#this show makes me so. I don’t even know anymore.

[josiebelladonna]

^that last one made me think of stranger things. Remember back in 2022 how fucking ubiquitous, pervasive, and inescapable that season was (and to the point it was starting to piss me off because none of the kids look like kids anymore, it was sneaking into tags it had no business sneaking into, and it felt like it was becoming more about the music than… actually being watchable and having a memorable storyline, god forbid—granted, it was one of the best soundtracks in a long time, but it came as a bonus in the first two seasons, so that’s not the point)? Now, I’ll see some offhand fics here and there in the fanfic tags, but that’s about it—add to this, everything I see about this final season is, um… don’t get your hopes up. In other words, I fully expect there to be an avalanche of fix-it fics and more fics surrounding Eddie Muenster whatever his name is once the season hits, and then it’ll disappear again.

I guess last year there was a rebirth of the House, M.D. fandom, a fandom which I didn’t even know existed when I was watching that show when it was going and even when it ended back in 2012. Key phrase there is “last year”: I haven’t seen anything about it since like November.

Dan and Phil is another one. I don’t have any idea who they are (I could never get into YouTubers) but every other post on my dash now is about them, and all I can think is “I won’t see them two months from now.”

You also have the strange case of me: start a previously not-catalogued fandom from the ground up and it goes well for a few months, and then something happens to me where I need to speak out, and then all of a sudden POOF! Everyone loses respect and I feel like I have to leave after a time, even if I’m still very much in the zone—especially if I’m still very much in the zone. “Ew, no, she’s obsessed and delusional and unstable, let’s start our own hub in another place and do better than her.” Yeah, and then your bullshit ____ x reader fics from last summer fall by the wayside whereas one of my longfics which I started back in 2022 is still rolling because I’m not callous enough to do it for spite.

They cannibalize the fandom and also the people who make it. They treat it like it’s a thing to be consumed and given to their peers, hence the popularity of the “reader insert” fanfic (which I hate with a passion for this reason), and someone like me, someone who’s actually a fan, is seen as a psychopath, not realizing that this is killing fandom and making the “creator” feel (ab)used. I soldier on because I’m a fan and I love the men involved, dammit.

More used feelings by calling me a “creator”, too, as that is a word that is thrown around way too lightly and shortchanges someone like me by glossing over our craft. I’m an artist and a writer and a baker, I am NOT a creator.

[stellamarielu]

blurred lines II

joel miller x female reader

read part one here

summary: after the little stunt you pulled last night, joel can't bring himself to be in the same room as you. he's canceling his weekly plans to join your dad for sunday night football, and you're fed up with the awkward tension which leads you marching right over to his place determined to fix the problem.

content: nswf, 18+, dbf!joel, age gap, a sprinkle of angst, pet names [duh its joel], lots of praise, fingering, penetration, riding that man like a mechanical bull, unprotected sex, joel finishing in reader without explicit permission, basically just smut with very little plot let's go!

author's note: i need joel miller circa 2003 like i need air in my lungs, so of course i had to write a part 2 for this one

“What're you doin' here?”

Joel hadn’t expected to see you standing directly in front of him holding a Tupperware bowl when he opened his front door.

“Brought you some Chili.” You were stating nonchalantly as if he should’ve been expecting your company.

He had flaked on your dad tonight. Of course he had. 

After what happened last night, you didn’t expect him to show his face at your house like he normally did every Sunday, but it didn’t stop his excuse of feeling “under the weather” from pissing you off.

You made things complicated when you decided to call him last night. Why couldn’t you have kept it together and just called an uber instead?

You spent the entire day feeling guilty and embarrassed and even though you tried to blame your inappropriate advances on the alcohol you’d consumed, you knew it wasn’t the real reason you crossed a line in the backseat of his truck.

After he got out of coming over for the game, you watched the empty seat on your couch that he usually occupied and let the guilt eat you alive. Him and your dad should have been drinking beers and yelling at TV together, but instead your dad just sat in silence.

You couldn’t handle it— you needed to talk to Joel. You weren’t sure what you would even say to him, but before you knew it, you were packaging up leftovers and telling your dad you were taking dinner to Joel and Sarah during halftime.

“Is Sarah home?”

You were asking and looking over Joel’s shoulder, the leftovers still warm in your hands.

“No-“ 

He’d hardly responded when you pushed past him and into the familiar territory of his living room, cutting straight to the chase.

“Why didn’t you come over tonight?” 

“I think we both know the answer to that.” His voice was laced with annoyance at your question.

He was standing a few feet away, still by the front door. Watching as you angrily stormed into his house, setting the Tupperware down on the coffee table.

“Okay, but you didn’t have to lie to my dad.” 

You were coming in hot. You needed this to be over so you could stop feeling so embarrassed and remorseful about the whole thing. 

“Oh, your right, I should’ve just told him I almost fucked his daughter so it’d be kinda weird for me to come over.” Joel was scoffing as he leaned against a nearby wall, folding his arms over his chest. Your skin was burning at his words.

“Look I’m sorry for making things weird, but can we just move on? I don’t want to be the reason you don’t come around anymore. You’re like my dad’s only friend.”

“Then why’d you do it?” His voice was rough, almost like he was angry with you, but his eyes told a different story. They were gentle— carefully watching your expression as you wracked your brain for an answer. 

“Because…” You were trying to avoid his eyes but it was nearly impossible given the way he was staring so intently at you from across the room.

You started out so firm but now you were crumbling. His tender gaze picking away at you, wildling you down into a pile of nerves. 

“I don’t know Joel, let’s just drop it. I’ll keep to myself from now on and we can just pretend like nothing happened. Just please don’t let this effect your friendship with my dad.”

Joel chuckled at your words, an amused smile forming on his lips— Like this is something that could be easily forgotten. 

“Why’d you ask me to pick you up.” The smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had formed. His demeanor was serious again as he revisited the objective of the conversation. The memory of you touching yourself in his car standing between you like an undeniable presence the room.

“What do you mean? I was out drinking and needed a ride.” You were trying to keep it together but there was a hint of hesitation in your words. 

“Yeah, but anyone could’ve given you a ride. Why’d you call me at 2am.” 

His eyes were locked on yours, heavy and sincere. 

“What do you want me to say Joel?"

here you go.

"Do you just want me to keep embarrassing myself? I didn’t want anyone else to pick me up. I wanted it to be you. I wanted an excuse to see you.” You were huffing out the words in a quiet voice, too mortified to speak above a whisper. 

“Thought that was pretty obvious when I had my hand between my legs in the backseat of your truck.” 

Your words were left ringing in the silent room as Joel just stared, his expression stuck in concentration. 

“Happy now?” You were deadpanning with a wave of your hands. Why wasn't he saying anything? You couldn’t read his expression and it was infuriating. 

“Very.” 

One word was all he said as he pushed himself off the wall, his arms still loosely crossed over his chest. He was taking small steps in your direction and your entire body froze. 

“I’ve been tryin’ to convince myself all day that you were just drunk last night. That the only reason you did such a filthy fuckin’ thing was because you were horny off one too many vodka sodas.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke, his body now within reach. 

“I needed to tell myself it wasn’t because you like me.” His eyes were glued to you.

“Needed to convince myself that ya weren’t bein’ all sweet touchin' yourself like that because ya wanted me to fuck you.”

He was taking another step, the gap between you dwindling down with every word he spoke.

“Because if that was the case, if ya did do it on purpose...” He paused, letting his eyes rake down your body. Taking his time before he continued, his stare lingering on your lips.

“Do ya know how hard it was for me to keep my fuckin’ hands to myself?” He was so close, you could see his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath he took.

His stare was dense and all you could think about was how you’d never been this close to him before.

“Joel…” You meant to whisper his name as a warning but instead it came out as a pathetic whimper; only encouraging another inevitable step over the blurred line of your relationship. 

He was leaning in, and you weren’t stopping him.

“This is such a bad fuckin’ idea.” He avoided your lips and ducked his head into your neck, his whisper landing right below your ear and you could feel his breath on your skin. 

“I don’t care.” The words were a rushed hum as your fingers found the nape of his neck. You suddenly felt desperate to have his lips on you. 

“Please.”

That word had Joel spiraling. God, hearing you beg for him like that, he needed to hear it again. Wanted to hear it fall from your lips over and over again while he had you sitting on his cock.

“You said you think about me when you touch yourself.” Joel’s voice was a hum against your skin as his lips finally connected with your neck. He was placing a long drawn-out kiss right beneath your jaw before pulling away just enough for more words to make their way from his mouth.  

“Tell me what you think about.” His breathless whisper on your body made you dizzy, sending your fingertips clutching into this hair- desperate to find something to tether you back to earth. 

“I think about the way it’d feel- when you touch me.” Another pitiful whine. 

“Touch you where?” His words were barely audible as he continued placing gentle kisses down the side of your neck. 

“Joel…”

“C’mon sweetheart, you were so brave tellin’ me what ya wanted last night. Don’t get all shy on me now.” His voice was low and rough- intoxicating. 

“Think about your fingers in me. How they’re so much bigger than mine. How good they’d feel filling me up.” 

You were reaching for one of his hands as you spoke, holding it in front of you and tracing his palm before you pressed your hands together, his was so big and rough compared to yours. 

Then he was intertwining your fingers together and using the hold to pull you into him, your bodies flushed together. A groan left his mouth sending a sweet vibration into your skin.

“There she is.” He was murmuring into the crook of your neck, his hands finding your waist and gripping tight, pulling your hips closer. He absorbed your frame in his own, the muscle of his body solid and sturdy against yours. 

Joel felt like he was dreaming.

After he got home from dropping you off last night, he barely made it to his room before he was yanking down his jeans and wrapping his hand around his dick. The images of your fingers pushed deep inside of you were pulled from his memory, making him finish in record time. He thought about you all night. He couldn’t even sleep as visions of you filled his mind; you curling your fingers into his hair with his head between your legs, you on your knees for him, you with your head buried into his pillow and your perfect ass pushed back while he railed into you from behind. He thought about nearly every sexual scenario possible and now you were here, your soft body like putty in his hands.

“Let’s see then.” His voice was low as he kissed your neck one last time, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes. 

“See if I can make ya come on my fingers yeah?” 

There was a soft smile on his lips conflicting with his sinful heavy-lidded stare. His hands were unruly as he explored your figure, dipping beneath the material of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips.

“Wanted to see it last night, could barely hold myself back from pushin’ your pretty little hand out of my way so I could be the one makin’ ya feel good.”

One of his hands remained on the skin just above the waistband of your jeans while the other trailed up your body until it was on your face.

Joel’s hand was carefully caressing your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your skin. The act was reminiscent of the way he was rubbing your thigh not even 24 hours ago, and the recollection had you clenching your thighs together. You let your mind wonder back to the dirty things Joel said to you last night; the way he watched with a predatory glare as you fingered yourself in front of him. You were lost in the echo of it all until Joel caught you off guard, crashing his lips into yours. 

His kiss was heavy. The weight of unspoken feelings and undeniable tension fueling the way his lips molded into yours. Your shared desire was finally being dealt with and the relief was almost palpable in the liberation of his mouth on yours.

Your lips were tangled in a messy embrace as Joel ushered you backwards until you felt the back of your legs hit the couch.

His lips were following as you flopped down on the cushions, his body leaning forward between your legs. The kiss didn’t lose any momentum as his hands pulled at your jeans. You were arching off the couch assisting Joel as he slid the denim down your legs, breaking the kiss to watch you kick them off your body completely. 

He had been aching to see you like this again. Legs spread and chest heaving. Only this time he didn’t have to hold back. He could touch you; see what you looked like with his fingers knuckles deep in your sweet little cunt.

At that reminder Joel was reaching a hand down to feel you through your panties, his fingertips tracing the outline of your swollen lips, already wet beneath your underwear. 

“Fuck sweetheart you’re soaked.” 

The hot sticky evidence of your arousal was seeping through the cotton material, causing Joel to let out an animalistic groan. He hadn’t even touched you yet and he was losing all sense of control. 

He continued running his fingers over the ruined material, circling your clit over the clothing.

You were already writhing under his touch, which you normally would’ve considered pathetic, but not now. Not when you had been waiting for this exact moment. Now that it was really unfolding, you were proud of yourself for not taking his hand in your own and shoving his fingers where you really needed them.

He kept circling slowly and intricately, still leaning over you— his face inches from yours.

“That feel good?” His voice was a sweet murmur as you moaned in response. 

He was pleased by your answer, pushing your panties to the side and dipping a single finger into your entrance. His digit was gently pressing into you as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

Letting you bathe in satisfaction for only a second, he was retreating. Pulling his thick finger from your core before pushing it back between your wet folds, only this time adding a second along with it.

You were immediately reaching for his forearm, grabbing it instinctively, looking for something to hold onto while you went braindead with pleasure. You were biting down on your lip as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out of you, scared of the obscene noises you would make if you didn’t.

“Let me hear ya baby.” Joel was smiling down at you with a devious grin. He could see the way you were suppressing your moans. He wanted to hear you; wanted to know how good he was making you feel, wanted to hear the pretty sounds you made when you came around his fingers.  

You let your mouth fall open. The whimper that fell out upon hearing his words prompted Joel to push his fingers further into you, curling when he felt the spongey warmth of your walls tightening. 

He could tell by the moan rolling off your tongue that he had found a favorable spot deep in your core. He kept his fingers bending in the perfect position as he peered down at you. 

The sight beneath him had his hips bucking into nothing. You with your head thrown back on his couch; eyes shut, brows furrowed and jaw slack. After last night he thought he’d never see something so glorious again, but now you were proving him wrong. You looked so beautiful like this— all fucked-out with his hand between your legs. 

The deliberate curl of his fingers with each plunge was sending you reeling as you let profanities bubble up in your throat. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release Joel added the pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“You gonna come already?” His words were sprinkled with amusement as he felt you clenching around his fingers. 

“Joel…” His name was a moan on your lips, and you were digging your fingers into his forearm, desperate to hold yourself steady as your body tensed.

“Fuck- you’re gonna come.” He was grunting as his fingers kept their pace. You were mewling out his name and nodding your head in desperation as you felt the coil inside you pulling tighter, ready to snap.

“Let me have it baby.” Joel was nearly begging you to let go. His tone as he growled out the words pushed you right over the edge, sending you into an abyss of pleasure. 

Your body was trembling as you whined out Joel’s name. He could feel your pussy squeezing his fingers as he continued to push them into you gently, relishing in the feeling of your warm embrace. 

“There ya go.” His grunts and groans were replaced with a calm voice as he worked you through your orgasm. 

“Good job sweetheart.”

His praises only added to the sensory overload running rampant through your body. 

“So beautiful baby.”

You were finally opening your eyes, looking up at him with a lust clouded gaze.

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you again, only this time deeper. It was laced with passion and had you pulling him down onto the couch next to you.

Your mind and body were still buzzing from your climax, making it easier to gain dominance over him. You were pushing Joel back against the pillows and climbing onto his lap, straddling his waist. Your kiss had become sloppy and hungry as your lips worked in tandem to relieve the thick tension. 

“Off.” You were mumbling against his mouth and fumbling with the button of his jeans.

He got your message loud and clear as his own hands flew to the waistband of his pants. He was lifting his hips off the couch to free his body of the jeans but in doing so he was thrusting up into you, his erection grinding into your unclothed core. You were bringing your hands to his chest to stabilize yourself as he pushed his pants and underwear to the floor. 

You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering down to his member now on full display. He was big. You knew he would be, but this, this was more than you'd imagined. 

In awe you brought a hand between you, encasing him gently with your touch and ever so slowly letting your fingers follow up and down his length.

You looked to his face to see his eyes fluttering closed in pure delight from finally feeling some sort of relief. The pressure that had been building inside him since he watched you finger fuck yourself last night was slowly dissipating with every pump of your hand around his cock.

You stroked him a few times, your touch soft and cautious; driving Joel insane. He was groaning with every flick of your wrist.

“Need to be inside ya.” A longing yet primal gaze took over his expression as he muttered the words; confessing his need to feel you, all of you.

They were the magic words, the ones that had you lifting your hips and guiding the head of his cock to your slicked entrance. You lingered there, with his tip filling you just enough, soaking in the final tension filled moments before you both completely gave in to your mutual desire.

Your eyes were locked on his, the two of you exchanging one last look of approval before you were sinking further onto him. 

You both let out hums of relief as you felt him stretching you inch by inch.

You were moving slowly, letting yourself adjust to his size as you relaxed onto him. His fingers were gripping onto your hips, holding you steady but careful not to guide you further. He wanted to let you set the pace. 

You sunk down until you were met the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. You were sat completely on him, taking a moment to savor the way he felt pushing deep inside of you. 

“That’s it baby.” He was whispering another praise as his hands traced up your body, taking your shirt with them and tossing it to the floor. Then his touch was on your face, holding your jaw in his fingertips and bringing your gaze down to meet his. 

“That okay? Feel good?” His questions were genuine, but they were spiked with such a immoral tone you might’ve thought he was mocking you. 

“So good.” Your voice was breathless as you affirmed him.

You decisively rocked your hips over his and an unconscious moan slipped from your lips at feeling him move inside you.

He brought his hands back to your hips as you started to move. Gripping onto your skin and guiding your body onto his as you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

“Oh honey- fuck.” He was moaning out as you picked up your pace, relentlessly taking him as deep as you could with every rebound. 

“That’s its baby.” His words were tumbling out of his mouth with every movement of your hips. You were riding him with such precision his mind was going numb, rendering him uncapable of piecing together coherent sentences.

Your palms were flat against his chest and your head thrown back in pleasure as he rubbed against you at just the right angle. You were using him to your full advantage as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his cock.

“Take what ya need baby.” He was encouraging your lewd movements, the sounds leaving his mouth were borderline pathetic as he tried to keep himself together long enough to feel you coming around him.  

He was letting his hands wander further, gripping the flesh of your ass with his palms and using the hold to pull you harder into him with each thrust. 

The desperation in his grasp had you seeing stars. You were bracing yourself on the rigid surface of his chest as you felt the familiar crawl of a second release sneaking up on you.

“Joel I’m gonna…” Your announcement was cut short by a surprised whine as Joel moved his hips along with yours, pushing himself even deeper into you. The way he was stretching, filling and holding onto you had your body straining and your vision blurring.

“Let me have it sweetheart.” 

The carnal grunt off Joel’s tongue as he coaxed you into another orgasm brought you to your finish. You were clutching at his chest, your body melting into his. The pleasure surging through your body caused you to lose all balance, making you slump forward until your forehead found his.

Joel reached for you, placing a hand carefully at the nape of your neck, holding you against him. 

“God you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Another groan was leaving his throat as he pushed his lips onto yours. You were still coming down from your high, pussy squeezing and clasping around him as he muffled your moans with his mouth. 

“So perfect baby.” He was mumbling as he used both of his hands to hold you firm, slowly bringing his hips up to meet yours. His pace was unhurried as he took pleasure in the way you fluttered around him. Then he got caught up in the moment, his tempo quickening. He was thrusting into you persistently, mercilessly rutting as breathless whimpers fell from his tongue. He was holding you still with his fingers curling into your hips as he drove into you— hard and fast.

He was groaning and greedily fucking up into you as his hips began to stutter. With a low guttural sound his movements ceased and you were met with the warmth of his release spreading into you.

He was frozen in place for a few seconds, catching his breath and gathering a sense of composure. You could feel him throbbing in you as his hands kept their hold on your hips. 

“That was so fuckin’ stupid.” He was muttering under his breath, and you immediately felt insecure. He was still inside you and he was already regretting hooking up with you?

“We don’t have to do it again Joel, it was just-“ You were beginning to defend yourself before Joel cut you off. 

”No sweetheart, comin’ in ya.” Joel looked at you with a sympathetic grin on his face.

“I can’t be doin’ that.” He was shaking his head at the poor decision of burying his spend deep inside you. 

“I’m on birth control, it’s okay.” You felt relieved to know his shame wasn’t about having sex with you, but rather his panic of potentially knocking you up. Understandable. 

“Don’t care it’s not smart.” He was reaffirming and leaning up to place a kiss on your forehead; a simple gesture but it had butterflies swarming your stomach.

“How ya gonna explain to your dad why it took so long to drop off leftovers?” Joel was releasing his clutch on your hips and letting his hands rest lightly on your thighs as he spoke. 

“Oh my god, please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

You were mortified. You couldn’t think about your dad. Not while you were straddling his best friend’s lap who’s come was fighting not to leak out between you. 

“Looks like I’m really gonna need to move out soon.” You were groaning and bringing your fingers to your temples, hiding your face in your hands. 

“Oh, without a doubt.” Joel was laughing at your predicament, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t keep having you like this. Now that he’d gotten a taste, he wouldn’t be letting you out of his sight any time soon.

my masterlist

[roronoacherries]

zoro with a bookworm s/o ♡

you can always count on zoro to listen to you ramble about a book you’ve just finished. the second you’ve closed a book and (half) collected yourself, you search the ship for him.

he never needs to hear what you’re coming to tell him; he already knows, from the pleasant urgency of your step; the smile, not on your lips, but in your eyes; the bite of your lip as you try to contain the emotions threatening to spill out of you before you’ve managed to say a word.

you don’t slow down until you’ve stopped in front of him, your hands on either side of his face as you breathe out the words, “i finished.”

“did ya?” he says softly, in feigned surprised, a brow raised as a smirk settles on his lips in admiration of his bookish lover. “tell me about it.”

he doesn’t understand it at all, your love for books and fiction. he starts to yawn a sentence into any book he opens. he’ll admit to you (and only you) that he struggles to make sense of the characters on a paper, but even if reading came easier to him the world of stories was never one he felt a want to get lost in. not unless he could hear them from you.

he’d ask you questions. he’d hate the characters you hated, and when you talked about the ones you loved, nothing could keep his eyes from you. he’d hold in a playful laugh when you cried about a character’s death, without ever making you feel silly for it.

zoro would let you talk for as long as you wanted, not once getting bored (or at least, never showing it). he’d let you sit with him, resting on his arm, when you didn’t want to read in solace; listen to you read out loud to him when there was a part you loved so much you needed him to hear it too; stretching his arm around you when you held your breath, holding in a sob as you silently struggled through a tragic chapter.

if there’s a book in particular you love more dearly than any other, he’d make a genuine effort to read it himself (and does—because if zoro sets out to do something, especially for someone he loves, you can trust he’ll get it done). it’d be without your knowing, at first, struggling through the first chapters until he couldn’t quite put it down anymore, and only telling you he’d been reading it by asking you about the foolish thing he couldn’t believe a character had been stupid enough to do.

“you’re reading this?” you’d ask, unable to help the flutter you felt in your heart.

“answer the question, y/n.”

and if your ambition is to write a novel of your own, he’d be with you every step of the way. there to listen to your ideas. there to be blunt and honest when you needed it. there to ask the questions you didn’t think of. there to keep you quiet company while you wrote, and there to force you into bed when a creative madness had you fighting to keep your head upright and your eyes open.

he’d carry you to bed, tucking you in while you mumbled about needing to get this scene right, and even if he doesn’t quite get your love of stories, he’d be ever so grateful that you are an invaluable part of his.

[krazycat6167]

Say No

(written for @keferon’s Apocalyptic Ponyo AU. A bit of Jazz and Prowl set after most of the events of the au. Enjoy!)

-.-.-.-

Prowl watches from the sidelines as Jazz goes through yet another interview. He can’t shake the feeling that there is something off with Jazz. That there is something that isn’t right. 

Oh sure, Jazz looks happy, but Prowl doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust it though, so he’s scrutinizing Jazz and his behavior to try and figure it out. 

The other orca mer is smiling, talking as animated as he usually does (though notably trying to be polite by staying in one general area), using his hands as he speaks. Those are normal Jazz things to do, even if he seems a bit…more Jazz-y? He’s using a bit more inflection, slightly more exaggerated movements, a smidge extra charm behind the smile. The effect is entertaining, sure, but-.

But…he is…being entertaining. He is here, in an interview, answering questions both benign and personal, and he is putting on a show. 

Prowl’s gaze flicks around the room. Multiple cameras, stage lights, a dazzled audience. 

The interviewer, masterfully directing Jazz through the narrative with light and heavy topics and making sure to end on a high note. 

Jazz, big movements, big personality, put on display like a thing to be marveled at. 

A large grin that had been bothering Prowl the whole time because it is wrong. And now he knows it’s because it is fake. 

When the interview ends and Jazz swims offstage, Prowl takes his arm and leads him away. Away from the crowds, the lights, the cameras. Just away. From everything. Anyone who even thinks of approaching the two as they leave take one look at Prowl's hard expression and become too scared to even try. 

“While I enjoy swimming with you,” Jazz says when they are properly away from everyone, “is there a reason we left so quick?”

“You were uncomfortable.” Prowl answers. 

“Is that so?” Jazz says, amused. 

Prowl stops and turns to Jazz, stopping the other mer cold with a hard stare. “Yes, you were. You were putting on a show like it was still an obligation you owed for living somewhere when in reality you don’t owe anyone anything of yourself that you don’t want to give.”

The fact that Jazz looks shocked by this makes Prowl’s heart clench painfully. 

Prowl takes both of Jazz’s large hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he says while giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “that I didn’t see it sooner. You did so many interviews and I didn’t see how similar they were to that tank until now.”

“Wha- hey, no,” Jazz brings their hands closer to his chest. “don’t apologize for this when it wasn’t even your fault. They asked to hear my story and-“

“And you could’ve told them no.” Prowl interrupts. “You don’t have to do these things anymore. You can say no. You can leave off you want. You aren’t confined to a small space anymore with no escape and no privacy. You can say no.”

“I- I can say no.” Jazz whispers like it’s revelation straight from the vents below. “I can leave.”

“You don’t have to do things you don’t want.”

Jazz floats there, clutching Prowls hands to his chest like they’re a lifeline, as his gaze drifts down in thought. “What I want…”

Slowly, Jazz looks up at Prowl. “I want you to show me that Crystal Reef you were talking about.”

Prowl smiles. “This way then.”

-.-.-.-

Two of the things Jazz loves about Mer society are the pouches that he can carry stuff—his stuff—in and the phones. After years of seeing humans use them (filming him, taking pictures of him), he now has one of his very own. An underwater phone, a fish phone, a fone (“It’s funny Prowler, trust me.”). It’s awesome!

Not very awesome right this second though. 

It’s vibrating, meaning someone is calling him. The screen only shows a frequency instead of a name, meaning it’s someone he doesn’t know. 

He sees Prowl look at him curiously from where he’s been sunbathing next to him as Jazz answers.

“Hello?”

“Hello! I am Undertow, a reporter with The Tuning Trident. Is this Jazz?”

Jazz sits up. “Yeah, I’m Jazz.”

“Excellent!” Undertow says, chipper. “We have been working on an article covering your story and the trials you went through. We here at The Tuning Trident are dedicated to bringing our readers the most accurate information that we can provide and we were wondering if you could come over sometime within the next few days to answer a few questions we have about your experience.”

Jazz freezes. He…doesn’t really want to talk about it with reporters anymore. He’ll just have to politely turn them down. 

Jazz opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His throat is suddenly dry. He swallows his trepidation and tries again. “Uh…”

Is that it? Is that all he can bring himself to say that isn’t a fake and enthusiastic agreement?

The reporter on the phone starts talking again. “Of course, if coming in is an inconvenience, we can have a small team come to you to conduct the interview. We are very flexible here, so whatever may be best for you, we can certainly work with!”

That was even worse! He didn’t want nosy strangers coming to his favorite spots!

But he still can’t say no. 

His gaze flicks to Prowl, desperately and silently pleading for help. 

Prowl sits up and holds his hand open to Jazz. Jazz gives him the phone. 

“I regret to inform you,” Prowl says with no regret or remorse, “that Jazz won’t be doing any interviews for the time being.”

“It’ll just be a quick thing.” Undertow promises in a small tinny voice that Jazz can still hear. “Only a couple of questions to clarify a few facts.”

“No.”

“I- but- who is this? Who are you to speak for Jazz?”

“His manager.” Prowl's tone turns cold. “He is not available for an interview at this time.”

“Why not?”

“Jazz has his reasons and he doesn’t owe them to you. Good day.”

“Wait, if you could just tell us-“

“No.” Prowl hangs up. “The nerve of some Mer, it’s like they forgot that you're an apex- urk!”

Jazz hugs him, eyes shut tight, tucking his head into Prowl’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thank you.” He whispers, voice wobbly. 

Prowl returns the hug, using one hand to cradle Jazz’s head. “Of course. You deserve some peace.”

“I tried.” Jazz says to Prowl’s shoulder. “I wanted to say no. I tried but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get that one word out and I tried.”

“I know.” Prowl pats Jazz’s head through his beanie. “It’s okay. You keep trying. And until you are able, I can say no for you whenever you need.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Be a Good Girl For Me

dom!eddie x fem!reader

Eddie finally finds out exactly what you like in the bedroom

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) use of handcuffs, degradation kink, use of the word “slut”

The bed dips as Eddie sits on the other side of the bed. He knows exactly what you want but needs to hear the words come from your mouth and won’t give in until you ask. That’s how it always works.

He moves to lay beside you, pulling you closer to him as his hand begins to massage your stomach, pressing his lip to your forehead as he yaps away, something he always does anyway, but especially when he wants to give you something to focus on instead of your discomfort.

You snuggle even further into his side as his hand dips into the waistband of your pants. You want him to go lower, for his fingers to be inside you but you can’t get yourself to ask for that. Even though you’ve been together for a while, you still get nervous asking for what you want.

You whine when he pulls his hand away and he just chuckles, flipping you over so that you’re on your stomach. His lips find yours in a heated kiss as both his hands dip into your panties this time, getting dangerously close to your cunt before he pulls them back out only for you to whine again.

He sees that you’re going to do it yourself, but he can’t have that, so he’s grabbing the handcuffs he bought you from the drawer in your nightstand then pins your hands to the headboard before handcuffing them to the bottom rail so you’ll stay there.

“Uh uh uh,” he shakes his head. “Only I get to touch you. Understand?” He asks and you nod. He doesn’t get like this with you often, but you love seeing this side of him, when he’s more controlling and dominant.

“Yes,” you respond and he’s surprised when he sees your pupils getting larger. Eddie never thought his innocent girl would be into something like this.

“Use your words,” he commands as gets on top of you again, kissing you once more, his hands resting on your waist, waiting for the go ahead.

“Please,” you beg and now he’s torturing you, grinding against you to get you to finally ask.

“Please what?” He loves taking control, especially when you’re desperate and seeing you like this, so eager for him, it’s enough to almost make him come in his pants.

“Please fuck me,” you whine and those seem to be the magic words because your sweatpants and panties are off in an instant with Eddie spreading your legs wide to see what he’s working with. You’re wet beyond belief and he can’t help but smile to himself, knowing that he did that.

“Eddie, please.”

“If you insist, sweetheart,” he replies as he grabs hold of your waist and pounding into you inch by inch until he’s deep inside, making you moan loudly which is always music to his ears. “Such a needy little thing tonight, aren’t you? Was this morning not enough?”

“I-I just like the way you feel. The way you’re rough with me.”

“Oh that? Sweetheart, that was nothing. I’ll show you what rough really is if you want me to.”

“God, please. Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

“Always know how to please me, don’t you baby? Now just sit back and enjoy the ride. And remember, if I do something you don’t like, you have to tell me. You trust me right? That I wouldn’t purposefully hurt you?”

“I trust you,” you nod and close your eyes tight in preparation.”

He’s pounding into you now harder than he ever has before, his entire cock inside, not just the little bit he’s been giving to you since you’ve been sleeping together. He’s huge and it hurts but it just feels so good. He’s not being gentle like you’re going to break anymore and you suddenly feel so alive.

The bed is shaking underneath you because of how hard he’s fucking you, the handcuffs clanking against the railing of the headboard. You watch Eddie watch you, his eyes almost black because of how large his pupils are. His fingers make crescent shapes into your hips because of how hard he’s digging his nails into you. You don’t even care. In fact, you love it, hoping it leaves a mark, a physical reminder of tonight.

“That’s it. Just like that. Look at you, so willing to submit. I bet you’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything,” you repeat with emphasis so he knows that you mean it. He’s smiling now, still pounding into you as he leans down to kiss you briefly before pulling away so you can let out a moan.

“Hm,” he hums. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You’re already fucked out but he wants to see how long you can last, just how many orgasms he can get out of you.

He keeps going, eating up every delicious moan that falls from your lips, encouraging you every step of the way with his filthy words. He’s watching you come undone, acting more like yourself and he’s wondering if getting kinky was all you needed to be more comfortable, if he had been too gentle with you.

“Look at you, taking it like the little slut you are.” Your eyes widen at his words but that’s only because he’s never called you that. But you like it, love it even. Love being degraded in the way, and hearing it come from Eddie’s mouth is making you even more horny, more needy for him than ever before.

You buck your hips against his again and again and he helps you keep up with him, pulling your hips toward and away from him to really show you how he wants you to do it.

“Yeah? You like being called a slut?” He emphasizes the word and you hum in response, as if he called you something sweet, not a word that’s very common for having negative connotations. Tonight really is showing Eddie different sides of you.

“Yes,” you nod. “Say it again.”

He grabs you by the face with one of his hands and squeezes your cheeks as he leans down towards your face.

“Slut,” he spits, his lips ghosting yours and you close your eyes for a kiss only for him to lean back, picking up his pace once again.

And as you’re reaching your orgasm, he’s sure that he’s right. You’re screaming his name and he’s smiling so wide, smug, proud of himself for finally figuring out what you like. So he keeps going again and again until you’ve orgasm one more time, only stopping because you’re slurring your words.

“Did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers as he removes the handcuffs from your wrists, peppering them with kisses as he lies down on top of you, wanting to stay inside just a little longer like he always does.

“Maybe next time I can handcuff you?” You slur and he chuckles.

“Sure, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Whatever you want.”

[redhrs]

Sharp Edges, Part 3 - Sylus x Reader

synopsis— With 24 hours to steal his brooch, you're trapped in a battle of wit and temptation. But Sylus isn't just guarding the prize— he's breaking your resolve, one touch at a time. inspired by Midnight Stealth.

word count— 3.5k~

warnings— 18+, smut, angst, slow burn, nsfw, drunk sex, hate sex, enemies to lovers, rivalry, dom!sylus, making out, aphrodisiac wine, fem!reader, reader is confident, teasing, edging, dry humping, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, choking, sylus is needy asf, reader is horny and lowkey desperate, rough sex, porn with plot, voyeurism

minors don't interact!

🎧 The Zone - The Weeknd

Sylus pins you down, wrists above head, his weight pressing you into the mattress. There’s no space left between you—you feel everything. The frantic hammering of his heart, the heat of his body searing into yours, the hardness of his erection softly grinding against your clit.

"This is what you wanted, right? To see how far l'll go?", he pants, his swollen lips trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Your wrists twist under his grip—you want to touch him so badly it aches.

“Sylus, please,” you whisper, the words spilling out like a plea. His fingers tighten around you as if he knows—knows how desperately you want to run your hands over him, to pull him closer, to feel him without restraint.

“Sylus, oh—Sylus,” he mocks your tone, his lips sucking at the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He’s getting on your nerves, and you’re really starting to hate him for it—but the burning anger tangles with the raw, insatiable desire boiling inside you, and it’s getting harder to tell one from the other.

“Fuck you,” you curse under your breath, your legs wrapping around his waist, desperate to feel more of him. He smirks, his voice low and taunting.

“I know you want to,” he mutters, one hand sneaking between your legs, his fingers teasing you through the fabric of your soaked panties. You whine, your back arching instinctively, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he presses you down harder, his body heavy with intent.

“Say it. Tell me how badly you want it.” Sylus lips brush over yours, his voice rough with need.

“I need you to fuck me right now,” You bite on his lower lip, “To show me how good you can make me feel.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Sylus’s resolve shatters. He crashes his lips to yours, taking what you’ve begged for, as he pushes your underwear to the side, plunging his long digits into you. Your hands, free from his grip, instantly roam over him. One tangles in his soft hair, the other drags down his back, beneath his shirt, nails scraping against his skin. He grunts, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re so wet but I haven’t done anything yet,” You don’t even care anymore about the obscene moans and whimpers filling the room, “Are you sure you can take it? This is only the beginning, doll.” His fingers are moving at a faster pace, thrusting and curling inside you and all you can do is cry out his name in despair.

“Shut up and keep going” You bite on his Adam’s apple, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin of his neck. You never knew Sylus could be this vocal, and the sounds he’s making right now only fuel your hunger. You can’t wait to hear what other sweet, sinful noises you can draw from him.

“Such an impatient girl,” he adds a third finger and you arch, feeling the familiar heat building in your lower abdomen, your body responding to him with an intensity you didn’t know you were capable of.

“Sylus,” you breathe, gasping for air, the words spilling from you in a helpless whisper. “Don’t stop.”

“Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers. I didn’t know you could be so bold.” He laughs.

“Wait until you see what I can do to you”, you cling to him as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Sylus moans as you seize his lips in a kiss so urgent and commanding, it leaves him dizzy. Your head tilts to deepen it, your tongue sliding against his, teeth biting his lip as he still fucks you with his fingers.

“What about you show me now?” Just when you’re about to come, Sylus removes his fingers, earning a cry of frustration from you.

“Why did you s—Mmffh” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he forcefully sinks his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“I’d love to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

Oh, you’ll show him. You’ll make him lose his sanity and leave him begging. “Is that so?” You push him hard enough for him to be completely on his back. “Strip.”

You watch him attentively, your eyes not missing the flex of his muscles as he moves to remove every piece of clothing. You’re dripping wet, the juices of your arousal slicking your thighs— you can’t believe he left you high like this.

You try not to gasp at the length and thickness of his member. You knew he was big when you felt it before, but now that you see it… It’s even bigger than what you imagined.

“Like what you see?” Sylus smirks, a proud smile on as he slowly strokes himself, his dark eyes never leaving yours. You bite your lip, your mouth watering at the view. You don’t answer, instead you slap his hand away and take his cock in your own. He lets out a soft whimper as your fingers wrap around him, your thumb teasing the tip where precum has already begun to bead. His lower abdomen flexes involuntarily at the sensation, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. You lean forward, ass perked up, not breaking eye contact.

Sylus props himself on his elbows, not wanting to miss a single second of the little show you’re putting on for him. “What’s the word?” You tease, his dick twitching as your breath mingle with the wetness of his tip.

“Fuck,” he moves his hips forward, urging you. You click your tongue.

“I fear that won’t work, Sylus. Use your words.” His face flushes, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to let go of that façade he wears so well—the one of the man always in control, knowing he has to drop it if he wants you.

Determined to make him break, you press wet kisses along his length, making sure he feels the way your tongue teasingly brushes over the vein beneath his skin. He shuts his eyes, one hand threading through his hair, tugging slightly in a vain attempt to keep his composure.

“Oh, God— Please, give it to me,” he groans, his voice trembling with desperation. You can almost feel the crack in his tone, a sound so satisfying it sends a thrill through you. Seeing him unravel, trembling under your touch, only makes you crave more.

“Good.” You smile against him, a mischievous glint in your eyes, before trailing slow, deliberate stripes with your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, savoring the taste of him. Sylus is so sensitive you thought. You spit onto your hand, your fingers tight around his base as you begin to stroke him slowly. When your soft lips wrap over his tip, a broken whimper escapes him. His head falls back, lost in pure bliss, his breath shallow and uneven. One of his hands finds its way to the back of your head, holding you there as if he’s trying to ground himself in the overwhelming pleasure. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to take all of him, but you’re more than halfway there, bobbing your head, your cheeks hollowed as your tongue teases his most sensitive spots. One hand glides along the areas you can’t reach, while the other keeps your hair out of the way.

“You— Fuck, you feel too good” Sylus has completely drowned in lust, not even able to restrain himself. He tugs on your hair, his hips thrusting into your mouth as you take him deep in your throat, the sounds of your saliva mixing with his precum echoing in the room. Tears well in your eyes, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, your own moans sending waves of pleasure through him. “You’re so beautiful— your pretty mouth, taking me so well,” His thrusts become more erratic, messier, you can tell he’s close. You need to stop now if you want to leave him miserable like you were, but his grip on you is too tight and the way you gag around him is all it takes to send him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck I —” Sylus pulls out just in time as he spills over himself, thick white ropes coating his skin while he strokes himself through his climax. You sit there, completely stunned by the sight before you—Sylus pleasuring himself, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as he pants, looking at you like you’re the only one he wants in this world.

“Who would’ve thought the big boss from Onychinus would be such a needy mess in bed?” You finally speak, your voice slightly hoarse, as you lick the cum from his hand. He chuckles and pulls you into a kiss.

“Miss Hunter… I shall return the favor now. Let’s see who’s the most desperate between the two of us.” You don’t have a chance to respond before he pins you down again, his hands roaming with urgent need, pulling you closer as his lips trail down your neck, kissing and biting hungrily at every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts. With effortless skill, he strips you of your dress, leaving you in nothing but your thong. Sylus pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his gaze dark with appreciation.

“Stunning,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. His mouth is everywhere, tongue teasing and nibbling at your nipple while his thumb circles the other, leaving you restless.

“That feels good,” you exhale sharply, urging him to keep going. You feel him smile against your skin as he continues his slow ascent, his hands reaching the hem of your panties. His hands grip your tights, forcing them wide open as he looks at you, his teasing expression returning.

“Looks like these are ruined,” he chuckles, tearing your underwear off. “I’ll get you new ones, don’t worry.”

Your back arches instinctively as his tongue slips between your folds, dragging up your slit in long, languid strokes. He kisses and sucks at your clit, the heat of his breath only heightening the sensation, sending jolts of pleasure through you with each movement. The sight of him between your thighs, devouring you completely, makes something snap inside you. Lost in the moment, you grind against his face, your legs instinctively closing around him.

“Sylus, right there,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back as he slides two fingers inside you.

“You’re so sweet,” He rasps, “Gosh, I can’t get enough of you.” You feel yourself edging closer to release as Sylus finds that sweet spot inside you, his tongue flicking expertly at your clit, sending waves of pleasure that make you dizzy with sensitivity. “Come for me, Angel.”

And you do—your orgasm hits you like a wave, your juices coating his lips, chin, and cheeks. He doesn’t stop, his fingers continuing to work you through your high as he licks up every drop of your arousal. Sylus was hungry, devouring you like a starved man. You could see the way he was working himself up too, grinding against the mattress in an attempt to relieve the throbbing ache of his need.

“Sylus,” you sit up, pulling him close by the neck, your lips just a breath away, “Take me. I want you.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, his mouth gently meets yours in a slow, deep kiss that feels full of unspoken words. His hands pull you closer, guiding you to straddle him as you both move together, bodies pressed against each other with an intensity that’s soft yet consuming. The kiss is tender, the rhythm slow, as if you’re savoring every second, completely immersed in the connection between you.

“I’ve been waiting so long, to be able to touch you like this.” Sylus whispers, his lips brushing softly against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. The atmosphere, once charged with control and dominance, has shifted into something unexpectedly intimate. A strange, familiar feeling stirs inside of you, one that you can’t quite place but know all too well, as if it’s something you’ve felt before and yet can’t fully understand. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his length, giving it a few strokes. Your foreheads press together, eyes locked as Sylus lifts you, aligning himself with your entrance. Your breaths mingle, both of you panting in anticipation of the pleasure that is about to overtake you. After what feels like an eternity, he slowly sinks into you, his thickness stretching you in a way that has both of you moaning in unison.

“Mhm— so tight,” Sylus groans, throwing his head back, hoping he won’t reach the edge too soon. But with every inch of him disappearing into you, your soft walls gripping him just right, he knows he won’t last long.

“You feel so good,” you gasp, gripping onto him as you begin to ride him at a slow, deliberate pace, giving both of you time to adjust. Sylus meets you halfway, his hands gripping your hips to lift you up, his patience beginning to fade. He leans into a kiss, urgent and sloppy, his self-control slipping with every passing second. Your thrusts grow deeper, harder, fingers digging into each other’s skin, tongues clashing in a frenzy.

“You’re perfect,” Sylus groans between kisses, sinking deeper into you with each movement. “I want to ruin you,” he mutters, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his grip so strong you couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

“Ruin me,” you moan, your legs trembling as the frantic pace begins to take its toll. “Fuck me like you hate me— Sylus,” you struggle to form words, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Do with me as you please.”

Sylus feels like he’s going insane. He pins you down, his body hovering over yours as he pulls you by your thighs, realigning himself. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to be rough on you?” He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you whimper.

“I want it,” you admit shamelessly, pulling him deeper into you. He chuckles at your boldness, the grip on your neck tightening until your words are nothing more than a breathless whisper. This time, he moves without hesitation, his other hand pressing against your lower abdomen. The lack of oxygen makes you dizzy, the sharpness of the pleasure and the ache blurring together until it feels like you’re seeing stars. As he thrusts into you—fast, almost desperate—the world around you fades away, leaving only the frantic rhythm of your bodies colliding. Each stroke is deeper, sharper, pulling you further into the abyss of need. “I want more,” you cry out, your voice dripping with desire, sounding far more erotic than you intended.

“Want more?” Sylus growls, a dark chuckle escaping him before he flips you onto your stomach. He presses you down against the mattress, his grip firm, then he’s back at pounding into you from behind like he’s completely lost himself. “How do you like it now?” Sylus growls, his palm coming down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you cry out in pleasure. The impact is so intense you know you’ll be bruised by morning. “Are you satisfied? Answer me.” Another spank echoes through the room, leaving your skin burning.

“Yes—fuck,” you gasp, struggling to form a coherent sentence. The way he’s fucking you right now has you barely able to catch your breath. Sylus leans down, his chest pressing against your back as he continues his relentless pace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you,” he murmurs against your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck, leaving his mark. “Say it again for me, love.”

Your whole body trembles, your release creeping closer, tension coiling dangerously tight inside you. “Yes—yes, I’m so close—” Your words dissolve into a broken moan as you clench down around him, dragging a deep, sinful groan from Sylus, his own release chasing after yours.

You feel a shift in the rhythm—his thrusts growing messier, more desperate, his breath hot and uneven against your cheek. You wish you could see his face right now. As if reading your mind, Sylus flips you onto your back, pressing his body flush against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Foreheads pressed together, you move in sync, chasing that intoxicating high. He’s beautiful, you think. His brows furrowed, eyes shut tight, lips parted as soft moans escape him—an expression of pure bliss you never thought you’d witness. Then it snaps. Pleasure crashes over you in relentless waves, so intense it borders on pain. All you can do is cry out his name, again and again, your body trembling beneath him. Sylus isn’t far behind—he comes just as hard, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips before they find yours in a desperate, breathless kiss, the two of you clinging to each other as you ride out your high together.

You both remain like this in silence, panting, your chests rising and falling in a mismatched rhythm as you struggle to catch your breath. You’re certain Sylus can hear the frantic beating of your heart—just as you can hear his. A strange wave of sadness and nostalgia washes over you, unexplainable yet impossible to ignore. And before you can process it, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, pressing his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers comb gently through his hair, while your other hand traces absentminded patterns along his back, coming back to your senses in the warmth of his body.

“If this is how you hate,” he breaks the silence, his voice hushed and raspy, a stark contrast to the usual arrogance, “then hate me. With all your might.” He pulls you closer, holding you tighter as though the very idea of you slipping away terrifies him. Just as you’re about to speak, you feel his breath slow, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. He’s asleep. You linger for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of his body, before quietly slipping out of his arms and into the shower.

The hot water soothes your worn-out body, easing the tension as it cascades over your skin. You replay everything that has happened, the weight of it all settling deep within you. You’re not sure how you’ll face Sylus tomorrow, your heart stirring with both anxiety and a sense of vulnerability. You wash your body and hair slowly, lost in thought, until you suddenly feel the warmth of arms encircling you from behind. You jump, startled.

“Sylus?” you gasp, your heart racing. His grip is firm, unyielding, as he pulls you gently against his chest.

“Thought you left,” he whispers. You try to turn, but you’re unable to break free from his embrace. You pause, torn between words. The vulnerability in his touch stirs something deep inside you, making you question everything. “Please, stay,” he pleads, his eyes locking with yours, full of a raw, unspoken longing. You nod quietly, feeling a lump form in your throat, your own words escaping you.

You finish the shower together in silence, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling around you both. When you step out, Sylus hands you one of his shirts, his movements calm and steady. He slips into bed first, wearing silky pants that match the top you’re now in. You join him, the cool sheets brushing against your skin as you settle beside him, the room filled with an almost tangible awkwardness. The air between you is quiet, but the tension feels different now—an unspoken understanding, something neither of you has the words for. Sylus pulls you closer, his warmth comforting against your own. A few hours ago, you thought you hated him. But now… now you’re confused, lost in a swirl of emotions you can’t fully make sense of. You’re still searching for answers, knowing there’s something important you’re missing.

“Sylus, you—”

“Don’t worry, the brooch is under your pillow,” he interrupts, a playful hint of mockery in his voice. You let out a tired sigh, too exhausted to play his games any longer. He’s smart, you know he understands exactly what’s going through your mind. But tonight, you’re willing to let it go.

“You’ll get your answers eventually,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his forehead gently resting against yours. “But for now, just sleep in my arms, without a care in the world.”

You close your eyes, letting the soothing rhythm of his voice and the warmth of his embrace lull you to sleep. His cologne wraps around you, familiar and comforting, pulling you deeper into the calm. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, and before you know it, you’re drifting into a peaceful dream—one where it’s just the two of you lying together in a field of flowers, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by nothing but love and serenity.

note— So, this was the last part of Sharp Edges. It was my first time writing, and i’m honestly very glad and thankful that some people enjoyed it. I’ll continue doing my best, take care<3

do not copy, steal or translate my work! reblogs, likes and feedback highly appreciated!

@itsnotmelo @zozoparsnips @niiines999

[societyfolklore]

Under Brooklyn Stars

Title: Under Brooklyn Stars Pairing: Young!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  On a sweltering summer night in 1936, you and Bucky Barnes find yourselves alone on your shared rooftop escape. What starts as quiet conversation about dreams of leaving Brooklyn turns into something far more intense- something neither of you can hold back anymore.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut, Fluff, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Young/teen love (Both 18+ though), Messy Kisses, Semi Public Sex (roof top)

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for Bucky 108th Bday event Square: B1 – Childhood Friends to Lovers   Card Number: 4B003 The rooftop had always been your special place. You’d all been coming up here for a while now, somewhere private when your family's apartment started to feel too small, and you were getting too old to just ‘wander around.’ Your father didn’t think it was ‘ladylike’ or 'proper' to be sitting out on the stoop with teenage boys, even though you, Steve, and Bucky had all been friends since Mrs. Jackson's class in elementary school. The roof remained your secret escape from the loud siblings, nosey parents, stuffy rooms, and the judging eyes of the Brooklyn borough. It was where you'd grown up in quiet rebellion- where laughter echoed into the night, where secrets were whispered between best friends, and where the lines between childhood and something more had slowly started to blur.

Steve had been with you earlier, but he’d left to walk his mother home from her shift at the hospital, leaving you and Bucky alone.

Tonight, the heat still clung to the buildings, wrapping around you like a heavy embrace. The salty tang of the East River carried on the breeze, mingling with the smoky scent of grilled meat from street vendors and the faint, lingering warmth of sunbaked brick. Bucky lay out on the picnic blanket you’d dragged up here weeks ago, long legs stretched out, his sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone at the collar. The book in his hands- your book- propped open against his chest, well-loved pages fluttering slightly in the warm air.

“You plannin’ some kind of great escape, Doll?” he teased, turning the book toward you to show the scribbled notes in the margins of Around the World in 80 Days.

You shrugged, a little embarrassed as you stepped away from the rooftop’s edge and back toward the blanket as you sat down, smoothing out the fabric of your dress, suddenly self-conscious. “Can’t stay in the boroughs forever.”

He hummed, a soft smile curling at the edges of his lips. “No? And where would you go?”

“Everywhere.” The dream was foolish- impossible, even. But you admired the Irish neighbours who had come searching for something more. If they could do it, why couldn’t you? “Anywhere I don’t know...London, Paris, see the Pyramids, ride the Orient Express, sail on a Junk Boat around the waters of Hong Kong.." 

You felt his eyes on you, the way he’d put the book down and rolled onto his side, fully focused. That was the thing about Bucky- when he listened, he really listened.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head to study him.

“Me?” His brows lifted slightly, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“What would make you happy?”

For a moment, he hesitated, something unreadable passing through his blue eyes before he murmured, “Dunno, sweetheart. Think I’d be happy if I just had you.”

The words hit you like a strike of lightning, stealing the air from your lungs. When had he started looking at you like that? Smiling at you like that? This was Bucky- the same boy who had once handed you his lost tooth so you could get extra pocket money for sweets. The same boy who had splashed you with river water after you’d shoved him in with Steve, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You had grown up together, had spent years tangled in each other’s lives, but this- this wasn’t the same.

Bucky was always charming, always saying sweet things- but this wasn’t just teasing anymore. His voice held something deeper, something raw and unguarded, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your lips parted, but no words came. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with the gentlest touch. The warmth of his fingertips lingered against your skin, making your stomach twist into something hot and desperate.

“Bet nowhere on earth’s prettier than those eyes of yours,” he murmured.

Your breath caught. The city buzzed faintly beneath you, a distant hum of life carrying on, while above, the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds. But none of it mattered- all you could focus on was the man beside you, the way his eyes darkened as he leaned in, closing the space between you. And when Bucky leaned in, closing the space between you, you didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant- like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you melted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved against yours with slow, aching intent.

And then it changed.

Desire tightened in your chest, years of unspoken longing unraveling all at once, too much to contain. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as your mouths collided again, desperate now. You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss as his fingers traced the curve of your spine, dragging you closer. Heat surged between you, and suddenly, the summer air wasn’t the only thing making you feel breathless.

“Bucky,” you whispered, barely a plea, barely a warning.

He groaned, his hands shaking slightly as they slid down your waist, fingertips gripping at the fabric of your dress like he needed something to hold onto. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, open-mouthed kisses against fevered skin. Your heart pounded, body thrumming with a heat that had nothing to do with the summer night.

You pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the low, needy sound that escaped his throat. He pulled you fully onto his lap, the rough fabric of his trousers pressing against your bare thighs. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skimming over your thighs, tracing soft patterns against your skin before his touch became more insistent, more certain. He was hesitant, but not unsure- like he was savouring each new inch of you, learning your body as he went. The contrast of his rough fingers against your soft skin sent a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as he explored, as if committing every touch to memory.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your skin, like he was overwhelmed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. His hands flexed against your hips, fingers digging in like he needed to ground himself.

Your breath hitched as you shifted against him, the pressure between your bodies making your stomach tighten, making you both gasp. A blush burned hot across your cheeks, the intimacy of it all hitting you suddenly- how close you were, how little space was left between you.

His forehead pressed against yours, breath ragged, blue eyes blown wide as he searched your face. “We don’t- ” he started, voice thick, unsure.

“I know,” you interrupted, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, your own breath unsteady. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His lips crashed against yours again, any hesitation melting away as need overtook caution. His hands roamed, his touch firmer now, like he’d accepted what was happening, what you both wanted. You gasped into his mouth as his hands pushed your dress higher, his palms skimming up your thighs, rough fingertips sending sparks through your skin.

“You know,” he muttered between kisses, his lips brushing against your jaw, “I’ve wanted to touch you for so damn long.”

Your breath hitched as he tilted your chin up, his nose grazing yours. “Since when?”

He groaned softly, fingers flexing against your thighs. “Since I saw you kiss Sam Haynsworth in the park.”

You winced at the memory. Unlike Bucky, Sam had practically drooled into your mouth, and the recollection of it made you cringe. “God, don’t remind me.”

Bucky chuckled, but there was something darker, hungrier in the way his hands tightened around your waist. “Was jealous as hell, y’know?” His voice was low, rough. “Wanted to be the one kissin’ you like that… bein’ the one touchin’ you.”

Heat curled low in your belly, his confession sending a fresh wave of want through you. “Bucky…”

“Wanna touch you so bad,” he whispered, his lips tracing a heated path down your throat, his hands sliding higher under your dress, fingertips grazing over the soft cotton of your underwear. A shaky breath escaped you as he rubbed slow, teasing circles, pressing just enough to make your thighs tremble around him.

A soft sound slipped from your lips, something between a sigh and a whimper, and Bucky let out a low, shuddering breath at the movement. His other hand gripped your waist, grounding you against him, against the undeniable hardness beneath his slacks. The heat between you burned hotter, more desperate. You reached down, fingers fumbling against the fabric of his trousers, feeling the solid length of him beneath your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath, forehead pressing against yours as he let out a low, needy curse.

“I’d be so good to you, Doll, if you let me,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint. “You want that, don'cha?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, overwhelmed by how much you did want it, how much you wanted him.

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go,” he promised, his fingers pressing more firmly, sending a shiver through you. His lips brushed yours, teasing, coaxing. “Just tell me you’re my girl.”

Your breath trembled as you met his gaze, the weight of his words pressing into you as much as his touch.

"I'm your girl," you whispered, the confession slipping past your lips before you could second-guess it.

Bucky's breath hitched, and then he was moving, shifting, his hands firm yet careful as he eased you down onto the picnic blanket. The fabric was warm against your back, but all you could focus on was him- his weight pressing into you, the way his breath ghosted over your skin. He hovered for a moment, eyes searching yours, like he was memorizing this, savouring the way you looked beneath him before he finally dipped down, capturing your lips again in a kiss that was all heat and promise. His body flush against yours, the weight of him pressing you into the softness below. His mouth found yours again, hungrier now, lips parting to deepen the kiss as his hands roamed- gripping, teasing, worshipping.

His fingers slipped back beneath your dress again, rubbing slow, deliberate circles through the thin cotton of your underwear, drawing out breathless gasps from you. Your thighs trembled, hips rolling instinctively into his touch, craving more, needing more. Bucky groaned, his forehead pressing to yours as he watched you, his expression dark with want. "Bu-Buck.." Your voice getting stuck in your throat as your mouth went dry. 

“You feel so good,” he rasped, his fingers dipping just a little lower, teasing the edge of the fabric. “Been dreamin’ about this, Doll… ‘bout you.”

Your breath hitched as your hand found him again, palming him through his slacks, feeling how hard he was, how much he needed this- how much he needed you. His hips jerked at the contact, a low curse slipping from his lips as he dropped his head against your shoulder.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered, breath ragged. “You’re gonna a guy doing that.”

But he didn’t stop. Instead, he seized the moment, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down over your thighs and knees. His first brush of his fingers against your bare skin sent a sharp jolt through you, a choked gasp slipping from your lips. He groaned at the sound, his forehead pressing to yours as his fingers explored, stroking through the damp heat he found there.

“Good?” he rasped, voice thick with want. “Been thinking about this, about you, for so damn long, how you'd feel. All the little noises you'd make." 

Your fingers, trembling with urgency, found the button of his slacks, undoing it with clumsy desperation. He sucked in a sharp breath as your hand slipped inside, wrapping around him properly for the first time. The weight, the heat of him in your palm, had you swallowing hard, a thrill rushing through you at the way his whole body tensed beneath your touch.

“Christ Doll..” he groaned, hips jerking instinctively into your grip. “Ya keep doin’ that- ”

You stroked him slowly, revelling in the way his breath hitched, in the way his fingers momentarily faltered against you before resuming their teasing, sinful movements. He was unravelling, just as much as you were, the rooftop heat wrapping around you both, the world narrowing to just him.

Bucky’s fingers curled slightly, pressing into you just right, pulling a sharp moan from your throat. He didn’t stop, pushing deeper, his pace slow but deliberate, drawing out every little sound from you that he could. Your hips lifted to meet him, your thighs trembling as he stretched you open, teasing that spot inside you that made your breath hitch.

His gaze flickered up to meet yours, eyes dark and searching. "You like that, don’tcha?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek. "Feels good?"

You nodded, your breath shuddering. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "So good, Bucky. Please- don’t stop."

He groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his fingers moved faster, sliding in and out with more purpose, more confidence now that he knew just how much you wanted it. "Jesus, Doll," he muttered,. "You’re so tight… squeezing me so damn good." He lowered his head nipping lightly at your neck.

Your whole body tighten at his words, and as you pumped him in return, wrapping your fingers tighter around him, Bucky let out a strangled curse. The combination of your touch, the way your body responded to him- it was too much.

“Fuck,” he gritted, his hips jerking into your hand, his fingers faltering inside you for just a moment before he pulled them away. His lips crashed onto yours, desperate and wild, as he yanked your dress up past your waist, hands shaking with need. "Can’t take it- need you, Doll. Need all of you. Now." 

You whimpered in response, fumbling at his slacks, pushing them down his hips with clumsy urgency, your hands shaking just as much as his. He helped, shoving them down far enough for you to feel the hot, rigid length of him pressing against your thigh. The sensation sent a jolt through you, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Bucky,” you gasped as he settled between your legs, his weight pressing you into the blanket, the sheer need in his expression making your breath stutter.

His breath hitched, pulling back to take in your face. “Tell me you want this,” his eyes pleading, he needed to hear it just once more.

“I want this," you whispered, arching into him, your legs wrapping around his waist. "I want you."

A low, broken moan escaped him, and then he was kissing you again, his hands gripping your hips as he pushed forward, as the last barrier between you was lost.

And then, for a moment, everything stilled.

Your breaths mingled, hot and uneven, filling the space between you as your bodies adjusted to the closeness, the intensity, the overwhelming feeling of it all. His forehead dropped to yours, both of you panting, bodies trembling, hearts racing in sync.

Bucky’s hands flexed against your hips, as if grounding himself, his grip firm but reverent. “Jesus,” he murmured, voice wrecked, his lips ghosting over yours, not quite kissing, just feeling you. "You- You alright, Doll?"

You nodded, chest rising and falling against his, your fingers threading into his hair as you breathed him in. "Yeah," you whispered, your voice shaky but sure. "You?"

This wasn’t your first time, but it might as well have been. Nothing before had ever felt like this- this heat, this intensity, the way every nerve in your body seemed attuned to him, how every shift, every breath, sent sparks through your veins. It was different because it was him- because it was Bucky.

He let out a shuddering breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "I don’t ever wanna forget this," he confessed, the admission raw, vulnerable. "You feel so good."

Your hands smoothed down his back, nails lightly raking over his skin, anchoring yourself to him. "Me neither," you murmured. "I need you to move, Buck. Please."

He groaned at your words, at the way you tightened your legs around him, silently urging him on. And then, slowly, he did, rolling his hips, setting a rhythm that made stars explode behind your eyes, your head falling back with a breathless moan.

Bucky cursed under his breath, burying his face against your neck as he moved, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "God, Doll... you feel so damn good," he murmured, voice thick with emotion, with need. "Been wantin' you like this for so long."

You gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as his body rocked into yours, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. "Me too, Bucky," you whispered, voice shaking. "Feels arh so good... don't stop."

His pace stuttered at your words, a groan breaking from his lips as he kissed you, messy and desperate. His hands slid down your thighs, gripping them tighter as he drove into you, the slow, deep drag of him making your breath catch. The night air wrapped around you both, the rooftop world fading as all you could focus on was him- his weight, his heat, the way he filled you so perfectly. "God! Oh God- Buck."  Your voice getting higher as each stroke sent pleasure up your spine, your body tightening around him. He felt it- felt you trembling beneath him, felt the way your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper. "Yeah Doll- That’s it," he groaned, his voice wrecked. "C'mon, sweetheart. Give it to me."

The tension inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you in a dizzying wave. You cried out, your body clenching around him, and Bucky let out a strangled moan, his hips movements growing erratic. He tried to hold on, to make this last, but feeling you fall apart around him, the way you gasped his name- it undid him completely.

"Fuck- Doll- " His hips jerked, his rhythm breaking as he buried himself deep, his release overtaking him. His breath came in ragged, shuddering gasps as he pressed his forehead to yours, holding you so tightly like he was afraid to let go.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Your breaths mingled, still uneven, both of you trying to steady the whirlwind of sensations still coursing through your bodies. The stars blinked above, the hum of Brooklyn alive in the distance, but here- wrapped up in each other- it was quiet. Just the two of you, bodies tangled, hearts pounding in sync.

Bucky brushed his nose against yours, his lips ghosting over your cheek before pressing the softest kiss to your temple. "You okay?"

You smiled, breathless, brushing a hand through his damp hair. "More than okay. You?"

He let out a low chuckle, kissing you again, slow and lingering. "Never been better, Doll."

The rooftop was quiet, sacred, the summer air wrapping around you both as you lay tangled together, skin still warm, hearts still racing.

Bucky exhaled, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. "Guess we finally got our escape, huh?" He smiled against your skin, voice warm and drowsy, as if the whole world had narrowed down to just this- just you. "Maybe not the one you planned, but still pretty damn perfect."

You hummed, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. "Guess so."

He shifted, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, eyes searching yours. "Still wanna see the world?"

You nodded, a soft smile playing at your lips. "Yeah. But I think I found the most important part already."

Bucky grinned, brushing his lips over yours in the faintest kiss, his voice nothing but a whisper against your skin. "Wherever you go, Doll… I go too."

[aspenmissing]

Can i request arcane headcannons with a reader who faints a lot. Maybe the characters already know she has this problem and it shows how they deal with it or maybe they are just finding out and they panic trying to wake her up.

Can you include au!Claggor too please xxx thank youu ❤️

ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ꜰ��ʀ ʏᴏᴜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 6551 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ, ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴡᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

It was just another day in Piltover, and the bustle of the city carried on around Y/N as she walked alongside Jayce, her hand lightly brushing the cool metal of the nearby walls. Jayce had been explaining the finer points of his latest invention to her, his voice enthusiastic, but she wasn’t quite paying attention. She never really did anymore, not with how often her head would spin.

Y/N had always been prone to fainting. Whether it was the strain of the day’s activities, or sometimes for reasons she couldn’t even explain, she’d find herself losing consciousness without warning. But she’d learned to hide it. A quick rest, a few deep breaths, and she was back on her feet, no one the wiser. It wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable.

Jayce, of course, had no idea. She had kept it hidden, a mere nuisance in her life that she didn’t want to burden anyone with, especially not him. He had enough on his plate already, juggling inventions and his role in the council. So, she kept her quiet little secret, smiling and nodding as they walked.

But today was different.

As Jayce animatedly explained a new energy source he’d been working on, Y/N’s vision blurred. She felt lightheaded, the familiar dizziness creeping up on her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady herself. She could push through this, she told herself, but the feeling only grew worse. Her knees buckled.

Before she knew it, the ground was rushing up to meet her.

Jayce’s voice stopped mid-sentence, and the last thing Y/N felt was his strong hands catching her as she collapsed, her body falling limp against him. Her world went dark.

=

When Y/N came to, the first thing she noticed was the cool air against her skin. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus, and then realized she was lying on the ground, cradled in Jayce’s arms. His face was a mask of concern, his large hands hovering over her as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Y/N?” His voice was shaky, and she could hear the panic beneath it. “Y/N, can you hear me? Please… Please wake up.”

Y/N groaned softly, slowly pushing herself up. Her vision swam as she tried to sit up, but her head was spinning. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself, but she could feel Jayce’s hands supporting her shoulders, his grip gentle but firm.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice tight with worry. “You just... you just fell, and I couldn’t—”

“I’m fine,” Y/N murmured, her voice weak but reassuring. She didn’t want him to panic any more than he already was. “I... I just fainted. It’s nothing.”

Jayce’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. He stared at her, as if trying to process what she had just said.

“You fainted?” He repeated the words as if he couldn’t believe them. “How long has this been happening? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N bit her lip, looking away. She didn’t want to make it a big deal, didn’t want him to think she was fragile or weak. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she whispered. “It’s... it’s just something that happens. I didn’t want to make a fuss.”

Jayce’s expression softened, but there was still a trace of worry etched into his features. He gently cupped her face with his hand, making her look at him. “Y/N, you’re not a burden. You’re not weak. If you’re feeling like this, you need to tell me. I don’t care how small it seems. I’m here for you.”

The sincerity in his eyes made Y/N’s chest tighten. She nodded, her heart fluttering at the care he was showing her. She hadn’t expected that.

“I’ll... I’ll be more careful,” she murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.

Jayce gave a soft, frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “No, I mean it. You’re not going to hide this from me anymore, okay? If you feel faint, you tell me. No excuses.”

Y/N smiled, her face flushing slightly. “Okay, Jayce. I promise.”

Jayce’s expression softened into a small smile, but there was still a lingering concern in his eyes. “Good. Now let’s get you back to my workshop. I think you need a bit of rest, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded, and Jayce helped her up, keeping a careful hand on her back as they walked back towards his lab. She was still a little shaky, but with him by her side, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

=

From that day forward, Jayce kept a watchful eye on her. He never let her walk too far ahead, always making sure she was feeling okay. He would ask her how she was doing in the quiet moments, his voice gentle, not wanting to make her feel like a burden, but also wanting to make sure she was safe.

And Y/N? She learned that it wasn’t weakness to ask for help, especially from someone who truly cared. Jayce had shown her that much, in his own way.

No more secrets. Not with him.

VIKTOR

Viktor’s workshop was always filled with the soft hum of machinery and the occasional buzz of electrical currents. It was his sanctuary, a place where his mind could wander and his inventions could take form. Yet, amidst the steady rhythm of his work, there was a constant presence—Y/N.

You were often there, in the background, moving about with a quiet grace, watching him work or helping when you could. Sometimes, you’d hand him tools or assist in adjusting the flow of energy to one of his creations. But there was one thing Viktor had grown accustomed to: your tendency to faint. It wasn’t that you didn’t try to push through, but something about the energy of his lab seemed to weigh on you. Maybe it was the air, the heat, or simply the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it happened. You fainted, often, and Viktor always knew when it was coming.

It had become a routine, of sorts. The moment you started to sway or your breathing hitched, Viktor’s sharp gaze would flicker to you. His leg brace, though supportive, slowed him down somewhat. But over time he had perfected his response. He kept a cushion near at all times, just under the desk or against a wall. And with that cushion, he was always ready to catch you.

=

This time was no different. You had been standing nearby as Viktor adjusted some of his machinery, your eyes scanning over the intricate designs on his desk. The workshop was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of metal and the soft whirring of devices. You smiled at him occasionally as he worked, your mind a million miles away, lost in thought. But suddenly, a wave of dizziness swept over you, your vision blurring slightly. It wasn’t anything new—just the familiar sensation of the world tilting, your body readying itself for another faint.

Then, it happened. You staggered for just a second, a slight hitch in your breath, before your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the floor.

Viktor was already there, his cane tapping against the floor as he swiftly moved toward you. He caught you effortlessly, his arms steady and practiced as they moved to cradle you. It was as if he had expected it, always anticipating when your body would give out. He eased you gently onto the cushion he’d already placed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t rush—no, he’d done this too many times to be frantic.

With careful precision, Viktor pulled the cushion closer to his workbench, ensuring you were fully supported before draping a soft blanket over your form. His eyes softened as he watched you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His fingers lingered at the touch, as if memorizing the feel of you—always there, always dependable.

His golden eyes never left you, though the sharp edge of his usual focus softened when it came to you. Viktor had long since learned that the moments you were unconscious were not moments for his machines to take precedence. No, he would always wait for you to wake, to return to him, no matter how long it took.

He let his hands rest at his sides for a moment, though his gaze stayed vigilant, monitoring your every breath. The rhythmic sound of the machines seemed to fade into the background as he shifted his attention fully to you, feeling a strange sense of peace in this quiet, shared moment. It was during these times that Viktor felt the weight of his humanity most—when his machines, his inventions, took a backseat, and he was simply… Viktor. The man who cared for you.

And so, Viktor remained by your side, his cane resting nearby, his eyes never straying far from you. The warmth of the blanket seemed to calm him as well, offering him a sense of reassurance that he hadn’t known he needed. He knew you would wake soon—your feints never lasted long—but until then, he would stay with you, quietly watching over you, as he had so many times before.

=

Time passed, and as expected, your eyelids fluttered. The soft stirrings of consciousness returned to you, the world around you gradually coming back into focus. When your eyes finally opened, the first thing you saw was Viktor’s face, his familiar form bending over you. His expression was soft, yet there was a hint of concern that he couldn’t quite mask. His golden eyes seemed brighter, more attentive, as they locked onto yours.

“Again, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and comforting, though there was a faint edge of teasing in his tone. “You really must stop doing this to me.”

You blinked, still slightly disoriented, before you managed a weak smile. The blanket still curled around your body, its warmth bringing a sense of comfort to your frail state. There was something soothing about being near him—his quiet vigilance, the steady presence he gave. Viktor’s care was something you had come to rely on, even if it was a reminder of how often you found yourself on the floor of his workshop.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Viktor let out a quiet sigh, his hand reaching for your face. He brushed the hair from your forehead again, his touch gentle but deliberate. “You need to take better care of yourself,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. There was no anger in his voice—only an unspoken sense of protectiveness. "You push yourself too hard.”

You sighed, your body still weak from the sudden collapse. “I know... I’ll try to take it easy.”

Viktor helped you sit up a little, adjusting the cushion beneath you for support. His eyes never left you, watching you as though his every thought was focused on making sure you were okay. You could feel the weight of his attention, but there was no discomfort in it. In fact, it was oddly comforting, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him at that moment.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice hoarse as you met his gaze.

Viktor smiled faintly, brushing a few more strands of hair behind your ear as his golden eyes softened further. “Always, Y/N,” he said with quiet certainty, the words almost a vow. “Always.”

JAYVIK

Viktor, his cane tapping rhythmically against the cobblestone streets of Piltover, walked with Jayce beside him, deep in conversation. The evening air was cool, and the flickering lamplights cast long shadows down the path they were taking, reflecting the bustle of the city. The towering buildings, once grand symbols of innovation, now seemed to fade into the backdrop of Viktor’s thoughts. His mind was often occupied with ideas and plans, but today, something felt different, something just beyond reach.

Y/N, walking slightly ahead of them, felt the familiar wave of dizziness sweep over her. She had been struggling with her health for a while now, and though she usually kept it hidden, it was becoming harder to manage. It wasn't as though she liked to worry anyone—it was just easier to keep it to herself. But as the symptoms persisted, it was becoming more difficult to ignore. Today was one of those days when everything felt heavier, when every step seemed like an effort. She could feel the weight of the world pressing against her, her heart pounding in her chest. Yet, she didn’t want to admit that she couldn’t handle it.

Her vision blurred as the world around her shifted in and out of focus. She reached out instinctively, her fingers grazing Viktor’s coat, hoping for something to latch onto. His figure, though reassuring in its steady presence, seemed distant now. Before she could steady herself, the darkness overcame her. Her knees buckled completely, and her body went limp.

Jayce, ever the alert one, reacted immediately, but his usual calmness faltered. His strong arm shot out, catching her just in time before she could collapse to the ground. “Y/N?” he called, his voice filled with panic. His breath quickened as he looked down at her limp form, his heart racing. The confidence that usually defined him was replaced by something entirely unfamiliar—anxiety.

He carefully cradled her in his arms, shaking her lightly, hoping for some sign that she was okay. His hand grazed her cheek, but she didn’t respond. She was completely unresponsive, her face unnaturally pale, and her breath shallow.

Viktor, sensing the shift in the air, stopped mid-step. His cane clicked against the cobblestone as he turned, his sharp gaze immediately assessing the situation. He wasn’t surprised by the sight of Y/N unconscious, but the sudden urgency in Jayce’s movements caught his attention. Viktor took a few calm steps toward the pair, his usual composed self in stark contrast to Jayce's nervous energy.

“What happened?” Viktor asked, his voice steady, betraying no sense of panic as his gaze flickered from Jayce to Y/N.

Jayce, clearly flustered, looked up at Viktor, his face drawn tight with worry. “She fainted!” he exclaimed, his words hurried. “She didn’t even warn us she was feeling unwell… She—she didn’t wake up when I shook her, Viktor!”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed as he observed the situation with precision. He noted Y/N’s shallow breathing, her cold skin, the absence of any movement. “Calm down, Jayce,” he said, his voice low but firm. “She’s unconscious, not dead. We need to take her somewhere safe, immediately.”

Jayce's chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, his panic not yet abated. “I know, I know! But I don’t—she’s burning up. What if—”

“Jayce,” Viktor interjected, cutting through the rising panic in his friend’s voice. “We need to move her. She’ll be fine. We need to get her to her apartment, get her lying down, and keep her comfortable. There’s no need for further panic.”

Jayce swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his hold on Y/N. He was still worried, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios, but Viktor’s calm voice seemed to anchor him, if only a little. “I just—she never told us about this. Why didn’t she say something?”

Viktor’s gaze softened as he watched Jayce, understanding his concern, but his expression remained measured. “She didn’t want to worry us,” Viktor said quietly. “It’s not the first time this has happened, I suspect. She’s been hiding it from us for some time.”

Jayce’s frustration was evident in his tight jaw and the way his brow furrowed. “I should’ve noticed sooner,” he muttered, more to himself than to Viktor. “She never should have felt like she had to hide it.”

Viktor placed a steadying hand on Jayce’s shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for something she chose to keep hidden. What matters now is that we get her the help she needs.”

With a deep breath, Jayce nodded, trying to push aside his panic. He carefully scooped Y/N into his arms, holding her close. Despite his unease, there was a tenderness in the way he carried her—an urgency to get her somewhere safe, but also a softness in his touch.

Viktor moved forward, his pace calm and deliberate. “We’ll get her home,” he said, his voice steady, “and we’ll figure this out. Just focus on getting her comfortable, Jayce.”

Jayce nodded, grateful for Viktor’s level-headedness. As they walked through the streets of Piltover, neither of them spoke much. Viktor remained the calm, guiding presence, while Jayce, though quieter now, couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him.

=

They finally arrived at Y/N’s apartment, and Jayce was careful not to jostle her too much as he laid her down on the couch. Viktor moved with purpose, grabbing a damp cloth to lay across Y/N’s forehead, while Jayce hovered near her, keeping a watchful eye.

As they worked to make her comfortable, the weight of the situation slowly began to settle in. Viktor, though outwardly calm, was already thinking through every possibility for her recovery. Jayce, still on edge, could only focus on making sure she woke up.

Even as the minutes ticked by, Jayce’s mind continued to race, but Viktor’s steady presence—his calm assurance that everything would be alright—slowly began to quell the panic that had taken root in his chest. It was, perhaps, a reminder that not everything needed to be fixed immediately. Sometimes, the most important thing was simply being there.

=

When Y/N finally began to stir, she felt warmth and comfort, but her surroundings felt unfamiliar. The soft fabric beneath her suggested she wasn’t outside anymore. Her eyes fluttered open to find herself in her apartment. The air smelled faintly of lavender and freshly brewed tea. Her head felt heavy, and a faint headache pulsed behind her eyes.

She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. Her gaze fell first to the wet towel placed gently on her forehead, the cool fabric soothing her burning skin. The memory of what happened—fainting, the dizziness—flashed in fragments through her mind, but it was hard to piece it all together.

When she tried to sit up, a gentle hand stopped her. Jayce’s voice, low and comforting, cut through the haze. “Don’t sit up too quickly,” he warned. “You passed out. We brought you back here to rest.”

Y/N turned her head to find Jayce sitting beside her on the couch, his expression a mix of relief and lingering concern. Viktor stood by the window, watching over them with his usual stoic demeanour, but even he couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“Jayce?” Y/N’s voice was raspy, barely a whisper, and she winced as she tried to speak louder. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Jayce explained softly, his thumb brushing over her hand. “You didn’t tell us you were feeling unwell, and then you collapsed. We rushed you back here to rest.”

Viktor, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he walked over to join them, studied her closely. “This has been happening for some time, hasn’t it, Y/N?” he asked, his voice gentle yet firm. “You can’t keep hiding it from us.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered between the two men. She wanted to apologize, to explain, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. She hadn’t meant for them to see, for them to worry about her. But as she looked at them now—standing side by side, their faces showing both concern and a silent promise to help—she realized that she didn’t have to carry this alone anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t want to worry you both.”

Jayce gave her a reassuring smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t apologize. We’re here for you, Y/N. You’re not alone in this.”

Viktor nodded in agreement, his gaze steady but warm. “We’ll find a solution, Y/N. You’re safe now. We’ll make sure this doesn’t go unnoticed again.”

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their words settle in her heart. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face the darkness alone.

VANDER

The kids were bustling around the small apartment above the Last Drop, the usual mix of laughter, bickering, and the occasional loud noise filling the space. Vi was practicing some moves in the corner, her fists quick and sharp, while Powder was busy playing with her assortment of trinkets, trying to build something from scrap metal. Mylo was sprawled out on the couch, half-heartedly watching the others, while Claggor sat by the window, lost in thought.

Y/N was in the kitchen, making dinner for the kids. She was focused on the task at hand, chopping vegetables and stirring pots with practiced ease. She had grown accustomed to the chaos in the apartment, even if it often made her head spin. She tried to ignore the faint dizziness she had been feeling all day, pushing through it for the sake of the kids and Vander. But today, her body wasn’t cooperating.

A sudden wave of lightheadedness hit her, and her legs buckled beneath her. She reached out for the counter to steady herself, but the world was spinning too quickly. Before she could even react, she collapsed, knocking several pans off the stove in a loud crash. The clattering noise was enough to get the attention of the kids, who immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed toward the kitchen.

"Y/N?" Vi called out, her voice filled with concern as she quickly ran to the kitchen. Claggor was right behind her, his face etched with worry.

"Y/N!" Mylo shouted, but his voice held a strange mix of worry and confusion as he stood frozen in place, staring at the woman who had always been strong and composed.

Powder, who had been quietly playing with a little stuffed animal, dropped it and sprinted into the kitchen. Her wide eyes filled with panic. “Y/N?!” she cried, her voice trembling as she crouched beside the unconscious woman.

Y/N’s face was pale, her body limp, and the sound of her breath was faint. The kids gathered around her, unsure of what to do. Claggor immediately dropped to his knees, gently lifting Y/N’s head to check for any sign of life.

“She’s breathing,” Claggor muttered, though his voice was shaky. He looked at Vi, panic in his eyes. “What do we do?”

Vi crouched down beside him, her usual tough exterior replaced with genuine worry. “She’s fine, right? She’s just… fainted?” She swallowed hard, glancing over at Powder, who had tears in her eyes, her lip quivering in fear.

“Is she going to be alright?” Powder whispered, clutching her stuffed animal tightly. “I don’t like seeing her like this.”

Vi gently placed a hand on Powder’s shoulder, trying to offer reassurance, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it herself.

Just then, Claggor glanced up, his face going pale. “We need to get Vander. Now.”

Vi nodded, her expression serious. “I’ll go.”

=

While Claggor stayed by Y/N’s side, trying to keep her comfortable, Vi rushed down the stairs toward the bar. She burst through the door, her eyes scanning the room for Vander, who was talking with a couple of customers. When he noticed her sudden appearance, his face went hard with concern.

“What happened?” Vander asked, his voice low but full of urgency.

“It’s Y/N,” Vi said quickly, her breath coming in short bursts. “She fainted. It’s bad, Vander. We need you.”

Vander’s face darkened. Without another word, he turned and followed Vi back up the stairs, his worry increasing with every step. By the time they reached the apartment, the kids were standing around Y/N, who still hadn’t regained consciousness.

Vander rushed to her side, kneeling next to Claggor. He gently lifted Y/N’s head, brushing the hair from her face with tenderness. His brow furrowed as he checked her pulse, his hand steady despite the rising panic in his chest.

“She just fainted,” Vander muttered, his voice calming but firm as he glanced up at the kids. He didn’t want to alarm them, but they could see the concern in his eyes. “It happens sometimes. She just gets weak. It’ll pass.”

Claggor’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Is this… normal?”

Vander sighed, his gaze softening as he stroked Y/N’s hair. “It happens. She doesn’t like to talk about it, but it’s been going on for a while. Sometimes her body just gives out. It’s nothing to be scared of, but we need to make sure she rests.”

“But… why doesn’t she tell us?” Mylo asked quietly, his usual playful attitude gone. His face was full of concern, and his voice trembled slightly.

Vander glanced at the kids, his expression softening. “She doesn’t want to worry you all. She’s tough, but sometimes her body can’t keep up with her. You’re all important to her, and she doesn’t want you to see her like this.”

Powder sniffled, wiping her tears away. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I know, kiddo,” Vander said, his voice gentle as he stood up. He turned to Vi, Claggor, and Mylo, giving them a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Y/N’s going to be okay. Just make sure she stays calm. We’ll help her through this, just like we always do.”

Claggor nodded, the concern still evident on his face, but a hint of relief started to seep in as Vander spoke. Vi moved to stand beside Vander, her arms crossed, but her stance relaxed. She wasn’t sure how to help, but she knew one thing for certain: they were a family, and they would take care of Y/N.

=

As Vander gently helped Y/N sit up, her eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, a soft groan escaping her lips. “Did I… did I faint again?” she asked, her voice weak but laced with embarrassment.

Vander smiled down at her, brushing her hair back. “You did, but it’s okay. We’ve got you. Just rest now.”

The kids watched, some of them still a little nervous, but they were relieved to see Y/N was slowly coming back to herself. Even Mylo, who was always quick to crack a joke, didn’t say a word. He just stood quietly, taking in the moment.

“Let us help, Y/N,” Vi said softly, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Vi.”

The kids didn’t hesitate to offer their help. Claggor began cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, and Mylo handed Y/N a glass of water. Powder, still holding her stuffed animal, climbed into a chair next to her and held her hand.

Vander remained close, standing guard, as he always did. They were a family, bound together not just by blood, but by the quiet moments of care and understanding.

And as the night continued, Vander made sure to keep a closer eye on Y/N, but there was no need to worry. The kids were there for her now, just as she had always been there for them. Family meant taking care of each other, through the good and the bad. And they would always be there for Y/N—no matter what.

SILCO

Silco sat at his desk, his eyes scanning the documents laid out in front of him, the weight of his thoughts and the city ever-present in the back of his mind. The sounds of the bustling underground seemed distant as he focused on the task at hand. There was something soothing about the quiet of his office, the dim light casting long shadows against the stone walls. The space, cold and imposing to most, felt like a sanctuary for him—if only for brief moments.

The sudden sound of a faint thud broke the silence, a soft but distinct noise that caused Silco to look up, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. His eyes narrowed slightly as he listened for any other sounds, but there was only silence in the air—heavy and still.

And then he saw her.

Y/N lay crumpled on the floor, her body slack and lifeless as though the weight of the world had suddenly become too much for her. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the only indicator that she was still alive, but the rest of her was a lifeless heap of pale limbs. She had fainted again.

Silco let out a deep, tired sigh, his lips pulling into a frown. This wasn’t the first time. No, not by far. He’d lost count of the number of times she’d collapsed like this, her condition causing her to faint when she pushed herself too hard. He knew the cause well—some fragile weakness in her system, a condition she had never fully explained, only that it was something she had learned to live with. But he didn’t need to know the details. What mattered was that she never seemed to heed his warnings. No matter how many times he told her to rest, to take it easy, she continued to push herself too far.

His frustration flared momentarily, but it was immediately tempered by a deep, almost protective concern. He had always admired her determination, her fire, her unyielding will to keep moving forward, no matter the toll it took on her body. But with that came the inevitable consequences—the times when she would push beyond her limits and fall prey to her body’s refusal to cooperate.

Silco stood up from his desk with a quiet, measured movement, his boots clicking lightly against the stone floor. His gaze softened as he approached her. He crouched down next to Y/N, his eyes tracing her features for any sign of distress, his hand reaching out to brush a few strands of hair from her forehead. His fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, a brief touch that he would never allow anyone to notice.

"Y/N," he muttered in a voice thick with both exhaustion and tenderness. "How many times do I have to tell you to slow down?"

He knew she would never listen. She never did. But it didn’t stop him from wishing, just for a second, that she would take care of herself the way he did.

He gently slid his arms under her, cradling her against him. She was lighter than he expected, as though her body had given up on fighting, leaving her fragile and small in his arms. His jacket, a dark, tailored piece of clothing, draped over her shoulders like a blanket, offering her some small comfort as he carried her across the room.

Laying her down on the couch, he adjusted the jacket so that it covered her completely, his fingers smoothing the fabric down. He gazed at her for a moment, watching the faint rise and fall of her chest, the only sign that she was still with him. His expression softened, a rare flicker of something tender crossing his features.

Silco wasn’t someone who allowed much softness in his life. In fact, most of the time, he preferred to keep his emotions tightly controlled, hidden beneath layers of authority and calculation. But with Y/N, it was different. With her, it was as if a small piece of his heart—long buried under the weight of ambition and rage—had somehow found a place to rest.

He lingered for just a moment, brushing a hand over her forehead, a soft sigh escaping him. The condition was one of the few things he couldn’t control. He could command armies, manipulate those around him, and even bend the very city to his will. But Y/N’s body? That was something beyond his reach. And for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate, it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

=

After a moment, he straightened and returned to his desk, the familiar weight of responsibility tugging at him. The paperwork awaited, as did the demands of his position. But even as he picked up the nearest document, his thoughts were constantly on her. Every so often, his gaze drifted toward the couch, ensuring that she remained resting, that she was still safe.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she even knew how much she mattered to him. How often he found himself watching her from the corner of his eye, how often his thoughts wandered back to her, to her well-being, to the quiet moments when he let his guard down, even just a little. But he would never say such things aloud. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake, too much riding on the image he had carefully crafted.

Still, the quiet, rhythmic sound of her breathing in the corner of his office was all the reassurance he needed. For a moment, just a brief moment, Silco allowed himself the luxury of caring about nothing else but her.

And in the stillness of the room, as the hours passed and the papers piled higher, he made a silent promise to himself: He would always be there, in the shadows, watching over her—whether she liked it or not.

CLAGGOR (AU)

Claggor had always been protective of Y/N, though he wasn’t always the most observant. His heart raced whenever she smiled, the way she looked at him with those bright eyes making everything seem a little less chaotic. They spent countless hours together, often in the quieter corners of Piltover, away from the hustle and bustle of their daily lives. There, it was just the two of them, and everything felt perfect.

Y/N, on the other hand, always tried to keep her little secret hidden from Claggor. She had a tendency to faint—sometimes when she was overwhelmed, sometimes when she stood up too quickly, and other times, it just seemed to happen for no reason at all. She’d always felt embarrassed by it, and Claggor was the last person she wanted to worry.

Today was no different. She had been feeling a little lightheaded, but she brushed it off. Claggor had been telling her all about some new invention he'd stumbled upon, his voice a soothing, melodic hum as he gestured excitedly. His passion was always contagious, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. She knew he cared for her, and it made her heart flutter in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

But then, as he got closer to her, she suddenly felt the room spin. It had been happening a lot more frequently lately. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the dizziness would pass, but it didn’t. She was fighting to stay conscious when Claggor, noticing her sudden stillness and the subtle paleness to her face, looked up from his rambling. His brow furrowed in concern.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, full of worry. “Are you okay?”

Y/N tried to smile, but everything around her felt so far away. She reached out to steady herself on the nearby table, but it was too late. The world tilted once more, and her vision blurred. Then, just as she tried to speak, her knees gave out beneath her.

Claggor's eyes widened in panic as she crumpled to the floor. His body moved on instinct, rushing to her side. His hands, though slightly trembling, carefully cradled her in his arms. His usually calm demeanor faltered, but his mind was quick, piecing everything together in an instant.

“Y/N!” His voice was a mix of panic and urgency. “Please, stay with me.” His fingers pressed gently to her pulse, feeling the faint thrum beneath his fingertips. He’d seen this before in others—weakness, dizziness. He'd just never expected it to happen to her.

He tilted her head back slightly, eyes scanning her face. His mind raced as he remembered snippets from the many medical journals he'd read over the years. This wasn’t an emergency—he knew that much—but it was still serious.

"Y/N?" he repeated softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Can you hear me?"

Y/N's eyelids fluttered open slowly, the world returning in hazy flashes. For a moment, everything felt like a blur, but then she heard his voice, full of concern. She blinked, trying to focus, and slowly realized what had happened.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t want you to see…”

Claggor's face softened, but his gaze was intense. He could feel the heat rising from her skin, and he quickly checked her temperature, gently placing his hand on her forehead. “You’re fine,” he murmured, though his voice was laced with relief. “You’re just faint. I’ve got you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she began to sit up, but Claggor gently guided her back down, keeping his hand on her shoulder. His presence was steady, reassuring. He wasn’t frantic, and that calmed her more than anything.

“You should’ve told me, Y/N,” he said quietly, his fingers running through her hair as he adjusted her position to make her more comfortable. “I’m not going to let this happen again without knowing what's going on.”

Y/N bit her lip, the dizziness still lingering, though she was trying to brush it off. “It’s… It’s nothing, really,” she whispered. “I don’t want to burden you with it…”

Claggor shook his head firmly, his expression softening into something that resembled both understanding and frustration. “It’s not a burden, Y/N. You’re not a burden. If this happens often, you should tell me. I care about you, and I want to take care of you. We can figure out what’s going on, together.”

Y/N met his gaze, her chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over her. She felt guilty for not being open with him earlier, but in the end, his calm and rational presence made her feel safe.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice small, barely audible. “I didn’t want you to worry about me…”

Claggor’s hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks with an expression that showed no hint of frustration, only softness. “Y/N,” he murmured gently, his forehead resting against hers. “You never need to apologize to me for being yourself. Just… let me help. Let me be there for you, okay?”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, her heart swelling with a quiet relief. She wasn’t alone in this, and she realized how much that meant. “I promise I’ll tell you next time,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Claggor smiled, his eyes softening as he pulled her close, pressing his chest against hers. “I’m always here, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, filled with conviction. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat there for a moment in silence, Claggor holding her close, carefully monitoring her breathing and temperature, all while offering her a steady presence. He wasn’t going to let her go through this alone again. Not ever.

And in that moment, Y/N realized that, no matter what happened, Claggor would always be there for her—steady, calm, and unwavering.

[usomads]

Slow Burn // Jimmy Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hiiiii :) had this sitting in drafts so I decided to finish it… and I’m– 🤤. Will be working on more stuff in the coming days, so stay tuned! Also, my lovely friend @zyvngi made this clip and I just… yeah there was no way I wasn’t using it lol. As always, happy reading y’all!

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Fluff (if you squint), Cursing, Drug Use (Weed), P in V, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 4.4k

You enter Jon’s house as you always did, swinging the door open without knocking and waltzing right inside– your body collapsing on his living room couch. Media had kicked your ass today, more than usual, and you were definitely feeling the effects of it. Jon happened to have a day off today, one that was hard to come by, especially with the work you two did at WWE– him being a talent and you a producer. That’s how the two of you met 4 years ago, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

“Well, good afternoon to you too, princess.” Jon teases, as you shoot daggers at him. 

“I don’t know how much more I can fuckin’ take. Paul’s driving me crazy, the work is endless, and absolutely nobody seems to appreciate how much work I’m putting into this to make shit happen every show. I’m about to fuckin’ lose it.” You groan, flopping down onto the couch and rubbing your eyes.

Jon leans against the island countertop, grinning, clearly amused by your frustration. “Sounds like you’ve had a day… wanna vent or just keep it low-key?”

You sigh dramatically, sitting up on the couch. “No, no, I should probably let it all out. I swear, I’ve been busting my ass, and every time I think I’m ahead, something else gets thrown on me. And everyone thinks I’m this superhero that can just fuckin’ fix it,” you pause, rubbing your temples. “I just want a break, but I feel like there’s no time to take one.”

He nods sympathetically, then walks over to the end table and pulls something from the drawer. “You really need to take a break though, you keep goin’ like that, you’re gonna burn yourself out.”

You laugh bitterly, half-glancing at him. “I know, I know. It’s like I don't even know how to take a break anymore. It’s always work, work, and more work.”

Jon takes out a joint from his pocket and lights it casually, raising an eyebrow at you. “You want some help with that?”

He takes a slow drag, exhaling slowly as you stare at him– shocked.

“You… smoke?”

He laughs, shrugging nonchalantly as he continues to puff on the joint. “Yeah, ‘s not somethin’ I bring up, but yeah, sometimes it helps me unwind. And you look like you could use a lil’ somethin’ to take the edge off.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “I just… I never thought you’d be the type to do… that.”

“What, smoke?” he chuckles. “Well, you never really asked. Trust me though, a little bit won’t hurt. It’s just us, Y/N. No work, no stress…” he grins, taking another drag then passing it to you.

You’re hesitant, but also curious. You take the joint from him, your voice getting soft.

“I don’t know… I’ve never done… this before.”

Jon smirks at you, sitting down and leaning back on the couch as he grabs another joint– one for himself. “First time for everything, right? No pressure, ma. Just take it slow.”

Nervously, you take a drag, coughing slightly. “Oh my god…” 

He laughs softly, leaning closer to you and offering you a reassuring smile. “Yeah, it can be a bit much at first. Just breathe through it, you’ll get used to it.”

You exhale, giggling nervously and shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I’m definitely not used to it. But… this actually feels kinda nice.” 

You’re growing more confident by the second, taking another drag. Jon watches you intently, a gentle smile on his face.

“That’s it, you’re doin’ great, ma. You deserve to feel nice, just let go of all that stress, you know?” he soothes you, his voice dropping lower than usual. 

As the night goes on, you both start to relax, the conversation flowing more freely. The effects of the joint take hold, and the atmosphere shifts in a way that has allowed the two of you to open up in a way you hadn’t before. You lean back against the couch, your eyes a little heavier but more relaxed. 

“You know, I never realized how much I needed this… to chill. I feel like I’m always runnin’ around, doin’ everything for everyone, and never doin’ anything for myself.”

Jon nods, a softer tone to his voice as he responds to you, looking at you intently. “I get it. You’re always taking care of other people, but you forget about you. You deserve to slow down. You gotta take care of yourself, too. Not everything’s on you.”

You turn to look at him, the weight of his words hitting you deep within your chest. “I don’t know why I feel like I have to do everything. It’s like if I stop, everything’s gonna fall apart.”

He softens, his expression growing more serious. “You don’t have to be everything to everyone, you’re enough just as you are. But I get it, you don’t want to disappoint people.”

A moment of quiet rushes in between them as the room feels more intimate, the casual chatter fading into something more profound. The connection between you feels intense, a shared vulnerability settling in. 

You look down, almost embarrassed, as you speak softly. “Maybe I don’t know how to stop being so… perfect. Like, I always have to keep everything together. I don’t know how to let someone help me.”

Jon reaches over and tilts your chin to face him, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to always be perfect, Y/N. With me, you can just be you, no pressure.”

The mood shifts. Your eyes lock, and there’s an undeniable charge between you, something unspoken but deeply felt. The air is thick with tension as you unconsciously move closer together. Before you can even process it, Jon leans in and kisses you, slow and unexpected. It’s not rushed, but full of emotion, a silent acknowledgement of everything you’ve both been feeling. The kiss deepens naturally, your mutual desire growing, and in that moment, the world outside fades. Reality hits you after a moment and you pull back slightly, eyes wide in shock as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Wha–?”

He pulls back quickly, his own eyes growing wide, clearly panicked. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to– I just– I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have–”

He stands up, pacing slightly, his hand running through his hair. After a beat you stand as well, still in shock as you move towards him and gently place your hand on his arm. 

“Jon…” 

He turns to you, his eyes pinged in fear and nervousness as he looks at you. You step closer, looking at him with a soft but intense gaze. Before he can utter another word, you reach up, gently pulling him back down to you, kissing him again– this time with more certainty, as if you had wanted it too. You pull away slightly, breathing a little heavier as his eyes search yours, his expression mixed with relief and surprise– then, a smile starts to form on his face. 

Jon leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours as that signature smirk of his plays on his lips. “Damn, Y/N… You got me over here thinking I messed up, and then you go and kiss me like that?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something deeper laced within it—something raw, something real.

You exhale a soft laugh, still feeling the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. “Maybe I just wanted to shut you up,” you tease, running a hand through his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Jon’s grin widens, his hands still resting on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Oh, word? That’s how you feel?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, Y/N. I think you’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You raise a brow, playing along. “And if I have?”

His gaze darkens, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “Then I’d say we got a whole lot of catching up to do.”

Before you can respond, he reaches over to grab the joint resting in the ashtray nearby, taking a slow drag before bringing it to your lips. “Here,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something dangerously smooth. “Relax a little. We got all night.”

You hold his gaze as you take a hit, the smoke curling between you as he watches you, his eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. The tension between you thickens, wrapping around you both like a slow burn.

Jon leans back slightly, exhaling, his lips curving into a lazy smile. “You always look this good when you’re high, or is it just ‘cause you’re sittin’ here with me?”

You smirk, handing the joint back to him, your fingers deliberately brushing against his. “I don’t know, Uce… Maybe it’s just you.”

His laughter is deep, rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “See, now you just gassin’ me up,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he studies you. “But I ain’t mad at it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you watch him. “You like the attention, huh?”

Jon leans in again, this time close enough that his nose nearly brushes yours, his voice nothing but a husky whisper. “I like it when it’s from you.”

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of music in the background and the sound of your own breathing. The world outside doesn’t matter—right now, it’s just you and him, the air thick with smoke and something even more intoxicating.

“Say the word, Y/N,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing up your arm, slow, deliberate. “Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze, your pulse pounding in your ears. Then, with a small smirk, you whisper, “What took you so long to figure that out?”

Jon grins, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, the kiss deeper, more urgent, as if he’s making up for lost time. He groans softly against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you flush against him. The warmth of his body, the lingering haze of smoke in the air, and the way his fingers tease at the small of your back all send a slow-burning heat through you.

“You tryna drive me crazy, huh?” he mumbles between kisses, his voice husky, dripping with amusement and something deeper.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly to the side as you let your fingers trail up his chest. “I think I already have.”

Jon exhales a slow laugh, shaking his head before taking another hit of the joint, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Oh, you definitely have,” he murmurs, exhaling the smoke lazily before slipping a hand up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin back slightly. “But I ain’t mad at it, baby.”

Your breath catches as his thumb traces along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine. You hold his gaze, letting your lips part slightly, teasing him just enough before you take the joint from his fingers and bring it to your lips. His eyes darken as he watches you, his expression shifting into something unreadable but entirely consuming.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” you murmur after a slow exhale, the smoke curling between you both, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me.”

Jon chuckles, shaking his head as he licks his lips. “Oh, I been wantin’ yo’ fine ass,” he admits, his voice dropping lower, thick with something almost possessive. “Just been waitin’ for you to catch up.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, at the weight behind them, at the way his fingers are still tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the pull between you both magnetic, undeniable.

“And what happens now that I have?” you ask, arching a brow, challenging him, teasing him.

Jon grins, slow and knowing, his hands sliding down to your hips before he pulls you onto his lap, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now? Now I finally get to show you how bad.”

His words send a spark of electricity through you, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way his breath hitches, the way his grip on you tightens.

“Damn,” he chuckles, his nose brushing against your cheek as he tilts your head, lips ghosting over yours but not quite touching. “You really been holdin’ out on me, huh?”

You smirk, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “Maybe I just wanted you to work for it.”

Jon lets out a deep, satisfied hum, his lips finally capturing yours again, this time with even more urgency, more fire. His hands roam your body, fingertips grazing exposed skin, setting every nerve ablaze.

“Mm,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “I don’t mind puttin’ in the work, baby. Not if it means I get to keep you right here.”

Jon’s grip tightens on your hips as he tilts his head back slightly, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and hunger. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his hands, the faint burn of the smoke in your lungs, and the deep pull of his gaze make your head spin in the best way possible.

“You really got me like this, huh?” he murmurs, his voice husky, rough around the edges. He smirks, exhaling a slow breath as his fingers press just a little harder into your waist. “Sittin’ on my lap, lookin’ at me like you already know what you doin’ to me.”

You bite your lip, dragging your nails gently down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Maybe I do,” you tease, tilting your head slightly, watching his expression shift. “And maybe I like it.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as his hands slide up your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Oh, I know you do,” he says, his lips ghosting over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “You playin’ it all sweet, but you been wantin’ this. I can feel it.”

Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Maybe he is. The heat between you is thick, the air electric with the weight of everything left unsaid. But right now? You don’t need words.

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against yours, teasing you, making you chase the kiss. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, smirking as he pulls back just a little, enough to make you whine softly. “You really gonna make me work for it?”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully as you drag your fingers up the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips barely touching his. “I thought you liked putting in the work?”

Jon groans, shaking his head with a laugh before finally closing the distance, kissing you with a deep, slow intensity that sends heat pooling in your stomach. His hands explore, memorizing every curve, every dip of your body like he’s wanted to do this for far too long.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You taste too damn good, Y/N.”

Your heart pounds as you smirk, brushing your nose against his. “Must be all that smoke.”

He grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles at your waist. “Nah… it’s just you, baby.”

The way he says it, low and smooth, makes something flutter deep in your chest. You were just playing before, flirting for the fun of it, but now? Now, you can feel it. This is more than just a moment.

Jon studies you for a second, his gaze softer now, a little more serious. “What you want, Y/N?” His voice is still deep, still teasing, but there’s something genuine underneath it. Like he’s really asking.

You hold his gaze, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “You.”

He grins, slow and satisfied, like he just won a game he was always meant to win. “Then come here, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “Let me give you what you been waiting for.”

Jon’s lips move against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger, like he’s savoring every second. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady on his lap as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your head spin. 

His hands wander, sliding up your back, tracing along the curve of your spine. His touch is firm, possessive, but there’s a tenderness beneath it too—like he’s memorizing you, committing this moment to memory. When he pulls back, just slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath is heavy, his eyes dark with something deeper than just desire.

His lips find yours again, this time slower, deeper, his fingers gripping you tighter like he’s afraid to let go. And you melt into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, letting yourself feel everything.

He leans back slightly, his dark eyes drinking you in, his expression smug but soft at the same time. “So you admit it,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip. “You been wantin’ me too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe,” you tease, dragging your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “What? You need me to spell it out for you?”

Jon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, baby. I just like hearin’ you say it.” His grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you even closer, making you feel just how much he’s enjoying this moment. “Say it again.”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush against your jaw, his voice like honey and smoke, smooth and intoxicating. “Say what?” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your pulse racing.

His grin grows against your skin as he places a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your neck, his tongue just barely teasing you. “That you want me.”

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, gripping them just enough to make him hum in satisfaction. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression smug. “Oh, hell yeah.” He licks his lips, his gaze dark and hungry. “But I’d enjoy it even more if you quit playin’ and told me what I already know.”

You take a deep breath, your body fully pressed against his, the heat between you undeniable. “Fine,” you murmur, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, playing with the curls at the base of his skull. “I want you, Jon.”

The second the words leave your lips, his grip tightens, his hands sliding down to your thighs before flipping you onto the couch, pinning you beneath him. You let out a surprised gasp, but it quickly turns into a soft moan as his lips crash against yours again, this time more urgent, more possessive.

“You have no idea how long I been waitin’ to hear that,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing from your mouth down to your neck, his hands roaming every inch of you.

Your head tilts back against the cushions as you breathe out, your heart pounding. “Then why the hell did you wait so long?”

Jon lets out a low laugh, his breath hot against your skin. “’Cause you play too damn much,” he teases, nipping at your collarbone. “Had to let you catch up.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his hair just enough to make him groan. “And now?”

Jon lifts his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. He smirks, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in so close you can feel every word as he whispers, “Now, I ain’t holdin’ back no more.”

Jon’s kiss is slow, deep, and consuming, like he’s savoring every second of finally having you in his arms. His body presses against yours, his warmth sinking into you, making it impossible to focus on anything but the way he feels—solid, strong, right. His hands explore, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before gripping you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something deeper than just desire. Possession. Affection. Something real. His thumb strokes your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the heat burning between you two.

“You sure you ready for this, baby?” he murmurs, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your lips.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, but there’s no more hesitation. The tension, the teasing– it was always leading to this. To him.

You nod, looking into his eyes with a level of certainty that surprises even you. “I’m sure,” you say, your voice soft but filled with passion. “I want this. I want you. Now.”

He groans against your lips, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants, undoing them with a practiced ease. Every touch sends a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. You tug at his sweats in return, eager to get him closer, to feel all of him, and when the last barrier is gone, the world outside completely fades away. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him, feel all of him, as he enters you. Moans fall from your lips as your walls adjust to his length, entirely consuming you as he slides in deeper. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, and it leaves you breathless as you both adjust to the fit.

You move together, the rhythm natural, fluid, as though you’ve been doing this forever. His groans match your own, every snap of his hips intensifying the connection between you. The way he touches you, the way he kisses you, it’s all so much more than physical. It’s about something deeper, something you both have been unknowingly craving for so long. There’s tenderness in every touch, urgency in every kiss, and beneath it all, there’s that deep, undeniable love that’s starting to take shape.

“God, Y/N,” Jon groans against your skin, his voice strained, as if it’s taking everything in him to keep control. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect.” He presses you closer, if that’s even possible, and you can feel him, feel every inch of his body hard against yours, as if he can’t get close enough. Each touch, each kiss, feels like an explosion of raw, unfiltered emotion, and as you move together, there’s an undeniable sense of belonging that wraps around you both like a cloak. His hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body, pulling you closer to him with every breath, every movement.

Your lips are caught in a feverish kiss, hungry yet tender, each one of his caresses sending waves of electricity through your body. His lips leave your mouth only to graze your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, making you tremble beneath his touch. There’s something about the way he kisses you, something intimate and all-consuming, that makes you feel like he’s not just touching your skin—he’s touching your soul.

"You feel so damn good," Jon murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slide down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he's completely consumed by this moment, this connection. His lips find the soft curve of your neck again, pressing kisses there that make you tremble, and you can’t help but moan softly.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, your voice shaky, your body vibrating with need. Every inch of you is on fire, every nerve alive with the sensations he's stirring within you. You want him, need him, and there's no turning back now.

He looks at you then, his eyes dark and filled with raw emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” he breathes, his lips hovering near yours. “You’re mine. I’m all in. Always have been.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his words, at the vulnerability he’s showing you. The intensity of what’s between you both only deepens, and you can feel the truth of it, settling between you like a promise.

"I’m all in too, Jon," you breathe, your voice steady now, filled with the certainty of everything you've been feeling. "Always have been."

His lips meet yours once again, and this kiss is different. It's softer, more intimate, filled with everything you’ve both been hiding—desire, love, longing. Every part of you is connected to him now, body and soul. You move together, slow and steady, savoring every touch, every kiss, like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

You can feel him, feel the depth of his affection, his love for you, and you respond with the same intensity, giving everything you have to him. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the two of you, here, in this moment, and nothing could ever compare to the way he makes you feel.

“Fuck, Jon…” you moan, your head falling back. “I’m–”

“I know, baby,” he groans in the crook of your neck, “I know.”

And as you move together, your bodies becoming one, there’s a sense of completeness, a feeling that you’ve found exactly where you belong. And when you finally reach the peak of that all-consuming desire, it’s more than just physical pleasure. It’s an emotional release, a release of everything you’ve been holding back, everything you’ve been too scared to say.

When you both collapse into each other’s arms, breathless and sated, you can’t help but smile. There’s no question anymore. What you’ve shared tonight is only the beginning. This is only the start of something deeper, something real. And you know that with Jon, you’ve found exactly where you’re meant to be.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Lost on you?

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this initial Lando story but eventually, Oscar's (I made up the years so maybe they aren't exactly accurate) , let me know what you think, inspired by LP's Lost on you :) If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

2010 - You met Lando Norris when you were both kids, running through the karting tracks with scraped knees and boundless energy. Your fathers had been friends, and it was only natural that the two of you grew up together.

From the start, you adored him. He was the boy with the bright smile, the one who made you laugh even when you were exhausted from traveling between races. When he started karting competitively, you were there with your camera, capturing every moment.

“You should be my photographer forever,” Lando once told you, after you showed him a shot of him mid-race, helmet tilted at just the right angle to make him look invincible.

You had only been twelve at the time, but you took those words to heart.

2014 - You’re thirteen, standing by the track with your camera in hand, capturing every moment of Lando’s race. He’s just won, and as he rushes toward you, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re my lucky charm, you know that?” he says, grinning down at you. Your heart stutters.

Maybe, just maybe, you’re special to him too.

2018 - He had just signed his contract for F1, and the celebration is wild. Champagne bottles pop, the team cheers, and he finds you in the crowd.

“You’re coming with me to McLaren, right?” he asks, a little breathless.

You laugh. “Of course, Lando.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he smirks. “Good. Couldn’t do this without you.”

That night, when the party dies down, you sit beside him, your hand brushing against his. But he never holds it.

2021 - You’re on his yacht, late at night after his podium finish. The city lights flicker over the water, and he turns to you, tipsy and smiling.

“If things were different,” he murmurs, “maybe we’d be something, huh?”

You barely have time to react before he laughs it off.

“Forget I said that,” he adds, walking away, leaving you frozen in place.

2023 - You’ve spent over a decade by his side, capturing his career, supporting him, loving him in the quiet spaces between races and podiums. And yet, he never stays. He never chooses you.

So, one night, you gather the courage.

“I need to know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you feel the same way, or if I have to move on.”

Lando stares at you. “YN, you’re my best friend, but—”

“But I’m not enough,” you finish for him.

His silence is louder than any rejection.

“I don’t fit your life? That’s rich, considering I’ve spent my entire life in it.”

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then explain it to me,” you press. “Because I’ve been here for everything—every race, every podium, every heartbreak. I’ve been the one who’s stood by you through all of it. And you’re telling me I don’t fit your life?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s different. You don’t get it.”

You laugh bitterly. “No, Lando, I get it perfectly. I was good enough when you needed someone to boost your ego, when you wanted someone to flirt with but never commit to. I was good enough when you needed a constant in your life. But now, suddenly, I’m not?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s about me, about what I need.”

You step back, crossing your arms. “And what you need isn’t me.”

His silence is all the answer you need.

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore, Lando. You don’t get to keep me around like some backup plan. I deserve better than that.”

He doesn’t stop you when you walk away.

2025 - A McLaren dinner. You weren’t going to come, but Oscar insisted. And when you arrive, hand in hand with him, you know you made the right choice.

Lando is laughing with the team until he hears your voice.

“Sorry we’re late,” you say, squeezing Oscar’s hand before taking your seat beside him. “There was traffic.”

Silence.

Lando looks up, eyes locking with yours. Shock. Regret. Something else. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re finally moving on.

Oscar wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before diving into conversation with the team. You’re laughing, engaged, your eyes bright in a way Lando hasn’t seen in a long time.

And suddenly, it hits him.

That could have been me.

It’s a thought that won’t leave his head as the night goes on. He watches how Oscar pulls you closer when you shiver, how you whisper things to him that make him chuckle. How you look at Oscar the way you used to look at him.

Lando had thought you would always be there. That no matter how many times he led you on and pushed you away, you’d stay.

But now, as Oscar presses a soft kiss against your lips, Lando realizes he was wrong.

And he has never regretted anything more in his life.

[tubattutu]

Heyyy!! I hope I'm not annoying youu. Could you do Soobin teaching his innocent virgin girlfriend how to give a blowjob?? This has been stuck in my headdd //By the wayyy I'm the same anon with school problems and I really f up in maths and hey I became a school prefect yayyyy!!!!

hii!! answering this a little late but don’t worry i do too maths is my biggest enemy 😭

cw: virginfem!reader, blowjob, praise kink, cum eating, established relationship

you always found the fact that you were a virgin and not your boyfriend embarrassing. you both hadn't even done anything before, until now.

tonight, your loving boyfriend had invited you to come over to his apartment since he'd be lonely. obviously with no doubt you accepted the invite, got your things ready and drove over to his apartment building.

a while after you got there, you both honestly just cuddled in his bed and watched movies while you munched on your favourite snacks and chocolates.

the movie you two were watching was this rom-com you randomly decided to put on since it felt like there were barely any good movies or shows on netflix anymore. though it seemed quite corny and stupid, the more intimate parts of the movie seemed to get you both into the mood.

it was like one minute you both were fully immersed into the movie in eachothers arms snacking, and then the next you two were making out.

you both had always went no farther then just making out. i mean, he did grope your tits and stuff like that, but nothing further out of your comfort zone. tonight though, you felt a little bored of it.

you pulled away in the middle of the kiss, and almost out of breath you spoke;

"can we... try something a little different tonight?"

"like what baby?" soobins eyebrows furrow in confusion, though he was intrigued. but he wasn't expecting your next words,,,

"i want to go down on you."

it honestly surprised him to say the least. it wasn't that he wasn't down for it, he just always thought you never were into that. maybe it was out of your comfort zone?

"i- yeah, of course.." he stammers a bit, his cheeks flushed a soft, pale pink.

"but i don't know how to... give you a blowjob.." you mumbled out sheepishly, a very clear embarrassed look on your face. he thought your words and cute, embarrassed face were adorable.

"i can teach you..." at his offer, you felt like your cheeks turned as red as a tomato.

“please do..” he chuckled at your eager request and kissed your lips again, squeezing your hip.

“well, if you want to suck me off you gotta take my pants off huh?” he grinned at your flustered face.

you blush more if even possible, before your hands reach over to slide down his sweatpants and boxers. your eyes light up at the sight of his already hard cock popping out from his boxers.

you shift and move so you were between his legs on the bed, your hand slowly and hesitatingly starting to stroke his length.

at that he let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the plush pillow. “fuck..”

your lips curl into a small smile at his noises of approval. you were nervous what to do next, and it was clear to him.

“are you sure youre ready to do this baby?” he asks, needing reassurance as to him it looked like you weren’t sure of all of this. but you knew you we’re definitely ready.

all you did was nod, and then you lowered your head down, giving small kitten licks to his tip. he gasps quietly and bucks his hips up on instinct, biting his bottom lip at the sensation.

“fuck baby..” he groaned, hissing as you, without hesitation, took him inside your mouth, letting your warm and wet tongue and mouth engulf around his dick.

“oh fuck- just like that baby..” he moaned prettily, his hand resting on the back of your head as he helped guide your head up and down his dick.

you felt yourself becoming wet in your panties at his moans and praises, bobbing your head up and down with your eyes closed, your tongue swirling around his cock.

“doing such a good job for me baby..” he praises once more, his breath heavy and his legs subtly twitching at the sensations.

you lower your head again just slightly, taking him deeper in your wet mouth, moaning around his dick as you felt his tip brush against the back of your throat. he moaned a bit louder at that, head falling back again. it felt as if he almost came right then and there.

you pull away to breathe, panting softly before running your tongue up along his cock, looking up at him with doe eyes. seeing you like that to him made him want to take you right at that moment.

his breath hitches once you take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down softly and moaning against him again. the sensation left him speechless everytime.

“f-fuck.. im gonna cum.. dont stop..” he breathed out, moaning in bliss as his chest rises up and down at a quick pace.

you pull away, stroking his cock quickly and swirling your tongue around his tip, until he finally reaches his orgasm, his cum spurting up onto your face and into your mouth.

[tearsaura]

No need no use pt. 2 // Eris Vanserra x healer!reader

A/N: Thank you so so much for all the nice feedback on part one. I am so glad that you liked it so much!

Word count: 1K

Warnings: talk of death, injuries, angst

Heaven smelled like cinnamon and pine. Delicious.

I was lying, or floating, on soft clouds and felt no pain anymore. Death wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be. For the people that lost someone, sure, but in my case, there was no one that lost me. Maybe I should open my eyes. Am I going to see all my dead relatives?

Footsteps appeared suddenly and I felt a presence, the smell of cinnamon and pine becoming stronger, as I felt the clouds under me dipped.

“Are you awake, love?”

No.

No there is no way.

I opened my eyes and stared right at the newly appointed High lord of the autumn court. And last time I checked, he was very much alive, which meant that I was too.

“What are you doing here?” Eris looked at me cautiously, his usual taunting smile inapparent. “What am I doing here?” “What do you remember?” he asked, completely disregarding my questions. Huffing, I thought back.

There was Cassian’s injury, his bones sticking out.

Azriel yelling at me, holding me down.

Leaving the house, going to the woods.

“You found me outside of Velaris.” I stated and Eris nodded. “I brought you back to autumn and had my healers take care of you.” “Why didn’t you bring me to the night court?” “If you wanted to be there, you wouldn’t have been walking away from them.” He replied. “What happened?”

I didn’t know what it was, I think my near-death experience loosened my tongue, but I told him everything. How I wanted to belong in the night court, even about my unrequited feelings for Azriel. How he grabbed my hand and held it down to heal Cassian, how none of them said anything or even cared when I walked out. Eris didn’t interrupt me, listening cautiously. The more I talked, the more I wanted to bawl my eyes out. There where no words to describe how hurt I was, how betrayed I felt. It has reached to the point that I even shared it all with a person that I didn’t necessarily like that much.

“And the worst part is, I deserve this. I never had a place to belong, and I’ll never will” I finished, silent tears running down my cheeks. At this point, I didn’t care that I was crying to the worst possible person I could be crying to because Eris, as bad as he can be, showed me more empathy and basic respect than any of my so-called family ever did by bringing me here and healing me back to life.

“It is astonishing how the night court doesn’t have any basic knowledge, but not surprising.”

“Really? This is, all you are going to say about this?”

“I could go on and on about how none of them deserved to be in your presence to begin with, how none of them deserved even a single thought of yours going towards them but I do not think that will help you at this moment. The night court doesn’t know that you’re here. Do you want to keep it that way or shall I bring you back there to tear them apart?” He asked, his cunning smile making his way back on his face. There he is.

“I don’t want to talk to them.” I said, suddenly feeling tired again.

“Should I inform them?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Why did you bring me here. What do you want from me?” I whispered, looking towards the ceiling.

“I thought you where dying.” My eyes snapped back to him. Eris held my gaze as he continued: “You were wandering around and sobbing, clutching your shoulder. I had an idea what had happened because I knew how the healers’ powers work.” He whispered back. He wore this sad look in his eyes, and I immediately wanted to grab his hand for some reason. To console him.

“You should rest, and we can talk after about where you want to go. I have no bad intentions I swear.” He said to which I only nodded absently, feeling my eyes growing heavier before I drifted back to sleep.

“You were asleep for about three days” Eris told me as we walked through the woods of his home later that evening. I needed fresh air and Eris decided to accompany. There was so much that I was feeling and yet I felt… numb. Where was I supposed to go now, what am I going to do?

“Have you eaten something?” Eris questioned, breaking the silence. I nodded.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” “Good”

“How are you feeling?” “I have no where to go now” I blurted out. Eris came to a halt, turning to look at me. “What do you mean?” “I have been with the night court pretty much my whole life now. I do not know any other home.” I started, avoiding his gaze. “And now, I can’t and won’t go back there but I don’t know where to go. These where the only people I knew.”

His hand reached out to my face, pulling my chin up. I looked at him, his face didn’t betray any emotions. His eyes bore into me as I bit my lip. He was devastatingly beautiful.

“You can stay here of course.” He finally said, making my breath hitch. “I don’t want to impose” “You aren’t imposing. I am offering. It’d be my honour to have you here.” I bit my lip, hesitating. “Maybe I can offer my healing powers in exchange?” I suggested, to which he quickly shook his head. “Absolutely not. If you want, you can help my healers out with knowledge only, but I won’t have you risk your life for anyone.” He said sternly. “But-” “No buts. You can stay here as long as you want, and you won’t be a burden to me.”

“You don’t even know me”

“I know you enough”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Eris held out his arm to me and I held onto him as we continued our walk. We didn’t speak much after that, making our way back to his home. Well, I guess mine now too, at least for the time being.

And suddenly, my fall out with the night court didn’t seem bad at all.

-----

Taglist:

@celestialgilb

[enhaflixer]

How are jay's parents with jane? Also I don't remeber so can you pls tell what the reader and jay's jobs are and how did they handle ir during or after the pregnancy?

Exclusive Interview with Park Jongseong & His Wife on Parenthood, Careers, and a Certain Marriage Law

—A follow-up interview featuring Park Jongseong, his wife, and a deep dive into parenthood, their careers, and how they managed it all.

-

Q1: How are Jay’s parents with Jane?

(Jay leans back against his chair, arms crossed, while you shake your head, a fond smile tugging at your lips.)

You: “They’re obsessed with her.”

Jay: grinning “I don’t even think I exist to them anymore. It’s just Jane now.”

You: “The way your mom acts, you’d think she gave birth to her herself.”

Jay: laughing “She sends daily letters asking what Jane did that day, like she’s waiting for some groundbreaking development.”

You: mocking “‘Did she say a new word? Did she show signs of advanced magic?’”

Jay: “And my dad—he literally used to strike fear into people’s hearts, and now he’s out here having tea parties with a toddler.”

You: “Oh, and let’s not forget when Jane made her stuffed dragon breathe actual fire.”

Jay: grinning “My dad looked at her like she had just invented magic itself.”

You: laughing “Meanwhile, I’m in the background putting out actual flames.”

-

Q2: What do you both do for work?

Jay: “I work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, handling business regulations and legal disputes.”

You: grinning “He basically tells rich, entitled wizards that they aren’t above the law.”

Jay: smirking “And that’s fun for me.”

You: mocking “You mean you like arguing.”

Jay: “I like winning.”

You: rolling your eyes “Anyway, I work in the Muggle Liaison Office, helping integrate Muggle-borns into the wizarding world and making sure the magical community doesn’t accidentally expose itself to Muggles.”

Jay: teasing “You used to work at Flourish and Blotts too.”

You: groaning “That was years ago.”

Jay: grinning “Yeah, and I still remember picking you up from there.”

You: mock-glaring “That was one time.”

Jay: leaning forward “One very important time.”

-

Q3: Wait, wait. What happened? He picked you up from Flourish and Blotts?

(You exhale, shaking your head as Jay watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes.)

You: “It was early on, right after the law was implemented. I was still trying to keep things… normal. I picked up a few shifts at Flourish and Blotts, just to clear my mind.”

Jay: softly “You needed the distraction.”

You: nods “Yeah. But one evening, my shift ran late, and I was exhausted. I was bracing myself to go home alone, but then—” glances at Jay

Jay: smirking “Then you stepped outside, and I was leaning against a lamp post, waiting.”

You: grinning “He acted all cool and casual, but I saw the way you were checking your watch.”

Jay: chuckles “Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little impatient.”

You: “You didn’t even say anything at first. Just took my bag off my shoulder and held my hand.”

Jay: softly “You looked like you needed someone to do that.”

You: heart squeezing “I think that was the first time I let myself really… lean into you.”

Jay: “I remember. You sighed—like you’d been holding your breath for weeks—and just rested your head against my shoulder.”

You: whispering “And I let you take me home.”

-

Q4: How did you handle your jobs during and after pregnancy?

Jay: laughing “Handle? I didn’t let her work.”

You: glaring “That is not true—”

Jay: “You were heavily pregnant and still trying to handle Muggle-Wizard disputes.”

You: scoffing “Because it was my job.”

Jay: “And it was my job to make sure you didn’t keel over from exhaustion.”

You: muttering “You banned me from going into the field.”

Jay: mock-serious “I did. And I would do it again.”

You: “The Ministry had to force me to take maternity leave.”

Jay: “Because I stormed into their offices and demanded it.”

You: smirking “That was kinda hot, though.”

Jay: grinning “I know.”

-

Q5: First day back at work after having Jane—how was it?

Jay: groaning “Horrible.”

You: teasing “For you?”

Jay: flatly “For both of us.”

You: “I think I lasted… four hours before I started panicking?”

Jay: “Yeah. And I sent you an owl every two hours.”

You: “Until I had to tell him, ‘Babe, I’m literally coming home in five hours. Please relax.’”

Jay: grumbling “You were gone too long.”

You: softly “You missed me?”

Jay: mock-glaring “Obviously.”

-

Q6: If you could say one thing to the Ministry about the Marriage Law now, what would it be?

(Jay exhales, tilting his head back, before looking at you.)

Jay: “You wanna go first?”

You: laughs “Sure.” clears throat “Screw you.”

Jay: grinning “That’s it?”

You: shrugging “That’s all they deserve.”

Jay: hums “I was gonna say something more professional.”

You: raising a brow “Oh?”

Jay: deadpan “You’re all corrupt, incompetent, and if you ever try something like this again, I will personally take your entire department down.”

You: grinning “That’s professional?”

Jay: mock-thoughtful “It’s diplomatic.”

You: laughing “But… despite all that…”

Jay: nods “Despite all that.”

You: softly “We wouldn’t change us.”

Jay: “Not for anything.”

-

And there you have it—proof that even a government-mandated marriage couldn’t stop love from finding its way in.

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @naurwayyyyy @zzhengyu @annybah @somuchdard

[sturnsblogs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 3: The Shift

You weren’t sure when things really started to change, but they did.

Maybe it was the little things at first—Chris taking longer to text back, missing your usual after-school hangouts, or forgetting inside jokes you both used to laugh at. You told yourself it was fine. He had a girlfriend now, and things were bound to be a little different. But as the weeks passed, it became harder to ignore the growing distance between you.

And the worst part? He didn’t even seem to notice.

The tension from your last argument still lingered in the air. You hadn’t spoken to Chris much since that night, both of you too stubborn to reach out first.

Kenzie, your best friend since forever, had been your rock through all of it. “You’re not wrong, you know,” she had said when you first told her about the fight. “He’s been acting like a total idiot.”

Still, you hated fighting with Chris. It felt wrong, like something in your world had shifted off-balance.

So when your phone finally buzzed with his name, a mix of relief and apprehension hit you.

Chris: “Can we talk?”

You hesitated before replying.

You: “Sure.”

He showed up at your door twenty minutes later, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Hey.”

You crossed your arms. “Hey.”

Chris exhaled. “Look, I—I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t important. I swear, that was never my intention.”

You stayed quiet, waiting.

“I know I’ve been distant. And yeah, I have been spending a lot of time with Avery, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You’re my best friend. You matter to me.”

His voice was genuine, and for the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the Chris you knew. The one who used to put you first, who used to notice when something was wrong.

You sighed, glancing down. “I just… I don’t want to feel like I’m always coming second.”

“You’re not.” He stepped closer. “I swear, you’re not.”

There was a beat of silence before he held out his arms awkwardly. “Can we stop being weird now? I miss you.”

You rolled your eyes but stepped into the hug anyway. “Fine. But you owe me pizza.”

Chris grinned. “Done.”

And just like that, things felt okay again.

That night, Chris invited you over to his house. “Movie and pizza, just like old times,” he had said.

For the first time in a while, you were excited. Maybe things could go back to normal. Maybe this was Chris’s way of making an effort.

But then, as you settled onto the couch with your plate of pizza, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you mind if Avery comes over?”

You froze mid-bite. “What?”

Chris shifted in his seat. “She just texted me. She’s bored, and I figured—since we’re all friends now—she could come hang out with us?”

You set your plate down. “Chris.”

“What?”

“This was our night.”

Chris hesitated, looking at his phone. “I know, I just—“

“Just what?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Can we seriously not spend one night together without her being involved?”

His expression shifted. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Because it is a big deal, Chris!” You gestured between the two of you. “We barely hang out as it is, and when we finally do, you want to bring her?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh my God, what is your problem?”

“My problem is that I feel like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”

Chris let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“Do I?” You crossed your arms. “Because lately, it sure doesn’t feel that way.”

He clenched his jaw, his expression shifting from frustration to anger. “I’m not your boyfriend! I don’t have to spend every second of my time with you.”

The words hit you like a slap. You felt your stomach twist as you stared at him.

Chris scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you jealous or something?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“What?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“That’s what this is about, right?” He gestured vaguely. “You don’t like that I’m with Avery. You don’t like that I actually care about someone else.”

You swallowed hard, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

“And I’m not fucking jealous, Chris.” Your voice was sharp, firm, filled with frustration and something else—something deeper.

Chris let out a sarcastic laugh. “Really? Because you sure sound like it.”

You took a step closer, glaring at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to be thrilled that my best friend suddenly treats me like an afterthought?”

Chris clenched his jaw. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“No? Then what is happening?” You crossed your arms. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re replacing me.”

He let out a sharp breath. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” You scoffed. “Because you never used to ditch me for anyone. But now? Now it’s Avery first, Avery this, Avery that. And what do I get? I get scraps of your time when she’s busy.”

Chris shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, but this is fair?” You gestured between the two of you. “You ditch me, barely talk to me, and then expect me to just be okay with it?”

“I don’t ditch you!” Chris snapped. “I just—things are different now.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No shit.”

Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get why you’re making this such a big deal.”

You stared at him, your chest tight. “Because you are a big deal to me, Chris. But I don’t think I am to you anymore.”

His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. “Enjoy your night with Avery.”

And with that, you grabbed your jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind you.

Chris didn’t come after you for the first time. he didn’t come after you.

A/N- Well this was fun. i’m very sorry i didn’t come out with the third chapter last night i was very tired. Butttt what do we think? if you have any requests for anything you can always tell me in my inbox.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @chrislilcumslvt @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04

TO BE ON MASTERLIST TAGLIST

CHAPTER TWO

[malk1ns]

march 1 vs bruins, 3-2 loss

lotta angry penguins out on the ice today in that one, huh? wowie.

this postgame puts this project over 100k. dang. thanks for coming along with me!

Zhenya narrows his eyes across the weight room where Sid is grunting through a set of bench presses.

There was no skate before today’s game, but the gym session is still mandatory even if most of the guys are phoning it in a little, half-heartedly racking weights and getting in a few reps before they pause to chat.

Not Sid. He’s pouring sweat, mechanically running through his sets like they don’t have a game in just a few hours, adding more weight than Zhenya remembers as his usual but still lifting it like it’s nothing, biceps straining and forearms veiny.

He’s hiding something.

Sid came back from Four Nations doing his best to pretend that his left arm wasn’t practically paralyzed, and he’s been spending pregames and most intermissions holed up with the trainers, getting wrapped and re-wrapped and injected with all sorts of shit to numb the pain and get him through games. He won’t hear a word of sitting any more out, but Zhenya’s seen the toll it’s taking on him.

Not today. Today, he’s going through his exercises like his elbow never was hurt in the first place. Not a wince, not a poorly-hidden grimace, nothing.

Whatever they gave Sid this morning, Zhenya wants it. His knee is better, but it aches when he skates for too long, and it’s making ominous creaking noises every morning when he gets out of bed.

Sid’s been cagey all morning, but Zhenya’s going to track him down and force it out of him. All hockey teams are secretive about their less-than-legit methods of keeping their players on ice no matter how injured they are, but Zhenya’s not used to being shut out of a new miracle cure. Is he not as deserving as Sidney Crosby of pain relief and enhanced performance?

The doctors and trainers are a dead end, they’re used to Zhenya by now and won’t give him anything. The weak link, as always, is Sid himself.

Zhenya times his approach perfectly; Sid’s in the middle of carefully lowering the bar back onto the rack when Zhenya plants himself between Sid and the rest of the room. If Sid tried to slither away now, it would be noticeable enough to cause a stir.

“Hi, Sid,” Zhenya says sweetly, baring his teeth in a smile. “Look good. Elbow better?”

Sid sits up and rolls his shoulders back, eyeing Zhenya warily. There’s a droplet of sweat making its way down from his hairline. Zhenya’s eyes trace it all the way to Sid’s cheekbone before he gets a response.

“Lots better, thanks,” Sid finally says, shaking out his left arm a little. It’s for show; Zhenya’s not an idiot, and it rankles that after all this time Sid thinks he’ll be fooled by something like that. “I figured I should get a pump in before we play, you know, get the blood flowing.” He swings his legs over so he’s sitting sideways on the bench. “That all? Because I was gonna find Ned, give him a little pep talk.”

“What they give you?” Zhenya says, furious suddenly—with the evasion, with the way Sid won’t meet his eyes. “Shot, maybe, or pill? Why you get and nobody else?”

He’s raised his voice enough that guys are starting to look at them, and Sid’s face goes hard and unpleasant before he gets to his feet, grabs Zhenya by the shirt, and hauls him out of the weight room.

Zhenya starts to protest, but Sid hisses not here at him, and the promise of an answer makes Zhenya pliant as Sid drags them down the hallway and into one of the video rooms the team never uses anymore.

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” Sid complains, slamming the door shut and whirling on Zhenya, crossing his arms over his chest. Zhenya frowns at him—he could have sworn Sid’s shoulders weren’t this big on Thursday. Is there some new fast-acting steroid he’s testing out?

He’s so busy thinking through the implications of a shot that can give you that much more visible, functional muscle in under four hours that he must have misheard what Sid said. “Sorry, huh?”

Sid narrows his eyes. “I said, I’m in a time loop,” he snaps, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’ve been in here for…six weeks now, when I wake up tomorrow. Today, again. Whatever. It’s been today 41 times as of this morning.”

“Shit,” Zhenya says blankly, sitting down in one of the chairs and abruptly remembering why they don’t use this room anymore when a spring jabs him unceremoniously in the ass. “Sid, Jesus, how this happen?”

“I don’t know!” Sid says, throwing his hands in the air. “Obviously, like, if I knew why I was here I’d just…take care of it, end this damn thing. Do you really think I’m doing this by choice?” His voice cracks.

“Sorry,” Zhenya mutters, guilt lurching through his gut. All he could see this morning was Sid’s perfectly-functioning elbow seemingly mocking Zhenya’s achy knee, but now that he’s looking closely Sid looks frayed around the edges, exhausted and tense. He’s got black circles under his eyes, and he can’t stand still.

Sid’s usually so calm on game days, a soothing presence in the arena that settles everyone down no matter how nervy they are. Seeing him like this is unsettling. Zhenya wants to bundle him into his car and drive them to the safety of his house set back in the woods until they figure this out.

Time loops are vanishingly rare, at least the ones publicly talked about are. The people who stumble out of them are usually fundamentally altered somehow—traumatized even, in some cases. It’s not as simple as waking up on the same day over and over, as if that in and of itself isn’t a total mindfuck—if you’re in a time loop, time doesn’t stop for you. Whatever happens to you on a given day stays with you when you wake up the next morning, weeks and months and in some gruesome cases decades piling onto your body and mind until you figure out how to break free.

Sid’s only been in for six weeks. Not long enough for significant changes, not really, but certainly long enough for him to have visibly bulked up if was taking his stress out on the weight machines. Zhenya can see razor burn on his face from where he must have been shaving every day to try and maintain his stubble.

“Okay,” Zhenya says, getting to his feet. “You tell to me before? You tell to anyone?”

“No,” Sid says, shoulders slumping a little. He looks like he’d been expecting a fight, or maybe like he’d have to spend more time arguing his case—as if Zhenya can’t tell when Sid’s trying to lie to him by now. “I thought about it, but…I think I know what I’m supposed to do, and it’s not anything anyone can help me with. I just…haven’t figured out how.”

Zhenya presses his lips together. “Stupid. Maybe it’s big pain for tell every day new again, but you should be tell me first thing, like, call me before we leave house. Shouldn’t be doing alone, even if you’re think I can’t help.” Sid’s probably wrong about that, Zhenya adds to himself. Sid always thinks he has to do everything alone, that he has to shoulder the burden of an entire team—an entire league—all by himself. 

“Maybe,” Sid mutters, slumping back against the wall. He looks so exhausted. Zhenya wonders how sleeping words in a loop—does Sid wake up feeling refreshed for a few seconds before it all comes crashing down, or does the reset happen when he’s only gotten a few hours? “Well, you know now. We’ll see how happy you are when I wake you up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to read you in.”

“Not have to, because we fix today,” Zhenya says, injecting his voice with as much confidence as he can. “What you think you need to do?”

Sid sighs heavily. “I have to figure out how to get us a win today,” he says, voice dire. “I’ve tried everything, G, I really have. I’ve even called and said I was sick and needed to be scratched just to shake stuff up and still no. I called my mom, god, she thought I was dying or something. Basically anything that can happen in a hockey game, I’ve watched it happen.” His eyes go dark and distant for a minute, and Zhenya doesn’t want to know what he’s reliving, what he’s seen. Hockey is a lot more dangerous than any of them like to think too long about.

Shaking his head, Sid meets Zhenya’s eyes. “Basically anything that can happen I’ve seen,” he repeats, “and not a single time have I been able to pull a win off in this one. There was one where I thought maybe…it was a ten-round shootout, but even then we fell short.” He sighs, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admits. “I’m so tired. My entire body aches, so badly. The gym helps, you know how a good workout makes you kind of forget how you’re feeling, but…I can’t do this for much longer.”

That’s the other danger of a time loop, the one nobody likes to talk about too loudly.

Zhenya isn't going to let that happen.

“Well, you enjoy last time today,” he says, clapping Sid’s shoulder. “We get win, you go to bed tonight, still have to play tomorrow but this time it’s Leafs, okay, still bad, but different. Yes?”

“Sure,” Sid mutters, but Zhenya can tell that he’s feeling better. It really was stupid of him to not say anything; six weeks is too long to be totally alone.

Sid leaves to hunt down Ned for whatever ghoulish pep talk he has in mind, and Zhenya makes his way to the lounge, head spinning.

He doesn’t know a single person who’s looped. There was an experimental vaccine back when Zhenya was a child, something that claimed to block a person’s ability to fall into one—when he’d disclosed it to the Penguins’ medical staff for the first time they had exchanged horrified looks, but nobody in Zhenya’s entire city that got the shot has looped.

Zhenya wants to help Sid. Is determined to, really. But now that he’s alone and thinking about it, he doesn’t know what to do. All he can do is control his own play, make sure he’s giving it his all out there and give the team the best chance to win.

That will have to be enough. He won’t let them fail Sid again.

—

They come agonizingly close. 

Close isn’t good enough, though, and Zhenya shatters his stick in the hallway back to the locker room after the final buzzer sounds.

“Easy, big guy,” Rusty says, skirting his stall with an odd look. “It’s one game, eh, save it for tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Zhenya mutters, plucking at his skates and swearing as his trembling fingers fumble at the sodden, ice-cold laces. 

From across the room, Sid barks out a bitter laugh, one he cuts off quickly. Zhenya keeps his head ducked down.

Four points last game and not a thing to show when Sid actually needed him. He doesn’t think he can meet Sid’s eyes.

He settles some in the shower, thinking through what’s next. Maybe Sid was wrong. It’s still so early in the day, after all, and who knows what Sid’s been doing post-game this whole time—maybe there’s something else he’s missing because he got fixated on winning this game. He’ll just go to Sid’s after the game and they’ll keep trying, and if they can’t get it tonight, he’ll make Sid promise to call him first thing tomorrow and explain it right away.

The logistics make his head spin. He doesn’t fully understand how it’s possible that Sid could pick up the phone to call him tomorrow—today again—and Zhenya won’t remember a thing, but Sid will. It should be impossible.

All the more reason to work as hard as possible to fix it tonight.

Sid dawdles in the room like usual, but Zhenya’s lurking at the door must get his attention, because finally he packs away his stuff and gets to his feet, patting Ricky on the shoulder as he makes his way to Zhenya’s side.

“We tried, eh?” he says as they walk to the garage. Zhenya doesn’t like how defeated he sounds. “That was a new score at least—before this one it’s been the same for a few days. Maybe it means things are moving in the right direction.” He doesn’t sound like he believes a word he’s saying.

“I come home with you,” Zhenya says, and Sid snaps his head to look at him, eyebrows nearly up to his hairline. “Well, first I stop at my house, get freezer pelmeni. You need real food, not shit from meal service. We eat, you feel better, we think about maybe it’s something that’s not game, we try stuff.”

“You’ll let me have some of the freezer pelmeni?” Sid asks, and he sounds so pathetically grateful that Zhenya’s heart breaks a little.

“You get all freezer pelmeni,” he promises recklessly—there are several pounds stuffed in his kitchen freezer, and more down in the basement ice box, but Zhenya will give it all up if it makes Sid smile in a real way. “Want good vodka too? I bring.”

Sid’s eyes crinkle a little. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Either way, I’m playing a game tomorrow, so…better not.”

“Right,” Zhenya mutters, calculating how much sour cream he’ll need to bring. Sid only has Greek yogurt at his house, and that won’t work. “Okay, I go get food, then come over. You change code yet?” Sid changes his gate code every Saturday out of what Zhenya used to call paranoia but after the break-in earlier this fall is starting to think is maybe just good sense.

Sid hesitates. “I didn’t for a while, I wasn’t sure if it…but it felt weird not to, so yeah, I actually just changed it yesterday. Um, it’s 073186.”

It takes Zhenya a second, but— “My birthday!” he says, charmed. “Sid, so sweet. I remember for sure, maybe you keep for a while.”

“Maybe I will,” Sid says, looking at Zhenya for a shade too long before shaking his head. “See you in a bit.”

Zhenya watches the way Sid clambers into his car, the slowness in his movements. He really is reaching the end of what he’s physically capable of. They have to figure this out tonight.

He stuffs Sid full of his mama’s cooking first. Sid protests the full-fat sour cream, but when Zhenya ignores him in favor of dolloping several spoonfuls onto his plate he stops arguing. Zhenya watches until Sid’s had his entire first serving and is helping himself to more before he relaxes. He might not have been able to win Sid this game, but he can at least feed him properly.

After dinner, they talk. Zhenya prods at Sid about unreturned phone calls, events he might have forgotten to attend, anything that could be hanging over his head that might be the key to all of this. 

Sid gets prickly at the implication he’s forgotten anything, of course, but Zhenya keeps pushing until Sid relents and walks them both through everything he did the day before he started looping. Try as he might, Zhenya can’t find a single thing that Sid forgot, a single transgression that would be egregious enough to tip him into this nightmare.

Once they run out of things to say, they fall silent, sprawled out on Sid’s big couch. Zhenya thinks about Sid spending the last six weeks alone in here, watching the clock tick by and waiting for the day to end, falling asleep hoping that he’d figured it out only to wake up the next day and have to do it all over again, and his throat gets thick and his eyes prickle with tears.

“Oh, G,” Sid says, and Zhenya scrubs furiously at his face. This isn’t about him, he shouldn’t be making Sid give him comfort. “No, c’mon, it’s not that bad, I mean…” The sofa cushion Zhenya’s occupying dips as Sid scoots closer until they’re pressed together. “It sucks, yeah, but now I’ve got you, right? I can…like you said, I can call you and tell you, and I’ll have you all day, and maybe we really will figure it out. Just having someone else know…you were right. It was dumb of me to not talk to you right away.”

Overcome with emotion, Zhenay wraps his arms around Sid’s shoulders and hauls him close, ignoring Sid’s protests. He can’t stand it—Sid doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve living through this shit, not after everything he’s already sacrificed his whole life

“Not fair,” he whispers into Sid’s hair. “Sid, so sorry, I want to fix so bad for you. It’s not fair.”

Sid squirms in his arms a little, pulling back so he can look at Zhenya. “No, it’s not,” he agrees. “It hasn’t been all bad, though. I mean, the loss sucked. But otherwise today’s been pretty great. And it’ll be okay if I do all this again tomorrow with you.” He hesitates for a minute, eyes flickering over Zhenya’s face. “I guess there’s one thing I haven’t been honest about,” he admits, and Zhenya’s heart leaps. “It won’t…I mean, it’s been years. If the loop was from that, it should have happened way before now. But, well.” He leans forward and brushes a kiss over Zhenya’s mouth, dry and soft and over before Zhenya can even properly react. “You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he says quietly, cupping Zhenya’s chin, “and I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. But it’s not like I’d ever tell you this for real, and maybe that makes me a coward, but I may as well tell you once even if it doesn’t stick, eh?”

Zhenya touches his lips. Sid’s mouth on his had been so brief, but he feels like his whole face is buzzing. He doesn’t know what to say.

Sid smiles sadly at him. “It’s okay,” he says, correctly interpreting Zhenya’s stunned silence. “I’m not expecting anything. Don’t worry about it, eh, you’ll wake up tomorrow and it won’t have ever happened for you. I guess maybe I thought…” He shakes his head and gets to his feet. “I’m going to go to bed,” he says, glancing at the clock. “I know it’s early, but I’m so tired. Game day tomorrow, after all.” He waits for a minute longer, but when Zhenya still doesn’t speak, he purses his lips. “You can take a guest room if you want. You know where everything is.”

Zhenya listens to Sid’s heavy footsteps. It’s not until Sid’s bedroom door shuts that he feels like he can move again.

There are things that you don’t think about when you’re a pro athlete, feelings you’re not allowed to have. It’s part of the sacrifice to make it this far—damage to your body, and denial of your self. Zhenya did the math on that years ago, weighed his options and made his choices with clear eyes.

He’s never been good at tucking away his emotions long-term though, not like Sid is. Zhenya wears his heart on his sleeve, always has. It makes him a better hockey player, but it also leaves him more susceptible to heartbreak and far too aware of feelings he’d be better off shoving down and ignoring.

Zhenya always thought Sid was bad at lying, or at least bad at lying to him. It turns out that Sid’s been holding in a secret for…fuck, he’d said years, years he’s kept this from Zhenya, and Zhenya had no idea.

He’s not sure he would have been brave enough to do anything if he’d found out any earlier. Now, though?

He drives home in a daze. Staying at Sid’s house doesn’t feel right, not like this. He had a momentary fit of insanity where he considered crawling into Sid’s bed, wrapping his arms around him and letting Sid’s loop suck him in too, but he’s pretty sure that’s not possible, and if it was it wouldn’t help anything anyway.

I have to remember, he chants to himself as he gets ready for bed. I have to remember. I have to remember. I have to remember.

He falls asleep mumbling to himself.

—

When his alarm goes off the next morning, it takes Zhenya a minute to blink sleep out of his eyes.

His eyes fly open. He remembers. 

The display on his phone reads MARCH 2. Heart in his throat, Zhenya pulls up Sid’s contact and hits call.

Sid’s phone barely rings once before he answers. “G?” he says, voice raspy like he spent the night crying. “Is it really tomorrow?”

“It’s tomorrow,” Zhenya whispers down the line, clutching the phone to his ear. “Sid, it’s tomorrow. And I remember.”

[lieslab]

My baby here on earth showed me what my heart was worth

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: When the world beats down on the guys, you're there to be a voice of reason.

Genre: Reverse comfort/hurt

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Whoever requested this, you know I love you, right? These are so fun to make, I love them. Take this as a reminder to please take care of yourself and be gentle with your heart <3

_ _ _

Chan:

The vividry is in the details and in Chan’s head, it was not enough. This industry will chew up your hopes and dreams. It will swallow you whole before you can fall to your knees and beg, bleeding and bruised, for an ounce of forgiveness. Chan knew that over a decade ago. Today, nothing else rang true far more than that. 

You can string your teenage years in the back of your closet. You can let them hang as the years go by, always focusing on work instead of play, and no matter how much hard work, blood, sweat, and tears you go through, this industry will ring you dry. 

It will blast a bullet in your heart. Each fragment comes from the people you’re supposed to trust most, upper management, fellow producers, other idols; everyone you’re set out to please. No matter how close the relationship is between the two of you, or even if you’re not close at all, the words still hurt. They still found a way to sting Chan’s heart, burrow into his brain, and push his soul to drown in defeat. Swallowed by the icy waters of the industry, lately it became harder and harder to breathe within it. 

You noticed something amiss when he came home a few days ago quiet. A silent scowl sat on his face. When you brought it up, he dropped it, sucked in a deep breath, and lit up with a smile. You knew the hurt behind his eyes. That hurt stayed there and no matter how hard he tried to push it down, the tension sat heavily between the two of you. 

Producing and writing lyrics, it quickened his heart. It kept his body young. No matter how many years passed by, that passion would forever stay young. He’d tuck it close to his heart; a child with a balloon tied around their wrist. It made life worth living. He didn’t dare to give it up without a fight. That’s why he picked out the members of his group. It’s why he did what he did and yet… 

Recently, that balloon popped. 

When you questioned a late night session on his laptop, he sat in front of the screen with a frown on his face. His fingers hovered above the keys. Everything he needed to produce a beat, it was available and pulled up, but hesitation glued his fingers mid-air. 

“What if I never make another good song again?” 

“What?” 

“I feel like I’ve done everything right. What if I’m just…” The screen reflected off his eyes. “What if I’m not meant for this anymore? What if I’ve run myself dry? What if I don’t have that spark anymore?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, you tried to understand. “What could you possibly be talking about? Babe, you’re amazing at creating songs! Do you know how many people love your stuff?” You approached the couch and sat beside him. The warmth of his thigh pressed against yours. “What’s got you all bent out of shape?” 

“Everything. I’ve been submitting songs to the uppers and they don’t think they’re good enough. They say-” 

You pushed out a hand to stop him. “Do you like the songs?” 

“Yes.” 

“What about your other members?” 

“They haven’t heard them yet. Han and Changbin have heard a few and they seem to like them, but-” 

“You’ve had a multitude of other songs that have been successful before, so why does it matter now?” 

Pink lips parted and then shut. Your words struck a nerve in his core. “I don’t know. I guess they think they won’t be as successful as the last ones.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

He sighed, wiped his eyes with a hand, and leaned back. His laptop slid back against his stomach. “I’ve become so worried that I’m not as good as I once was. I feel so pressured and everything. I’m trying my best.” 

“And your best will always be good enough.” You shifted, laying your head against his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around one of his. “I believe in you, you know? If Han and Changbin are on your side, I’m sure the rest of the guys will be on your side, too.” 

“You think it’s that easy?” He glanced over, catching your eyes. 

“If your management isn’t convinced, I’ll give them a piece of my mind.” 

“How scary.” 

“Use sarcasm again and you’ll really see a new form of scary.” 

_ _ _ 

Minho: 

“You’re quiet tonight,” you pointed out. Minho had not spoken since he walked through the front door an hour ago. You thought he’d shake off whatever tension he brought home from work, but it didn’t happen. “Is something troubling you?” 

Across the way, he sat slumped on the couch. The quietness drove you crazy. You hated the blank look on his face. The way he stared off into the distance, unsure of the person he became. When did his personality become extra baggage, rather than an admission of who he was deep down?  

“People are idiots.” 

A single sentence. No other explanation. You nodded and quietly agreed. Some people could be. Speaking before thinking. Jumping on the bandwagon, a desperate attempt to fit in and prove themselves worthy. It wasn’t everyone, but some people never took the time to think for themselves. 

You waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t. The wooden grandfather clock across the way, his grandmother thrifted it many moons ago. Each second ticked away and drove the tension between you higher and higher. Something that used to be comforting in the background, it began to drive you mad. 

You pushed yourself from your chair, walked over to him, and plopped down beside him. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong? It’s not like you to act like this.” You reached a hand out to his forearm, a simple gesture to provide comfort. 

“Do you think I’m too cold and emotionless, sometimes? People have said it before and I’ve always ignored it. I know people form their own opinions. They only know bits and pieces of me. Today, an interviewer commented on it and I can’t help, but ask myself, ‘what if she’s right?”’ 

“As an interviewer, that was an unacceptable question to ask you. Interviewing people shouldn’t make them uncomfortable, unless you’re a criminal hiding a crime. I don’t think you’re cold and emotionless. I think whoever says that hasn’t taken the time to enjoy the content that’s online and available to them. Screw them.” 

He chuckled at your words. His eyes cast to the floor and your hand tightened around his forearm. “I mean it, Minho. Screw them. Seriously. Don’t ever take their opinions to heart. I don’t want you to change. I like that side of you. They’ll never know that you’re a softie deep down.” 

He jerked his head back, rolled his eyes, and let out a loud groan. “I’m not a softie!” 

“You totally are.” 

“Screw you.” 

“I’ll gladly take you up on that offer!” 

“AH! Not in front of my cats! Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, cover your ears. You didn’t hear anything. A sinner trying to taint my perfect children, unbelievable.” 

_ _ _ 

Changbin: 

“Okay, I’ve got on my good shoes. The ones that you suggested because they’re better for long distances. My bag, my wallet, my keys. Am I missing anything else?” Your eyes scanned the corridor, wondering if you were forgetting anything. 

“Forgetting anything for what?” Changbin asked. 

“For our river date! Remember? We planned this last week. We agreed to walk to the Han River and grab some Ramen from a convenience store. Please don’t tell me you forgot, I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” 

His face fell at the reminder. “Oh, that…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. His words came out funny. The excitement usually filling his eyes disappeared. He didn’t seem nearly as happy and excited as he always was for your dates. The thrill in your heart began to fade. “Did you forget?” 

“Kinda.” 

“We can reschedule it for another day,” you offered. Your heart sank at your words, but it was better than pushing it onto him. Maybe he made other plans with someone else. You were pretty flexible when it came to these things. 

“I kind of forgot, but it’s more like I don’t want to go at all. If I’m being honest, I realize that maybe I like food too much. Earlier this year, I promised the fans I’d show my abs, but…” He frowned and looked down at his stomach. “I don’t have them.” 

“Is that what you’re worried about?” 

“Ramen isn’t very good for creating abs.” 

“Maybe not, but who says you have to get abs? You’ve always been good at working out your arms. You don’t have to work out what you don’t want to, Bin. If you want to target abs, fine. If not, that’s fine too. You don’t have to get a four or six-pack to be worthy in the eyes of your fans.” 

“And I know that, I just want to look good and make them proud.” His hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Black curls shifted as he moved. “I don’t want to make them unhappy.” 

“You always look good. You’ll always make your fans proud, Bin.” A smile appeared on your face. “Real fans love you for who you are, not who you could be. Abs or not, you’re in good shape. You eat healthy and work out. That’s what matters the most, isn’t it?” 

“You have a point, I just don’t like letting people down.” 

You stepped closer, nearly pressing your noses together. “For what it’s worth, you haven’t let me down. Abs or no abs, you're hot either way. I feel like I scored a home run with you.” 

His cheeks flushed red and he waved a hand at you. “Stop it! Now you’re making me feel all warm and embarrassed. You know how compliments make me feel.” 

“Come with me and get ramen; there’s so many more from where that one came from.” 

_ _ _ 

Hyunjin: 

“Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t stop shaking your little ferret ass and get yourself home, so help me, I’ll drag you out of this room by your ear.” The words spilled from your lips as you shoved the door open. For the past four hours, you’d been calling and texting Hyunjin, trying to figure out where he was. It wasn’t until you managed to get a hold of Chan that you found out he was still at the studio. 

Hyunjin whirled around panting. He sucked in a sharp breath and wiped away the sweat pouring down his face. It soaked his oversized shirt and his sweatpants. He bent over with his hands supporting his hips. “How did you know I-” 

“Because your leader was nice enough to tell me. What is this? You were supposed to be home a while ago. You said you wanted to find a work life balance last week and this week, you’re spending time working late when it’s not mandatory. What are you doing?” 

“Dancing,” he uttered breathlessly. 

“Yeah, no shit sherlock. Why? You’re already a good dancer and-” 

“Because I feel like I fucked up by buzzing my hair, okay? The amount of comments that I’ve seen about my long hair. They just never fucking quit!” He ripped the navy blue baseball cap from his head and threw it to the ground. “Maybe if I improve my dancing, I can make up for my-” 

You held a hand out to stop him. “Don’t finish that sentence. I know Hwang Hyunjin isn’t letting the opinions of other people ruin his self image. Not when you expressed just how much you liked the short hair because it wasn’t in your face while dancing. You said it was nice to be seen for once.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe I have some regrets.” 

“Do you really?” 

He sighed and shook his head. “I just wish the fans liked it as much as I do. I wanted to do something different, so I went ahead and-” 

“Stop that. Stop belittling yourself. If you like it, like it. Love it. Don’t throw your original thoughts and feelings to the side just because people think they need to shove their opinions down your throat. You’re thee Hwang Hyunjin. They should be honored that they get to see you openly and honestly. Every side of you, not just the ones they want to see. This is who you are and they can get over it.” 

“You’re very passionate about this topic.” He wiped more sweat above his head. “It’s endearing, don’t you think? You like me that much?” His arms spread out and he came towards you. “Come give Hwang Hyunjin a hug.” 

You gagged and backed up. “Oh no, not with all that sweat. That’s the most disgusting and horrendous thing that I’ve-” 

“Come here!” 

You screamed and took off, cursing the entire time. Hyunjin laughed and bobbed along with your fleeing figure. Hwang Hyunjin or not, you hated sweat and bodily fluids, not even he could change that. 

_ _ _ 

Han: 

“You can go to prison. You can go to the state penitentiary. You can go to the county detention center and you-” 

You glanced up from a spoonful of your cereal. “Excuse me?” 

Across from your spot at the wooden table, Han’s cheek rested against his hand. His eyes scanned his phone as he swiped through the social media app that he was on. “This just feels so stupid. A few fans caught glimpses of my tattoos and tried to copy them.” 

“Oh?” 

“And that should be illegal. My ideas. My fun. I brought them to the tattoo artist first. Not to be a gatekeeper, but these are special to me. I don’t want to have to deal with this, you know?” 

You hummed softly and placed your spoon back in the bowl of now empty milk. “I think I’d be upset, too. I can’t blame you for feeling that way. You probably shouldn’t say that in front of your management team because they’ll end up-” 

“Lecturing me like they always do?” He sighed, turned off his phone, and tossed it to the side. “It’s always about my tattoos. If I don’t show them off, I’m lectured by the fans. If I do, I'll be lectured by management. It’s like I can’t win.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He sat up and looked over at you. “What do you think I should do in this scenario? Do I show them off or keep them hidden?” 

“Well, what do you want to do? If you ignore the lectures for a moment, what do you want, personally?” 

“I want to live my life without being lectured, but that’s simply not possible as an idol. If I show the fans, more people will want to copy them. However, I really do want to show them off sometimes. I mean look at them!” Before you could understand, he stood up and ripped off his shirt. 

Your eyes widened and your cheeks went red. “Woah, wow, um… okay” You shielded your eyes and looked away. “That’s a lot of skin for seven in the morning.” 

He scoffed, “you’re not half the saint that you pretend to be.” 

“Put your man boobs away, please.” 

“Man, HUH?” His eyes widened and he looked down. “Man boobs? What the hell are you talking about?” 

“If you don’t put them away, I’m going to take you to buy a training bra. Your nipples are staring right at me and I want to drink my cereal milk in peace without an audience.” 

He huffed, but grabbed his shirt and began to pull it back on while grumbling. 

“But really, lectures or not, you should do what you want. This is your life and the lectures from both sides are stupid. Tell them to fuck off and live how you want to live.” 

“You would not survive as an idol.” 

“And you wouldn’t survive the torture of restricting your boobs in a training bra. Please find some breakfast and keep your man boobs out of my line of sight until at least ten.” 

_ _ _ 

Felix: 

At some point in the middle of the night, you woke up to soft sniffles and quiet whimpers. You rolled from your bed to find Felix. Leaving you barren in the bedroom, he disappeared out into the kitchen. To your surprise, you found him teary with a whisk in a metal bowl. Tears streamed down his cheeks and soaked the collar of his shirt. 

“Lix, what are you doing? It’s nearly two in the morning. Why are you crying this late?” 

“Because I’m emotional and weak,” he uttered softly. 

“What?” 

His bottom lip quivered and your heart softened. “I-I can’t help it, I get worked up about things. I get emotional and then I cry. I ruined these brownies with my tears. I didn’t even add salt because I figured that my tears would be enough.” 

“Who on earth is making you feel this way?” You stepped forward with open hands, eager to comfort him. “Emotional? Maybe? Weak? Absolutely not. Crying doesn’t make you weak.” 

“It does to some of the fans, they say-” 

“Maybe they should focus on their problem of being heartless bitches instead. You’re not weak, not in a million years. So you get a little more emotional than others, who cares? There’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, it’s sweet.” 

“They’re saying it makes me less of a man and they think I’m doing it for attention.” 

“Societal standards are stupid. Men cry. Men wear makeup. Men can have long nails. Whatever people are saying,” you waved a hand, “bullshit. I hate when people are idiots. Crying isn’t designated by your biological sex or gender. That’s something we do to release pent up emotions. Why would you do it for attention? People are so stupid sometimes.”  

“I-I know that, I just-” He blinked rapidly and used the side of his arm to wipe at his face. “I have feelings, you know?” 

“Of course, I know that. Everyone should know that.” You leaned forward and carefully wiped your thumbs beneath his eyes. “You are wonderful and one of the best people that this world has. Don’t let a few losers ruin that, okay?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Now where are you on your brownie mix?” 

“I still think I ruined it with my tears.” 

“Don’t worry, baking them will cure it from your eyeball germs.” 

_ _ _ 

Seungmin: 

Seungmin buried his head in his Nintendo Switch until you destroyed the moment. You climbed up over his body and sat down directly on his lower stomach. He looked up from his pokemon game and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

You toppled over him on the soft mattress. With his hair scattered in different directions, he looked at peace, but you could sense the inner turmoil. Over the past few days, things within Seungmin began to change. It all started when he began to cover his smile again. 

“You took something from me and I want it back.” 

“Uh, no. I haven’t taken anything from you.” 

“You took your smile away from me and I’m here to get it back.” 

His eyes narrowed and then he rolled them. “You are so annoying at times. All this, just so you could ruin my game play. Get out of here and go bother someone else.” 

“Nah. I’ll stay put until I get what I came for. I miss your smile and lately, my heart has been feeling devastated since I haven’t had it.” 

“Why does it matter? There’s a mirror in the bathroom over there.” He lifted a hand and gestured behind you. “There you go and good luck. Don’t forget to say cheese beforehand. Maybe you can summon Bloody Mary to take a photo of it before you smile.” 

You lunged and he yelped. His Switch dropped onto his chest. You squeezed his cheeks, desperate for his usual smile. “I’m going to hold you captive like this for hours if you don’t smile at me.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s ugly!” 

“I know my sweet, lovely, little Kim Seungmin didn’t just say that about his smile. You better start cheesing or else. Do you want to watch me go mad? Don’t think I won’t.” 

“You’re insane.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “All this because I won’t smile.” 

“I’ll die without it.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“But you love it. Come on!” You grinned and put on a baby voice. “Where’s my smile? Who’s got Seungminnie’s smile? Where is it?” 

He didn’t mean to, but his lips tipped up. As you cooed, he burst into a fit of laughter, accidentally pushing himself into a smile without meaning to. You grinned and pinched his cheeks. “There it is! That's my favorite smile!” 

“You’re such a dork.” 

“With a whole lot of love for you.” 

_ _ _ 

Jeongin: 

“Jeongin?” You called out from the couch. 

“Yeah, what is it?” 

“Can we talk for a moment?” 

He appeared from the back bedroom. A t-shirt sat in his hands and he ran a hand through his messy black hair. “What’s up? Something wrong?” 

“Can you sit down, so we can discuss something?” 

He swallowed nervously, but he walked over and sat beside you. You stared at him for a moment, shifting, trying to find comfort before you spoke. “Today is the day we usually take care of chores. That’s fine, but you’ve been wanting to do them by yourself today.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And that makes me feel bad.” Your fingers nervously intertwined. “I’m capable and I want to help you, too. I don’t like just sitting by and watching you do everything. Every time I try to help, you push me away and insist you’ve got it.” 

Jeongin stayed quiet as he took in your words. After a while, he found his voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do everything. I don’t want to be seen as an incapable baby, so I felt like if I did everything, I-” 

“Is that what you think?” Your words cut him off. “You think I see you as a baby? Childish?” 

“Well, the guys do. I’m trying to prove that I’m capable and it’s nothing against you, but I-” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I want to prove myself worthy and capable.” 

“I’ll always believe that you’re worthy and capable. Just because you’re the youngest in the group, it doesn’t mean you’re not capable. You’ve proved it time and time again just how worthy you are. I’d really like to do half the chores with you. I don’t mind them and sitting around watching you do everything on your day off, it makes my heart hurt.” 

He nodded and let out an apology. “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. If you want to, you can help me fold clothes. I dumped everything out in the middle of our bed. I think the dryer must have swallowed some of my socks. I’m trying to mate them first and can’t find them.” 

“Or maybe they’re just buried beneath the mound of clothes.” 

“I guess that’s a possibility, too.” 

You chuckled and stood up to help him. His hand slipped into yours and he tugged you in the direction of your shared room. He forgot how giddy his heart felt around you.

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi