#they’re turning into each other do you understand they became each other

[newvision]

Every time I drink wine I am will graham looking down at a shot hannibal and we have become each other and he is bleeding out and I am savouring the moment by drinking wine the way he does and I gloat like god often does and he takes the violence the way I did every time he violated me and he almost dies from a distant form of violence but what ultimately really kills him are my hands the way I said I’d do it anyway who wants another glass

[importantpuppystarfish]

I fell in love with my sister

Male reader x Yuna

Warnings: Incest, totally blood related siblings

I had never thought I would fell in love with my own sister.

Maybe its because I have been watching too much stepsister porn which leaded me to have the same attraction over my own blood related sister. I had always wished I had a sister to fuck and luckily I found my sister attractive. My love for her has grown stronger ever since she became a member of Itzy.

Her busy schedule as an idol means I rarely get to see her at home; coming by once in a while to spend time with her family. I know its totally wrong to think of her like that but the way she dances and reveals a lot of skin lately makes me uncontrollable to have feelings for her. I have mastrubated quite a few times watching her fancams. My phone gallery is full of her hot fancams & images which I use to imagine nasty stuff. I’m sure plenty of guys think the same way about her, but I’m fortunate that she’s my sister.

I am not even sure if she is a virgin or not, who knows, her company managers might have taken some advantage of her body. I don't know if she feels the same for me. I am left wondering; could she possibly like me?

On a certain night, within the summer hiatus, she reappeared at home. She was dressed in extraordinarily short clothes that exposed her sexy waist. Our eyes locked, and a profound connection seemed to pass between us. We stare into each others soul through our eyes. The home seemed to be empty. Yuna asked curiously "Yo Oppa? Where's mom and dad?". “They’re currently away to village on some business,” I replied. Yuna’s lips curled into a smile as she bit them, displaying a seductive expression. "Guess we gotta be alone and sleeping together then!" said Yuna. I felt a surge of motivation and realized this might be my opportunity to express my feelings for her.

After she took a bath and changed into a T-shirt and shorts, the fragrance of her body was pleasantly appealing. Her body smell was better than flowers and it was turning me on so hard. We cooked the dinner together and had a few talks about our recent lives, how is it going and our memories when we used to live together. While preparing the meal together, we exchanged glances. I look a peek at her tits and ass a lot. It seemed she was aware of my gaze, yet she seemed comfortable with it.

After having dinner and brushing our teeth, it was time for bed. We both felt a subtle attraction between us. I went to toilet to pee. Yeah, I always had a habit of not locking my phone with a PIN or passcode since my parents did not know how to use smartphone so I thought it wasn't necessary. After coming out from the washroom, I realized I was in a difficult situation when I noticed Yuna was browsing through my gallery. She seem to be shocked to discover what she found.

Yuna ~ "So is this the reason you've been peeking at my body while we were cooking? Are you somehow sexually attracted over me?"

I started feeling submissive and scared at what she said.. She seem to be not angry but waiting for my reply.

Yuna speaks again ~ "It's ok.. I understand how boys feel, I know what would've been going through."

Yuna starts approaching towards me. Putting her hands over my arms, head to head looking at each other eyes. She leaned and kiss at my lips aggressively.. Our lips meeting each other aggressively. Her eyes closed but mines open in shock. The whole room was quite, we started getting sweaty due to tensions. She started sliding her tongue inside my mouth leading for a french kiss.. We kissed romantically exchanging our tongues and salivas through our mouth. The kiss lasted pretty long. She opened her tshirt and was wearing a simple bra. Oh god damn she looked like an angel. Yuna starts unbuttoning my pants and said in a freaky way smiling "damn its hard, isn't it? looks like the size is huge".. She made a wow expression in an impressed way looking at my dick.. I was shy and nervous what to do.. This was the time i feel it is heaven.. I never imagined my sister in this position in real life..

Yuna starts to put my cock inside her mouth, she started licking the head with her tongue and starts sucking it like a pro.. It seemed that she was already experienced, she sucked it very well with hesitation and i was moaning really loud in heaven.. I literally cummed inside her mouth that time without permission. Yuna seemed to swallow the cum inside her mouth already. She was smiling. I start making my first move by unbuttoning her bra. She helped me unbutton it, the bra fell off.

She seem to have pink nipples since her skin was really pale. Her tits were massive enough to squeeze really good with my hand.. I start squeezing her boobs, trying to put it on my mouth. She laughed a bit because i was nervous.. She lay down on the bed, allowing me to suck her tits. She put her hands on my head, moaning in joy.. I started exploring her body more downwards.. I started licking her belly, navel & thighs.. Her skin is so fucking delicious.. It was so warm. As i move more downwards, i pulled down her panties. Her pussy looks like flowers! How clean and shaved it is! It was damn wet as well.. I started eating her pussy without hesitation.. I can hear Yuna moaning.. She locked my face and mouth inside her pussy with her thighs & legs.. Eventually she was enjoying and calling me for a kiss to taste herself

We kissed passionately, enjoying each others breathe. Now I started getting out of control and wanting to slide my cock inside her. I started fucking her, it was my first time ever. It felt so good pounding her. Yuna seemed to enjoy her brother's dick inside her. I wanted to cum inside. "Yuna, do you think I should do this?" "Yes i want ur cum inside me oppa!" replied Yuna in excitement. "Oppa please! I want ur cum inside me! Breed me!"

I couldn't control anymore hearing at her sexual seductive words. I instantly cummed inside her without a 2nd thought. I leaned to her face for a kissed. We both French kissed passionately.. Laying both besides each other in the bed. Its late middle night.. All silent in the room.. We can hear our huge breathing. I asked Yuna "What about our parents? What will we explain about our children or should we do an abortion? "

Yuna replied in an odd way "I guess we have to hide them. Lets live together in a another place and start a family. I love you Oppa!". From that day, Yuna is my sister, my wife and the mother of my children!

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

Can you please do one where the reader gets nipple piercings and Logan goes feral over them? So maybe the reader pulls up downstairs in a braless top and he notices the imprint of the piercings. But maybe everyone else is also downstairs and the other guys notice too. It makes Logan a little possessive but also so horny knowing his girl got her nipples pierced and that he can now do whatever he wants with them.

oh my god loveeee this idea

logan howlett x fem!reader

18+

getting your nipples pierced was an impulsive, spur of the moment decision; you had been out with storm that day and passed the piercing shop, and it took little to no convincing for you to go in and get them done on the spot.

so when you walked downstairs to the lounge that evening, logan was left completely shocked.

your new piercings were no secret when you walked in since you weren’t able to wear a bra, as it would disrupt the healing process. you crossed the room to logan, feeling the eyes of the other people gathered there on you.

“hi babe,” you smiled. “notice anything different?” you planted your hands on your hips as if modeling yourself. logan’s eyes dropped to your tits and narrowed.

“the fuck is that?” he sounded genuinely perplexed.

you became aware that the other people in the lounge had noticed. you grabbed his hand in yours, pulling him up. “come upstairs and i’ll show you,” you said under your breath. he followed you reluctantly, staring down each one of the guys that had dared to catch a glimpse of the jewelry that imprinted against your thin shirt.

he was interrogating you immediately as you got upstairs to your bedroom and closed the door. he shot what seemed like a million questions at you before you rolled your eyes and lifted up your shirt, exposing your bare, freshly-pierced nipples to him.

“they’re piercings logan.”

his jaw dropped slightly at your sudden nude reveal. he felt his jeans tighten around his crotch, the effect on him immediate. his arousal quickly turned into jealousy, his possessiveness over you showing.

“so you’re just inviting everyone to take a look at your tits?,” he growled.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden jealous spark. “is that really what you think?”

logan scoffed, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “i’m the only one who gets to look at these like this, you understand bub?”

“yeah, yeah. already knew that.”

with his claim on you made, logan began realizing all the possibilities that this new addition to your body opened up. lust flashed in his eyes. you took a quick step back as he reached for your tits, holding your hands up to block him.

“nuh-uh logan, way too fast,” you scolded. “not all of us have regenerative healing.”

he scowled and you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “i just got them. they still hurt.”

logan groaned, his head falling back. “so, you’re telling me i have to wait?” he was thoroughly disappointed. he hadn’t given it a thought that they were gonna have to heal before he got to try out his new theories on them. patience was not one of his strengths, especially when it came to you.

you nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile. “yeah, but don’t worry, you can look all you want.”

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late

Prologue

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter .5/? (wc: 1.5k)

masterlist

- - - - - -

Fond memories ignored, thrown away in a second as if they meant nothing to him. Like the years of laughter were all just a dream, but they’re not. They were real and it drove him crazy. Harry only stared at the wall, face red and tears streaming down his face angrily. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. He was angry, angry at the world, at himself because that was his best friend and at her. 

He was just a boy, a kid when it happened. Happy in his “prime years” of high school, he was thriving academically and socially. He was on top of his class work and one of the top students in all of his classes, alongside his childhood friend. They stayed friendly whenever they competed against each other, giving their congratulations when the other won in anything. Harry enjoyed the thrill of trying to be the first one to turn in his assignment though, he enjoyed the friendly banter they shared afterwards and during. It became their normal, he looked forward to it. 

Then it happened, and he was left broken. A shell of the smart and extroverted boy he once was. He can remember every detail of that day, he had just come home from hanging out with his childhood best friend – they had just gotten done studying and finishing the last episode of the season of their favorite TV show – when his mom walked alongside with him. The ride back home from her house to his was silent, filled with a sense of sadness and Harry couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. His mom was happy when she dropped him off at school that morning. She sat him down in their living room and said that this was important, and told him. She kept apologizing and trying to reassure him that everything was being done, tried, efforts were being done. They were going to fix this, help him. 

Of course, Harry’s just a kid who’s already dealing with all the new emotions of puberty and teenage feelings, so he screamed at her. Yelled something along the lines of “No, you’re lying and I hate you” but that’s still up for debate, he doesn’t think of this day often. He’d stormed away from her crying figure, her apologies are no good to him, won’t make everything better. He cried, screamed and threw things. He destroyed his room, tearing down pictures and throwing trophies, his vision was blurred from all of the tears in his eyes. He hated himself, it wasn’t his fault though. Nothing he could’ve done would have changed what happened, he couldn’t have stopped it. He knows that deep down, but he has to put the blame on someone, and it only makes sense that it has to be him. 

When he calmed down some, he’d taken all of his pictures off the wall, he couldn’t look at all of the times he was happy. It only reminded him of the feeling in his chest, and he stashed them all away in a box to be kept in his closet. Out of sight, out of mind he hopes will be the cause, but he kept two pictures. He couldn’t bear to have them forgotten, even if they were going to be locked away still. They were special, the people in the picture were special. They’ll always be special, so he cried some more as he placed them in his nightstand drawer. He spent the majority of the night crying, the tears seemed never ending and he hated it. He ignored his mom calling him for dinner and his sister who knocked on his door to check on him. She only sighed and reminded him that she loves him and will be there for him if he needs anything before she left him alone and headed back to her own room. 

Over time, he changed. It wasn’t gradual though, it was very noticeable. He stopped trying to compete with her, stopped trying to be the first anything. He stopped raising his hand, stopped putting efforts into presentations and powerpoints, stopped caring. He started getting into weed, he refused to try any of the harder stuff – not like his friends would give him any, they still had somewhat good morals and he also tried drinking. (A good thing about having older friends is the easy access to these types of things.) He stopped wearing soft and colorful clothes and started wearing darker clothes, jeans with rips in them and short sleeved shirts tight enough to showcase his growing muscles. He worked out more, wasn’t the lanky little boy she used to know anymore, his language expanded, started using more curse words and his tone grew disinterested and mean.

 He knew she watched him from a distance with sad eyes, he knew she tried to help him. He listened from his doorway as his mom talked to her, saying any excuse she can think of to not worry the little girl. 

‘Harry’s just not feeling very good, dear.’ ‘Harry’s just tired, he’s had a long day.’ ‘You know teenage boys can be difficult dear, he’ll come around soon,’ and other excuses were told to his friend when she came to check on him. He couldn’t exactly make out what the girl was saying in response to his mom, she’s always been such a soft speaker, and it upsets him more. He just wants to be left alone and she cares so much for him that she just want to help in any way,  and he doesn’t want to be rude and tell her to fuck off so he has his mom deal with it. She’s the emotional support thinker, not him. 

After a couple of minutes he hears the door shut so he closes his bedroom door and sits back on his bed, the two pictures laid out on his bed as a reminder of the love for his two closest friends, but also as a reminder of the pain he feels and the tears shed over something that wasn't his fault, the blame he put on himself. He sighs sadly as he looks at them once more before he gathers them and sets them in his nightstand drawer. He tries not to look at those pictures too often, he hates how they make him feel. Any time he looks at his best friend’s photo, it fills him with overwhelming sadness, bitter and hurtful. It fills his chest and makes him feel like he’s drowning in sadness, there’s sometimes a hint of anger but that’s never at him. It’s always directed towards himself, not his friend. He could never be mad at him, he was the closest guy friend he’s had and will ever have, he won’t have another one. When he looks at hers, it used to be happiness, love and adoration but it’s turned into anger and  jealousy. Her name will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his lips will always turn into a frown at the fleetest thought of her. 

He hates her, hates how smart she is, how she’s always somehow better at everything than him even when he spent hours working on something. He loathes how she just always knows what to say. He hates how she never fell off or even wobbled off the hill she was on no matter what was going on in her life. He dislikes how much he wishes he could be like that. He abhors how much even though he wants nothing to do with her right now that he still longs to be those little kids playing together and studying and gossiping. He especially hates how deep down he hopes that she’ll wait for him or beg for him to let her in, how he actually wants her to fight for their friendship. He loathes how much he misses her.

Instead of acting on those terrible ideas in his head on rekindling their friendship, he focuses on his popularity. High school ends and during the summer he experiments with his look, becomes a ladies’ man and immerses himself in that. He enjoys sex, the feeling of it all. The intimacy of something shared between two people, the feverish kisses and the sounds of his partners enjoying themselves. It’s a very good distraction from the one person who doesn’t seem to leave his mind. His reputation as a ladies’ man and a very skilled person grows, he becomes popular not only with the ladies in school but also with the fellow jocks of the school. He dabbled a little bit in the sports aspect of his education, he also tried out for the soccer team at his school. He’s always loved the sport, even as a little boy, something about the running and kicking balls amused him. He was also a pretty fast learner which helped his case a lot, but he still passed. He dabbled in a lot of different sports, not wanting to tie himself down to just one thing which applied to multiple different areas in the boy’s life. He tried anything to rid himself of one of the two names that haunts him no matter what.

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Your siblings are marrying in two weeks and as the best man and maid of honor, Miguel and you are dragged to the dance lessons for moral support despite disliking each other. There, you're forced to pretend to be a couple. Word Count: 3k Warnings: slightly suggestive comments from the dance instructor, so MDI; reader speaks and understands Spanish; unnamed sister for reader; reader and Miguel are grumpy with each other, so don't expect any smooching, but there's tension, hehe A/N: this was supposed to be a simple thought based on a movie scene (vid below the cut) that turned into something longer (a blessing and a curse). Thank you for reading! Masterlist

Source: The Wedding Date (2005)

Your little sister, or not so little since she’s all grown up, found love and is now getting married to Gabriel O’Hara. You’re elated about them marrying, truly. Ever since your sister met Gabriel, you could tell they were made for each other. They’re both so sweet and kind, sometimes they remind you of Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice, too good for their own good.

They’re truly made for each other and you have to admit, Gabriel squeezed his way into your heart fairly quickly with how great he treats your sister, so it didn’t take long before you started to see him as part of the family.

But of course, a rose comes with its thorns. Or, in your case, your sister’s now fiancé, comes with a brother.

Miguel O’Hara.

You cannot stand the man.

And he cannot stand you.

That’s the one thing you have in common, the mutual dislike.

You finally met him and Gabriel’s parents when the relationship between your siblings became serious. You expected to like Gabriel’s family, and you did, everyone except Miguel. The two of you simply didn’t click. It was dislike at first sight.

Of course, you try to be polite to each other for the sake of your siblings, but when they’re not in sight, keeping an eye on either of you, your dislike is shown through scowls and narrowed eyes.

You try to stay clear from each other as much as possible, something that has become harder to do as your siblings’ relationship has turned more and more serious.

And now, the proximity will be unavoidable. Gabriel popped the question a year ago and that’s how you find yourself parked outside a dance studio, two weeks before the big day.

With you being your sister’s maid of honor and Miguel the groom’s best man, that means you’ve both been in each other’s presence more than usual to support the couple as they’ve gone through the wedding planning.

And that includes the freaking dance lessons.

As soon as everyone arrives, all four of you enter the building. Of course, Miguel and you avoid each other as you both quickly scan the place before your gazes find your siblings’ sheepish smiles towards the two of you. The sight immediately makes Miguel and you tense.

Those sheepish smiles are no good, you both know that too well. Those are the smiles of younger siblings about to ask something from you. Something neither of you are probably going to like.

“So… we asked you to come along today for moral support,” you sister starts, fidgeting with her hands.

“Because we really do need it but there’s another reason…” Gabriel adds, trailing off.

“What is it, Gabriel?” Miguel asks, his tone low with a hint of impatience.

“So… the instructor is a well known one in the community. They’re really good at what they do! It’s why we wanted to get lessons from her, but she had a tight schedule and it was looking like we almost didn’t get a spot. She said she’d only do it if we brought along another couple, unmarried if possible, but one that might potentially marry in the future. You know, as a way to get more business in the future…” Gabriel replies, offering a nervous smile.

“So, Gabri and I figured that…” your sister trails off.

Both Gabriel and your sister stare at you and Miguel, with hope in their eyes as their little plan sinks in.

“No way,” you say immediately, declining anything related to Miguel.

“Aw, please. It’s just a dance lesson. Just for today! Two hours at the most,” your sister tries.

“No.”

“You guys just need to act nice with each other, that’s all. Easy,” Gabriel says, shrugging as if he’s never ran into someone he didn’t like, which might actually be true. “I mean - we’re family now. Not officially, yet,” Gabriel adds giving his future wife a smile that shows pure love. “Very soon, just two more weeks and finally.”

Miguel and you watch, your siblings forgetting for about five seconds about death glares they’re receiving as of right now.

Yes, they’re really too good for their own good. Or, maybe they’re just using their younger sibling privilege and the fact that they’re in love to get their older siblings to give in.

At last, Gabriel turns again as if he just now realizes - or feels - the glares.

“We’re basically family now. You’re going to see each other more often, unless you plan on not attending any family gatherings from here on now, or making some rotating schedule on who gets to go when. It’s just a dance practice, please,” Gabriel pleads, trying to reason with you.

“Gabriel, no,” Miguel says annoyed, exasperated that he and your sister would even think about this considering the fact that neither he nor you like each other.

“Please, if you don’t, she might cancel the session, or charge us double, or something.”

“She can’t do that,” you say. “Can she?”

“Please,” Gabriel and your sister say in unison, something they do a lot, which kind of annoys you sometimes, to be honest.

“It’s not like we’re asking you to kiss. Just - act like a couple,” you sister says. “Please, just for today.”

Miguel and you are both about to tell your siblings why this is inadequate, but you only manage to open your mouths before a woman comes in with a too cheerful smile on her face, stopping you from proceeding. Her presence in the room suddenly shuts all debating, leaving no room for Miguel and you to reiterate that neither of you wish to do this.

“Wonderful! Two couples. My name is Lyla,” she says turning to Miguel and you. “I’m your dance instructor. Let’s not waste any time, yes? The wedding is in two weeks! We need to start working immediately. Everybody, on the floor, please. Let’s go, you two as well, don’t be shy now.” Lyla walks over, immediately pushing Miguel and you forward. “You can be shy in each other’s arms, let’s go.”

You briefly wonder how this woman has so much strength to push the two of you into the floor but that’s quickly forgotten as she continues to speak.

“There. Ah - I see our engaged couple is ready to go,” she comments, making Miguel and you turn to find your siblings already in position, ready to dance. “Let me get these two going, they’re sooooo shy,” Lyla comments with a soft smirk, motioning to Miguel and you.

You both scowl when you hear your siblings laugh, something that cuts their laughter short and turn away.

“Sir, you need to place your hand right here. On your woman’s waist, come on, I’m sure you’ve held her before,” Lyla instructs, grabbing his wrist and placing it on your waist, making it so that Miguel’s hand grips you. Unused to his touch, you squirm when you feel Miguel’s warm hand on you. You try backing away but Lyla only pushes you forward, into Miguel’s touch.

“My, you two are really shy,” she says as she takes your hand and places it on Miguel’s shoulder, allowing you to feel his broad muscles beneath his top. “You need to learn to embrace each other. It’s intimacy.” She pushes you both together now, forcing Miguel to take more steps towards you. Again, you question how much strength Lyla has to move you like straw dolls, especially a man like Miguel. Maybe you’re both so dumbfounded by this situation, your bodies are just doing as she says, pushing you into this abnormal situation. The only sense of normalcy comes from the glares Miguel and you are shooting at each other. “Dancing is like - making love, I’m sure you two know what I’m talking about,” Lyla says before her eyebrows shoot up, thinking of something. “Unless you’re waiting for marriage then… that’s a tough one, but I think you might have an idea of what I mean.” At that, Lyla grins at the two of you.

Miguel and you silently groan at the thought of you two making love, meanwhile Gabriel and your sister are laughing in the back. You turn and give them a glare, same from Miguel, shutting them up.

“I can see you’re both tense. There’s so much - so much tension between you,” Lyla says, hand on her chin as if contemplating something deeply. “It’s that kind of tension only found in the bedroom, you know? Hm… Alright, you’’l be the leader. That means you lead the dance, sir,” she says patting Miguel’s arm.

You turn at that because why does he get to lead you?

“Why does he lead?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“Uhh - okay, I see it now,” Lyla says with a smile, as if everything makes sense now. “That’s why there’s so much tension. You’re both - very dominant. I suppose you’re both - you switch, right? You’re switches?”

“What?” Miguel says with knitted eyebrows and a slightly opened mouth due to the shock because there’s no way this lady just asked that, right?

“Excuse me?” you manage to say, equally appalled.

“You take turns,” Lyla explains. “On who is dominant In the bedroom. The question is who will be the dominant one on the dance floor.”

You turn to look at Miguel, brows knitted. Not only are you being forced to pretend to be his partner but now you’re apparently “switches” and fighting for who dominates who. It’s stupid, you know that, but this has turned into a competition of sorts, and there’s no way you’re letting Miguel O’Hara lead you, even if it’s pretend.

“I assure you, it’ll be me. Just like how it is in the bedroom,” you state which earns you a squeeze from Miguel’s hand on your waist.

“We both know that’s not the case, amor [love],” Miguel replies through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lyla pipes in between you, amused. “I love your energy, though. Alright, time to dance!”

You exhale heavily. Just why did your sister have to drag you into this? Oh right, you’re her maid of honor and the man with his hand on your waist right now is the best man.

You’re stuck in this situation now, whether you like it or not. So, Miguel and you stand like two stiff boards against each other, meanwhile your younger siblings are in another dimension of rainbows and love. They already forgot about their older siblings since they got away with their little plan.

You sigh again and turn to face Miguel, standing in front of each other, like two statues. As the minutes have ticked by with Lyla’s talk about intimacy and dominance, your fingers are now interlaced, though neither of you have noticed yet.

“Just dance, guys. I want to see what I’m working with here,” Lyla says, hands on her hips as she watches the scene in front of her, music playing in the background now.

Stiffly, Miguel and you begin to move, taking steps side by side for a good minute or so before you look up at him. Staring at hm, you notice he seems… tense. Despite yourself, you can’t help but poke fun at him.

“¿Qué pasa, Miguel? ¿Tienes dos pies izquierdos? [What's up, Miguel? You have two left feet?]” You ask mockingly, which earns yourself a half scowl because Lyla is watching you.

Miguel grips your fingers and waist as you continue to dance. You still have a soft smirk on your face, satisfied with Miguel’s annoyance when suddenly, you’re tripping over his foot. Your breath hitches as you feel yourself falling but before that happens, you feel Miguel’s wrapped arm around your waist tighten, catching you. To further annoy you, he expertly uses his other hand and maneuvers you so that your back is leaning on his arm now, with you looking up at him as he leans down. For about three or four seconds, his dark eyes bore into yours before he spins you back to face him correctly.

Annoyed, you return the gesture and slam your foot on his, causing him to grimace in pain. Holding your hand, he pushes you back with a scowl before pulling you back harshly.

“Para tu información, princesa, sé bailar [for your information, little princess, I know how to dance],” he murmurs, staring down at you.

“Hm, I wonder where from? You never dance at parties.”

“And you do? All you do is sit at the table like you’re too good to accept any man’s offer for a dance,” Miguel replies as you move across the dance floor.

Somewhere, your siblings are already receiving help from Lyla, who’s instructing them on proper hand placement.

“And you? You stand around with the other men, talking about God knows what.”

“Women, of course,” Miguel sarcastically replies as he spins you around before bringing you back to him. “We talk about the women dancing and the ones who don’t, either because they’re too shy to dance, or just snobs, como tu… comprenderas [like you... understand, comprehend].”

You scoff. “Is that them, or your personal opinion of me?” you ask, pulling back from him, hands still joined.

Miguel snickers and pulls you back, your chest slamming right into his. You scowl in response. “Quiero decirte algo [I want to tell you something].” He spins you around again. “We are going to make this work.”

“Make what work?”

“This,” Miguel says as he pulls you back in. He stares at you while you keep dancing. “I’m not going to miss out on my brother’s life. Gabriel and I are close, always have been. I have no intentions of stepping out and missing out on his life, him building a life with your sister.” He turns you around, pressing your back to his chest, his arms crossed over your body, as if keeping you locked in them to ensure you’ll listen clearly. “I’m going to be there, at every family gathering. If they have children, you better bet I’m going to be there at every birthday party, or soccer game. So, I want you to know that right now. We’re either going to make this work, or you’ll be missing out, because I’m not stepping out.”

You scoff again, and to his great annoyance and astonishment, free yourself from his arms to face him once more. You place a hand on his chest, leading him back.

“I have no intentions of missing out, O’Hara. Don’t even think about it. Being part of my sister’s life heavily outweighs the annoyance of seeing your unpleasant face.”

Miguel scoffs and wraps his large hand around your wrist before he pulls you forward, your faces mere inches from each other.

“Unpleasant face? You must be blind, princesita [little princess]. Maybe I ought to take you somewhere to get those pretty eyes checked if that’s how you see my face,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.

You snort and pull back. “You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, O’Hara, but I digress. I’m going to be part of my sister’s life, too. So, get used to it.”

Miguel smirks, pulling you right back against his chest. “For better or worse, we'll tolerate each other. For them,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.

“For them,” you agree, meeting his gaze.

For the first time, you really look into his eyes. You’ve never been quite this close to the man, not enough to appreciate their color - a deep brown with a slight maroon undertone. You see the gentle wrinkles under his eyes and forehead, probably from his job as the CEO from some company you've never bothered to learn the name of. A quick peek at his slightly parted mouth allows you to really notice the plump lips. You’ve never noticed it before, but one side of his upper lip is higher than the other, adding to the full lips. You even manage to notice a crooked tooth at the front of his teeth, something that makes you pause internally for some reason.

In a society worried all about looks, Miguel hasn't had that fixed. You glance back into Miguel's eyes but his are somewhere else, somewhere around your mouth. You don’t have enough time to question why his eyes are there though.

His eyes meet yours again, his throat showing a visible gulp as the image of your lips flashes in his head. Staring at your eyes, he once again takes notice of your eye color and the way your eyelashes frame your eyes, something he’s noticed before.

“That!”

Miguel and you instantly pull away, releasing each other. Lyla quickly approaches you, smiling.

“That's the look I was hoping for,” she says. “A look of pure passion, tension, sexiness… love” she says, giddily. “That’s the way to dance! Oh, I have no doubt you two will know exactly how to dance when your wedding date comes. I have seen enough. Take five while I revisit my initial plan, our engaged couple needs a little more help than you two,” Lyla says giving you both a wink. “There’s a lot of love there but they can’t dance to save their lives, unlike you two. If you want to take a seat and just talk, you lovebirds.” Lyla nods and heads off to your siblings, immediately laying out what needs work.

Miguel and you stand side by side, watching in silence for a few seconds before Miguel breaks the silence.

“I need to make - a work call. I’ll be outside while they get finished,” he says, pulling out his cell phone.

“Sure, you go and do that,” you reply, staring at the other three people, not sparing Miguel a glance.

He faces you, watching you for a few seconds as if expecting you to say anything else, or maybe waiting for you to face him, but you never do.

“Great,” he mutters before he walks away. A few seconds later you hear the studio’s door close.

You sigh heavily. You didn’t even know you were holding your breath. He’s so annoying, so - You do a little head shake, clearing your mind. You’ve both agreed to tolerate each other for the sake of your siblings - to be part of their lives.

“For better or worse,” you murmur to yourself.

A/N: Leaving it open-ended because this was only supposed to be a blurb and then I kept going! Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this!! <33

Alondra❤️

[percervall]

it's a bad idea (fuck it, it's fine) — part 2

Summary: your housemates give you an offer you can't refuse. What's the worst that could happen? Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: discussions around consent Word count: 827

Part 2 of the Fuck It series

Pushing the plate away from you, you lean back in the chair as you rest the coffee mug on the knee that’s pulled up to your chest. You’re lucky that Fernando is also more of a coffee person and quickly learnt just how you like yours once you moved in. Sometimes you still wonder how on God’s green earth you ended up being roommates with some of motorsports finest. 

Looking around the table, you can’t help but smile as they tease each other about something that happened during the last race. Jenson laughs at Fernando’s misfortune although he is quick to sympathise seeing as they’re in the same boat with regards to their cars being nowhere near Mercedes or even Sebastian’s Ferrari. For as long as you’ve known him, Jenson has always been easy going. His teasing and generally positive attitude is what led to the two of you becoming friends in the first place. And because of that friendship, you became a lot closer to Fernando as well when he rejoined McLaren. The two of them had an easy partnership, both on and off the track, and whenever you joined a race, Jenson made sure to include you in their conversations. Somehow being friends with both of them also meant you got to know Mark a lot better, and in turn Sebastian as well. The Aussie had retired from the sport well before you met Jenson, but he remained a constant in the paddock with his punditry job for Channel4. And from what you were told, the German driver had mellowed out since his RedBull days. The four of them seem to have such a deep understanding of each other, they work together seamlessly. Apparently even more so than you had expected.

And therein also lies the problem. Because while sharing seems to be somewhat normal for them, it makes you wonder where that leaves you in this arrangement. Would it always be like this morning, where they’re all involved in one way or another? How can you make sure it’s equal? Would they take turns? The thought alone has you swallowing thickly as your mind whirls with fantasies. 

“Are you okay, doll?” Jenson’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. Just-.. Just thinking,” you reply, taking another sip from your now luke-warm coffee. The men share a look that you decide to ignore as you down what’s left of your coffee.

“I don’t regret this morning,” you say, worried they will misinterpret your hesitancy.

“But?” Sebastian fills in for you.

“But it leaves me with. Questions,” you add, not making eye contact. 

“You can ask us anything, sweetheart,” Mark says gently and Jenson gives your knee a squeeze. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts you look out of the window.

“I guess the biggest question I have is how will this work? If we’re really gonna do this, if I’m gonna-.. Will it always be one on one or-.. Or will everyone be involved?” Something like desire swoops low in your stomach as you voice the latter part of the question and you can feel your cheeks heat up. 

“That is very much up to you, sweetheart,” Mark says, as the other three nod in agreement.

“We should have some sort of system, like to check if you’re okay with whatever will happen,” Sebastian offers, “do you have a safe word already?”

“A safe word? I-.. No, my ex wasn’t one for anything other than missionary and the occasional oral,” you confess, stomach in knots at the implications of maybe having to use a safe word. 

“I use traffic light system, very easy to follow and understand,” Fernando comments. Your imagination runs wild with all the possible scenarios in which Fernando would use this system.

“Hey, it’s just a way to make sure it’s fun and pleasurable for everyone,” Jenson says quietly, picking up on the way your head is going about a mile a minute. You nod, taking a deep breath. The longer you think about it, the more sense it makes. Having this in place will make sure, like Jenson said, that everyone is having a good time. You had just never considered that you are allowed to check in and see whether you’re okay with what’s about to happen. While it never felt like you didn’t have a choice in your previous relationship, consent was not something that was actively discussed; It was just always assumed. And in hindsight you maybe let him get away with blurring more boundaries than you had realised. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” you say, relaxing back into the chair. 

“Like Mark said, whatever we do, it’s up to you,” Sebastian reiterates. You nod in understanding once more, the knot in your stomach untangling slowly. You had trusted them enough to be roommates for the last year and a half without them overstepping a boundary or taking advantage of you. They care, you think, they’re not him. Fernando presses a kiss to your temple as he pours you another cup.

“It’ll be fun, nena,” he says with a wicked glint in his eyes, and the implications have you clenching your thighs together. Something tells you Fernando could very well be right. 

A smaller part to establish the relationship between the five of them a little bit more and to set things up for what's to come 👀

Feel free to let me know what you think (or any ideas you have for this series), your comments, tags, and likes means the world to me 💜

taglist: @2pagenumb @alishamai @anotherblackreader @Barbare2 @blackcat-mors13 @cassielikesreading @champomiel  @dannyramirezwife @darkwaterrose @brklynlewis @the-depressed-fellow @emlynblack @forza55 @heyheyheyggg @hiireadstuff @honkyscats @hrts4scarr @jeffs77 @jaimeleannavanlloman @Leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @lightdragonrayne  @mehrmonga @prttypqrtts @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ruledbyproblematique @scarlett11xo @skatingiswalkingincursive @tallrock35 @thatsadsmallchild @szobosz @vinvantae @whoreforeveryon @woozarts @zagreus

[punkpandapatrixk]

❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[azullumi]

“something about you” ; genshin men

summary — it hasn’t been that long since the two of you became a couple, first time in simple things occurs and how does he react? ; you call him ‘love’, accidentally or intentionally, for the first time, and he’s absolutely whipped for you.

includes — various genshin men (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, they’re very very inlove with their s/o, also might be ooc bcs in not sure if the others fit in one of the scenario ; scenarios/multiple in one

note — finally i got to write something 1! also another one coming later i just need tk sleep

“love, can you give me that?

“sure.” he’ll answer without a moment’s hesitation, handing you what you need and it is only then that he’ll process what you have said before he could even focus back on what he was doing earlier.

“wait.” he pauses, turning to you with a confused look on his face. he isn’t entirely sure if what he heard was correct or just his mind playing tricks on him but he hopes that he wasn’t dreaming. you hum, eyebrows raised at him and he opened his mouth, “can you say that again?”

“say what again?”

“like what you said.”

you furrow your eyebrows, baffed, “...can you give me that?” there was a slight intonation in your voice indicating your confusion in this matter. while he was out here in front of you with a mind completely jumbled and thoughts roaring in the lack of certainty, you were there standing in front of him with a perplexed expression on your features as you couldn’t understand him.

“no, i mean– before that.”

“before what? you’re confusing me.”

“you know what i’m talking about.”

“no, i don’t!” you immediately object. you don’t know what in the world is he trying to say. you’re just trying to finish some of your tasks and he’s trying to make you repeat what you said which you already did. “i genuinely don’t know what else do you want me to say. it’s not like i said something that–” your words from earlier played quickly inside your head, the first one, to be exact.

“oh.” you falter, “oh.”

he notices the realization trickling through your tone and expression, “yeah… so do you know now?”

“i just did that, didn’t i?” he nodded and you sighed. “and what’s the big deal?”

“it’s a big deal! that was the first time.”

“seriously, love?”

“you did it again!” his eyes sparkled, ears perked up as a smile beaming with joy was plastered on his face. excitement was evident on each and every corner of his being.

“oh, dear…”

“was that meant to be me or…” and you only made a small gesture at him for him to shut his mouth in which he did. although, you couldn’t contain the small curve that tugs on your lips.

“but will you call me that again?”

“no,” and he groans despite recognizing the deceitful timbre in your words.

childe, itto, kaveh, heizhou, kaeya

“okay.” 

it was just a single word, a four-letter one but you couldn’t ignore how his tone sounded rather… cheery and though in normal occasions, you wouldn’t mind nor even notice but right now, there was some hint of an unfamiliar feeling on it. it’s like he’s plotting something. then he spoke up once again as he brings you what you were asking for, “here it is, love,” adding an emphasis to the endearment that he just called you.

“thank you?” you failed to hide the bewilderment in your expression as well as your voice but he only smiled at you and replied with the same tone as the look on his face, “you’re welcome, love.” 

a brief silence ensued between you two as you nailed your gaze at him, trying to decipher his guise and take a loot at the inside of his mind and he seems to find amusement in your attempt; he doesn’t break his demeanor which infuriates you more.

you grumble and he chuckled, “what’s wrong, my love?”

“you.”

he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head for a bit. “why? what did i do wrong, my dear?”

but realization creeps up to you, albeit in a slow manner as if you were still taking it in and accepting it; it was similar to a snail climbing up your leg, uncomfortable and hateful. “did i just call you…” and he nods with the same smile that he has since earlier, an affirmation to your suspicion.

“i really did?”

“yes, you did, love.” and though it’s just one word, a single-syllable one word, with the way he uses it, it feels like a frying pan being repeatedly hit on your head. oh, so that’s why you were feeling off about his air earlier.

“why? is there a problem, love?”

“stop that.” you already feel embarrassed enough and yet he’s here prodding into it and making it worse by teasing you. he laughs, short and soft, then replies sweetly, “there’s no need to be shy now, is there?” he approaches you, hands swiftly wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him, closing in the distance between you two. you couldn’t speak, not like he was giving you a chance to do so.

“it sounds so pretty coming from your mouth.” so you should call him like that more often.

childe, ayato, kaeya, pantalone, wanderer

he stiffened up, processing what you said and you didn’t fail to notice it especially when you had your hand out and empty for almost half a minute–there was no sign of movement from him either–, expecting for him to place the thing that you’ve been asking for on top of your palm. you turned your head towards him, calling out to his name and snapping him out of it. 

“the book, please?”

“oh, right.” he laughs rather awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck before proceeding on doing what you had asked him. finally, he places the book in your hand but he still seems to be in a trance, eyes distracted, and you couldn’t help but to worry.

“are you alright?” concern drips from your voice and he hummed, eyebrows raised as he feigned a look on his face that says he’s fine. “oh, yeah. i am, i totally am. i’m just a little bit distracted.”

but you know him all too well that he wasn’t telling you the truth. you didn’t respond, gaze trained at his face in silence, seeking for a falter in his fake expression and he breaks; he doesn’t like how well you can read him as if he’s an open book–not like he hates it, however. sighing, he spoke up once again, “you just called me ‘love’ for the first time,” and it’s probably an accident, those words died out on his throat.

“i did, yeah but it wasn’t an accident.”

astonishment fills his face, “oh?”

you hum, nodding your head before you speak in a soft voice. “does it…” your voice trails out and you fidget with your fingers, “...bother you?”

“no, no, it doesn’t.” he’s quick to protest, shaking his head in a panic as if he’s afraid that he might have accidentally hurt your feelings. “it doesn’t bother me, it will not. i actually love it.”

“really?”

“really.” he spoke firmly but gently and he placed his hand on top of yours, fingers snaking through yours and perfectly fitting with your own as if it were two puzzle pieces. he whispers, “my beloved.”

honestly, you could call him with a sweet endearment or a horrible one and he’ll still get the butterflies.

thoma, kazuha, diluc, baizhu, kaveh

he hums, quick to finish the request you have asked him and giving you what you needed before returning to what he was doing prior. it makes you wonder if he really heard what you said, choosing to ignore some, or a single word or maybe he did hear it and he just doesn’t care. you tried to give it a try, calling him not by his name but by an endearment, a sweet yet simple one but there was no reaction from him. 

unbeknownst to you, however, everything was a complete opposite to your thoughts.

he’s thinking, like not just some thinking but deep thinking, deep, deep thinking as if he’s contemplating a decision that could cause the end of the world if he doesn’t think of it properly when it’s literally just a word, 4 letters and 1 syllable. god, you have him on such a tight hold that you have him losing his rationality over a 2 consonant, 2 vowel term.

“you okay?” he was pulled out of the train of his thoughts and he hums, nodding. “i’m fine. i’m just thinking of something.” of what you said. he distracts himself with something else, continuing the task that he left off earlier and trying to finish it–gods above, he just wants to hear you say it again.

“just call me if you need anything.” you say and he only inclined his head as a response. it was quiet once again, a little bit tense but you could manage, in some sense, it was also comforting and peaceful (honestly, you were doing everything you can to not think of what he’s thinking because he’s been oddly silent and you just couldn't understand him).

however, he’s thinking, still. i mean, aside from confessions and simple ‘i love you’s, it’s the first time he had heard you call him in an endearment and that one at that in a rather casual setting: you have asked him for something, that was it. the way you said it sounded so natural, so smooth, as if you have practiced saying it multiple times–in which, you probably did but he doesn’t know of. he just can't wrap his head around it and he fears that his thoughts are going to come out of his mind at this point, it was loud and muddling the insides of his head.

love.

he repeats it inside his head.

you’re going to be the death of him, at this point.

alhaitham, xiao, zhongli, albedo, cyno, tighnari

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Logan Howlett x gn!reader that has the mutation to summon, speak and communicate with ghosts and the undead? Maybe in both daily life, and missions that they’re assigned on, and he sees them use their powers?

Whispers Between Worlds

Logan Howlett had always been known for his gruff exterior, but he was also fiercely protective of those he cared about. From the moment you joined the X-Men, with your eerie yet powerful mutation to communicate with ghosts and the undead, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility over you. It wasn’t just because you were new to the team, or even because your powers gave him a sense of unease—there was something about the quiet strength you carried, despite the weight of your abilities, that drew him in.

Your mutation was unique, something none of the others could fully understand. You could summon, speak with, and communicate with the spirits of the dead. It gave you insight that no one else could access, allowing you to gain critical information in missions and act as a bridge between the living and those who had passed on. But it came at a price—each time you tapped into that realm, it drained you, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.

In daily life, your powers were a mixed blessing. Logan would catch glimpses of you having quiet conversations with spirits no one else could see. You’d occasionally offer reassurance to lost souls lingering in the shadows of the mansion, or lend an empathetic ear to ghosts who had nowhere else to go. It was clear that you felt a responsibility to the dead just as much as the living, and Logan respected that, even if it wasn’t something he’d ever admit out loud.

He’d often see you staring out the window, eyes distant, as if you were half in another world. The ghosts never left you completely alone, and he noticed how it wore on you. Despite your ability to keep a brave face around the others, Logan saw the toll it was taking on you—the bags under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped at the end of a long day. It didn’t sit right with him.

Then there were the missions. Your powers were invaluable in gathering intel from fallen enemies or uncovering long-lost secrets from the dead, but Logan hated how often you were pushed to your limits. The team, even with their best intentions, had started to rely on you more and more, asking you to summon spirits at every turn. They didn’t see the way your hands trembled after, or the pain in your eyes when you had to force yourself to connect with the other side.

One mission in particular pushed you past your breaking point.

The team had been dispatched to an old, abandoned military base to recover sensitive information from a long-dead commander. The base had been a site of horrific battles, and the air was thick with restless spirits. You were asked to summon the commander’s ghost to get the intel they needed, but Logan could see the exhaustion already etched across your face before you even began.

“Take it easy, darlin’,” Logan had murmured to you as the others prepared for the mission. “You don’t have to do this.”

But you’d shaken your head, a determined look in your eyes. “I’ll be fine, Logan. We need this information.”

And so, you pushed forward, reaching out to the commander’s spirit as the others stood by, waiting. Logan kept a close eye on you, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

It didn’t take long for the toll to hit. As the ghost appeared, your body stiffened, and Logan saw you clench your fists in pain. The commander’s spirit was fragmented, violent—years of rage and torment had left him a shell of who he once was, and pulling his essence into the world caused you immense strain. Your breathing became labored, your skin paling as the spirit fought against your control.

“Enough!” Logan barked, stepping forward as he saw you falter. But the others were too focused on the mission to notice.

“We just need a few more details,” one of the team members insisted. “Hold it a little longer!”

But you couldn’t. The pain in your head was unbearable, like knives being driven into your skull as the spirit thrashed within you. Just as the ghost finished relaying the last bit of information, you collapsed to the ground, the connection severed, your body spent from the strain.

Before anyone else could react, Logan was at your side, his hand on your back as he helped you sit up. The moment he saw the pain in your eyes, a white-hot anger surged through him.

“That’s it,” Logan growled, standing up and turning to face the others. His fists clenched, claws threatening to unsheathe. “You’re all pushing ‘em too damn far!”

“Logan, we needed—” one of the others started, but Logan cut them off with a snarl.

“Needed what? To see how much more pain they could take? They’ve been running themselves ragged for this team, and you’ve been too damn blind to notice! Every time they use those powers, it takes somethin’ outta ‘em, and none of you seem to give a damn!”

The others looked taken aback, but Logan didn’t care. His eyes burned with protective fury as he turned back to you, his voice softening when he spoke again. “You’re done for the day, got it? No more of this.”

You tried to protest, but your body was trembling, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

Logan crouched down beside you, his hand gently brushing your hair back from your face. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Let’s get you home.”

The others stood in awkward silence, knowing Logan was right, but unsure of how to respond. Without another word, Logan lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you back to the jet.

Once you were safely seated, Logan stayed by your side the entire way home. His hand never left yours, his presence a grounding force as the exhaustion of your powers finally overtook you.

Later that evening, after you’d had some rest, Logan came to check on you. He leaned against the doorframe of your room, his usual gruff demeanor softened as he watched you lying in bed, still recovering.

“Y’know, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” he said quietly, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “The team needs you, yeah, but I need you too. And I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt you, not even yourself.”

You smiled weakly, grateful for his words. “Thanks, Logan.”

He crossed the room, sitting down beside you and gently taking your hand in his. “From now on, if it gets to be too much, you tell me. I’ll make sure they back off. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You weren’t alone—not with Logan by your side.

[coralinnii]

Congrats for reaching 2.7k followers !! Do you think you could do either Silver or Sebek (or both if it’s not too much >_<) for the Villain/ess AU? Again, congrats!!!🎉🍾🎈🎊

‧₊˚✧Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

↳ villain/ess au series

feat: Silver ❋ Sebek genre: enemies(?)-to-something more Silver ver, comrades-to-something more Sebek ver., slow burn romance,  note: no pronouns used, prejudice against humans, reader is a fae in Silver ver., reader is a human in Sebek vers., Sebek’s reader is just done with Lilia’s shenanigans, set in the same universe as Malleus' and Lilia's ver. but not necessarily simultaneously,

Villain/ess au masterlist 2.7k followers writing event

If you look past the whole…absurdity that is being reincarnated into a dating simulation of your previous world, you'd say you hit the jackpot here.

You suddenly found yourself as a minor antagonist who was supposed to be love obstacle to one of the popular targets of the game, the venerable Dragon Fae King Malleus Draconia. As such, you became a stereotypically beautiful but unbelievably vain fae character of high social standing, an antithesis to the lovable and modest main protagonist. 

The heroine can have the dragon king, you thought. You’ll just dab away your tears while you bathe in luxury.

If you could have one complaint…it would probably be your “original” personality. 

You and your family were infamous for their stance against mixing with humans. Coming from a long line of pure fae blood, your original character held hostility over “pathetic parasites leeching off the purity of the faes.” 

Oooff, what a piece of work you apparently were. 

It was this prejudice that your family demanded the engagement between you and Malleus, and the reason for the vicious treatment of the main heroine…which inevitably led to the loss of your golden spoon, and imprisonment of you and your family. 

Oh, screw that! Absolutely not! 

Thus began the start of your total image revamp. You were going to prove that you definitely won’t be an obstacle for the unity of human-fae harmony, or if the dragon king were to suddenly bring a human as his consort-to-be. 

But sadly it was easier said than done. 

“What is that person doing here?” 

The patrolling knights whispered to themselves as they narrowed their gaze towards your back. Their searing glares felt burning to your very being, but you smiled through it as you carried a large basket of goodies.

“I wish to do my part as a noble and help sponsor this orphanage, and I brought some sandwiches if the children would like some.” 

“Hah! Do you even realize what kind of orphanage this is?” One of the knights sneered at you. This was one of the few shelters that was willing to house human children that turned up in the forest near the kingdom’s borders, often abandoned and left to perish if not for the Vanrouge family who founded this orphanage. 

Unfortunately, the duke family is its only sponsor as prejudice still runs strong in many noble families, yours included. 

“I’m aware, and I want to assist with the upkeep of this orphanage.” You asserted your stance. “I understand that the Vanrouge family is very busy so I volunteer my assistance since my manor is close.” 

Many of the knights aren’t convinced. They stood in the way of the orphanage as though they’re guarding from someone dangerous. Some tried to whisper stealthily amongst each other but your fae ears could pick up their words.

“This is probably a cruel trick.” “Maybe the food is poisoned.” “How terrible.” 

“If you gentlemen would like, you are free to try some of the sandwiches.” You offered kindly, but your smile was strained and your fingers tight around the basket’s handles. 

You expected this, but the building frustration and humiliation is hard to suppress. You knew your family’s reputation precedes you and their doubts are valid, but to suspect that you are some sort of monster who could harm children for simply being human? You would never, how could they…

“Thank you for such kindness, your grace.”

Your bitter spiral broke at the sound of a clear voice, strong but warm at the same time. A hand reached out to pick out a small sandwich, which your gaze followed to meet a pair of the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. 

To the shock of the other knights, this man unhesitantly took a large bite of the handmade sandwich, then cleanly finished it in a few more bites. His auroral eyes shone with such warmness as he thanked you once more. “It was delicious.”

“Silver, careful!” The knight called out to the mysterious man before you. “You shouldn’t trust anything from that snake-“ 

“Hold your tongue, sir.” Despite showing nothing but kindness before, the fair-haired knight was quick to sternly reprimand his comrade before he turned to you to bow his head. “I apologize for my comrade’s rude behavior. I will accept any punishment in his stead.” 

Flustered, you replied quickly. “Please think nothing of it! I know of my family’s… notoriety, so I understand the suspicions you and your knights have.” 

“I’d rather judge someone by their actions rather than their family.” He smiled, and you swore your heart nearly stopped for a moment. What an unfairly beautiful man, you thought. 

Like a practiced knight, the beautiful man offered you a hand. “Allow me to carry the basket for you. The children will be excited to see a new face.” 

Wordlessly, you gave the basket to him and proceeded to walk towards the orphanage, ignoring the stunned faces of the speechless men, not that you cared to acknowledge them anymore. Afterall, your attention has been stolen by this mysterious man next to you. 

You were surprised how such a handsome and kind man liked him to show up. The way the other knights were quick to obey him, he was probably of higher standing or reputation. From his visuals to his manners, you thought he was definitely target route material. So, what was he doing as a minor NPC? 

“What was his name? Silver? Was there a character like him in the main story?” You racked your brain for an answer. Surely a catch like him wouldn’t be left in the sidelines, unless…

As though one of Malleus’ lightning struck you, your body broke out in cold sweat as you finally recognized the suspiciously attractive knight beside you. 

Silver, one of Malleus’ most trusted knights and the heroine’s closest friend in Malleus’ route. Believed to hold unrequited love for the protagonist, he swore to protect her, and eventually helped to capture and prosecute the love rival’s family for their wrongdoings. 

In short, this good-looking man will be responsible for sending you to jail for bullying his one-sided love.  

Oh, fu-

Was this punishment for making fun of your friend for liking this dumb dating sim game? If it was, this is a bit much, isn’t it? The muscles in your body screamed for mercy as day after day, you were put through hellish training, stared down by an unmoving commander.

You vaguely remembered the plot of the story, but couldn’t figure out who you were, or if you were of any significance to the plot. For all you know, you were some human soldier for the fae kingdom, currently going through hell.

As a commoner human amongst fae, you were treated with jeers and insults from your so-called comrades. Some of your peers were more affable but there were some poorly made characters clearly just there to make your life miserable.

“Is this my villain arc? Is that it?” But you were barely above it all, since the soldier’s pay was decent, and all the school-ground taunts were easy to ignore. Honestly, there was only one person that really grinds your gears. 

“You are insulting Lord Malleus’ great name if this is all you can do!” 

That loud voice, now unmistakable to you, belonged to the obnoxious soldier Sebek Zigvolt who seems to live off proving his worth to the king of this kingdom. 

“The goal was to do 100 push-ups, and that’s what I did.” 

“Hah, that is mere child-play. I can go on for a hundred more!” If you have to give him something, he puts his money where his mouth is as the green-haired man then proceeded to continue on with the workout. 

Be it a cruel joke or karma from your past life, you became partners with this loudmouth half-fae. The commander, Duke Vanrouge reasoned that it was to learn comradery and to balance each other’s flaws, but you suspect that there was more to it. But screw it, you don’t have the energy to pursue the real reason. 

And so, you were stuck in this partnership/rivalry with Malleus’ most loyal soldier. 

“We’re wasting time, weak human!” 

You should get a hearing check after this, as you were unfavorably close to your partner, who despite telling him to stay quiet, continues to scream right into your ear. 

“The course just started, you lousy crocodile.” You sighed as you knew Sebek wasn’t happy when you forced him to hide in the large grass. 

As a surprise, your division was given a training course with color-coordinated powder pellets and painted rubber blades as ammo. The goal was to find and strike as many painted targets in the forest, with you and the other soldiers included as targets. 

In addition to the stationary targets, it meant that you had to look out for other soldiers to target you for points. Fair enough, but while the instructions were straightforward, the one who devised this course was the Duke Vanrouge. 

“I don’t trust a single thing that old fart comes up with.” You mumbled as you surveyed the scene. You expected traps, decoys, even surprise bears to jump up out of the blue, because anything is possible with the eccentric former general. 

Then, a rustle from afar. 

Before you could react, Sebek was quicker as he wrapped his arm from behind you, pushing you down with him as a pellet burst with colored powder above you. You heard cursing and more rustling from a close distance. 

“Watch your surroundings, human!” Your green-haired yelled at you, as he effortlessly pulled you to your feet. The way he scanned your person, you almost made the mistake to think he was worried about you and you almost felt warm over that non-existent concern. 

Both of you perked up to the sound of footsteps and turned to another pair of soldiers in front of you. To your luck, there were some of the soldiers that often taunted you. 

“Hah, it’s the halfling and the leech.” The soldier sneered and started to run towards the two of you, using the course as an excuse for violence. 

“Hmph, you’re no match for me.” But before Sebek could charge, you pulled him back with all your strength. It causes the tall soldier to stumble back and lean onto you, your hands on his chest and waist. You didn’t take notice, but Sebek felt a startlingly warm sensation with his heightened senses feeling your closeness to his sturdy figure, his skin burning where your hands lay flat on him.

“W-What are you doing, human! How dare you-“ 

Yells interrupted Sebek’s embarrassed tirade as the two foolish soldiers disappeared, with a large hole in front of you and Sebek. Cautiously, you stepped towards the manmade hole to see your “comrades,” bruised but alive for the most part. 

“Pit traps… should have known that the commander would pull some looney tune crap.” Pulling out a few pellets, you threw it straight at the trapped men and dusted them with your color. “Man, that’s cathartic.” 

You turned to your partner, who was staring at the pit which he nearly ran straight into. You were worried that the prideful half-fae was actually scared before he scared you instead with revigored energy. 

“Of course, the great Lilia would challenge us to the fullest. I will not fail his faith in us!” He then sharply looked to you with a satisfied smirk. “Impressive, human. I commend your sharp eye, but I will not fall for such traps from now on!” 

“Pfft, what was I thinking he’d be scared?” You thought, chuckling to yourself. It just wasn’t Sebek to back out of a challenge regardless of how insane or stupid it was. This training course was no better than a paintball game, but the straightforward Sebek would give his all no matter what. 

“It’s almost cute.” Keeping that last tidbit to yourself, you started walking towards your partner. “Well, let’s keep going. Like you said, we’re wasting time.” 

[whydoyoucare866]

hai :3 can i request an enemies to lover miguel o hara fic where they get stuck in a closet together and reader kinda has to sit on his lap because there isnt any space and so after a few minutes of being in there, reader pisses off miguel and miguel kisses them to shut them up and then the rest is history ig 🙇‍♀️

PLS AND THANK YOU! 🙇‍♀️

also pls make the reader speak spanish im BEGGINGGG.

CLOSET

hi! ofc you can! I did my best! I’m sorry that it sucks and is cringy😀😭

Miguel O’ Hara x Hispanic Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Maybe a glimpse of smut, and Miguel being an asshole

You were one of Miguel’s first recruits, you had been working in the spider society for as long as it had existed, you and Miguel were close (or you would like to consider that) since you both shared the same culture and language and it was easier for you to communicate with him when your English wasn’t as good as it is (since in your universe Spanish was the predominant language) and he would be one of the few people who could understand your accent or you speaking Spanish when you forgot a word.

He took it as his personal job to teach you English until you perfected it and people who didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to guess that it wasn’t your first language( though sometimes you still would forget words in English or express yourself better in Spanish) you would both mutually bring food for each other or bond over music, so yeah you considered yourself close to him.

That was until he started becoming way more stressed about everything, yeah he has been a sour asshole ever since his canon event, but people were at least able to get small responses and have conversations that weren’t all about work with him, but as the spider society grew, he felt a lot of pressure on him and started drowning himself in work to the point that he would isolate himself for days until he got everything he needed done, he could spend weeks without sleeping and eating, and obviously as he became more stressed his memories started to impulse even worse emotions on him than they did before.

Of course this made you and your other teammates worried about him, so you started to bring him lunch, make sure he slept, and just went to see if he was okay, but you checking up on him started to annoy him as he got more irritating because of the lack of sleep and the accumulation of stress, so one day he just decided you annoyed him and soon that annoyance turned into hatred, or that’s what he thought it was.

This made him become snappy at you and we all know he can be the greatest asshole, at first you’re patient with him, thinking it will pass, but as it gets worse you reach your ending point and lose all patience starting to respond to him the same way he talked to you.

The sudden change weirded everyone out, but they also noticed that ever since you started hating Miguel back, his mood became even worse, well everyone noticed except for you, which surprised everyone since you were one of the smartest people in the spider society.

So thats why everyone refused to go to a mission with Miguel when he asked them to, arguing that they already had a mission, or that they had something really important to do, until Miguel had no other option but to take you and you had no other option but to go with him.

“Do i reaally have to go with him? I mean can’t he just ask Ben instead?” You said to Jess

“Nope honey, Ben has a really important therapy session”

“Okay? so then ask Gwen? Pavitr? Hobie? anyone else?”

“He already did, they’re all busy”

“Then why can’t you go”

“As important as the spider society is, I have an ultrasound appointment today, so I can’t go even if I wanted to”

“Well the world just hates me then doesn’t it”

“Maybe it does, or maybe it’s doing you a favor”

“Trust me, being alone with him is not a favor, i don’t want to be screamed at about how i’m annoying and a fucking- what was the word? uhm una carga? how did you say that?”

“A burden?”

“Yeah that! I don’t want to be called a burden and shit like that”

“You’re no burden, but I’ll tell you what you sound like, a teenage girl, come on, you’re an adult, you can take things in a professional way”

“Well the one that’s childish is him not me”

“Uh huh, well i’ve gotta go, good luck!”

“Yeah whatever”

You were now approaching Miguel’s office while wishing you were dead ‘Puta madre neta me lleva la verga, ahora si ya no tengo de otra más que ir’ (Fuck this shit, now I really don’t have any option but to go), you were starting to grow nervous as you approached his door, you hadn’t been alone with him since your last fight where he directly called you annoying and a burden, but now you had no other option.

After finishing the mission without actually talking to each other unless necessary, you both came back to the HQ, when you arrived it was weirdly quiet and no one seemed to be there doing their duties even if it was not that late, which was really weird, that was until you saw Peter B. approaching you with a worried look

“Hey y/n, have you seen MayDay? I can’t find her, usually it takes me an hour, but it’s been four hours and I haven’t been able to find her and I’m starting to get worried” Peter said to you while still running up to you and then catching his breath

“Oh, um I’m sorry but we just got back from a mission so we haven’t seen anything, but we can help you look!”

“No we can’t” Miguel said

“Yes we can, anyways where was the last place that you saw her Peter?” You said after glaring at Miguel as if looks could kill

“Well, I think it was in that one room that has a closet.. I always forget what it’s called”

“Okay yeah, I know which one you’re talking about, let’s go take a look”

Miguel followed them even if he said he wouldn’t be helping, Mayday being on the loose could press a lot of buttons and break a lot of things and cause a lot of problems, so there he was, inside of the closet with you, while Peter “looked” around the room, until they heard a loud noise of the door closing and now he was trapped inside with you, the worst thing is that because of the lack of space you ended up in his lap.

“Great, just what I needed”

“You know I’m not happy about being here with you either okay?”

“Oh is that so? or was this your little plan to get me trapped with you and to get all up on my personal space”

“WHAT? I would NOT do that, and I do NOT want to be in the same room as you you fucking asshole!”

“Oh yeah am I an asshole? sorry I couldn’t understand you with that accent”

“WHAT? okay now you’re being unreasonable, you want me to say it in Spanish? I will, Yo no planee esto wey, yo no quiero estar en el mismo lugar que tu, yo no quiero que me hables, yo no te quiero hablar y mucho menos molestar tu pinche espacio personal, así que neta hazme un favor y cállate un rato que ya no te aguanto cabrón, neta deja de cagar el palo y de ser un pendejo de la nada y ni me trates de culpar porque yo ni se que chingados te hice para que me odies tanto-“. (I didn’t plan this, I don’t want to be in the same place as you, I don’t want you to talk to me or to talk to you or even less to be all on your fucking personal space, so please do me a favor and shut up a little because I can’t deal with you anymore, please stop being such an asshole out of nowhere and don’t blame me because i don’t even know what the fuck I did for you to hate me so much-) That’s when you felt something on your lips, and it took you some time to realize he was kissing you, Miguel O’Hara was kissing you, you sure as hell felt as a teenage girl, butterflies in your stomach and everything.

On the other side Miguel was starting to get nervous as you didn’t return the kiss, he was starting to pull away and about to say he was sorry and he didn’t mean it when he felt you pulling him close and kissing him again, at first it was just a sweet kiss, but then it started to get heated, he couldn’t help but moan when he started feeling you grinding against him, with each second passing making him harder, he started kissing your neck and sucking “Fuck Miguel- you’re gonna leave marks” but he didn’t care, he continued, hearing your moans was paradise to him, he wanted to take you there so bad, until, they heard a knock “Um guys? are you okay?” Peter B said as he unlocked the door and opened it making Miguel groan in annoyance “This isn’t over.” he said before the door completely opened and revealed a Peter with a smiling Mayday in his arms.

[cutielando]

Hey..been reading your ff for a while now..was hoping if you could do one where Lando falls for driver reader female and he has to compete with her but they both having the same points and pace manage to secure p1 together and fia decides to announce both of them as the winners? Pretty delusional but please 🥺.

~XOXO

p1 and love | l.n.

my masterlist

You had fascinated Lando ever since you joined Formula 1 as his teammate. Not just from a racing point of view, but from a personal one as well.

He had had his fair share of teammates before you joined the team. First Carlos, who became his best friend on and off the track. Then came Daniel, who became a very close friend and a mentor of some sort. Then came Oscar, who made Lando challenge himself on another level as the senior driver for the first time.

One could say he was very experienced when it came to bonding with his teammates. Everything came easy to him, he was a natural at making people feel like they’re at home at McLaren.

And that was exactly the case when you joined, the first woman in Formula 1. Someone who made history for the team itself. 

The first time you met each other, neither of you could deny the instant chemistry you felt, the gravity that you experienced pulling you to each other. Everybody on the team could tell there was something more to the two of you, even people from other teams had noticed something, even his fans. Everyone but the two of you.

You had become well versed in flirting with each other during media days or training sessions at the MTC or just in private, battling each other for position and pushing each other to the absolute limit.

That was how you two worked, doing everything on track to push each other for better results and then engaging in shameless flirting once the helmets come off and the racing stops. 

Lando has been having a hard time coming to peace with his feelings and trying to understand what was going on with him. He often turned to Max to try and help him figure out what he was feeling and why.

“Mate, I can’t stop thinking about her” Lando complained, even in that moment watching you get lunch in the McLaren motorhome with your sister.

Max looked up from his phone, laughing when he saw his best friend shamelessly staring at you as you ate.

“You should just tell her you have a crush on her. What are you so afraid of?” Max said, like it was the most logical thing in the world.

Lando turned to him and gave him a look like he had grown 2 heads in the process.

“Do you even hear yourself? It’d be inappropriate, and I don’t even know for sure if I have a crush on her or if it's something else” Lando said, but somewhere deep down he knew what it was. He just didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“Something else like what?” Max asked, and when Lando couldn’t come up with an answer, he smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but if you like the girl, then you should tell her before somebody else comes into the picture” 

Max’s words rang in Lando’s head for the next 2 days, well into the free practice sessions and qualifying, where they came in 3rd and 4th. 

He couldn’t believe that he couldn’t even concentrate on the upcoming race because his thoughts were filled with you and only with you. Even when Jon was urging him to get some more exercise done before he had to get in the car, he couldn’t concentrate on anything he was doing or anything Jon was saying to him.

And this did catch the attention of the trainer.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” he asked Lando, giving up on trying to make him get some work done.

“What do you mean? I’m fine” the driver tried to brush it off, but he knew as soon as Jon looked at him that he didn’t believe him.

“You’ve got your head someplace else. What’s going on with you?”

Lando sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get anything out of lying to his close friend.

“I can’t get Y/N out of my head” he confessed silently, and was surprised when he noticed Jon smiling. “Why are you smiling?”

“Can’t believe it took you so long to realize you’re in love with her” Jon said, patting Lando on the back before abruptly leaving the room.

Left alone, Lando weighed Jon’s words in his head. Could he and Max be right? Did he really have a crush on his teammate? If so, that must be the biggest cliche in history.

And if it really was true, he needed to do something about it fast before the race. 

He needed to confess.

♡♡♡♡♡

The garage was bustling with energy when he emerged out of his driver’s room. He greeted his mechanics before he started looking around, his eyes searching for your figure in the crowd. When he finally spotted you, he quickly made his way over to you.

“Hey” he said, making you look up at him and smile.

“Hey, what’s up?’ you smiled at him, and he swore you could turn him into a puddle of mush by just looking at him like you were now.

“I wanted to talk to you about something and I don’t think it can wait until after the race” he said, making your eyebrows furrow with concern. 

You nodded, but before he could say anything, your race engineer came and whisked you away. Turning around, you looked at Lando apologetically, but he only brushed it off and mouthed ‘later’.

He'd wait for you.

He'd wait for you for however long you'd want him to.

♡♡♡♡♡

“Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N win the British Grand Prix in a shared first step on the podium!”

Surreal was the word that best describes the way Lando felt in that moment. The feeling of sharing the podium with the woman he loved, with his teammate, having made history with his team. 

The moment he got out of the car and saw you, helmet off and hugging your team, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn’t think anymore, the only thing consuming him in that moment was the intense need of you.

And so, he strided over to you, wrapped his arms around your waist to spin you around and kissed you, pouring every ounce of love he felt for you in the kiss. 

You didn’t waste a second to melt into the kiss and against his body, wrapping your arms around his neck for support. The entire team cheered all around you, celebrating the fact that you two finally found some common sense to get together after so much pining after one another.

As you pulled away, you couldn’t help but smile and laugh out loud, looking around at the entire team.

“Took you long enough” you teased, making him roll his eyes and peck your lips again.

And as you stood on the top podium, hand in hand, looking at each other, you knew that you would be alright.

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[takaraphoenix]

Mutual Devotion (Sneak Peek)

“You know,” Lydia said casually. “I appreciate that you got over your crush on me, Stiles. This would have been… so much harder if you kept making heart-eyes at me. Jackson’s been the jealous type even before he became a werewolf, but now he is…”

“Territorial,” Stiles offered with a chuckle. “Yeah, I feel like him turning into a werewolf did a lot in the me getting over you. I know my crush couldn’t compare to a mate-bond.”

Derek was glad that none of the wolves were in the room to hear the surprised jump of his heart. How did Stiles know about mate-bonds? He lifted his gaze carefully off the selection, watching Stiles, even as Stiles kept his focus on Lydia. Derek also noted that Stiles wasn’t lying, he was over his feelings for Lydia. Derek tried not to think about the way that made him feel.

“Mates?” Lydia echoed, raising her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles groaned and tilted his head back, before staring dead ahead at Derek. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t had the bees and birds talk with the puppies!”

Knowing the answer and not even waiting for Derek to say anything, Stiles simply barreled on. “Mates, you know, like… like soulmates. But… not in the cheesy trope-y way of names written on your skin or whatever. Just… a perfect match, I guess? I think that wolves actually feel it though. Scott and Allison are mates. That’s how I got onto that track to begin with, like, there was just no other way to explain them, and everything they did for each other. You can only excuse so much with rampant teen hormones. And yeah, Allison is Scott’s anchor, which I guess is like another word for mates when it refers to a person instead of a thing or emotion. She grounds him, his love for her allows him to focus on his wolf. The same way that you allowed Jackson to regain control, back then. Because you’re his anchor. You’re his mate.”

For the first time since Derek knew her, Lydia actually looked surprised and like she had encountered something that she had not expected. Derek’s attention shifted to Stiles though.

“It’s not another word for mate,” Derek whispered. “Anchor. Your anchor doesn’t have to be your mate, you don’t need a mate to have an anchor. Parents, siblings, friends, they can be anchors too.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinked, like he hadn’t expected for Derek to give any input at all, before he cracked a big smile. “But the rest is right? Did I do the right research?”

Slowly, Derek nodded. “Perfect match is… right, in a sense. We don’t… know the moment we meet someone that they’re ‘the one’, if that’s what you mean. A perfect match is something forged. You can have multiple mates throughout our life, my aunt, she lost her first mate years before the fire, but she fell in love again and forged a new mate-bond.”

“Okay,” Stiles furrowed his brows curiously. “Then what makes a perfect match?”

“Mutual devotion,” Derek could hear the words spoken by his mom, when she had explained this to him as a young boy. “A mate isn’t just someone perfect for you, it’s about… what you are willing to do for each other, support each other, help each other, make each other better. This mutual devotion to one another is what forges a mate-bond.”

“Mh,” Lydia blinked, repeatedly. “I suppose… that does apply to us. We are devoted to each other. Even through the worst of it, even when he was awful to me, even when I was awful to him.”

“You are,” Derek offered in a soft voice. “Mates, I mean. Wolves can smell it on each other and on claimed mates. And Stiles is also right about Scott and Allison. Which… is why I cut him as much slack as I did. I knew why he was so obsessed with the youngest member of the Argent family.”

Stiles hummed in understanding, looking at Derek. Mates. Derek swallowed hard as puzzle pieces started to fall into place in a way he had so far tried to ignore. But having this conversation, and looking at Stiles during it, it became impossible to deny. Over the past year, they had helped each other, saved each other’s lives, fought side by side. And now, for the past month, Stiles had helped Derek truly build his pack, strengthen his pack. Bringing Erica and Boyd back to him, forcing Derek to confront Jackson, whom he had avoided out of guilt because if Derek hadn’t bitten him to begin with, Jackson would have never turned into the kanima and had to go through all that trauma, he had genuinely thought that Jackson wouldn’t want to be a part of this pack. But it seemed that Jackson had needed as much of a push as Derek. And that was one thing Stiles excelled in; pushing. With Jackson came Lydia, of course. Mates. And now, suddenly, Derek’s small pack of three betas who kept snarling at him had turned into a much happier pack of five betas and one Stiles.

Which, perhaps, was another reason why Derek had kept putting this realization off. Stiles was undeniably pack, he had been here every single day to rebuild the pack house, to bond with Derek and the betas, yet Derek could never bring himself to think of Stiles as a beta. At first, he pretended that this was because Stiles wasn’t a wolf, was a human. But he didn’t have the same qualms with Lydia, he considered Jackson’s mate one of his betas. It was the way Stiles went about things that made him different from everyone else. Providing food and moral support for the betas, keeping them together, mediating between them, and between them and their Alpha, taking charge, at Derek’s side by making Derek find a place to live, start renovating the house, change his training methods with the betas. That wasn’t the kind of behavior a beta would be allowed to get away with. That was the behavior of an Alpha mate, the co-leader of the pack, the heart of the pack.

Stiles Stilinski was the Alpha mate of the Hale Pack. And Derek had no idea what to do with that.

--

(This is an excerpt. There is currently 7k more of this story and I have yet to reach the end. Stay tuned for June 22nd, which is the estimated posting date for this fic, like, I should be done with it by then!)

[pigeonpeach]

Father’s weakness

Aka another mom figure x arlecchino!

Warnings: blood, injury to reader, stitches,

A/n: part of this was written before her story quest, but i wanted to get something out after weeks of nothing. Tryna feed my arlecchino fans out there

You hadn’t ever fought in your life. You were not a fighter by any means. But when one of the city mechas malfunctioned and started to target the very child you were with, something in you snapped. Before you could think you were struggling against a metallic arm, blood dripping from your hands as you had stopped the blad with your palm. In that instance all pain was numb, your body didn’t exist but your determination to protect the very helpless and small child did, it overrides your weakness as you had successfully stopped it. The child in question immediately screaming for help.

“I don’t want to leave you! No I won’t leave you again mommy!” She cried, her mother had been murdered, that’s why she was a orphan, you could only imagine how horrific it was for her.

“Celia you have to run! I’ll be fine!” You said, lying through your damn teeth. The machine tried to overpower you, your body was pushed back as you tried to wrestle the sword from its hand.

Finally the guards, the human ones arrived. A gunshot aired as the mecha turned its attention to far more dangerous agressors and withdrew its sword to fight them instead. Leaving you to fall to the floor, injured and awkwardly comforting Celia as she immediately tried to drag you back to the house of hearth.

“I can’t really say you’re a fool. There wasn’t exactly any better alternative in that situation.” Your coworker said. You winced as she stitched the gash in your hands. There wasn’t much time to get a pain killer so you bore it through your teeth. “But Alrecchino will certainly be unhappy with the guardes. I truly don’t understand why it picked on you.”

“Just.. keep scolding me or something. Its easier to forget the pain.” You whispered. The children were hysterical outside. You, the favorite caretaker, had been greatly injured. Of course they were upset, these are orphans. You could hear the older agents trying to soothe the younglings outside.

“Arlecchino won’t be pleased. Lets just hope her anger will be directed towards the engineers.”

“Likely. I didn’t do anything against the code, infact Its well within my job description to protect the children if needed. I may have lied about my capabilities on that though…” you hissed. Now without the adrenaline did everything fucking hurt. The antiseptic in your wounds, the bruises, the needle actively piercing your skin, it fucking hurt. But you had to suck it up, otherwise the children would meltdown into utter chaos believing their mother was dying.

“Surely you know that she.. values you in some way. I was just saying that she may be particularly pissed. You are her favorite.”

“Wait what? I’m the kids favorite, that’s no secret, but hers? Are you sure?” You asked skeptically. Although Clarice had been quite old, having worked for the previous knave and well into her 50s, you didn’t think she had a eye for those details.

“It doesn’t take a expert. But you should be more careful.”

“And what? Let the machines murder the kids I’m designated to protect? No! I did nothing wrong! I don’t care if I destroyed or damaged that machine. I’d sooner punch the Iudex myself then let any of those kids get harmed on my watch.” You said defensively.

“Yes I understand. There. You’re done. Now I’ll wrap it so the kids don’t worry to much. Now please go out there so the kids don’t start mauling each other.” Clarice groaned. You took your hand, it wasn’t pretty, you certainly couldn’t let the kids see that kind of wound when they’re so young.

“Mom! Mom!” The children only became more rowdy when you left through the door.

“Back up now! You’re all going to crush each other!” You said sternly. Only about half seemed to listen, you had to repeat yourself a few times before they relaxed. “I’m okay children. I’m just a little hurt, I’ll live okay?” You flipped your hands around to showcase the bandages, hoping they’d relax. They did but you could still see the worry. Even the older children seemed concerned. “Please return to what you were doing now, all is well. No one is dying or leaving okay?” You said. Slowly they dispersed. If only because their worries had been addressed. But you knew it didn’t fully do so. But at least now you could walk down the halls. You sighed as you walked towards the entrance, seeing a few guards.

“You won’t take our mommy!” One kid said immediately latching onto your leg. You patted his head.

“This isn’t a arrest. In fact we just wanted to get a report from you as to what happened. We understand you left the scene almost Immediately yes?” The officer in question seemed suspicious of you. As if you had something to benefit from the situation. ‘Great he’s going to find anything to twist into suspicion’

“Sir I hope you understand that now is not the the time for interviews. I have just been patched up and I am still on the clock, I have a big responsibility right now. I’ll be happy to come to your olace for a official statement but now is not the time. Now please leave before the children get worried even more so.”

“Ma’am we have to get your point of view to better understand-“

“I was taking one of the children for icecream because she had been very good and it was her birthday. That mecha started randomly attacking people and I jumped in to save her. That is all you are getting at this hour, now please step outside.” You said, you didn’t trust this officer. Just his eyes alone were shifty, plotting, something wasn’t right with him and you weren’t going to risk it,

“Ma-am do not put your hands on me.”

“I am very much not touching you right now. Am i not allowed to exist in the air nearby you? Let me repeat myself, i will go to the palais to give my statement once I’m clocked out. You however need to get out.” Normally you were polite and understanding, the epitome of grace and manners. But you almost died today so you didn’t feel intimidated by the cops ad you had previously been.

“May I at least speak to the child?”

“I will not repeat myself sir, get. Out. We will give our statement later.” You said pointing to the door. He wrote something down which annoyed you greatly.

“Alright, you don’t have to be so rude. I’ll leave. We expect your testimony soon.” He said. You frowned even more so.

“What a bitch.” A child said.

“Do not use that language Belle.” You sighed.

“Arlecchino was supposed to be back by now, but I believe she’s having a strong word with the guards right now.” Lynette explained. From the way her tail swished you could sense she was alarmed. “Many people are afraid of the mechas right now. Apparently they’ve been temporarily recalled. Although the current belief is that one of the wild ones managed to sneak in without suspicion. But its only a theory for now. The important thing is you are safe.” Despite her stoic face you could see both her and Lyney needed reassurance of your wellbeing. Like the many children who were now on edge.

“I am safe. A doctor came by to inspect my injuries and said that I should be fine. I’m likely s little anemic is all. For now I can’t do any heavy lifting or intensive jobs.” You explained. Lyney stiffened.

“That shouldn’t be a issue, Freminet and I would be more than willing to help you with anything.” He offered. You smiled trying to reassure the twins of your health.

“That is sweet but you two have your own lives now. But if you have the time to I wouldn’t complain. Just don’t go against your father’s orders just for me okay. I don’t want anyone getting into trouble.”

“That’s reasonable enough. Will you still be working?” Lynette asked.

“Well like you said, Arlecchino isn’t home yet so I’d have to discuss that with her. But likely yes. I have already used up my sick days for the month.” You smiled.

“No I’m sure she’d let you rest at least!” Lyney said.

“I’m glad you care Lyney but it’s up to your Father to decide. Besides I’m still kicking. I’ll be fine.”

“Father did tell us to accompany you for now. How is Celine right now?”

“She had a panic attack and had to be kicked out of the nursing station. But she’s uninjured and I’ve spent time to calm her down. Unfortunately she didn’t get to finish her icecream.” You joked. They didn’t seem to enjoy your humor.

“We can get her some ourselves. You just relax for now.” He said. You sighed.

“Miss Alrecchino.” You bowed as she entered the room. She however seemed anything but normal. She held your face forcing you to look at her and tilting it, as if checking for any injuries.

“How are you feeling.” Her tone was different. She sounded riled and angry. You dreaded seeing this side of her.

“I’m just a little weak right now. My palms hurt quite badly but I’ll be fine.” You said. She seemed unpleased.

“She didn’t even use painkillers..” she said under her breath. “You should rest. Bandage the wound and check in with the doctor, ill ask the others to lighten your workload for the time being. Be cautious from now on.”

“Y-yes.” You bowed as you quickly exited, unsure if you had heard the entire conversation properly.

And that was it. Arlecchino despite her cold and unfeeling demeanor, everyone else seemed convinced she had a fondness for you. But even if she did you could never see it in her eyes. Her eyes looked somehow dull and sharp, dangerous maybe a better term. Sometimes they soften, the light would reflect in them but her lips hardly ever curved then. It was like she never smiled with her eyes but never smiled when her eyes lit up. But you had a job to do, you had to help the kids, you could ponder arlecchino’s emotions later.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

//

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

//

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you. 

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing. 

//

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”  

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

//

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

//

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him,  finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

[cnnmairoll]

K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

Pairing : Suna Rintarou x Reader Genre : Fluff a/n : I too want to kiss Suna on a tree

The summer sun cast a warm, golden glow over the neighborhood, where the sound of children's laughter echoed through the streets. You and Suna Rintarou had been inseparable since childhood, growing up side by side in the same quaint neighborhood. From the moment you could both crawl, you were already climbing the sturdy branches of the old oak tree at the edge of the park.

The tree was your sanctuary, a place where you could escape from the world below. Its branches seemed to beckon you both, offering a view of the entire neighborhood and beyond. The first time you climbed it together, Suna's small hand reached out to help you up, his determined expression showing no hint of doubt that you could do it.

"Come on, (Y/N)! Up here!" Suna urged, his voice filled with excitement.

With a mixture of determination and trust, you grasped his hand and pulled yourself up onto the lowest branch. From then on, the tree became your shared haven—a place where secrets were whispered, dreams were shared, and the world seemed just a little bit brighter.

As you grew older, your adventures in the tree became more daring. You would race each other to the top, daring each other to jump from one branch to another. Suna's competitive streak would always push him to take risks, while your laughter echoed through the park as you cheered each other on.

Even as the teasing chants of the neighborhood children grew louder— "Rintarou and (Y/N), sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"—you both found solace in the familiarity of the oak tree. Its branches became witnesses to your shared childhood, holding the memories of scraped knees and whispered confessions.

"You know," Suna mused one afternoon as you both sat perched on a high branch, legs dangling over the edge, "we should put a sign up here. 'Rintarou and (Y/N)'s Tree. No teasing allowed.'"

You laughed, the sound carrying on the breeze. "That would be nice. But they'll never stop, will they?"

Suna shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Let them talk. They don't know anything."

And so, the tree remained your refuge, a silent witness to your growing bond. Suna's quiet strength was a constant in your life, his presence grounding you even in the most turbulent times. He was the one you turned to when the world felt overwhelming, and the one who knew just how to make you laugh when you needed it most.

Years passed, and high school brought new challenges and opportunities. The teasing continued, now orchestrated by the Miya twins, Atsumu and Osamu, who took great delight in teasing you both whenever they had the chance.

"Hey, Samu'! Look who's here," Atsumu called out one day, nudging his brother. "Think they'll finally kiss in the tree today?"

Osamu chuckled, "Nah, they’re too chicken."

Suna glanced at you, his expression as blank as ever, but you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ignore them," he muttered, though his lips twitched into a small smile.

Despite his outward indifference, you knew Suna cared deeply. His quiet, analytical nature made him a master of observation, and he could read you like a book. He often found subtle ways to show his affection, whether it was saving you the best spot to watch a volleyball game or silently walking you home when it got dark.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day of practice and relentless teasing from the Miya twins, you found yourself seeking solace in the familiar embrace of the oak tree. The park was quiet at this time of day, the setting sun casting long shadows across the grass and turning the leaves into a mosaic of gold and green.

You climbed up to the sturdy branch that had always been your safe haven. Moments later, you heard the familiar rustle of leaves as Suna joined you, settling beside you with a practiced ease. His presence was comforting, the silence between you filled with a lifetime of unspoken understanding.

"Remember when we used to climb up here to escape the teasing?" you asked, leaning back against the trunk.

Suna nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah. Some things never change."

You both sat in comfortable silence, the memories of your shared childhood washing over you. It was moments like this that made you appreciate the quiet bond you had with Suna. He didn't need words to convey his feelings; his presence was enough.

You thought back to the countless times you had shared this branch, from watching sunsets to talking about your dreams and fears. Suna's quiet strength had always been a source of comfort, his steady presence grounding you even when everything else seemed uncertain.

After a while, you turned to him, a question lingering on your lips. "Do you ever think about…what they say?"

Suna's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes softened. "Sometimes. But it doesn't matter what they think."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and you intertwined your fingers with his. You felt a sense of peace, knowing that whatever happened, you and Suna were in it together.

In a moment of rare boldness, you leaned closer. "Maybe…maybe they’re right."

Suna's eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of surprise. But it quickly melted into something tender. Without a word, he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

The kiss was soft and sweet, the culmination of years of teasing and unspoken feelings. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your secret spot. His lips were warm and soft, and the sensation sent a thrill through your entire body. You felt his hand tighten around yours, anchoring you in the moment.

When you finally pulled away, you saw a rare, genuine smile on Suna's face. His eyes, usually so reserved, were filled with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

"Guess they finally got their wish," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, resting your forehead against his. "Yeah. I guess they did."

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the park, you and Suna sat together on the tree branch, sharing a moment that felt like the beginning of something new. The teasing chants of childhood had brought you here, and now, they were nothing more than a fond memory, overshadowed by the reality of your shared feelings.

You stayed there until the stars began to dot the sky, talking quietly and enjoying each other's company. Suna's arm was around your shoulders, holding you close as the cool night air settled in. For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be, and the future seemed full of endless possibilities.

As you climbed down from the tree that evening, you knew that things had changed between you and Suna. The bond you shared had deepened, and the teasing chants that had once been a source of embarrassment were now a sweet reminder of the journey you had taken together. And as you walked home hand in hand, you couldn't help but feel grateful for every moment that had led you to this one.