, “I know! You think I don’t wish every single day that I could go back and change things? Stop you? Chase after you and beg for you to fuckin stay with me?! I ruin things—that’s who I am! That’s what I do! But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. And you can hate me—you should hate me but god, please don’t push me away. Just say it. Say the word, baby, and I’ll do anything. Anything to win you back.”

You sigh. He is practically begging now, and you can see what the sleepless nights and guilt has done to him. How miserable he looks.

But it’s not your job to fix him. It’s not your job to hold the broken parts together and get yourself cut open in the process.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

You watch the way his expression breaks. Like his chest cracked open, like this will be Jason Todd’s last straw. His breaking point. And you hate yourself for it, but for once, you need to choose yourself.

Jason walks back to the window quietly. His whole stance is rigid and wrecked at the same time. He pauses near the ledge, back turned to you and then, barely a whisper but you hear it loud and clear.

“I’ll kill the fucker.” Your heart drops. You don’t even know if he’s talking to you or himself.

You step forward, eyes wide, heart thumping.

“Jason. No. You won’t.”

His fists clench, the leather jacket creaks with the movement of his shoulders.

“Try me.” He mutters and then he’s jumping out of your fire escape, disappearing into the lifeless, rainy Gotham night.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Xavier's kitchen vlogger significant other.

Imagine the title of the vlog was simple. Making Pancakes With My Boyfriend (He Said He's 'Gifted' at Cooking 😭). Uploaded a day ago with 736k views and 5.1k comments.

Imagine the video opens with the soft shuffle of morning kitchen noise. The whir of a kettle, utensils clinking, sunlight streaking across countertops.

Imagine your voice then cuts in with a casual, jolly tone. "Hello hunters! Welcome back to the channel! It's your favorite home cook, back with another easy recipe. And today well make a simple pancake."

Imagine a soft laugh can be heard as you appear on screen, wearing your usual apron and a matching clip that barely keeps your hair off your face. You wave at the camera with a spoon in hand.

Imagine there's a comforting intimacy to the setting same kitchen, same lighting, same slightly chipped countertop you always forget to fix. "But today's episode is special." You say, voice light but unmistakably giddy.

Imagine the way you gesture off frame and a figure strolls in with the confidence of someone walking into a battlefield and thinking it's a catwalk.

"Everyone, meet Xavier. My boyfriend." You pause dramatically. "Also known as the man who said, and I quote, 'How hard can pancakes be? I'm naturally good at things.'"

Imagine the way Xavier smile like this is a cooking competition and he has already won. He's in a relaxed hoodie, sleeves half rolled, hair a bit mess and he waves like he's been doing this for years. Not like this is the first time he's ever appeared in one of your videos.

"I did say that." He agrees without shame. "And I stand by it." You snort. "You also thought tofu was just 'off brand cheese.'" He places a hand on his chest. "Slander."

Imagine the camera cuts to both of you at the counter. You're reading out ingredients while Xavier is... Already off script.

"Flour." You say. He dumps in a generous amount. You stare. "That's... Not a measuring cup." "I'm eyeballing it." "You're using a coffee mug." "Precision is for cowards."

Imagine the way you sigh, the dramatic, long suffering kind of sigh and look straight into the camera. "This is fine. Everything's fine."

Imagine the way he hummed beside you, oblivious, happily cracking eggs like he's being scored on flair. One of them lands perfectly in the bowl. The second one... Well doesn't.

"Shell adds texture." He says utterly serious. Then a cut in a close up of your face. Emotionless. Defeated.

Imagine fast forwarding, the batter is now somehow made, despite his attempts to 'improve' it with cinnamon, sriracha, and a near tragic near addition of garlic powder.

"You're not allowed to improvise anymore." You warn. "I am merely evolving the culinary arts." "No."

Imagine then Xavier, bold as ever, insists on flipping the first pancake. He swirls the pan with flair, flicks his wrist... And the pancake lands halfway on the stove. He looks stunned. You're crying laughing behind the camera.

Imagine the second try actually works. Perfect arc. Lands flat. You both scream like you've just won an Olympic medal. "I told you." He says smugly. "Natural talent." You mouth 'no you didn't' silently to the camera, wiping your eyes.

Imagine with a slightly smaller mess and a plate full of warm, imperfect pancakes. The two of you sit across from each other at the table. He has a syrup on his sleeve and a dollop of whipped cream on his cheek, courtesy of your earlier counterattack.

"This was fun." Xavier says, tone softer now, less chaotic. You smile at him. "Even if you tried to kill us with chili pancakes?" "Especially because of that." You laugh again, more tired now but contented.

Imagine the way he leans over and kisses your temple, gentle and lingering. You almost forget the camera is still rolling.

Imagine back in frame. You wave at the camera, Xavier's head resting lazily against your shoulder. He looks sleepy now but still smug, proud of his work.

"That's it for today, guys. Please give it a thumbs up if you enjoyed watching my kitchen slowly descend into chaos." "And subscribe." Xavier says, suddenly alert. "For more of my culinary excellence." You roll your eyes. "Sure. If you want to see us try to bake next time."

Imagine the way the screen fades into soft melody again and a few bloopers roll. Mostly you catching falling pancakes, Xavier dramatically reacting to a burned one and a whispered, "Wait... Do pancakes expire?" From him that nearly sends you wheezing off camera.

Imagine the top comments:

Ztrope: I've never seen someone cook with this much misplaced confidence. i am IN LOVE 💀💀💀

1sht1kll: not him flipping it onto the stove and acting like it was the pan's fault 😭😭😭

Ladsslave: This was 18 mins of romantic comedy and i need an episode 2 NOW

2days3days: The way he kissed your temple like he didn't almost poison you with sriracha pancakes 🥹

Abcdefg: I want what y'all have. even the chili flakes. even the egg shell.

Ztrope: first that streamer, then that daily life vlogger. NOW this?! Were are these people getting their man?!?!

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: i told myself I'll do one for zayne first bur got hooked up with Xavier first 🤣🤣🤣

[guyspiders]

i love you stob personality swap au

lots of lore dump for my take on the au under cut beware (pre movie stuff)

robotnik:

rob haaates everyone he works with but stays formal for the sake of getting what he wants.

every agent he gets is always sent off within at least a month because he gives them promotions or sends them to departments that actually want them

the only people that dont like him are the people he cant persuade with his front, so he uses less ethical means of getting what he wants (cough blackmail cough)

he also wears more “lab appropriate” attire (no diva goth lab coat sorry) but always wears too short pants with fun socks and sneakers as his little form of rebellion

stone:

stone is nothing less than their agencys #1 worker. unmatched level of competence but unfortunately an even (if not higher) level of hostility towards literally every human being that had ever lived.

he always splits off on his missions, but their always done flawlessly, so none of his superiors felt like punishing him, until he lashed out at one of them. he eventually pisses the wrong person off (or did he…) and ends up assigned to robotnik in hopes of rob calming him down or making him like humanity

their relationship:

my au thingy has rob take over some people fanon stone of seeing him at some sort of presentation and suddenly NEEDING that specific guy here RIGHT NOW. after a while he “convinces” one of stones superiors to send him over so he can understand this guy a little better.

stone is fucking pissed. he wants to be out on the field where he can beat the everloving shit out of people without getting in trouble for it, and now hes stuck playing bodyguard for some goody two shoes lab rat.

over time he gets attached but hes still snippy and bitchy to rob and eventually rob probably offers him some coffee or something and stone SNAPS and spills the coffee all over rob and shoves him into a wall and while hes yelling or whatever, rob is thinking oh, this little shit thinks he can push me around. so he turns the table on him, shoves him into the wall, and dresses him down. tells him hes only here because rob wanted him here and now that he has him theres no way in HELL hes leaving and he better shut up and BEHAVE. and post pinning stone is like wow i just learned something new about myself

anyway if you read all of that kudos to you and tell me if you like it…

also they still bond over mutual hatred of humanity but stone warms up to rob after rob drops his front and also continues to show genuine interest, care, and respect for stone

[sinsxo]

love in every pigment. ☆ blue lock ── ★ ˙ 🍒 ̟ !!

⤷ ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro.

based on this request.

✦ synopsis: the blue lock boys with a reader who loves makeup — swatches, lip gloss stains, and too many products in their basket… but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

✦ contains: fluff, makeup-loving reader, shopping, soft boyfriend moments, light teasing.

✦ word count: 1k words.

read more: masterlist — blue lock.

── ✦ isagi yoichi .

isagi didn’t realise you were being serious about how much you loved makeup until the two of you ended up in a beauty store together. you had sparkles in your eyes the second you stepped in, making a beeline for the shelves excitedly.

he was content just trailing behind you at first, carrying the basket while you excitedly swatched lipsticks and a variety of makeup products against the back of your hand. but it didn’t take long before the basket was full and you handed him another one with a sheepish grin.

“you don’t have to hold it if it’s too much,” you said, laughing lightly.

“no, it’s fine,” he replied, adjusting the handles of the now two baskets. “this is… kinda fun, actually.”

he liked seeing you like this — so excited and genuinely happy. he didn’t understand half the things you said about the different makeup products, but he listened anyway, nodding along as you explained why this specific blush formula was better than the last.

at the checkout, he pulled out his card before you could even reach for yours.

“yoichi!”

“you said this was your comfort store,” he shrugged. “let me do something nice for you.”

and you couldn’t be more thankful that he was willing to support what you loved most.

── ✦ itoshi rin .

rin didn’t say much when you dragged him into the makeup store. he never does. but he followed you without complaint, hands in his pockets, watching you go from one aisle to another with more energy than he’d seen all week.

what he didn’t expect, was for him to become your swatch canvas. it started with a shade of lipstick on the back of his hand, and then somehow turned into four different lip glosses on his forearm, a line of glitter eyeshadow near his wrist, and even a smudge of a random skincare product near his thumb.

“you have nice veins,” you murmured absentmindedly, testing the coverage of new concealer right above them.

“...thanks?” he muttered, blinking down at the mess of colours and sparkles now coating his skin.

by the time you left the store, his entire arm looked like a complete artwork by you. he didn’t say anything, though — not even when a few people gave him odd looks.

“don’t wipe it off yet,” you said, linking your arm with his as you analysed the different shades of colours. “i need to remember which ones looked good so i can try them out first.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away.

he really liked it when you left reminders of yourself on his skin.

── ✦ itoshi sae .

sae wasn’t really surprised when you told him that you loved makeup. he figured it was a normal thing — nothing out of the ordinary.

but then he saw the prices and you hoarding the store.

you dropped a couple more products into the basket and he spoke up again, “do you really need so many of the same thing?”

“it runs out faster than you think. plus, i’ll just leave some at your place so i don’t have to go back and forth.”

he picked up one of the products out of curiosity and his eyes immediately widened when he saw the price.

“this tiny bottle is… how much?” he stared at the price tag like it personally offended him.

you just laughed and said, “it’s a setting spray, not a bottle of water. it’s crucial for a perfect makeup look. plus, everything in this store is branded.”

“so you’re just paying for the brands?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“i mean, somewhat… but the products do work really well.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly indicating that he had a hard time believing that. “i think it’s still an unreasonable price for something you’re going to wash off at the end of the day.”

despite his doubts, he still paid for everything anyway, sliding his card with a casual flick of his wrist and muttering something under his breath about how overpriced the makeup products were. he didn't understand the obsession, but he did find your enthusiasm endearing — especially the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about certain brands or products.

“don’t get me wrong,” he said later, watching you organise your new products by colour, “i still think you're being scammed.”

“that’s why i insisted on paying,” you sung.

“yeah, whatever.”

he pretended not to care, but the next day, he complimented your new makeup look — quietly, barely audible — but you caught it. he was paying attention and staring even more than he let on.

── ✦ nagi seishiro .

nagi wandered after you like a sleepy cat, trailing behind while you examined eyeshadow palettes and compared shades of lipsticks with an intense focus.

he didn’t say much, just hummed occasionally or tilted his head when you asked for his opinion.

but somewhere along the way, he started picking up products on his own, mostly the ones in pretty packaging or colours that reminded him of you.

“what’s this?” he asked, holding up a pot of glitter.

“eyeshadow,” you replied. “do you want to try it?”

he blinked slowly. “nah. but maybe on you.”

you thought you’d already grabbed everything you needed until you turned and saw him casually dropping a handful of random products into the basket, looking at you innocently. you weren’t even sure if he knew what products he picked up.

“seishiro.”

“what?” he blinked. “they look nice.”

“do you even know what these are for?”

he shrugged. “dunno. i just wanna see what you’d look like wearing them.”

“you’re trying them out with me then, alright?”

he nodded almost immediately and wrapped his arms around you again as you both made your way to the payment counter.

he didn’t get makeup, not really — but he liked the way you lit up when you talked about it. and if he got to be part of that light, even a little, then he didn’t mind tagging along.

although, truth be told, he may have been a little intrigued and a lot more curious.

© sinsxo , dividers by @enchanthings & @uzmacchiato.

[mejaemin]

city girl 𐚁 with mark lee and lee donghyuck (18+)

wc ⭑ 6.2k summary ⭑ moving from the city to the country was definitely a downgrade, but ranchers mark and donghyuck from across the street seem to make it a little better! warnings ⭑ threesome, fingering/oral (f rec), unprotected sex, a little bit of spit hehe, some spanking, oral (mark rec), bossy markie ♡, markhyuck beefing but it’s giving e2l, strangers to.. something? v mark centric at the end, aftercare !!! also more plot than i’ve EVER written in my life an ⭑ it’s finally here !!! the “+82 pressin fic” i’ve been talking about since march !!! i hope everyone is excited, and enjoy it thoroughly 🤍 i put a LOT of work into this to make sure it was at least out before holo…

you’ve always hated cowboys.

from your experience, they’re all so.. non progressive? they all look, act, and think the same way, generations upon generations of closed-minded boys, raised by conservative old men who were raised the same, and it makes your blood boil. if you had any say in where your family had moved, still living under the iron fist of your rich father, you’d have stayed in the city, far away from any of these dirty, stinky people rather than moving to yeehaw county.

not to mention, you’re stuck all by yourself, not a single man worthy of your standards in sight. the city would have what you’re looking for, you think. the country doesn’t have hard working, smart, considerate, handsome men, does it?

that’s what you think, sitting out on your porch with a strawberry lemonade while people watching. if there’s one thing you like about living in the country, it’s that you can actually sit on your porch without fear of being attacked.. and you sure do feel safe with your next door neighbor.

mark lee, the boy living at the small ranch across the street, son of its owner, sure has been making you feel pretty comfortable in the area. 

you’ve seen (stalked) him at night, out near the woods with his father having shooting practice. they’ve got all sorts of guns, and honestly, you have no idea what they all do, but you sure would be safe if protected by him— not that you want that.

right now he’s out with his horse, gwen, he calls it, riding around for fun, you assume. you never thought you’d compliment a farm animal, but she really is pretty, white fur shining as she walks. they’re going slow, and it’s really not like that, but he looks so good in his tank and blue jeans, looking off in the distance. his hips rock back and forth as she moves. his leg muscles tense every once in a while, so hot and defined through the fabric of his pants.. seeing his biceps flex as he guides her around, watching them engage when he tames new horses, it’s such an attractive look that you can’t look away. god, if your friends knew you were ogling a country boy-

“you’re really bad at being subtle.” a voice yells, pulling you from your trance. across the road, sitting on the fence, is the second of the only two attractive men in your town, also a rancher. 

lee donghyuck, mark’s best friend, also employed by his father. you see him on the ranch so often you’d think he lives there. he’s always where mark is, trailing behind him like a baby duck while doing chores on the farm that no one else probably wants to. 

even though most of them are gross, the more sanitary ones make him look really good. like, when he’s out picking up equipment used by the show horses, seeing him use so much strength has more than just your heart fluttering. his brows are always furrowed with frustration, a tiny little pout on his lips as he works, looking like he hates his job. sweat drips down his neck, tan skin littered with moles that you have to squint to see from your side of the street. he’s less devoted than mark, but you can see his effort with his muscles and how he handles all their farm equipment.

“you, yes you!” he yells, and when you pull your designer sunglasses off your face he nods. “yeah, you, city girl!” he hops off his seat on the fence, crossing the street and tossing his empty lunch bag in your garbage can before walking all the way up to your house.

“i’m sorry, can i help you?” you ask, feigning your best unbothered, innocent voice you can muster.

he chuckles. “uh, no? i’m just wondering what you’re doing out here eye fucking my boss.” he says, stance full of attitude as he taps the toe of his boot on the ground.

“i have..” you look him up and down, most definitely checking him out, disguising it as a judgemental look. “..no idea what you’re talking about.”

he raises an eyebrow, hand on his belt. he looks nearly just out of place as you, making a show of his country-esque outfit. “i think you do, miss. those, uh, what, hundred dollar sunglasses don’t do a good job hiding where you’re looking.”

you scoff. “these are way more than just a hundred. multiply that by like, four and you’re closer.”

he stops, probably thinking about what that even comes to, before shaking his head. “well, whatever. do you have a problem or something? why do you keep looking over at us all day?”

“next question.” you start packing up your stuff, putting it into your little tote bag. you look back to donghyuck, about to bid your not-so-nice goodbyes when you see someone behind him running over.

finally, he catches up, and it’s mark, stepping beside his friend, catching his breath. looking at the boy, he asks, “is there a problem?”

donghyuck looks at him incredulously, “are you serious? she won’t stop starin’ at us while we’re working, and honestly, i find it,” he makes sure to side eye you, “really annoying! so i came over here to ask about it!”

mark flushes. “dude-” he leans in, whispering in his friend’s ear, and you learn that he’s really bad at it, because you hear their entire conversation, entirely about you and mark reminding the other of how you’ve been their topic of conversation for weeks.

they have their private discussion for a little longer, donghyuck’s mouth hanging open by the end of it, until he eventually walks away from it, back to the ranch, with a smirk on his face. mark turns back to you, running a hand over his face.

“i’m sorry about him.. he’s a little bit dramatic, isn’t he..?” he chuckles, a sheepish smile adorning his features. he’s so hot yet so boyishly cute, and it’s hypnotizing. that’s all you can think about now that you’re “alone” with him.

you giggle, suddenly fluffing your hair and fixing your face. “just a little?” you both share a laugh, and you think of giving yourself a gold star for it later on. “it’s okay though, really. i’ve had people push my buttons in worse ways.

“i bet.” he says, “you’re from the city, right? i’m sure there’s plenty of uppity, pushy people over there, no?” you nod, and he reaches his hand out for you to shake. it’s so.. warm, large, enveloping your own. “you don’t seem like most of the ones i’ve met. i’m mark, by the way.” you respond with your own name, trying not to smile too hard at his hand in yours. “it’s nice to finally meet you after seein’ you around the past few weeks.”

“yeah, same goes for me..” you have no idea what to say. speaking to mark for the first time, along with his hot best friend (despite it being a headache), and for so long has your brain malfunctioning. his calloused hand against your soft, well kept one, and his sweet, slightly raspy voice filling your ears was thrilling.

he clears his throat. “..well, if you’re interested, you should come visit the ranch. i wouldn’t mind showing you around. hyuck too, he’s just a little salty right now.” he says, a cute and hopeful look pulling at his face.

you nod. “that’d be nice of you, mark. i’ve always been kind of skeptical of you country boys, but it’d be nice to have you change my mind on that, no?” he hums. “when would you like me to come by?”

“uh, would it be okay if you came tonight? i’d say you can come by in the daytime, but my dad’s not so fond of city girls, or any girls, so.. i know it’s kind of creepy, but i swear- i’m not a creep or anything. promise.” he puts his hands up, rambling.

“it’s okay, markie.” you flush at the accidental nickname. he definitely noticed it too, his cheeks burning a brighter pink than they have been the whole time. “i’ll see you then?”

he nods, watching as you take your belongings and make your way inside your house. once the door closes behind you, he turns and makes his way back to his own home with a smile.

𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙

it’s nearly 11 o’clock at night when you cross the street over to mark’s ranch. you’re most certainly freezing, the summer breeze sending chills up your spine, but it wouldn’t be cute of you to dress warmly. so, in your thin, tiny sleep shorts and tank, you make your way to the front of their home.

not knowing if you should knock, you stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, until someone comes from behind you and taps your shoulder. you spin around, nearly jumping out of your skin, until you recognize mark.

“shit- sorry- i didn’t mean to scare you.. it’s just, i had to walk out of the back door to meet you.. trying to be secretive, you know?” he chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

he tries to be respectful, but he can’t help himself from looking you up and down in your less than appropriate outfit. “..you’re cold. didn’t think to get changed, did you?” 

it’s then that you remember you’re in your sleepwear, definitely going without a bra, and you immediately cross your arms over your chest. “sorry. didn’t wanna get caught either.” 

you stand there for a moment, and since mark’s being a little shameless, you assume you can be too, so you take a moment to give his appearance a slow look up and down as well. he’s wearing the same bootcuts from before, this time paired with a thermal long sleeve. you can still see his shoulders through it, perfectly sculpted, and you’re about to let yourself zone out staring at them when a truck pulls up in front of the property. donghyuck jumps (gets pushed) out of it, stumbling before quickly collecting himself. as soon as he hits the ground, the car he came from speeds away, and he flips it off before jogging to meet the two of you. 

“sorry, they’re-” he gestures to his ride who’s already long gone, “i don’t know.” he grumbles. giving you a judgemental look up and down, he sighs before sliding his jacket off his frame, tossing it over your shoulders. 

“little skimpy for a farm visit.” he grumbles, sticking next to you as mark starts walking off somewhere around the farm. you both follow closely behind, bickering the whole time the other is trying to explain things to you. 

“hyuck, dude, shut up. i’m talkin’ to her, and you’re being an ass.” he says, punching the boy’s shoulder, before gently grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him, where you can hear his voice better.

he takes you around the entire ranch, explaining every little thing in detail and answering all of your questions. hyuck stands on the opposite side of you, hands in his pockets, simply listening and chiming in whenever he feels like it. they take you to meet all their animals, even the cats and herding dogs running around as well. it’s really sweet, honestly, and you can’t even bring yourself to care about your little vendetta against cowboys anymore. your friends and family can shame you all they want.. these boys are not only hot, but cute. and way nicer than you thought.

eventually you make your way back to the farmhouse, way quicker than expected. time really flies when you’re having fun listening to two attractive country boys talk your ears off about dirty farm stuff you couldn’t care less about!

mark offers to take you inside, and you don’t waste a second accepting his offer, the three of you entering his house silently, making your way up towards his small wing of the home. he allows you to freshen up in his bathroom, the two boys waiting for you when you re enter his connected bedroom. they pat the seat in between each other, and although a little flustered, nervous even, you sit down.

donghyuck’s eyes are heavy, trailing all over your frame. mark takes his friend’s jacket off of you, hanging it over a chair in the far side of the room. “you’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?” he looks to mark, waiting for his opinion. he simply nods, climbing to the top of his bed and sitting back leisurely.

you nod, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. you feel both sets of eyes on you, and it makes you feel so, so small, but in the best way. you finally make direct eye contact with hyuck, and he simply tilts his head. mark comes crawling over, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

“hey,” he starts, eyes carefully skimming over your features, “if you’re uncomfortable, you can leave if you want to. we won’t get upset, promise.” 

you’re immediately shaking your head, looking into his eyes with your glossy ones, giving your best pleading look. “no,” you start, putting one hand over mark’s and the other on donghyuck’s knee, “i want to stay.”

he hums, smiling down at you. there’s a moment where his features soften, his eyes skipping from yours to your lips, and back up to your eyes, before taking your chin between his fingers and leaning in for his first of many kisses. your eyes close, his lips featherlight against your own, touch so gentle and comforting as you lean into him. after a moment, he pulls away, giving you one quick kiss before going back to his original seat. 

suddenly, hyuck grabs you by your hips, flipping you so you’re facing him before pushing you up the bed until your back hits mark’s chest. once you’re laying how he wants you, he grabs the lower half of your face, crashing your lips against his way rougher than the other did.

he’s aggressive, kissing you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. he bites at your lower lip, pulling it between his teeth and letting it snap back against yours. you grip the hair at his nape, legs wrapping around him to bring him closer, whining into his mouth as you feel his hardness start poking against you. his grip is firm, pinch fingers prying your mouth open to let his tongue in, covering every inch of your mouth, the rest of his fingers pressing at the side of your neck. you whine, back arching into his body, your clothed clit bumping into the roughness of his jeans just right.

he shudders, pulling away to run a hand through his hair. “fuck, you’re so- i can’t fucking wait anymore..” he stands up, frantically unbuttoning his jeans before nearly ripping them off and throwing them somewhere in the room.

he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling right in front of you. he’s about to take his boxers off, and you’re so close to seeing what you’ve been thinking about for ages when mark puts his hand out.

“ah ah ah, hyuck, slow down.” he starts, and you can’t tell if the younger is serious when he starts pouting. “did i say you could fuck her yet? did you even ask her? don’t be so greedy.”

 hyuck slowly shakes his head, taking a breath and resting his hands on his thighs. reluctantly, you hear him mumbling, asking for permission. you look up at mark, and his look is so sweet, so affectionate, compared to how stern he was when scolding the other. one of his hands strokes your hair, the other wrapped around your torso, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

mark’s expression he gives his friend finally turns to something less condescending as he gestures to your lower half. he’s already jumping for the opportunity, but freezes when mark speaks up again, “stretch her out first. don’t wanna hurt our angel, do we?” you squirm, thighs squeezing together. the hand not touching your head reaches between your legs, pulling them apart. he stays there, holding them until you finally stay how he wants you to.

with newfound calmness, he rests his fingertips against the waistband of your shorts. he stops, fidgeting with the elastic, looking up at you, with his eyebrow raised. you nod, and that’s all it takes for him to grab them and pull them off your legs, throwing them in the same direction his clothes went.

mark takes one of your thighs in each hand, holding them open while pressing kisses down your temple and anywhere else his lips can reach. one of his hands slides up your leg, pulling away when he reaches your cunt, resting it back on your skin when he reaches your stomach. he moved up, up a little more, until he could slip under your tank top and begin palming at your breasts.

hyuck is on his stomach, kissing and biting at the fat on your thighs. he’s not gentle either, leaving rough bite marks and purple hickies all over the skin. he doesn’t go any further than that, except for his fingers, holding your hips, thumbs grazing over your lips, never moving any further.

there’s so many things going on with your body at once, overflowing your senses to the point where it feels like there’s nothing in your head but white noise. you think mark’s whispering a question in your ear, but hyuck’s so close to where you want him, you just whine, nodding your head to whatever the hell he just asked. 

donghyuck watches with a fixed gaze as mark slowly, teasingly pulls your top over your head. he presses kisses to your cheek and temple, apologizing for moving so slowly, but watching hyuck’s laser focus on your tits, desperately waiting for them to pop out, is too funny.

finally they do, and a shiver travels up your spine now that your body is fully exposed. mark’s hand pulls at your nipple, fingers pinching and twisting it, palms covering your breasts almost completely. your voice is timid, shaky as you sigh, leaning into the sensation. he continues, massaging you through your sensitivity. his lips are soft and gentle against the side of your neck, occasionally pulling the skin between his lips, tongue regretfully running over the marks that he leaves behind.

he pulls away, and gives you a soft smile before turning to the other. his demeanor changes from sweet to more demanding as he looks down at hyuck. “are you gonna sit there like a deer in headlights or are you gonna help her?” 

“are you gonna shut the fuck up?” he snaps, ignoring mark and choosing to put all his attention on you.

he spits, saliva hitting your clit, dripping at a teasingly slow pace. every single muscle twitches at the sensation, hips twitching in response. he hums, running a finger along your slit, fingers smearing your wetness all over. eventually, his fingers fall lower, until he’s able to slip his middle finger past your entrance, immediately curling it into you. you whine, rolling your hips into him, a feeling so simple already driving you crazy. mark’s hand is soft, petting your hair, keeping it out of your face and away from the sweat beading on your forehead. hyuck spits again, using it to help yet another finger push its way inside you, wasting no time in stretching you out, fingering you with near impatience, his desire to stretch you out and fuck you too strong.

the noises spilling from you fill the room, your cunt nearly dripping as it had been since it was light out, sound downright embarrassing. your voice is whiny, soft moans breaking the strings of whines and whimpers that spill from your lips. it’s endless, your head feeling like it’s spinning with the way donghyuck works you. you barely know the guy, and hopefully that’ll change, but he’s touching you, fingers scissoring you open and thrusting into you so good that it feels like he knows you so well already. they curl into you just how you like it, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, and he goes at a speed that isn’t painful, but so so good that you know you’re already done for.

“it’s good?” mark asks, one hand holding your thigh, the other pulling at your nipple. “hyuck’s taking good care of you, isn’t he, sweetheart?” mark’s voice is so soothing, so sweet, and it makes you feel even smaller, frail almost, letting yourself sink into his arms and donghyuck’s touch.

you moan, a high pitched whimper escaping when your lip gets caught in your teeth. “so good.. gonna cum..”

mark kisses your cheek. almost simultaneously, hyuck’s mouth is attached to your clit, and your back arches impossibly high as soon as you feel his tongue. “go ahead then.”

he grabs hyuck by his hair, pushing him into you deeper, and your hand lays on top of his, your legs twitching and hips bucking at the way he works you. his fingers are still inside you, curling into you and pressing against the spot that has your brain feeling fuzzy. his tongue swirls, flicks, and rubs against your clit so perfectly, you’ve never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure in your life. it’s maddening, all your senses are being taken over at once. you feel mark pepper kisses along the side of your face, and hyuck hums into you, just once, before you give in.

you yelp before your body stills, the air stolen from your lungs as you reach your high. it’s so good, and it’s only the first of many, but you can feel every nerve tingling, exploding with nothing but pure ecstasy. hyuck lays his tongue flat against you as you ride it out, chuckling with a little too much pride as he takes in every last drop of pleasure that leaves you. when you and mark let go of him, his hair is all messed up, but it looks so good when he sits up, all messy and tousled, lower face glistening as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

he wastes no time in asking again, so desperate and impatient, “can i please fuck her now? i think i’ll actually die if i don’t.”

mark sighs, “do you have to rush everything all the time? it wouldn’t kill you to just take a breath, y’know.. we’ve got all night.”

he rolls his eyes. still, he listens, even if it’s subconsciously. he pulls his boxers off, but he doesn’t even try anything yet. he takes a moment to sit on his heels and watch you, hand holding his erection. it’s so pretty, slightly curved and flushed with an arousal that looks almost painful. if you could see yourself, you'd understand.. your hair is all messy, splayed all over mark’s chest. your cheeks are flushed, and your lips match the red on them with the little marks that hyuck left from biting at them. he could cum on the spot from such beauty.

he leans in close, lips inches away from yours. not only is he in your personal space, but also mark’s, being that he’s right behind you. he only gives the other a look, one that seems almost challenging, bratty, before dipping his head down to kiss you once again.

you can taste yourself this time, and you’ve never been the type like that, but fuck is it hot when hyuck does it. his clean hand grazes the side of your face, the other still gripping his cock as it slides against you. he doesn’t push it in, just lets it glide through your folds, catching against your clit with each gentle thrust of his hips. you can hear him fighting the noises hiding in his throat, shaky breaths against your lips, his body almost vibrating against your own. your whines are neverending, legs twitching with overstimulation, yet you still crave the feeling of his thick, oh so beautiful cock pushing into you, stretching you out so well because you know it’s been a while.

almost as if on cue, he finally pushes in, immediately gripping you by your hip to ground himself. “what.. the.. fuck,” he murmurs, thrusting into you shallowly, taken aback my the feeling of you, so overwhelmed that he can’t move in fear of cumming too fast. 

“are you struggling, hyuck? maybe you should go home, let me take care of our girl.. you look unwell.” mark teases, knowing just how to make his friend crack, seeing the furrow in his brow and eyes slightly rolling back. is it the attitude or how far gone he is in you?

“shut the fuck up mark, i’m not fucking going anywhere.” he suddenly goes dead silent, both of his hands moving to your hips. 

he leans down, pressing a kiss right between your tits, before he starts fucking you, using a force that pushes your upper half into the man behind you, shaking the bed. you can tell that mark ended up pissing him off. his movements are so sharp, rough, dick poking at your insides like he hates you, and it drives you crazy. your hand slides up the side of mark’s neck, going until you can grip his hair, pulling it tight to hold yourself together while hyuck fucks you, staccato moans spilling from your lips in sync with his hips smacking against your own.

mark groans lowly in your ear, and you feel his erection against your lower back, feeling so big, twitching against you as you get pushed against it. it makes you let out a long, shrill whine, hips bucking up against hyuck’s. it’s so fucking insane, thinking about how you have the two hottest men you’ve ever seen wrapped around your finger, moaning and groaning in your ear like you’re the best they’ve ever had (you probably are, look where you’re all living). 

hyuck spits on your clit, roughly, watching it roll down and add to the ring forming around his shaft. “where you at, huh, baby? focus on me.” he holds your chin, gently compared to how forcefully he fucks you, and holds you like that until your eyes stay locked on him. he then leans down and kisses you with a satisfied smile, returning to fucking you how he had been. 

you can see sweat dripping down his brow, his neck, every surface glistening with all the effort he’s putting into you. it’s so good, your legs locked around his back, hand still tugging at mark’s hair, the other already pulling the seam of the bedsheets below you. every nerve in your body is overridden by pleasure, and it’s so blinding, all you can do is let hyuck take you, throat getting raspy with the volume of your moans.

“hyuck, fuck-“ mark starts, getting impatient, willing himself to stop grinding against your back. “donghyuck! stop fucking moving..” he cusses, something catching both of you off guard. hyuck knows it’s uncommon for his mouth to be this foul, but you can just tell it is by his face.

he keeps moving, albeit a little slower. “why, markie, huh? are you feeling left out?” he pouts, cooing at him teasingly. 

“i’ll fire you if you don’t stop being an ass. flip her over, now.” he orders, chest heaving and cheeks pink. even with such soft, pretty features, he’s so mean and authoritative towards hyuck, and it makes him all the more sexy when you’re turned onto your stomach, mark smiling down at you so differently to how he addressed the other.

hyuck’s still going behind you, holding you by your waist and pulling you into him, wet slapping filling the room, soft pants coming behind you. his hand cracks down on your ass, two, three times, chuckling lowly at the yelp you let out each time.

“oh, sweet angel.. you feel so good, don’t you? hm?” mark asks, thumb grazing your cheek.

“mhm, markie, i- fuck, fuck- i love it so-“ hyuck smacks your ass again, “so fucking much.. ‘s so good..” you mumble, laying your head against his thigh, sensibility overridden by hyuck’s cock, leaving you to nuzzle against mark’s leg, mumbling about god knows what.

he chuckles, slowly removing his belt as he does so, “a little too good, huh?” your eyes light up as he starts unbuttoning his pants and you rush to help him, “ ‘s okay. i’ll help you quiet down. you like that?” 

you nod vigorously, unzipping his jeans and pulling his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. it’s just as pretty as hyuck’s, a little thinner, but so long, and pink with arousal. he holds it in front of you, presses it against your lips, and you take it gratefully, moaning around it as he pushes his way in. you watch his head fall back, a slow moan escaping his mouth, head thrown back in pleasure.

“fuck, mark, she fucking loves this..” he groans, pulling your ass to way he the way your hole clenches around him, “squeezing me so hard..”

“mm, i bet she does.” you moan around him, half humming in agreement, “so happy she gets to fuck her favorite neighbors, huh?” you look up at him, eyes teary with each of hyuck’s thrusts pushing mark further down your throat, “show us how happy, okay? cum on hyuck’s cock, show us how much you love it.”

it’s then that his hand glides over your stomach, reaching your clit and rubbing quick circles against it, shamelessly moaning in your ear when you start squeezing, pulsing against him. mark pulls your head off of him, spit connecting your swollen lips to him. he starts jerking himself off in front of you, fist gliding easily with the amount of drool you left all over him. it’s so hot, both the boys are so vocal, carelessly moaning out, and it makes your legs quiver. no man has ever felt so bold, and has been able to make you feel this good. 

“mark, hyuck, gonna-“ you can’t even finish your sentence, voice raspy as you whine, gasping as your high gets closer and closer.

your lower stomach burns, it’s so hot with the feeling of your approaching orgasm, and it drives you crazy. your back arches, pushing yourself into the man behind you, eyes rolling back as he moves impossibly faster. in front of you, your tongue hangs open, marks tip rubbing against it as he fucks his hand.

“i know, angel, i know. go ahead, cum for us.” mark smiles, so sweetly, voice cracking and breaking as he speaks. 

“yeahhh,” hyuck sighs, “wanna feel you cum all over me.”

he keeps going, using so much force, and all it takes is a few more thrusts for you to break. it’s like something in you snaps, and you nearly scream, body quivering as you reach your high. it feels so good, body on fire in the best way, and it feels almost as if your whole world has stopped. hyuck’s right there with you, pushing himself all the way in as he cums, a broken noise leaving his throat as his cum paints your walls. at the same time, mark reaches his orgasm, spurts of cum hitting your tongue and cheek. 

you all take a moment to come down, hyuck pulling out and flopping on an empty space on the bed. you fall limply, still laying in between mark’s legs as your eyes fall closed. he watches you fondly, the both of you still coming down, chests heaving with deep breaths of air. your lips are in a pout, eyelashes long and pretty as they brush against the smudged mascara on your under eye. he looks around briefly before grabbing hyuck’s discarded shirt, close enough to reach, using it to wipe his cum from your face. there’s a soft smile on your face at his tenderness, and he can’t help but return it, even if you can’t see.

“that’s my fucking shirt!” hyuck complains, swatting at the man’s leg.

he laughs. “hm, sucks.” he looks at the clock hung up on the wall, “you have.. six hours until your shift starts. more than enough time to go home and wash it.” 

mark sees the way his friend rolls his eyes, heaves a sigh, and watches over you with the most conflicted look. it takes a moment of careful consideration, but he sighs, getting his lower half dressed.

he grabs the soiled t-shirt, holding it with his pinch fingers im disgust, “i’m sleeping here, in the guest room. washing this here too.” he grabs his jacket, holding it over his shoulder before grumpily making his way to leave. you stretch, humming before scooting up to lay against mark’s chest. his hand automatically finds your hip, warm as it glides comfortingly against your skin.

on his way out, hyuck complains, “don’t go doing anything without me! i’m fucking serious! she’s mine too!” the both of you just laugh at him, and he rolls his eyes, complaining during his whole departure.

mark looks down at you, brushing your hair from your face. things are a lot more peaceful now, almost intimate, being that you’re both alone. your eyes are low, hooded with fatigue, but you still have a mind to smile up at him and lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. it feels so comforting, just as much as his entire presence was throughout this whole thing. 

he pulls away, not after a few more kisses, gentle and sweet, “this can be whatever you want it to, okay? i won’t be upset no matter what that is. but we can talk later, okay? after you get cleaned up and get some sleep, how’s that sound?”

you nod, humming sleepily, and with the kindest, gentlest hands, he helps you out of bed. thank goodness the walk to the bathroom is only a few steps, because all of your weight is on mark as he guides you to it on your shaky legs. he sits you on the edge of his large bathtub, so luxurious you might even call it a hot tub with all the jets and things in it. he turns it on, warms the water, and puts enough soap for a layer of bubbles to hover on top of the water that begins filling the space. before helping you in, he wets a rag and cleans any mess that he and hyuck left, leaving kisses on your temple as an apology when he wipes at the sensitivity between your legs.

he then helps you into the water, and it’s so warm, so comforting, you relax into it immediately. he asks first before joining you, and when you nod weakly he removes his clothes, slipping in right beside you. he doesn’t say anything, he knows you’re tired and wants to give you the time to wind down. you relax against his shoulder, and he holds you to him by the waist, rubbing comforting circles into the skin. you almost fall asleep again, right there, enveloped in so much warmth and, dare you say safety. he doesn’t let you though, gently waking you up to help properly bathe you. you try to protest, tell him you can do it yourself, but he gently shakes his head and helps you anyway.

it feels like there’s so many borders being crossed right now. this is day one of speaking to the boys, also the first time sleeping with them, and here you are experiencing so much intimacy with one of the two. it’s weird, you have no idea what terms you guys are on, and frankly, you’re too spent right now to think about any of it. 

even as he pulls you out of the bath, so zoned out you didn’t even notice that he had finished, he helps you dry up, politely and respectfully patting you dry over a towel. he even helps you re-dress, fingertips grazing your skin as he helps you into a new set of his clothes. he speaks softly the whole time, murmuring about the work he has to do tomorrow, something to keep you present, and keeping his mouth busy while he helps you. he asks if you want to go home, you say no. 

as he helps you in his bed, sleep slowly taking over, he mentions briefly that he and hyuck would be more than happy to take care of you, help you get comfy in this new area. he makes it clear that he means that in more ways than one, gentle so as to not overwhelm you when you’re so sleepy. that doesn’t sound so bad, you think. you don’t give a fuck what your father, or anyone else has to say. it’s been a day, but mark already makes you feel safe and loved. hyuck does the same, even if he seems a little bit aloof. even with their short time in your life, they already make the country seem so much better, and you hope to see a lot more of them.

thank you so much for supporting! please reblog + share your thoughts! i’d appreciate it a lot ♡

city girl ♡ @dreamheil @yesohhsehun @nctdreamchaser @httpsxnox @ssweetreveries @oliviahyehyehye @sxmnc @haechanahceah67 @zhongzn @jaeminnanaaa17 @schatjze @mey-archive @minkyuncutie @barkbarkseungmin @sillypaperspyeagle-blog @seonghwastaar @imbyunchoi @markzmelons

nct 🏷️ @chenlezip @cinnayomiroll @prettymoles @jia127zen @polarisjisung @ikozen @tinkerbell460 @ninety-nite-99 @markkiatocafe

[softsunnyy]

SILLY CRUSH!!

saying his name led you to the best experience of your life. Lando changed your world, being the reason for your calm and at the same time your excitement. Reminding you how valuable and capable you are. thanks to that event, your friends... and to alcohol. 8,6k words 🚨 fluff, humor, probably cringe, streamer! Lando x streamer! fem reader, inspired by a real drama about two streamers, but with a touch of real romance. 🚨 THIS IS JUST THE FIRST PART, more coming soon.

the first time you said his name was two years ago, on a stream you can barely remember, since you were drinking alcohol with some of your friends; while making jokes, teasing each other, and playing truth or dare like you were still teenagers having the time of your lives.

and you blame it on the alcohol, saying it loosened your tongue, although it could also be the fact that back then you weren't as well-known as you are now, and worrying about drama was the furthest thing from your mind. Besides, you're an honest girl, and when one of your friends asked who your crush was on the platform, you answered without thinking twice, "Lando Norris," as if it were the most obvious and only correct answer.

and that day your friends laughed, already knowing your answer, and some people in the chat shared the sentiment, but nothing more happened. The clip didn't go viral; it was just a fact known among the people who followed you back then.

so... why did it go viral two years later? well, that's thanks again to your friends, who invited you to a silly videogame tournament; something simple, inspired by a famous series, and where the winner would get a lot of money, which had caught your attention when they asked you about it.

of course, maybe you should have assumed that famous people would also participate; maybe not for the money, but for the opportunity to have a good time, show off their skills, and expand their contacts with other communities. And that's precisely where Lando comes in, invited by one of the event organizers, who had to beg him a couple of times until he accepted.

and now, to be fair, you didn't know; your friends hadn't even mentioned it to you. You just logged in that first day, talking to your chat as usual, until you started walking and someone commented

"isn't that Lando?"

blowing up your chat with people who went to check, seeing that he was finally streaming, and that he was actually there, near you; the person who had confessed having a crush on him. And you tried to ignore it, even though your ears turned a little red, but the chat's persistent, accusatory, and they made fun of your reactions while you tried not to smile out of nerves.

now, despite that embarrassing moment, the first day of the game was natural, smooth, and you had the opportunity to group up with some people, like friends you'd recently made.

among them was Ginge, who adopted you into his group, trying to make sure you weren't excluded from certain games and activities.

and still, some people kept mentioning the coincidence in your chat, even when there was no interaction between you two; with comments encouraging you to go talk to him, or ask the redhead about it. But you ignored it, trying to stay focused and act normal, hoping that would dissipate the flame. Which seemed to work when little by little the messages slowed down, and at least half of them seemed genuinely involved on the event now.

what you didn't know tho, was that your chat hadn't only bothered you, but also a certain guy with a head full of pretty curls, who couldn't understand what his chat was talking about when they started mentioning your username; cracking jokes and asking him to come over to you. Someone he hadn't even heard of until that moment.

“the hell is that?” he asked, trying to read the chat. However, he didn't get any answers from it, and unlike you, when the first day of the event ended, he cut off the stream, staying on call with his group of friends, who he decided to ask about what had happened, not quite sure if this had only happened to him or not.

“mate, people were talking to me about a user. They were spamming her, but i don't know why. Did the same thing happen to any of you?” his friends quickly replied no, but were curious, so Lando told them the name, and Ginge immediately responded.

“oh! she's my new friend. I met her a couple of weeks ago, and today she was at some activities with us,” he explained, although that didn't help clarify his doubts much. And although they chatted a little more, Lando still didn't fully understand why they only spammed his chat.

“maybe i was the only one who didn't talk to her,” he tried to convince himself, until he logged on instagram for two seconds and saw the chaos unfolding. Clips were everywhere, especially the one in which you made the confession, taking him by surprise, but also clearing up some of his doubts.

“who's your biggest crush?” a boy asked, looking directly at you as you started to laugh, your cheeks slightly flushed from the heat and your body feeling less tense thanks to the alcohol.

“i think you know the answer,” you said between laughs. “Lando Norris,” you answered in a simple tone, completely sure, confident, as if that wouldn't cause you any drama.

“oh my god, she's obsessed,” another of your friends said now, trying to stop you, while the chat, still at a slow pace, filled with comments like “same,” “honestly, i see where you're coming from.” “Don't encourage her,” he joked.

while another clip had been quickly edited and posted, from that same afternoon, of the exact moment you check your chat and read the first message about Lando. And the message had been added to the video for dramatic effect, but what everyone could see was the way you were trying not to smile, with your ears red, and your eyes darting back and forth to the chat, while you tried to talk about something else, failing; your nervousness all too evident.

and he saw you, definitely not expecting you to look like that, while a small smile appeared on his lips. And can you blame him? even in the old clip, you looked beautiful, but seeing you now, a little flushed, trying to avoid the chat… that was even better. And he couldn't help it; he looked at your posts, your friends, your content. Even though it affected his algorithm, he didn't care. He only knew that once he started scrolling through your page, he didn't stop until there was nothing else to look at.

and you're funny, definitely adorable, and he notices some things in common, like the way you annoy your friends, but at the same time you defend yourself, firm even when you're in the middle of a stream; or the way your personality is growing and you stop caring even about how you laugh. And Lando sees how you've evolved, how your hairstyles have changed, your clothing style more defined and your voice much more confident in front of the screen. He saw every part until he knew as much as he could about you, and at the end of that day he went to bed knowing more than your name, and intrigued by that acclaimed crush you had talked about in the past.

you, for your part, are completely oblivious to this, and you try not to mention it for the rest of the stream, until you finally stop streaming and look at your phone, noticing the chaos that had been created, and feeling your face burn at the sight of your content everywhere, reminding you of events from the past and your own attitude now. And you can't help but wonder: has he seen it? you hope not, because you don't wanna look like a crazy person, like another fan looking for their 5 minutes of fame for something that happened 2 years ago.

you're not gonna deny it either. Lando is still your crush, and you don't think he can ever stop being it, but it's not something people need to know, so you'll do your best to avoid him, to evade interactions. If he doesn't know about you, then you'll be safe.

what you didn't know, of course, is that this chaos would lead to a couple of interesting situations starting the very next day.

[...]

dynamic duo.

the activity was simple: find a partner for the next game, which consisted of guiding the other person, who wasn't going to be watching anything on their screen. And the idea was to work with someone you trusted, but before you knew it, all your options are gone, and you were alone, not knowing who to talk to, suddenly feeling selfconscious, pressured, much more shy than usual, and lost. And the more you walked, the more couples you saw, until you heard a voice near you, arguing.

"and who the hell am i supposed to be with?" you immediately recognized the voice, and apparently you weren't the only one.

user: OMG, it's Lando. user: ask him!! user: it's your chance, don't fuck it up. user: if she doesn't ask him... user: girl, ask Lando!!

you tried to ignore them, but the comments moved incredibly fast, making you feel even more overwhelmed. Suddenly, the views on your stream started to increase, and you felt yourself breaking out in a cold sweat.

'should i go talk to him?' you wondered for a second, but just when you decided not to, someone came up behind you.

“hey, sorry, are you alone or do you have a partner?” your eyes widened, and everyone watching noticed how your face immediately turned red.

you turned to your character, facing Lando's, who was patiently waiting for your response on the other end. His chat could see him smiling a little, like it's something completely planned.

“um, hi, i'm actually alone,” you replied in a low, hesitant tone.

“can i be with you? all my friends already have partners, so i'm a little lost,” he said, not entirely lying, but you didn't have to know how long it took him to speak and move around so everyone would have time to pair up with each other.

“sure, why not?” you tried to sound confident, even though you weren't at all. After that, you awkwardly introduced yourself, and he laughed without malice, introducing himself as well, as if you didn't know him. As if he doesn't know you know him.

and the conversation between you two flowed much more easily than you expected, although people in both chats noticed how patient Lando was with you, especially when it came to playing. If his friends had been there instead, he would have definitely yelled and insulted them.

and you decided that you would go without looking, which was the expected, but it still surprised some of your fans, who know how much you despair games like that, with a time limit and competing with other duos.

and everyone saw your effort, considering Lando was a little... particular when it came to giving instructions.

"no, a little more to the right, but like... like a breeze to the right." You looked at the chat, which was forbidden to write so as not to give you clues. You saw them sending laughing emotes, because your face showed how confused you were.

"like a breeze?" you muttered, moving a little to the right, until a small scream from the other side made you stop.

"right there, don't move, don't even blink," he instructed, a little hastily. "Click left once." He sighed with relief when you did.

and maybe this strategy seemed slow, but the reality is that many teams were being much more impatient, failing every time due to the vague instructions some of the players were giving. And your character hadn't failed, and together you were close to reaching the end, demonstrating surprising teamwork, something the people watching hadn't quite expected.

user: is Lando being... really nice to her? user: i just know she's screaming internally. user: Lando, what's moving like a breeze? 😭😭 user: she's too patient. I would have moved SO much more. user: isn't this like, really slow?

were a couple of things that people said, until they saw that it was actually working, and that despite everything, you had managed to control yourself and do the best job possible.

user: she's definitely working harder for him user: i don't know if this is for Lando or for Ginge's insults yesterday user: i didn't know she could actually win one of these games, to be honest user: please be with her always Lando, you're making her work hard for you 😭😭

and Lando read some of the messages, maybe not out loud, but to himself, making him smile a little, now more in tune with the context.

"you're doing pretty well," he confessed, and you could feel your brain shut down for a moment, his voice ringing in your headphones, in a low, peaceful, but also playful tone, and with a smile on the other end.

"thanks," you said in a low tone, a little close to the microphone, drawing a slightly bigger smile from him.

“we should be partners more often. I don't think i've ever been so relaxed in a competition,” he said now, with an honest tone. And the people watching your stream did so many clips of how your face turned completely red, right at the precise moment you reached the finish line, being one of the first duos to do so.

and Lando celebrated, clapping, as your chat returned to normal mode and you were back in the game.

at that moment, you approached his character once more. “I think the same thing. I don't think i've ever finished a game without yelling at my partner.”

after that, you talked a little more until the activity ended and everyone was sent back to the start to finish the second day.

you sighed, feeling weird and a little sad that this was all over. Your energy immediately dropped, and everyone knew you'd end your stream soon, since you looked a little sleepy.

once you leave the game you stop for a moment to talk on your stream.

“well, that was fucking crazy. I feel like i'm gonna throw up from the excitement,” you confessed, back in your usual tone. “I had a lot of fun today, and i hope you guys had fun too. I know you couldn't send messages for a while, but that's what happens with these kinds of games; we all know why. Still, if there's anything you liked, or anything you wanna talk about, you can say it now or tomorrow, and we can talk about it.”

obviously, that caused you to be flooded with messages about Lando, but you still tried to pick out a couple of different comments to talk a little more, until finally, tiredness consumed you, and you said goodbye for the day.

after that, you moved around your house, still feeling a bit euphoric while going to your room with your phone in hand, ready to sleep, even though it was still early. And that's when your phone vibrates, catching your attention, making you look at it for a couple of seconds, which was enough to make you open your eyes wide in surprise.

on the screen, there was a notification from instagram, from an account you knew perfectly well, and right below it, another notification. The first one said, "Lando has started following you," but the other was a message… and the message made the blood drain from your body for a moment.

"don't think i don't know, by the way"

[...]

one bed.

it's been a couple of hours since you received Lando's text, and you still have that empty feeling in your stomach, product of the anxiety that consumed you at that moment, even when things seemed to be going... well?

Lando was sweet, making a couple of jokes, but trying to keep it as calm and normal as possible; reassuring you again and again that you have nothing to worry about, and telling you how he found out (omitting certain details, of course).

together, you talked about what interacting a little more might cause, but he assured you that he didn't mind too much, although his pr side wouldn't be too happy if you purposely sparked some kind of controversy.

and you both laughed, texting each other without realizing how time was passing, until you realized how incredibly late it was, having to say goodbye; feeling even more in the clouds, because there was no way this was real.

and now you regret that part a little, because you have dark circles under your eyes, and you feel sick, your body is heavy, and your memory retains nothing right now; making you grumpy, even though the memory of yesterday isn't going away.

and of course, people notice something's up as soon as you go live, so you have to give them a quick explanation, talking about how you haven't been able to sleep well, and how your body isn't cooperating because of that. You felt a little guilty when you saw the sympathy messages, hoping you'd feel better and be able to rest properly afterward.

you know they'd be just as excited if they knew the truth. But they can't. So you just take advantage of the fact that you went live early to talk for a while, reacting to some videos, commenting on some new songs, and even having a quick call with your best friend, who decided to take the opportunity to annoy you, even though you were already a bit angry.

“well, why didn’t you invite me to your wedding, you fucking moron?” he said, making you frown in confusion.

“the fuck are you talking about?” you asked impatiently, reading the chat messages, where people were laughing at your mood.

“you and Lando?” he replied, making your mind go blank for a moment, as if you had stopped functioning. “Oh god, you're not saying no.”

“shut up,” you complained in a low tone, watching your chat start moving faster again because of your friend's comment.

“i mean, i know he's famous and all, but you don't have to forget your roots,” he joked, enjoying every opportunity he had to piss you off.

“you just love causing me trouble, don't you?” you muttered, your face burning as you ran a hand over your forehead, trying to see if you had a fever from this whole situation.

“oh, i'm loving every second of this,” he confessed, smiling on the other end even though no one could see him. “Did you share the same bed too? oh wait, don't answer that…”

“shut up!” you laughed, slightly alarmed, your eyes wide, too embarrassed. “What the fuck are you saying, mate?”

“i'm just asking the questions we all have, don't let me lie, chat,” he said, laughing.

user: LMDFAOAOFAO he's exposing her. user: you can tell she's so embarrassed, poor thing 😂😂 user: please someone send this to Lando user: she's in love!! look at her user: he's wild with those questions 😂 user: where did you go for your honeymoon?

“oh! good question, where did you go for your honeymoon? did he choose it?” he asked you, and you shook your head, sighing.

“i'm gonna mute and block you from everywhere,” you threatened, still speaking in a low tone.

“should we call you mrs. Norris?”

“OKAY, that's enough,” you yelled, cutting off his words, making him laugh once more.

what you didn't know was that, thanks to the fact that you started streaming earlier than expected, Lando had the opportunity to watch this entire interaction from the comfort of his room, without cameras, without chat. Just him and your reaction, while he laughed, feeling a cramp in his cheeks and his own neck turn red.

he loves the way you're clearly in a bad mood, yet a small smile spreads across your lips when he starts teasing you about him. And he wonders if you'd react the same way if he were to talk to you during the event. He needs to know.

so he waits, watching your stream nonstop until it's his time to go live, starting with a huge smile, which raises a few eyebrows in his chat, but nothing too serious. And when they both join the game, he tries to be patient, talking to some of his friends, until the voice that always speaks to them tells them that from now on there will be a small waiting room between each activity to make things easier for roleplaying. And this gives him an idea, causing his smile to grow bigger every time he thinks about it.

user: is he okay? user: he's starting to scare me.

he laughs at a couple of comments, trying to hide how giggly he feels, but it's a bit unavoidable, so he changes the conversation, talking about how tired he feels and asking for tips on how to get rid of the dark bags under his eyes, entertaining his chat for a while, until the first game arrives.

and this one is played alone, so Lando manages to get a couple of funny clips thanks to having to spell some words. And he just laughs, trying to get it right, but with his mind too distracted to fully concentrate.

the chat full of emotes doesn't do much to help him, but he manages to complete it, watching as the messages start arriving once again.

user: fuckin' hell Lando, i was sweating, SWEATING user: why did you hesitate on H-T 😭 user: she finished long before you did, mate, how are you gonna impress her?

he mentally read that last message, remembering his plan and suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, knowing there would be clips on social media, and that you would probably see them.

speaking of which, by the way. Lando's phone vibrated a couple of times, so he turned it on, trying not to let his screen show on the stream.

"good fight with the word nighttime, Lan." It was a message from you, and everyone could see him blush, raising his head too quickly, as if you were watching him, even though he knew you couldn't.

he quickly responded, locking his phone once again, watching the chat move so much he could barely read a couple of messages. All of them were people wondering what had made him so nervous.

"nothing, chat. Next up is the waiting room, right?" he asked, just to distract the replies for a moment, which worked.

and when the image on his computer changed, he saw his character being led to a huge room, filled with single beds, as the light went out, making it so that only the people closest to you could be seen. And it is then that Lando manages to get his character to lie down, and at that precise moment he sees you approaching him, jumping from bed to bed, talking about your things.

your conversation with your own chat was interrupted when you heard your name called; that's when you saw Lando. Well, his character. And you gulped, momentarily forgetting how bad you felt, your mind blank again.

"yeah?" you asked, getting closer once more.

"there's still room on my bed, if you wanna repeat the honeymoon," he said, referring to your friend's comment. And it came out so naturally that for a second neither of you realized what Lando had done, until both of you simultaneously widened your eyes.

your face turned RED, and you stuttered, trying to find some way to respond, while Lando began to laugh hysterically, covering his face with both hands, while both chats began to move faster than ever.

you couldn't believe what you'd just heard, and you wanted to laugh, cry, return the comment with an even worse one, and hide under a rock and never come out again. Your heart was beating like crazy, and you didn't even want to look at the screen where your chat was. You couldn't. You knew what you'd find if you did.

and Lando couldn't believe what he'd done, feeling embarrassed as he laughed and apologized, unable to form a coherent sentence while avoiding the camera and the chat.

"oh my god," you finally said, trying to breathe even as the nervous laughter returned. "I wasn't expecting that, you freak." You ran your hand over your forehead once more. "Fucking hell."

"sorry," he replied, still laughing, wiping away his tears, and knowing that after this, there was no going back. People knew more, though not everything.

"i'm not joining you now, you know that, right?" you answered, trying to sound normal, although it was almost impossible. “In fact, i'll be asking for a divorce while the next game starts.”

“no!” Lando whined, his voice several tones higher. “I’ll behave, i promise,” he begged you, making you laugh once more, still amazed.

“you just put us on the spot, sweetie. You’re gonna have to behave” you replied, shaking your head.

and this back and forth continued for the rest of the break, and continuing throughout the rest of the day’s activities, causing confusion and an explosion among your followers, who couldn’t understand the sudden change from your first interaction the day before.

obviously, some were quick to jump on theories, coming up with some that sounded crazy but were actually real, like: that you both slept badly because you were talking all night.

still, neither of you addressed the issue, preferring to continue as if this was normal, even though your phones were vibrating with notifications, and the views on both streams seemed to double, filled with people who love to create stories about this kind of thing.

and that night, when you were both off stream, you stayed on the call for a while longer, talking about what had happened and cracking jokes as if you were friends since forever. Once again ignoring the clock, too entertained by each other's presence, even though fatigue had been consuming you hours before.

and that joke had turned a switch, had activated something, and just as there was no turning back with the chat, there doesn't seem to be between you either, since it gave you the opportunity to let loose, to bond over what you have most in common, which is your sense of humor.

[...]

the end?

it's been a couple of days since the event started, and today is finally the semifinal; the day that will decide which two streamers will face off against each other tomorrow. And to say you're nervous is an understatement.

"oh god, i'm gonna throw up," you said, sighing and very anxious, opening your water bottle and taking a sip, watching your chat filled with messages trying to calm you down, but nothing seemed to be enough. And there were still two hours until the event; you shouldn't have gone live so early, but you couldn't stay calm, and you needed to talk about this, so your best option was your followers, who will always listen and support you.

and this is starting to feel real, little by little. At first, you treated it like any other game, like any other day sitting in front of the computer while talking with your friends. But there's a reality, and that is that these types of events not only bring you closer to the prize (the big financial reward), but they also allow you to expose yourself, open up to a wider audience, trend when a clip is funny or controversial, interact with more people from the same environment, and that creates connections, opportunities; things that two years ago seemed unreal, but were now right there.

god, you've even had the opportunity to interact with unexpected people, like Max, Lando, the Quadrant team in general, as if you were just another person in that world, when two weeks ago you were still the same girl who barely spoke to her best friend and a few friends who occasionally invited you to play.

and you feel the pressure, not only from the money at stake, which would be very helpful, but also from the number of eyes on you, which are now even more due to the people who have been gradually eliminated through the activities. You don't wanna let them down, you don't wanna make a fool of yourself and lose now that you're so close. You can see the posts coming, people making fun of you, sharing clips, talking about you, and sinking you back into the hole you came out of.

the mere thought overwhelms you, and you can feel yourself breaking out in a cold sweat, with your hands shaking a little, and your stomach completely tight, making you feel sick. And you try to distract yourself, but nothing seems to work.

until your phone vibrates on the desk, and you glance at it quickly, catching a glimpse of the notification lighting up the screen.

"breathe, you're gonna pass out"

and you exhaled. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath, but apparently he had.

Lando.

you've both been talking a lot these days, not only on streaming but also off camera; with long calls, as if there were nothing else to do. As if you didn't have a routine. And it still feels unreal, because you could never have imagined that this would be your life; that things from the past, done in a random moment, would lead you to meet someone you admire, bringing you closer to the point of considering him a friend.

who would have thought it? definitely not you. And your heart seems to jump in your chest every time you talk, while your attention is completely drawn to him, in an immediate effect you've never experienced before, and that you still don't fully understand.

and Lando, on the other side of the screen, feels useless now, and annoyed because he can't be there with you when he can clearly see how much your anxiety is affecting you.

he's annoyed knowing that he was having a peaceful lunch until he received the notification that you had gone live and realized your completely different reality.

for Lando, this wasn't necessarily a normal occurrence, but he's used to the competitiveness, and the financial reward isn't something that motivates him above the mere feeling of winning and forming more connections, more paths, while having fun and being able to spend time with you. But he understands, he knows it works differently for you. That a lot of eyes are on you like never before. And he understands that pressure, that panic, so he sends you that message without a second thought, without regret, just sighing, looking at the screen at the exact moment you realize it. And something in him feels good when he sees how you relax your posture, how your shoulders stop being so tense and you release the breath you were holding.

hell, everyone notices.

and you try to continue, while discreetly responding to his message, thanking him, adding a little heart at the end that made him smile once more.

and he knows it's not a permanent solution, and that maybe in two more hours you'll be like this again, but as long as he can help, he will. So for now, he focuses on continuing to watch your stream, enjoying your comments, the small activities you try to do to relax, like reacting to songs, making rankings, and responding to questions and comments related to what you were watching.

somehow, it feels domestic, normal, as if he's been watching your streams for months and enjoying what you do, and deep down, he scolds himself for not having done so, because now he sees himself laughing with you, reacting in unison, while a sweet warmth settles in his chest until it's his time to turn on his own stream.

now, when it's time to enter the game, it's as if something changes in the air, as if everything becomes more serious, more quiet. Lando refocused, and your face took on a level of seriousness that your followers rarely saw.

the first game was cooperative, and you could play as a duo with Lando. You both won, advanced, and advanced, until you had to be separated for the final activity.

Lando would have to face someone unknown to him, and you would have to face the same situation. The winners of both battles would determine who would meet in the finals. So, to say that both chats were completely crazy right now was pretty accurate.

user: i feel like i wanna throw up now user: i trust her i trust her i trust her user: i'm literally praying

were some of the comments you received, until it was time to start.

you moved with agility, with your eyes fixed on the screen and your body completely firm, hard, moving just enough so you could press the keys, move the mouse, rotate the screen, and perform attacks. And people had never seen you so focused, fighting so good until you achieved your goal.

you thought about every move as if you were already in the finals, feeling your heartbeat in your ears, and completely forgetting how to interact with your chat while doing a live stream. It's like everything has disappeared.

you have to win.

meanwhile, Lando moves, trying to be agile, trying not to mess it up, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, his body hard, his jaw clenched, and his breathing heavy. He wants to win, he wants to advance, he wants to be better, so he presses the keys, gets closer to the screen, tries to get into a more comfortable position.

and both chats witnessed how both screens lit up at the same time, giving the final result of the battles.

your screen was illuminated in white, with big gold letters reading "Winner," while you sighed, closing your eyes, finally feeling the sweat on your body, the tachycardia, the pain in your limbs. Everything.

his screen was illuminated in red, with big letters reading "You lose," while he sighed, annoyed, disappointed, tense, gritting his teeth tightly before letting go of his body and leaning back in the chair, now looking at the chat.

user: gg Lando, you did well. user: gg Lando user: gg user: she won btw <3 user: gg

that comment caught his attention, so he moved silently, minimizing the game screen and joining your stream, showing it to his chat, and watching you cover your face with your hands, still shaking, but now happy.

and everyone noticed, though not everyone mentioned it. The way Lando's body relaxed significantly, as he stared at you.

"that was a good try, chat. Go give her your congratulations, i'm sure she fought incredibly hard," he said, still without taking his eyes off you.

and you found out, of course you did. Not only from his chat going to your stream, but also from the messages he sent you while you were still coming down from that cloud; congratulating you.

he ended the stream early, but he stayed watching until the end of yours. And maybe he didn't call you that night, but believe me, he watched every second just so he could enjoy your happiness a little longer.

and the next morning was chaos. You felt like you might faint; you weren't hungry, you could barely drink water from your bottle without having to go to the bathroom every 5 minutes. And Lando seemed to know it, because he waited until you went live, early again, to call you. And it surprised you, of course, since he barely gave you time to talk to your followers; but its effect was immediate, again.

"helloo" he greeted you from the other side, his voice excited. You smiled, still surprised, and without realizing how your shoulders relaxed and your breathing calmed a little.

"hi? i wasn't expecting your call, it's good to hear from you," you said sincerely, in a soft, calm tone. Contrary to how you felt 5 minutes ago.

and your chat was forgotten for a couple of minutes, but no one seemed to mind. You were enjoying this unexpected interaction, which lasted until you were forced to hang up.

and all the while, Lando was your best companion; making jokes, distracting you, reacting to things with you, inviting you to little online games, fake flirting, and just being himself. Probably the sweetest, nicest guy you'd ever met.

you don't even have a complaint. You had the best time of the last two days, and you barely had time to get anxious when it came time to log onto the platform for the last time.

and this would be the moment of truth, everyone knows it, so Lando goes live, clarifying in the title that it'll only be to see how you're doing, that being his main priority and topic of the day. Although his chat already knows, because a big portion of it was watching your live from the start, so they took the opportunity to tease him about you.

user: should we start calling you mom and dad? user: hey dad, i'm just coming from mom's live user: you're not even denying the accusations anymore user: he's in love user: a kiss if she wins?

but he couldn't even read them or follow their jokes, because suddenly Lando found himself feeling nervous, looking at his computer as if he were going to play the game.

and he wants you to win, he needs you to, and now thousands of viewers would watch him go crazy from start to finish until you win.

and your screen lights up with animation, welcoming you, congratulating you on being a finalist, while they introduce both players who are about to face each other.

and today would be a single game, a single 1v1 battle, so you only have one chance to make it.

they explain the rules to you, but you just respond out of inertia, feeling disconnected from your body, moving automatically. And when the battle finally begins, you transform, you start moving, analyzing, thinking fast.

“oh fucking hell,” Lando whispered, too caught up in what was happening. Watching how you move, how you attack, how you are attacked, and the way your eyes follow the animation. "Oh!"

there are clicks of keys, your mouse moves precisely, and you're barely breathing. Your character punches, defends, retreats, and advances, and you try to remember every time you played this same game with your friends, the things you can and can't do, and every piece of advice anyone ever gave you to make you better.

everything feels like slow motion for you, and Lando notices it, sees your precision, your analysis, and sighs, occasionally glancing at the chat, which is equally nervous and cheering. As if both communities have united for you.

and your opponent is good, he defends himself, knows how to move, but he leaves certain spaces, certain moments he uses to think, and where you just move, attacking, taking advantage. And the people in his chat insult you, cheer him on, but he doesn't see it, he's just trying to defend himself, even though his life marker indicates he's about to lose to you.

you only need a few more hits.

before Lando's eyes, and those of thousands of viewers, you press the right keys, attack when you should, and in seconds your screen lights up, showing a crown, a 3D animation with the word "Winner," now definitive.

Lando screamed, you sighed with joy, and your face began to flood the media with gaming news.

and suddenly, for a moment, people saw you. They really saw you.

and the congratulations, the comments from the organizers, your friends. It all happened so fast. You barely remember the moment your family called you, or when you finally spoke to your chat. Your heart is pounding, you can barely hear anything other than your own breathing.

when the stream ends, you're still shocked, overwhelmed, excited, and thrilled. And you sit there processing what you just did, your body shaking and so many feelings you don't know how to control. Until your phone vibrates, and your body relaxes, knowing it's him.

your newfound calm.

[...]

and having won your version of a Grand Prix filled you with euphoria, happiness, and motivation.

some of the money remains safe and saved, but another portion was invested in projects, foundations, and things you never expected to be able to do.

now a couple of weeks have passed, and your chat has calmed down a bit. At the same time, they've gotten used to a new guest who occasionally comes to sweeten up your streams, and that's Lando.

sometimes he doesn't even go live himself; he just calls you, saying he "missed hearing your voice" or that he "needed his girl to play some games," just to see you smile on the stream. And people love this, just as it gives both of your groups of friends a chance to tease you, while little by little, everyone begins to form a larger, closer group, and probably the most genuine circle you've ever been a part of.

and this led you to new experiences, with more guests, with more variety, while every night, almost religiously, you connect to talk with Lando, like it's now a necessity, almost as important as breathing, until you both fall asleep, in each other's company even though you're not physically together.

and all these changes lead you to experience not only new things, but new challenges, new jokes, and moments that people love to see, like for example...

[...]

the challenge

weeks after the event, you find yourself on a relatively normal stream, although you have a guest at home. Ginge. And he's smiling, as if he knows something the chat doesn't, while he waits for the right moment to go wild.

and for a while, you both joke around, react to things, and enter online games just to annoy each other, until your red-haired friend decided it was the perfect time to drop the bomb, something he'd been thinking about for a couple of hours, when you were both looking at your tiktok and noticed some interesting things about your algorithm.

"okay, whoever loses the next game has to do a challenge," he said, making you raise an eyebrow, interested.

"what challenge?" you asked, knowing full well you were going to accept anyway, because something had woken up inside you.

"i can't tell ya, you'll have to find out later," he said, smiling as he raised both hands. And you hum, squinting as you look at him suspiciously.

“fine, but we'll play whatever the chat chooses,” you stated as a condition, wanting things to be fair, until you both ran into a small problem. The chat had chosen one of those online air hockey games, and of course, you'd played before, but it'd been like years, and you wondered what the outcome would be.

before you started, you tried to joke around, to tease Ginge by telling him to watch out, that you were going to beat him, but from the second the puck started moving, you knew you were lost. Meanwhile, your friend was close to screaming, feeling victorious even though it wasn't official yet.

“my god, what the fuck!” you screamed, watching as you once again let the puck go, earning the redhead another point. And he laughed. Your chat enjoyed it, but you feared, remembering his terrifying smile, full of evil and a secret you were about to learn.

you kept trying a little longer, but it was useless, so eventually the game announced what everyone was waiting for: Your defeat.

“jesus, who can believe that you recently made a lot of money with that reaction time?” Ginge mocked, standing tall, proud. And you groaned, leaning back in your chair, accepting your fate.

“just tell me what i have to do,” you said in a hopeless tone. You imagined changing your social media description, or your profile pictures, or maybe posting something embarrassing, but you weren't expecting his words, which made you frown, confused.

“oh, you're gonna watch tiktoks… while you have an eye tracker,” he declared.

and at the time, you didn't understand. Not immediately, until you both installed the eye tracker and you opened tiktok on the main screen, seeing a Lando edit as the first video.

“oh fuck no,” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment, until Ginge hit your arm, forcing you to open them again. “You just love getting me into trouble,” he laughed, reading the chat, which began to move quickly.

user: prepare the clips user: i just know Ginge is gonna love this user: she's not gonna live that down, let me tell ya user: Lando's editors must be screaming right now user: she's secretly going to enjoy it

the first video felt eternal, like torture, even though deep down, you were trying not to smile at a video of Lando celebrating his victory in Miami. Your excuse was that it was an adorable video, and the Taylor song in the background gave it a different feel.

the next one was funny, a cat compilation that momentarily made you feel safer as you watched those five minutes of video, briefly forgetting what you were doing, until you moved on to the next video and Lando appeared once again, this time with an... special trend. And your eyes tried to stay focused on the word "Nasty" the editor had added, but it soon disappeared, and you moved your eyes around the screen, trying not to look at the videos of him shirtless, or in a shirt that made him look too good. Your eyes tried not to travel over his body, but everyone could see how for a second you seemed to want to stare.

by the fifth video, Ginge was crying, and you were so red you couldn't stand it anymore. It was edit after edit, as if everything today had turned against you. You'd pass the video, but your friend added a rule at the last minute that you had to watch the full videos unless it was something sensitive, so you wanted to be a good loser and watched them.

of course, people didn't miss how, despite your obvious nervousness, you kept liking the edits, scrolling down to the next video without saying a word. In fact, they took advantage of this situation to flood social media with clips, and in the middle of your torture, a clip popped up that someone took of the exact moment your eyes darted all over Lando's body in a matter of seconds.

Ginge pretended to throw up, then continued laughing, accusing you of being a "cheeky and dirty bastard" while you sighed, trying not to smile, though at this point it was almost impossible.

“what do you want me to do, mate? you can't blame a girl for appreciating good edits, that's unfair,” you complained, your voice coming out in a high tone, as if you were holding back laughter.

and Lando was missing all of this because he was in a meeting with McLaren, having received the notification that you had gone live but unable to jump in to watch. Even so, his phone filled up with messages, tags, and his friends sending clips of what was happening since everyone was apparently watching your stream.

user: IT'S HOT IN HERE user: SHE'S RED user: please tell me y'all are sending this to Lando user: please let him do this next user: Ginge i love you, thanks for this

were some of the messages flooding your chat, with everyone clearly entertained by how your crush was once again too noticeable, despite how hard you tried to sound normal every time you went live together.

it's the perfect opportunity for everyone who's been thinking for weeks about what a cute couple you'd make, how fun it would be to tease you, to see you shy around him. And Ginge jokes that there'll be fanfics about this soon, which doesn't help you calm down.

you can't even pretend it doesn't affect you, because each video is better than the last, and you can't pretend you don't like what you see, because you clearly do.

it's Lando, the same man you've been a fan of for years, and who's now your friend. You can't be normal with this.

so you just accept your fate once more, until the redhead feels satisfied and you decide to end the stream.

later that night, when Ginge is gone, you get notification after notification just as you're about to go to bed, so you check them, hoping it's another tag, or maybe more group messages with some of your friends. But no, it was different.

"you couldn't even pretend!!" "that was cute" "you look pretty with your face all red for me."

and you feel like you might have a heart attack.

this man would be the end of you. Even though you haven't even met in person yet.

you wonder if you'd be able to survive that. Maybe not, but you don't know that yet. And Lando, for his part, feels on cloud nine, his ego higher than ever and his heart beating too fast.

he spent the last hour reviewing each of the clips, at first believing they were edited, until he watched them all, and then he went to your VOD for a moment, just to check he wasn't getting emotional over something fake. And to say he's overjoyed is an understatement, because right now he wants to scream, while he smiles hugely and stays glued to his phone, waiting for your messages, your reaction. Imagining you completely blushing once again. Nervous for him.

and that feeling, that idea... it does things to him he doesn't even know how to begin to explain. He only knows that he wants to be the only one who does that to you. The only one who makes you happy just by seeing him, and who makes your body relax just by hearing him.

he's obsessed with the dynamic you two have, the connection you've created. And he can't ignore it, the way he's gotten more involved in streaming again just so he'll have more excuses to spend time with you. It's like it's the only thing he really wants to do in his free time. Talk to you.

and it's hard not being able to see you in person yet, but he loves the idea of making you nervous even with a screen in between, increasing his curiosity about what the day will be like when you're face to face.

because that's going to happen. He has to make sure of that. Even if he has to fly you to his place himself, or travel to yours himself. It doesn't matter.

[knowledgeableknitter]

Fixing the Leak

A small fic-let.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x you (gender neutral)

Word Count: <1000

Summary: The toilet's been running. It's driving you crazy, so you fix it. Bucky is stunned.

Trigger Warnings: Like, literally none? Mention killing of spiders? Mention of marriage?

Author's Note: So, I'm quietly obsessed with the idea of Bucky with a completely competent person, and he's in absolute awe of them.

Masterlist

The sound of running water had been bugging you for days.

Not a leak. Not a flood. Just that faint, persistent trickle echoing inside the toilet tank every time it failed to seal properly after a flush. More whisper than roar, but it gnawed at the edges of your patience.

It wasn’t an emergency. But it was annoying.

And it was fixable.

So on a quiet, golden-lit Saturday afternoon, while Bucky was out helping Sam with some backyard project, you grabbed your keys, slid on your sneakers, and headed to Home Depot. You returned a half hour later with a universal toilet repair kit, a Frappuccino, and the determined energy of a person on a mission.

You rolled your sleeves above your elbows and laid a folded towel down on the cool tile floor just in case. The bathroom smelled faintly of lavender cleaner and dryer sheets. A soft breeze from the cracked window stirred the edge of the shower curtain.

You knelt down beside the toilet like a seasoned mechanic inspecting a familiar machine.

The shutoff valve turned without resistance. The old flapper lifted off like it wanted to be replaced. The new parts slotted in with a satisfying click. You adjusted the chain, smoothed it flat, and ran a test flush.

The tank filled and stopped. Silent. No hiss or trickle.

You stood, washed your hands at the sink, and quietly admired your work.

Toilet: fixed. Life: in order.

And that’s exactly where Bucky found you.

He stepped into the bathroom, boots thudding lightly against the hardwood before pausing on the tile. He blinked once, then again, brow furrowed in quiet confusion.

You glanced over your shoulder, smile wide at his return, brushing your palms against your thighs. “Hey.”

His voice was slower than usual, almost cautious. “...Hey.”

A beat passed.

Then: “Why is the toilet apart?”

You gestured to the closed tank with a faint smile. “It was running. The rubber flapper was worn out and the chain had too much slack. So I replaced the whole inner assembly.”

His eyes widened. “You... fixed the guts? Of the toilet?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He stepped forward carefully, like the toilet might still be mid-surgery. “You didn’t even ask me.”

You shrugged, reaching for your glass of water. “Didn’t need to. I’ve been handling stuff like this for a long time, honey.”

He looked at the tank again, then the tools on the counter, a small adjustable wrench, the empty kit packaging, your phone playing quiet music from the corner, and back to you.

“But... tools? Plumbing?”

You tapped the wrench. “Used that. Didn’t even swear.”

His mouth opened like he wanted to object, then closed again, clearly processing. “How’d you even know what to buy?”

“It’s just a toilet. They’re basically the same under the lid.” You took a sip of water. “Also, Frank at Home Depot was awesome and gave me a discount.”

Bucky crossed his arms, eyes narrowing like he was still trying to piece it together. “So what do I get to fix?”

You smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “You can kill all the spiders. I don’t like spiders.”

“Spiders,” he repeated flatly.

“And heavy lifting. And anything that involves Russian assassins.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “So all the fun stuff.”

You winked. “Think of it this way: you get to be a hero, and I get to be the woman who doesn’t need one. Win-win.”

He stared at you, his jaw twitching, his expression somewhere between disbelief and total emotional collapse. Slowly, that unreadable look melted into something else, a smile that started dangerous and spread lazy.

“You’re unreal.”

You pushed off the doorframe, walking past him with your water in hand. “And you must be going deaf in your old age. That toilet’s been whispering for a week. Was driving me nuts!”

He caught your waist as you passed, pulling you gently back toward him. “You seriously fixed the toilet without even texting me?”

“Was I supposed to interrupt your errands to ask permission to turn a wrench?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “No. I mean, yeah. I just... most people would’ve waited. You didn’t even flinch.”

You tilted your head, smiling faintly. “Babe, I once replaced a garbage disposal while my ex read the instructions out loud and still got confused. This was child’s play.”

He made a small, strangled sound, a cross between a groan and a sigh.

You leaned up, kissed his jaw, and pulled back just enough to see the way his eyes had gone heavy with something that looked a lot like worship.

“But it’s cute that you’re all riled up about it.”

“I’m not riled up.”

“You’re a little riled.”

“You’re wearing my hoodie, talking about plumbing, and casually emasculating me in my own apartment.”

You grinned, winking at him over your shoulder. “Hot, right?”

His groan deepened. “So hot.”

You stepped out of the bathroom then, wagging your finger playfully. “Put ‘flapper valve’ on your vocabulary list, soldier. You’re behind.”

He stood in the doorway for a full five seconds after you left, just staring at the toilet like it had revealed the secrets of the universe.

Then, glancing back at your retreating form, under his breath, with reverence and absolute certainty, he whispered:

“I’m gonna marry the shit outta you.”

There is now a Part 2: Fixing the Drawer

Tag list: @lovely-seb @calwitch @its-in-the-woods 

[bloomness]

AHHHH BLOOMMMM ILYYY HAPPY 5 BILLION MWAH 💋 didn’t realize until i double checked that im lit copying ur example but may i pleeeasee get track 3 w/ denki <333 (hope it’s not taken!! cried that lovers rock was 💔 but this looks so fun omg!! ur music taste eats)

everyone adores you ft. denki kaminari event mlist

જ⁀➴ you just booked a huge modeling gig and denki is helping you celebrate!

contains: established relationship word count: 1.6k

“what’s that?”

“shit—“ denki jolted from his spot on the couch, phone slipping out of his hand and onto the carpeted floor below the coffee table. “babe! you’re home!” he scrambled to stand up, trying to make it look like he hadn’t been lounging on the couch for way longer than he should’ve been—though it was obvious for the prominent wrinkles printed into his jeans and chip crumbles that rested beside them that he had been. “you’re early…” he winced, covering up his weary tone with a unsteady smile.

“yeah! fitting didn’t take as long as i thought it would.” you came around the couch to properly stand in front of your boyfriend of seven months. you could see his mouth immediately fall agape when you fully came into view—the way it always did when he saw you. you constantly tell him he’s dramatic, but he insists otherwise.

“you can act all shy”

the lingering look brings a soft smile to your lips as you close the distance between the two of you. “now i can spend the whole day with my boy,” you cooed, arms coming up to wrap around denki’s neck as you lean into him. 

he fully let you melt into him without a second thought, arms finding a comfortable spot on your hips. “you’re—you look so good,” he muttered shyly, though his words were soaked in confidence, like he didn't have a single atom in his body that disagreed with the statement. 

“but you know that i want you”

you couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s routine compliments. “i’m not wearing anything special,” you buzzed.

“i know.” denki muttered again, reverent. “and you still look insane.” he sounded nothing short of breathless, pupils wide like he had just taken a peek into heaven through your eyes. his grip on your waist steadied, his warmth seeping into yours. “god, babe. should i start worship now or save that for later?” he asked playfully, already starting to make his way down to his knees before you started laughing and nudged his shoulder, exclaiming a soft “denki!”

denki peered up, catching your cheerful expression and silently calling that a win. he stood back up and wrapped his arms around you again, pulling in closer this time to give you a proper hug. “i’m so proud of you, baby.” he mumbled into your hair. “i mean, i knew you’d get it,” he pulled back just enough to catch your face in his hands. “you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world after all.” his thumb rubbed smooth crescents under your eyebags. “you’ve worked so hard. you deserve it.”

you blushed under his touch. “thank you, denks.”

“annnd i’m not done yet.” denki’s hand caressed your face once more before he took your hands into his and began to lead you out of the living room. but you didn’t made it more than two steps off of the carpet before the tv flashed with a familiar name that made both of you—more so denki—stop dead in your tracks. 

“so terrified of the road that leads you” 

‘uprising star f/n l/n said to steal the hearts of millions of fans when new vogue photoshoot drops!’

“me too”

the headline was dramatic to say the least. bold red letters that read your name travelled across tat screen in rapid speed. recent photoshoots and events that you had done were displayed in the background. 

“don’t modify”

the tv reporter went on to explain your upcoming in detail—how you started modeling a year ago, and more quickly than most other idols started gaining popularity. the growth was steady until recently, when you booked a part as a love interest in a music video. that video, which was played over a million times in japan in the short time it was uploaded, was able to make you a talking piece at the vogue center. 

it was embarrassing at times, you thought. the non-stop attention. the constant questioning. the high maintenance everything. 

some would think it wasn’t a real career, that you didn’t work hard enough for what you were earning. and sometimes you wanted to believe them.

“everyone adores you”

but when you caught denki’s eyes, sparkling as photos of you flashed to life onscreen like you were the most admirable thing in the world, something inside you tightened. he didn’t look at you like you were an object, a result of mass production, a face built to be bent, used, and thrown away when it no longer got clicks and views.

“at least i do”

he looked at you like you were something worth keeping. 

“come on,” you pushed denki away from the report, trying to mask your flusteredness. “you were showing me something?”

“oh yeah!” his focus moved from tv you to real you. “okay, close your eyes.”

you obliged with a small nod, eyes closing as your hands seek refuge in denki’s.

“no peeking!” he called out. 

“yes, yes, no peeking! got it!” you laughed, making sure that your eyes were both very clearly closed so you wouldn’t expose the surprise. denki exhaled a satisfied huff before he began to take slow, careful steps backwards.

you could hear the dialogue from the tv slowly fade into intelligible murmurs as he led you towards what you assumed was his bedroom. 

your assumption was confirmed when you heard a door creak open and a light switch flick on.

denki untangled his hands from yours. “alright, annnnd open.”

the first thing you noticed was how the room was coated in a different hue than normal. denki’s bedside lamp—which usually emitted a golden yellow color—was now bathing the room in a sunset red, one that created a sultry essence that danced between the walls.

his bed was made (for once), and multiple items were set atop it. a large stuffed bear holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates sat in the middle of the scene, greeting you with a cute w-shaped smile. red and white petals peppered his comforter along with mini golden stars. two bouquets rested on either side of the bear, beautiful floral leaves reaching out towards you. long strings connected to variably shaped balloons that floated right above the mattress. 

and the cherry on top: the room was doused with your favorite scent, a limited edition candle—that you recall mentioning to denki once—lit in every corner of the room, producing the sweet smell.

you breath caught in your throat as you examined the site. denki’s palm found the small of your back as he led you closer to the bed, allowing you to take it all in. 

he takes you right up to the front of his bed, where you find a cake. it’s fairly small, just enough to feed two people. it wasn’t anything too intricate, a white background with gold details—hand-pumped swirls and flowers cluttering up and along the side of the cake. and on the top, written in golden cursive letters, read, ‘to the best — from your #1 fan’ 

“my number one fan.” you breathed. 

“oh yeah—that’s me. if you couldn’t always tell,” he chuckled awkwardly . “i’m sure you could. i mean with all the decor—“

your voice cuts in, stopping him before his words inevitably turn into nervous stutters. “denki. this is perfect.” you looked at the cake again. it was your favorite flavor, coated with the perfect mix of all your favorite colors, and topped with recognition of everything you’ve been working for. 

when you first joined the industry, you felt so alone, and it was so easy to fear that it’d always be that way. 

but one stupid dm—a stupidly silly dm from a guy who seemed very passionate about your work changed everything. all your worries washed away, and somehow things seemed to feel so much simpler than they had in a long, long time. 

you can see now more than ever, watching his eyes search your face for validation—he cares. 

he’s been here, present. listening to you rant about all the auditions you’ve been trying out for. listening to all the obstacles you’ve faced. even listening when cracked and aimlessly blabbered about things in your personal life. he’s been planning this for you. he’s been paying attention to you. 

“i look at you, through and through”

not just for the followers, or the photoshoots, or the backstage tickets. but for you. 

even as you gaze up and catch the look he’s giving you now, it’s so clear. 

“denki.” you whispered, stepping toward him.

“i’ll hold onto your hand”

“thank you. i mean it” you reached for him. he accepted. 

“anything for you, baby.” he squeezed your hand “seriously, i’d do anything.” his thumb brushed over your knuckle methodically.

you let out a half-laugh half-sigh as you nodded. “yeah, i know.” you whispered. he let out a breath too, one that said ‘i have so much more to say, but i’ll let you have your peace for now’, and dropped his head onto yours. you held him close, hand glued to his as if you never planned to let go. 

you eventually broke the silence, “shouldn’t my number one fan get some number one fan service?” you asked, breath already ghosting over his neck. 

denki’s head immediately perked up “yes—oh, yes please.” his lips easily found yours as he gently guided your giggling figure back onto his comforter. “can i get your autograph with that too, ma’am?” he joked, fingers brushing your hair back as he wore the stupidest grin on his face.

“of course.” 

“everyone adores you”

with millions of people watching you daily, fans cheering you on, critics reporting every wrong move, you realized only one ‘fan’ really mattered.  

“at least i do”

note: hii kitty thank yeew for putting in a request and complimenting my music taste that is very dear to me im blushing. after literally thinking abt this concept for a month im glad to say i dont totally hate the outcome! the smau is just a silly little add bc i miss bakusquad </3 contrary to popular belief i think denki would be the BEST partner. he would love planning little surprises for you and literally listens to everything you say like hanging on to every word he knows you so so well. so he here is the cutie i hope you love it as much as i love u okay bye !!

taglist: @stargirlygirl @megumismyhusband @kitkat13001 @peachesvault

[oneinnocentprincess]

It was fun being able to tease back and forth with him. It helped take any edge off. Still, she was not sure how much of this teasing she could do sober. This felt to be a good trial run to test the waters. Maybe she could work up the courage to do it again later without the assistance of alcohol, because he clearly also enjoyed those teasing words.

Her face had turned red when he got close to her ear. The feeling of his lips against it almost made her squirm, such a new area that she felt damn near ticklish of. A small laugh had escaped but she nodded to what he said, accepting his offer to show her a few things from the book.

His comment of enjoying watching her tugged her heart. Such an oddly simple thing admist all the heavy action happen for him to appreciate, it made the redness in her face return.

Eleanor also kept the kids between them gentle. She wanted to try some moves again to try and get more reactions from him, but she was far too distracted. It felt like it was compliment after another from him. “I can try to curse more, if you’d like.” She offered then.

She damn near forgot that he had not even reached his peak yet. Eleanor had been so focused on other things she forgot one major step to this all, but she could tell he was close from the way he was rushing himself free of his pants. She wanted to help, but god she could hardly move anything in her body currently. The most she managed to move were her hands, she let him have his space as he clearly was on a mission, but she simply rested her hands to the sides of his hips.

Her eyes rested on him, studying how his body moved and reacted. Taking note of how he moved his hand so that she could do something similar for him in the future. It was attractive just watching him do this all himself. She took a moment to move one hand away to reach for her cup, to have a few more sips of her drink before resting it back on the ground.

Eleanor watched intently as he came. Looking at each rope of cum decorate his stomach while his chest heaved. Staying silent as he collected himself, as she knew his mind must have been as foggy as hers was in those moments after an orgasm. She did want to offer to help clean up, but this seemed to be normal for him and had the job done quick. “I guess it’s a bit more difficult for a man to collect himself, than a woman.” She presumed watching him. “You could probably make me…” still she refrained from crude language. “With all my clothes on and no one would notice—well, that is if I could somehow not be the loudest person ever.” She joked.

“Well we can say you were running after me.” She pitched before quickly adding. “Oh! And that’s when I can say I fell. I was running around the lake, slipped and fell, and you had to got up to ran to me because you were concerned for me.” It felt like a full proof plan to her. She then shifted and leaned herself down on top of him, immediately going for a small kiss against his lips. “I forgot to mention to you how alcohol makes me a bit…well you saw.”

“I must admit, the chart is impressive.” She guessed for a doctor of that speciality it maybe was not all that impressive but it did amaze her how granular it would get. Though she was slightly skeptical given some of the ways they had been preparing her for this, a lot of it sounded more like wives tales than actual proven knowledge. One woman had mentioned to her how certain positions guarantees a certain sex of the baby, Eleanor could not recall what but she assumed laying on her back must be for a boy, shouldn’t it?

Eleanor briefly glanced up to him at the unexpected words. For a short moment, worried that maybe she had done something wrong or gone too far. It quickly clicked to her that in reality she was doing things just perfect. “Oh I can stop doing that if that is what you would want.” She teased, her chest full of confidence in pride.

She did gasp a little at the unique place he placed his lips at. “I’d love to test a few.” It sounded exciting to her, but there was so much happening in the moment that she was unsure now would be a decent time to test the waters of a few things. “You might need to point me to a few pages first…” She teased back at him, welcoming the idea.

Her once even hip movements began to buckle. She wanted to speak up about how everything he did while touching her was more than enough, that there was no list he needed to maintain for her. He touched her body like an expert already. “Fuck…” Eleanor continued to curse with her moans. His words so encouraging yet so teasing made her face redden. While she still had the confidence of alcohol on her side, she still could not imagine saying the things he said to her so easily. She hitched a breath when she felt his finger slip inside of her, her hands tugging harder at his shirt then as if a substitution for bed sheets. While certainly not the size of his cock, it still was much larger than her own fingers making it feel still new to her. Yet instinctively, her hips followed along. Moving carefully against his finger, avoiding areas where she felt sore and going in a more gentler motion. “Please, Oscar…” She gasped out, her moans getting louder as his second finger entered her, all while his thumb going in the most perfect motion as possible. She kept on cursing out loud, completely forgetting the fact they were out in nature currently. That had slipped her mind awhile ago. Eleanor was far too focused on him to remember where she currently was and what even brought the two of them here. It did not take her long at all to hit her peak, she almost felt like they were just beginning but clearly that was more than enough for her. Her hips quickened and more unrhythmetically as she did so. Pushing herself against him before completely letting herself go.

“Oscar, I—“ she could not even manage to finish what she was going to say before she felt the wave of pleasure go through her. Immediately feeling the tremble of her thighs as she remained straddling him, feeling his hand only getting more wet from him. She felt like a complete fucking mess. She attempted briefly to try and ride it out with a movement of her hips, but it was difficult to focus on moving. Eleanor heaved and planted a few messy kisses along his chin. “Fuck, Oscar…” she mumbled to him slowly coming to her senses but not ready yet to move off of him as she could still feel her body pulsating. “You’re going to have to tell them I ran around the whole lake when we get back.” She managed to joke out with a small out of breath laugh. How else was she going to explain how she must currently look?

[dutchiepoo2]

RDR2 Men & Physical Intimacy Issues

completely unprompted: sexual dysfunction

also completely unprompted, what if it became a series??? this was way more fun than I was expecting... -Jelly

cw: discusses sex stuff. intimacy issues & sexual dysfunction. mostly gender neutral unless specified otherwise.

mentions: alcohol & sex, self-image, unhealthy attitudes surrounding sex.

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella

Can't get it up:

Arthur sometimes struggles to get hard, and can get very insecure about it.

For him, it's more a mental block than a physical one. He has a lot of deep-seated insecurities about his appearance and his character, and it sometimes pops up during sex.

He tends to be more of a giver in general, but if he knows he's struggling to get it up that day, he'll try to hide it by hyper-focusing on his partner's pleasure.

It's really not that Arthur doesn't want his partner. He really, really does. His body just doesn't cooperate sometimes. He's a bit older now, too, which doesn't help at all.

Occasionally with AFAB partners, he'll worry about pregnancy. He knows it's always a risk, of course, but some days the worry just sticks and makes getting hard impossible.

John gets crazy whiskey dick. Yes, it's a pretty typical reaction to alcohol, but he gets it bad. Like as soon as he's more than just a tiny bit buzzed, he's struggling.

He thinks it sucks, because who doesn't want a tipsy roll in the hay every once in a while?

If he's only had a couple, he can make it work with a lot of effort. He'll probably need his partner to suck him off first. He definitely doesn't mind that part, but if he's still half soft after all that extra effort, he'll get frustrated and just want to go to sleep.

If John is really drunk, he thinks it's funny. Laughs so much that sex isn't really an option anymore.

Otherwise, when he's sober, John has no trouble at all. If anything, he has the opposite problem...

Finishes prematurely:

Listen. John gets really excited sometimes.

If he's been thinking about it all day, if it's been a while since he's had any, he can get pretty worked up.

John's mind conjures up grand plans for when he finally has the chance with his partner, so much so that he's hot and ready before he even lays hands on them.

John's saving grace is that he's ready for a round two in no time!!!

Javier does nothing half-assed.

Unfortunately, that means he's not willing to pace himself if his partner is having a good time.

It's a double-edged sword. Javier reallllly gets off on when his partner is visibly enjoying themselves, but how are they going to enjoy themselves if he has to take a break? And then he cums and it all has to end??? Not fair.

Fortunately, he is more than ready and willing to switch to using his mouth and hands.

Can't finish:

Charles is incredibly disciplined. I believe that he is so good at compartmentalizing that he separates himself from the current moment sometimes, leading to a mind-body disconnect.

Sometimes, no matter how hard he tries to be in the moment, he just can't. There's always something else looming in his mind, fighting for his attention.

That doesn't mean he doesn't like sex! Charles loves sex, but only when he can commit to and really want it.

Sometimes, he engages in sex purely out of routine or service to his partner. He doesn't think of sex as physical, but wants his partner to have physical pleasure. So, even when he's not mentally or emotionally into it, he's happy to lend a hand. Or dick... Just know he probably won't get off.

I think Charles would be uncomfortable with the idea that he has to orgasm every time he has sex. If he can have fun without the physical release, he's satisfied.

Charles almost never masturbates, because he can't orgasm without having something physical (his partner) to focus on.

Dutch is unwell! We, of course, know this. He tends to think of sex as a power play. Personally, I can't imagine him as anything aside from very dominant.

Sex, to Dutch, is more about what a person can do for him. What he tends to do is draw out his sexual experiences, slowly breaking down his partner to pieces.

However, when he draws it out, he loses physical sensitivity and ends up needing wayyyy more stimulation than expected to orgasm.

Dutch can make his partner work for it more, but at a certain point, he's prone to getting frustrated and giving up.

Arthur, for the same reasons he sometimes struggles to get hard, also struggles to finish. This is less of a prevalent issue, because if he's especially insecure one day, he's significantly less likely to engage in sex with his partner.

If Arthur pushes through the initial hurdles outlined above, they'll pop up again as him being unable to finish.

Other reasons may include: he notices something he's insecure about mid-fuck, he thinks he's going to get caught by others, or he thinks he's hurting his partner.

Otherwise, for purely physical reasons, if Arthur hasn't had restful sleep in a while, he can't reach orgasm.

[whisperedmeg]

BULLSEYE ⟢ spencer reid x greenaway!reader

summary: you didn’t plan on staying late at the bar, hustling reid at darts, or flirting with him after trivia. you definitely didn’t plan on the coffee waiting on your desk the next morning, either.

genre: fluff (and a teeny bit of angst bc it’s greenaway!reader after all but yeah mostly fluff)

tags/warnings: reader is elle's sister, BAU team takes bar trivia night, mild flirting (FINALLY), reader ruffles spencer’s hair and pokes his chest asdfghjklbaqsgfj, drunk garcia, morgan being a little shit, alcohol consumption, mentions of spencer’s past dilaudid use + tobias hankel kidnapping, hangovers, coffee as a love language, no use of y/n

a/n: inspired by this anon request | things are HAPPENING you guys. I tried to weave more of elle’s spunkiness into reader’s character this fic to show how she’s still sharp and sassy even when she’s letting her walls down and oooh I love her so bad. | GIF credit to @reidgif !

greenaway!reader masterlist 🥀

It starts with the unmistakable sound of heels.

Which would be unremarkable, except for the fact that they’re clicking with purpose — and the only person you know who makes that kind of entrance is Penelope Garcia, glitter incarnate. You don’t even look up from the incident report you’re writing.

“Absolutely not,” you say flatly before she even opens her mouth.

“Oh come on,” she whines, dragging out the syllables like it might wear you down. “I haven’t even asked yet!”

“You don’t have to. It’s Thursday. You’ve been talking about going out as a team all week. You’re wearing earrings so sparkly I was almost blinded by them earlier. I know what this is.”

Garcia gasps. “You noticed!”

You look up just in time to see her drop a too-colorful flyer on your desk like it’s a court summons. JJ and Emily are hovering just behind her, clearly serving as her accomplices.

You squint down at the flyer.

TRIVIA NIGHT – NYC History & 1990s Music Themed!

O’Keefe’s Bar | 8PM | Buy Two, Get One Free Tequila Shots!

You let out a quiet snort. “No way.”

“Pleeeeease,” Garcia begs, clasping her hands under her chin. “We need you. You’re from New York, and your playlists are full of 90s bands, and plus, it’ll be fun! Everyone’s going. Even Rossi and Hotch promised to make an appearance.”

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t hang out with coworkers outside of work.”

“That’s okay,” Garcia chirps. “You don’t have to act like we’re your BFFs, you just have to contribute your grungy brilliance. We need a ringer.”

“I’m not a ringer,” you say. “I’m a federal agent. And I have plans tonight.”

“Doing what? Staring at your ceiling alone and judging the drywall?” Emily asks. “Conducting a séance in the dark?”

“Yes,” you deadpan.

Before they can mount a second attack, Morgan strolls by with a file under one arm. He gives you a knowing smirk. “Come on, rookie. You afraid we’ll actually be fun?”

“I’m afraid of being forced into karaoke,” you shoot back.

“I’m afraid of your refusal to embrace joy,” Garcia pouts.

That’s when Hotch passes behind them all, not even slowing as he says, “It’s not optional, Greenaway.”

You stare at his retreating back. “Is that a direct order?”

He lifts a hand without turning around. “Interpret it how you want.”

You look over to the far side of the bullpen, where Spencer’s watching the chaos with that vaguely bemused expression he wears like a second skin. He hasn’t said anything to add onto the attack, but he hasn’t come to your defense, either. Traitor.

You exhale like this physically pains you. “Fine. I’ll stay for one drink. One trivia round. I’m not singing karaoke, I’m not taking shots, and I’m not playing any drinking games.”

Morgan grins. “Good enough for me, sugar.”

You flip him off without looking up. Garcia squeals in delight and Emily mentions pre-gaming with Rossi’s office liquor. JJ mutters something about needing to hydrate.

You rub your temples.

—

O’Keefe’s is louder than you’d like. It’s one of those dive bars with Christmas lights pretending to be ambiance and the faint smell of fryer oil clinging to every surface. Someone’s playing Mariah Carey on the jukebox. Someone else is yelling about baseball stats near the dartboards.

You already regret everything.

The team pours in like they own the place. Morgan leads the charge, claiming a long table near the trivia setup. Garcia’s practically vibrating in her retro-print dress, pointing out the score sheets and little buzzers. Emily heads straight for the bar with a mission: tequila. You linger behind them all, half-tempted to fake an urgent phone call and disappear.

Spencer hangs back, too. Not near enough to make it obvious, but close enough that you feel his presence.

He watches as you survey the place with your arms crossed and your expression unreadable. Your boots stick slightly on the laminate tiles near the entrance and you mutter something under your breath about the existential nightmare of sticky floors. He smiles at that.

“You okay?” he asks, gently.

You shrug, still scanning. “Just trying to map out the fastest route to every available exit.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I think there’s another through the kitchen, though I’m pretty sure using it would be a health code violation.”

“I’m willing to take that risk if needed.”

When you approach the bar, the rest of the team is already ordering — beers and shots and colorful sugary things that make you want to vomit on sight.

“Double rye. Neat.”

Garcia stares as the bartender slides the whiskey in front of you. “You really do hate joy.”

You ignore her. She orders something blue and glittery. Spencer, beside you, clears his throat. “Ginger ale, please.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That your typical bar night go-to?”

He doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t quite meet your eyes, either. “I don’t, uh, really drink much anymore.”

Something about the anymore pricks at you. You tuck it away for later. He notices.

“It’s… kind of a long story,” he says, and it almost sounds like an offering. Like an I’ll tell you later.

You nod once. “Noted.”

The drinks arrive and you make your way to the table. JJ’s waving you over, pointing to a plastic clipboard where the team name still reads TBD.

“Suggestions?” she asks, tapping the end of the pen.

“Don’t say Penelope’s Angels,” you mutter. “Garcia’s already pitched it three times.”

Garcia pouts. “It’s cute!”

Morgan suggests cheekily, “The Derek Morgan Fan Club.”

Emily throws a pretzel at him.

You lean forward, glance at Spencer. “Any ideas, Doc?”

He blinks, then shrugs. Then, out of nowhere, says, “E Pluribus Nerdum.”

Everyone turns.

“What?” Emily says, one brow raised.

Spencer blinks, the picture of sincerity. “It’s a pun. On E Pluribus Unum — ‘out of many, one.’ It’s the motto on the Great Seal of the United States, adopted by congress in 1782. Only—this is, you know, “Out of many nerds… us.””

Morgan shakes his head. “You’re such a weirdo, man.”

“But it’s better than your idea,” Emily teases. “I like it. Let the nerds have it.”

You snort into your drink. JJ scribbles it down as the too-perky trivia host starts calling for teams to check in.

The first category is New York City history, and you groan as JJ passes you the clipboard. The questions come fast: Who was the mayor of New York during the 2003 blackout? What was Times Square originally called? What band headlined the first concert in Central Park?

You answer two in a row without hesitation. Spencer looks impressed. Morgan hoots. Garcia says you’re officially forgiven for skipping happy hour two weeks ago.

Later, between rounds, Spencer leans a little closer.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he says, “but you’re a little scary when you’re having fun.”

You glance sideways. “You think this is me having fun?”

His mouth quirks. “Admit it, you are. And it’s terrifying.”

You pop a fry in your mouth. “It should be.”

But the thing is — you kind of are having fun, in your own, quietly hostile way. And Spencer, you realize, has barely taken his eyes off you all night.

You tell yourself it’s just because you’re a curiosity. Elle’s sister. The new girl who doesn’t smile much. The profiler who isn’t a genius yet still answered half the trivia questions before he could. Nothing more. But the way he’s looking at you — like he sees through all your armor — is starting to get under your skin.

A question about NYC subway planning comes up and Spencer answers it so fast you swear he must’ve been alive in 1904. When Garcia gapes, he shrugs. “I wrote a paper on metropolitan infrastructure patterns when I was eleven.”

You stare at him, baffled and slightly charmed and a little disarmed. “Of course you did.”

He shrugs again. But this time, there’s the ghost of a grin.

—

A few hours pass in a blur of secondhand smoke, ambient jukebox static, and rounds of questions you mostly pretend not to care about.

You order your second drink — a dirty gin martini this time, extra extra dirty — and watch as JJ giggles at something Emily said, Garcia arm-wrestles Morgan with frightening sincerity, and Rossi chats with a table of older gentlemen about cigars. Hotch left about an hour ago after muttering something about needing to get home to Jack.

It’s chaos. Friendly, stupid chaos. And somehow, you’re still here, not totally hating it.

“You want to get some air?” Spencer asks, voice low, like he’s afraid of interrupting the way you’ve been staring at the door for the past three and a half minutes.

You glance at him and nod. “Lead the way.”

The patio’s half-abandoned, just two guys smoking at the far end. Spencer leans against the wooden railing, ginger ale in hand, and you realize his hair looks different tonight — combed through, as if he attempted to style it in the Quantico bathroom after the night’s plans were made, but still sticking out messily in the back. The sleeves of his shirt are crookedly rolled and pushed up to his elbows. It’s like he tries so hard to look put-together but has to fight against the gravitational pull of the universe in order to make it halfway there. You tell yourself it’s not completely charming.

“I don’t usually stay this long,” you say after a beat. “At things like this.”

“I know.”

You turn your head. “You do?”

He shrugs. “You’ve kind of made it clear you aren’t into this sort of thing.”

You narrow your eyes, and he smiles into his glass.

“I’m not going to tell you that you need to try harder, you know,” he says.

That catches you off guard.

“I just mean, you don’t need to be more than who you are. If this is all you can give us, then it’s more than enough. You don’t have to try to be someone you’re not to fit in with this team. You already do.”

You scoff softly. “How very optimistic of you.”

He glances over. “It’s not optimism. Everyone wanted you here, and you’re here. You stayed. You didn’t fake a phone call and disappear out the kitchen door like you clearly considered when the night began. You’re even letting yourself have a little fun.”

You blink. “That’s quite the assumption.”

Spencer shrugs again, a shy grin curling at his lips. “I read somewhere once about this thing called “profiling.” Apparently it can be pretty accurate,” he jokes.

The corner of your mouth twitches.

“You ever think maybe I’m just waiting to find the right moment to make a break for it?”

He tips his glass at you. “I think if you were, you’d have found it already.”

You pause, watching him. Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach out and gently ruffle the back of his hair where it sticks out unevenly. “Your grooming habits are a war crime, Reid.”

He startles. Actually startles, like you’d tased him.

“I—what?”

You smirk. “You missed a spot back there, Doctor.”

Spencer is frozen. You watch him try to recalibrate, blinking like a machine that just got fed the wrong code.

Because you don’t usually touch people. And he knows that. You know it, too. And the realization hits a beat too late.

Shit. What was that?

You pull your hand back like it burned you and take a step to the side, putting space between you again, pulling the drawbridge back up.

“It was bothering me,” you say flatly, walking it back. “So I fixed it. Don’t overthink it.”

“I… wasn’t going to,” he lies, and his voice is softer now. Almost confused.

A long silence falls between you.

Then, maybe to fill it, he says, “You asked me earlier about the ginger ale.”

“I did. But you don’t have to tell me,” you reply sincerely.

“I don’t mind.” He shifts slightly, the toe of his shoe dragging across the concrete. “I used to drink socially, but after last year, I mostly stopped.”

You glance over. He’s not fidgeting. Not avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah?” you ask, soft but not tentative.

He nods. “I got kidnapped during a case in Georgia. The unsub had dissociative identity disorder, and part of the kidnapping involved injecting me with a drug — Dilaudid.” He says it plainly, like he’s reciting a report, not his own history. “I was only gone a few days, but afterwards, it was… hard to stop. It’s been over a year now, and I’m clean, but I try to avoid anything that might make it easier to slip. Alcohol included.”

There’s a beat — not awkward, just still. You nod.

“I’ll still let myself have a drink once in a while,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “But tonight didn’t feel like an occasion that warranted it.”

You look at him again, and something in your chest does that strange, stupid twist you’ve learned not to name. Because he didn’t have to tell you any of that. And he didn’t tell it like a performance, or a bid for sympathy. Just… like it mattered to him that you knew. It’s not lost on you that he told you even though you wouldn’t have asked about it again, or that it’s clear he doesn’t offer up this information to just anyone.

You clear your throat. “I’m really sorry that happened to you, Spencer.”

Spencer. The sound of your own voice echoes in your ears. Have you ever even used his first name before now?

Your unexpected softness seems to jar him, but before he can respond, Emily opens the door to the patio from inside and yells something about ordering loaded tater tots. You both wave her off.

Spencer shifts, then glances at you again.

“I don’t dance,” he says abruptly.

You look up at him quizzically. “O…kay? Thanks for the announcement?”

He chuckles. “I’m just putting that out there before Garcia inevitably tries to drag us inside for a conga line or impromptu salsa lesson. I caught a glimpse of her trying to make something like that happen inside before Emily closed the door.”

You smirk. “Well, I’m not going to dance either, so, strength in numbers.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed that.”

You raise a brow. “What gave it away?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “You don’t exactly exude prom queen energy.”

“Not unless the prom ends in arson. Or gallons of pig’s blood dropping from the ceiling.”

That makes him laugh.

You finish your martini and lean a hip against the railing beside him. “So you never dance?”

“Never,” he says with a shake of the head.

You reach out and poke him lightly in the chest with two fingers. “Come on, Reid. You’re telling me no one’s ever dragged you out to the floor for one song?”

He stares at the spot you touched like it was seared into him and blinks a few times before remembering he still needs to answer you.

“No one… who lived to tell the tale,” he mumbles with a quiet grin. Another joke, just for you. You laugh a little too hard before you catch yourself and step back again.

You glance through the window, using it like a mirror to steady yourself. Inside, the team is still going strong. Morgan’s doing impressions. JJ’s trying to win a dare against two losers at the pool tables. Emily’s grabbing another round of shots. Garcia’s dancing on a chair and sipping something bright pink with a paper umbrella hanging off the side.

“We should probably go save Garcia before she sprains something.”

Spencer nods, still blinking like he hasn’t recovered. “Only if you agree not to poke me again.”

You consider for a moment before murmuring, “No promises.”

You duck your head and lead the way inside.

And behind you, Spencer follows — slow, stunned, and still glancing down at the hand you’d touched him with.

—

Back inside, the lights seem a little warmer, the room a little blurrier at the edges. You’re not drunk, not exactly. But the martini fuzzed out some of the static in your head, and now the whiskey in your hand — your final drink, you’ve decided — hums a low current under your skin. You stretch your spine, blink twice, and feel something that almost resembles comfort.

Garcia intercepts you with a plastic tiara and a plea to sing backup on “Like a Virgin.” You stare her down in silence for a full five seconds until she shrugs in defeat and says, “Your loss, babe,” then grabs JJ instead and twirls her toward the mic. Morgan’s trying to scam a free drink from the female bartender using nothing but charm and biceps. Emily is now crushing one of the pool guys in a game of beer pong. Rossi has vanished entirely.

You slide back into your seat and sip the whiskey slowly. Spencer’s beside you again. He nods at your glass. “Second or third?”

“Third. And final,” you say. “Probably.”

He smiles, then observes as you dip a hand into your black leather purse and grab a tube of lipstick, flicking the lid off with practiced ease. You swipe the dark red across your bottom lip, then the top, then smack them together. Your hands are steady. You’ve always been good at precision under pressure.

Spencer watches the whole thing like it’s a card trick.

“That was… impressive,” he says quietly.

You glance at him sideways. “What, my lipstick application?”

“Doing it without a mirror,” he clarifies. “That can’t be something most people are successful at.”

You hum. “I’m not most people.”

“No,” he says quietly. “You’re really not.”

It’s not the words themselves, but the way he says them — like they’re some truth he’s just now understanding. You look away, steadying your glass against your lip before you speak again.

“That sounded dangerously like flirting,” you say, flicking your gaze back to him.

He startles, blinking. “Did it?”

You shrug. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna report you to HR.”

His laugh is soft and awkward, and the tips of his ears go pink. You wonder how many women have ever flustered him like this, wonder what it would feel like to do it on purpose.

You won’t. But you could.

Because the thing is, he sees you. Not just the scowl and the eyeliner and the strategic disinterest — but the rest. The quieter ache you feel beneath it all. And worse, he doesn’t seem scared off by any of it.

Spencer points toward the dartboards hanging on the wall towards the back of the bar. “You any good?”

“At darts?” you reply, eyes sharp, already getting up and making your way towards the boards. “Are you seriously asking me that? Me, sharp objects, and schooling drunk men in bars?” He blinks at you blankly. “Of course I'm good at darts, Reid.”

The battered wood frame is splintered in one corner, one sad dart dangling by the tip. You pull it loose and twirl it once between your fingers.

“Used to hustle college guys,” you say casually. “They always assumed the girl in fishnets couldn’t aim.”

“Did you… wear fishnets to bars specifically to fluster and hustle men?” Spencer asks, half-scandalized, half-impressed.

You throw the dart — bullseye. “What do you think?”

He laughs again, boyish and quiet and a little breathless, then carefully tosses one of his own. It surprisingly lands just left of center.

You raise a brow. “So you’re pretty good, too.”

“It’s mostly just physics,” he says with a shrug.

You roll your eyes with a quiet laugh and take another sip of your drink. The whiskey burns a little now — a reminder to slow down. You’re dangerously close to enjoying yourself, and that’s always when you make the worst mistakes.

You don’t talk for a while. Just throw. Sip. Throw again, before you and Spencer dive back into conversation about nothing and everything at the same time. The bar’s gone quieter now, the buzz of trivia long since faded into background music and clinking glasses. You throw again, then lean against the wall.

You glance past him, back toward the table — now deserted except for Garcia’s tiara and a few empty glasses. The rest of the team is gone, and you didn’t even notice them leave. You glance up at the clock and realize it’s after 1am.

“Guess we closed the place down,” you murmur.

Spencer nods. “Guess so.”

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of the night settle in your chest. The comfort of it. The danger of it.

Spencer shifts. “This, um… this was nice.”

You glance at him. “You mean the darts, or the part where I threatened to stab Morgan during trivia?”

He smiles faintly. “Both. All of it.”

You grab your jacket and tip your head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go before Garcia shows back up with a second wind and tries to make us sing karaoke.”

Spencer nods but doesn’t move — just watches you with that weird, quiet intensity he has, like he’s trying to memorize something without being obvious about it.

And suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of the heat behind your knees. The weight of your hair. The way your pulse seems to catch when he looks at you too long. The fact your eyes just lingered on his perfectly pink bottom lip for half a second too long.

You clear your throat. “You’re kind of a strange guy, Reid.”

“You’re kind of a terrifying girl, Greenaway.”

That makes your mouth twitch into a lopsided smirk. But as you both head for the door, you feel it in your bones: a low, unspoken shift in gravity. Like something’s started, and you’re pretending not to notice. Like maybe he’s pretending, too.

The sidewalk outside is slick with a misting of rain, air thick with the smell of beer and city heat. You step up to the curb and wait for one of the cabs down the block to notice you. Spencer’s beside you, not saying anything. He doesn’t fidget, but he rocks slightly on his heels like he’s working something out in his head. Hands tucked in his pockets. Shoulders a little hunched.

“I’m fine, you know,” you say. “You don’t have to stand there doing your best impression of a security camera.”

That earns a small laugh. “I wasn’t.”

“You were. You’ve got that face.”

He squints. “What face?”

“The one that looks like you’re about to quote a peer-reviewed study on post-midnight cab safety for single women in urban areas.”

He huffs, ducking his head. “There is a study, actually."

“Of course there is.”

A cab pulls up with a low whir and a flash of headlights. You open the door but hesitate before climbing inside, one hand still on the frame.

“Night, Reid.”

You half expect him to fumble a goodbye, or spurt out some awkward fact about the history of taxis. But he just watches you go. You slide into the backseat, and for one strange, fleeting microsecond, you wonder what would’ve happened if you’d asked him to come with you.

The driver merges into the street, and you twist in your seat, just once, to glance back.

Spencer’s still there. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders hunched. Watching the cab pull away like he wasn’t quite ready for the night to end.

—

Your head doesn’t hurt, exactly — more like someone turned the contrast up on the entire world. The overhead lights are too sharp, the elevator ding too shrill, the bullpen voices too loud.

Okay fine, it does hurt. Still, you’ve had worse mornings.

You make it to your desk on time, which is more than you can say for most of the team. Once they do start to filter in, Garcia, clad in sunglasses indoors and clutching a jumbo-sized neon green Gatorade, perches herself dramatically on the arm of Prentiss’s chair, both of them visibly suffering.

You’re just starting to get your files open when you notice it: A to-go coffee cup, neatly placed on the corner of your desk. Not the usual break-room sludge you’ve grown accustomed to. No — this is from that little hipster café three blocks down, the one with indie playlists and criminally overpriced lattes. The logo’s inked in soft black on the side. Your name is scribbled in messy letters across the cardboard sleeve. Underneath it:

Bullseye. –S.R.

You stare at it for a second too long. The coffee’s still hot, and it’s just how you take it on your worst mornings — dark roast, black, with an added shot of espresso. Strong enough to punch you in the chest. You close your eyes on the first sip, and it’s exactly what you need to undo that third drink from last night.

“Well, well, well.”

You don’t have to look up to know where that’s coming from, or why. Morgan’s voice is all grin and zero mercy.

“Looks like someone had a very interesting night.”

You open one eye. “Careful, Morgan. I have a headache and at least one knife in my bag.”

He chuckles. “I’m just saying. Last I checked, you and Reid were still at the bar long after the rest of us called it.”

Garcia gasps from across the room. “You closed the bar down? Without me?!”

You arch a brow and sip your coffee. “We were playing darts in the back. No one told us the party was over.”

Morgan wiggles his eyebrows. “Darts, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You snort. “Jesus, Morgan. You’re worse than a high school rumor mill.”

He grins, watching you like he’s trying to catch a tell. “You’re not denying it. You two end up in the same cab home?” he asks with a wink.

You lean back in your chair and pause for a beat, queuing up your retort. “Oh please. If I’d gone home with him, I’d look a lot more exhausted than I do right now,” you say matter-of-factly.

Clearly, that’s not the type of euphemized denial anyone expected to hear. It gets a choked laugh out of Garcia and an impressed little “damn” from Emily.

Morgan smirks, then raises his hands in mock defeat and whistles. “Alright, alright. Point taken. Nothing happened. But if you’re talking like that, then pretty boy’s got more game than I expected.”

You return to your coffee and pretend not to notice how Spencer’s been listening from the far corner of the bullpen this entire time, head buried in a file until he lifts his eyes to meet yours. You don’t look away. Not immediately.

You tilt your coffee cup towards him in silent thanks, and he nods.

Something about the way he ducks his head — the way his fingers twitch faintly on the edge of his folder — tells you he’s thinking about last night, too. And about what you just said.

You let yourself imagine it for one second too long.

Bullseye.

If he wants to make another shot, you might just let him.

ᝰ.ᐟ

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

[alieninvasionmaybe]

It’s lore time for my Outlast Trials OC, Constance “Connie” Murphy.

This post is mostly for archival purposes- just something I can reference later if I need to refresh on her background. Two people specifically asked, so here we are! And yes, there’s art too. Enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNING: 40's and 50's era misogyny mentioned, brief mention of infertility, mentioned neglected mental illness, mentioned abusive relationship and OUTLAST cannon typical violence!

(If you are uncomfortable with any of these there is no pressure to read further I definitely understand and hope you have a wonderful day continuing your scroll!)

BACKSTORY!

Constance “Connie” Murphy was once a bright and cheerful young girl of fifteen from an upper-middle-class background. During World War II, with her fiancé deployed overseas, who had forged paperwork to falsify his age to get conscripted, she found her calling in building parts for aircrafts during the war effort. She meticulously assembled machines that felt more like expressions of herself than just work. For a time, Connie was truly happy in her factory assembly line life. Perhaps far too young for such a task, but times were different then.

But when the war ended, the men returned… and so did old expectations. Her fiancé, Simmons Murphy, now home and riding high as a respectable car dealership manger, forbid her from returning to work. Instead- he insisted she take up “more appropriate” duties as they both grew:

Such as maintaining the household and preparing for motherhood.

Connie, now trapped in a domestic role she never wanted- currently moved away from her family as an adult, began to unravel. Her untreated obsessive-compulsive disorder and depression began to take a toll on her without proper support or resources. She withdrew from social events, acted erratically around neighbors, and became a bonafide local pariah. An embarrassment to her husband’s carefully curated picture-perfect life. Worse still, she was twenty-nine and unable to have children.

She had become a problem he wanted gone.

So when Simmons found a flyer from the Murkoff Corporation advertising “charity outreach,” he saw his opportunity. Under the guise of seeking treatment for Connie’s condition, he handed her over… eager to move his secretary-turned-lover in their home. Connie innocently- accidentally signed her life away in the name of “therapy,” while Simmons told neighbors and family she’d had a breakdown and fled the state. Quickly everyone forgot about poor Constance.

I mean, who would care about the disappearance of a quiet, invisible woman- so easily replaced, so utterly insignificant? Already hanging by a thread. That’s exactly what Murkoff was counting on.

CURRENT! 

Now over a year into captivity, Connie is a broken reflection of who she once was after repeated trauma. Her hatred for Murkoff and its staff is combative to say the least. ESPECIALLY toward Prime Assets. She lashes out with the intensity of a cornered animal.

Yet among other Reagents, Connie becomes something else entirely. She almost treats them like neighbors from a culdesac. But new- better neighbors, loyal neighbors. Constance Murphy is endlessly protective, nurturing, and obsessively doting, no matter their age. In her mind, they’re her community now. Her only family. She is stuck in the past, as shown when she spends all her tickets and stamps to buy cosmetic items like she still lives on the surface. (gotta keep that hair nice and curled while killing the snitch!)

She doesn’t believe in escape or rebirth. Why would she? There’s nothing for her out there anymore. And she would never abandon her “neighbors,” not again. Better to stay here. Better to endure together. You should never let her know you're leaving, as she will utilize ANYTHING within her power to make you stay.

“Back in my day, neighbors helped each other. We didn’t just... run off.”

PERSONAL NOTES!

fun little fact, I also have OCD and depression! Thankfully I am privileged enough to have a healthy fulfilled life with a great support system when it comes to that part of me. I almost always give my goobs OCD since I am unoriginal.

canonically age wise she is 30 nearly 31 at this point in the game.

Closeted lesbian.

Pulled from some real world history, like in WW2 That forty six percent of all women aged between 14 and 59 were engaged in some form of work! and 90% of all able-bodied single women between the ages of 18 and 40 were as well! Also, that some men were able to forge documents to join the war effort- in one case a kid was 12 and able to convince a recruiter he was 18! HE SAW COMBAT! History is wild.

Template by Glitcheded!

[jillsandwhichs]

Summer Lovin'

Chapter 14 to Joel Miller x Reader smutshot collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Driving home in Joel's truck after a cookout with Tommy and Maria, you two don't even make it halfway home before realizing the second you two walk through your front door, your hands will be all over one another

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 2.7k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Oral (You receive), Unprotected P in V, Missionary, Doggy style, Couch sex, Spanking, You both finish, Joel pulls out

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"Well that was fun, huh?" You said happily to your husband, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over your frame, clicking the end of it into the lock. Joel nodded, sticking the key into the ignition of the truck and starting it up, the rumbling sound of his old beauty roaring as the engine came to life once again. "It was." He replied to you, putting one hand on the steering wheel, his other naturally going to your thigh as you sat in the passenger seat beside him, no center console to divide the two of you.

On the radio, a song by Johnny Cash began to play. Considering Joel never changes the station, you aren't surprised one bit. It isn't a bother either being it's turned down quite a bit, only being faintly heard as Joel slowly but surely but his foot to the gas pedal, pulling out of Tommy & Maria's driveway.

The evening was nice, real nice. You all spent it at their place, grilling and hanging out. It was very much needed, just a day off with the four of you and some extra friends and family. You spent the whole night attached to Joel's hip, being all lovey dovey and physically affectionate with him. It was lovely, especially due to the fact he's been off at work a lot more than usual, putting in the extra hours to earn more money for the two of you, being that you're willingly unemployed, which is how Joel prefers it.

Reaching the dirt road just off the side of their house, Joel turned around it, the sound of the noisy blinker being heard as he did so. The sunset is finally occurring, looking absolutely stunning. It is a deep orange, almost a red, and it is set just to the side of your window, deliberately making it's way down and allowing the bright moon to uplift itself into the night sky.

Therefore, the night is still young.

Gandering over to glance at your husband, you began to speak, making silly small talk. "Those steaks were delicious, I mean, wow, I forget that Tommy can really cook." You expressed your gratitude towards your brother-in-law. Joel snickered and gave you another nod, "Where you think he learned that from too?" His southern accent showing as he became cocky. You snorted and smiled at him, "Oh I know dear."

Joel taught Tommy a lot of what he knows now. He's a tough brother, a good one. You loving hearing stories about their youth and how they got on by without their parents really being present. They had quite the upbringing.

"Although," Joel began, his voice deep and his tone somewhat annoyed, "I dunno who that fucker was that kept eyeing you down but if there's one thing I do know," he then peeped over at you, "I wanted to knock them goddamn teeth out of his thick skull." Oh jealous Joel; You like. You know exactly who he is talking about. "The guy that was wearing the red flannel? Yeah, Maria said he was a friend of hers... He was a bit of a creep." "A "bit" is not even close."

You love how overprotective Joel is. He's always been vocal about it too. About how you're his and no one else's and that, he'd kill any man who so dares tries to mess with you or your guy's relationship. Makes you feel secure and honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Leering to yourself in secret, you reached your right hand over to the arm in which his hand was on your thigh and rubbed it, comforting him. "Oh baby," you hummed to your husband, "That no good hillbilly looking man has nothing on you." You then leaned down and pressed a kiss to his arm, resting your head on it. In the moment, you hadn't noticed but that really eased him up. He was calm in seconds.

"Yeah well, I mean it. You're mine." Joel stated. You shook your head up and down then unbuckled yourself swiftly, scooching yourself over to be closer to him - it's not as if any police are around to see you unbuckled. Resting your head on his shoulder and taking his hand in yours, you sighed deeply. "All yours Joel." That's what he likes to hear. You enjoy this talk as much as he does, if not more. "Good." He then quickly planted a kiss on your head before going back to focusing on the road ahead.

As Joel drove you two home, he entered another dirt road that had fields on either side of it. Living out in the country, this is really all of the scenery you're going to get. You don't mind it, you find beauty in it rather easily. Another fine thing to look at is Joel. He looks so handsome, especially today. Wearing his blue t shirt that's a bit worn out with his stained work jeans, you love it. You like his casual look. Plus, the ways his arms are shown off in this shirt makes you feel all sorts of ways.

"You look so good, you know that?" You hummed out to your husband, kissing his arm again and trailing your finger tips up and down it. "You are handsome." You said softly. Joel breathed in a sharp breath, trying his best to focus on his driving but clearly, he was having difficulties with that, having you on his mind and all, especially now. "And I love how possessive you get, you getting all jealous and whatnot is my favorite." It really does.

Joel then suddenly hit the brakes and you bit your lower lip, having a feeling in your stomach that you're about to get questioned. "What is it you're up to?" Your husband questioned you. Bingo. You smiled with your teeth and shrugged. "What is it you think I'm up to?" "I think you're lookin' to get fucked, what's what I'm thinkin'." Joel scoffed and looked at you, his eyes locked with yours. Oh, you love when Joel gets like this, all serious yet playful at the same time.

You then brought your hand from his arm onto his thigh, slowly drifting it towards his inner thigh and crotch area. "Well," you made a sarcastic, snidy tone apparent before you continued, "I think you should speed this truck on him so you can make me feel so good." You were real close to his ear, then biting the lobe of it for a moment before giggling and pulling away. Joel then pushed his foot on the gas and grunted, "Yeah, just you wait."

-

The literal minute the two of you entered your shared house just outside of town, Joel shut the front door and grabbed your sides, pushing you up against the hallway wall before kissing you deeply, his lips meshing with yours in a needy kiss. You cackled into the kiss, encasing your arms around his neck area and pulling him deeper into the kiss, opening your mouth for a split moment and giving Joel that sweet chance to use his tongue on you.

His tongue moved with yours sensually, causing you to moan into the kiss, which only further turned Joel on. Pressing his manhood up against you, you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You could just imagine how tight they felt around him.

"Go get your little ass on that couch, now." You squealed at his words and moved up off of the wall and turned, heading towards the couch. As you did, Joel patted your ass, earning a squeak out of you as you plopped down on the couch. Watching him with lustful eyes, you witnessed one of the best sights of all - Joel taking off his shirt. He tossed it on the floor, showing off his dad-bod, mixed with a fit build. You swear there is nothing sexier in the world.

Joel then climbed over top of you on the couch and kissed you again, his smile able to felt into the kiss. Oh Joel and his smirks, they kill you. They make you feel some type of way. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you caressed them as your guy's madeout intensified. You felt Joel's hand trail down your body and between your legs, reaching for your panties underneath your dress. You are wearing a sundress, which is something Joel absolutely adores on you.

With one hand, Joel peeled your underwear off, dragging them down your shaved legs until they reached your ankles. Then, you kicked them off yourself. With the same hand, Joel traced his finger between your folds and nodded, "So wet for me. Good." He said in a deep, Southern voice. You felt your face heat up when he said such things; Even after all of this time, Joel can manage to make you literally blush.

Stopping his kisses on your lips, he instead began to traverse down your body with his lips. He touched you all over with them - your cheeks, jawline, neck, cleavage, stomach over top your dress and finally, your inner thighs. Once he reached that area, his kisses began slower and more passionate, even turning into bites at some point. If there's one thing about Joel, he loves going down on you.

You are the sweetest thing he ever done tasted.

Just then, Joel tucked his head underneath your dress before licking his lips, then, focusing on your soaked pussy. You let out a moan that hosted nothing but desire within it as a long swipe of Joel's tongue was felt being dragged between your pussy lips. You immediately dug your recently manicured nails into the brown fabricated couch you two are on.

The noises that could be heard coming from him and your cunt were ones that, oddly enough, turned you on. Knowing that Joel enjoys eating you out so much brings you immense arousal.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling. Joel's arms being wrapped around your thighs as they practically crushed his head and his tongue slurping up all of your wentess as he repeatedly lapped and suckled at your womanhood, oh, you could revel in this for eternity. "Just like that Joel." You sighed out deeply, biting your lip as your orgasm built up more and more.

His nails dug into your thighs as he picked up the pace of his tongue, continously sucking on your clit down, and occasionally swirling his tongue on and around it. Your back arched in response to the pleasure, and Joel was quick to pull you down, stopping you from moving too much. "It feels so good, God, I can't even..." That's right, you can't even. You can't even finish a sentence at this point.

With only a few more licks on your clit, you were clearly done for. Joel could feel your legs twitching and just by your moans at that, he could tell you were, and that's why he stopped.

"What!? Wait, no-" You began to whine but Joel shook his head and removed his belt swiftly. "Shh baby, don't worry," he threw it on the ground, then undid his jeans, pulling them down his thighs. "Gonna make you feel real good." He nodded before grabbing his throbbing and aching cock, jerking it a couple of times before matching it to your hole, sinking himself into the tightness of it deeply, causing you both to release noises of pleasure.

This is what you needed. All night, you had your eyes on Joel and your mind full of horny thoughts. Finally, acting out on them is just what you two needed most.

Joel settled himself inside of you. "So fuckin' tight, yous already squeezin' me." Your husband grunted out to you as he began to move into you, all while having you in missionary on your guy's couch. You moaned loudly, whispering his name under your breath as he didn't waste much time, fucking into you, hard. "What's that baby?" His tone was teasing, which sort of annoyed you. "Speak up babygirl, can't hear ya." He held onto your thighs, squeezing them as he fucked you.

Rolling your eyes at him, Joel made an "Oh?" Aloud before reaching one hand up and grasping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Do I gotta fuck that little attitude outta you? Cuz you know I will." You do. You licked your lips and nodded, loving his dirty talk. "Bad girl." His pace then picked up once again, along with the roughness in which he thrustsd into you.

While still using one hand to grip your face, his other went to your breasts, popping one of them out through the V-neck part of your dress, revealing it. He smirked and squeezed it, rolling his finger over your nipple as well, causing it to harden. Having Joel not only fuck you, hold your face, engage in dirty talk and play with your tits, you couldn't imagine you'd be able to last much longer, and nor could he.

"Mmm, kiss me." You moaned out. Joel smiled, "Gladly, my girl." He then leaned in and kissed you, his hands moving to hold onto the arm of the couch as he railed you roughly.

After a few more thrusts and a final deep kiss, Joel inched away from you and chuckled, something clearly conjuring up in his head. "What?" You grunted out, your mouth opened up, faint noises exiting from your throat. He smirked, "Nothin', just this." He then pulled out of you for a second, upsetting you but quickly changing that as he helped you onto your knees, putting you in doggy style on the couch.

You giggled, then squealed as Joel swatted you on the ass before sliding himself back into you, picking up where he left off. "Oh yeah." He grunted, biting his lower lip as he thrusted himself into you, fast. With one hand on your hip and his other bringing slaps down to your rear, you knew you'd be finishing at any given moment. As for him, it's the same way. You can tell Joel is inching closer and closer to his climax.

"Harder baby... Harder..." You managed to splur out, which made Joel attentive. Listening, his hips moved faster and his hand continuously switching squeezing and spanking you, which you simply couldn't get enough of - neither of you could. "Oh fuck." You sighed out, keeping your head down on the arm of the couch in your own arms. It feels amazing. Way too good. Your stomach is warm, and it's only getting hotter.

"You're so fuckin' tight... You gonna cum for me babygirl?" Joel cooed out to you, slapping your ass again, the sound roaming around the room. You moaned out a yes, and that was enough for Joel to spank you once more, which pushed you over the edge.

As you came around him, Joel groaned aloud and let go of your hips, dropping his hands to the side as he himself pulled out of you and nutted all over your lower back side, his white semen seeping off of your arched back. "Oh God." Joel muttered, "Fuck." He laughed, causing you to titter too.

That sex was immaculate.

Joel reached over on the coffee table and snagged a few tissues, wiping your back off before rolling the paper thin towels up and dropping them on the table before helping you back into a sitting position. You giggled and moved the hair from your face, it being a bit sweaty and red. Joel gandered at you and smirked. "My girl," he leaned over and kissed your cheek, "You sure know how to make a man feel good." "Ha," you nodded tiredly, "I try." You laughed.

Then, Joel stood up and picked you up, earning a squeak out of you as he patted your bum once more, making his way to your guy's bedroom so the two of you can cuddle and get some much needed rest.