#I did that bc I realized while I was writing this that this kind of works as both a multi-chapter and a one-shot so I decided to create bot

[daryltwdixon]

chapter 10

series masterlist Summary: In the time between when he took you to now, something changed. His hands grew gentler. Your fear turned quiet. And somewhere in the stillness, love kindled. || angst & fluff, violence, blood and gore, main character death, animal death (im so sorry), Pre-Boston QZ, Stockholm Syndrome, slow burn, raider!joel, captor!joel, homestead, kidnapping, dark themes, I also just learned what whump means so we're including that too || a/n: this is unlike anything i've ever written, and this is the scene the entire story was written around. please heed the warnings as this is a very heavy chapter. sorry to those who wanted to see joel kicking ass, he does it but you can't see bc im so bad at writing action lol / yes the formatting is intentional. yes i know it hurts. please be kind in your comments, I'm just a baby

It all happened very fast.

And yet it felt like it was all in some horrible, mind altering slow motion.

The handlers at the edge of the clearing let go of their leashed infected like hellhounds surging forward, screams and snarls excited by the sudden noise. They ran into the clearing as gunfire cracked through the trees. Your vision didn’t catch up with it all until Joel moved, turning on the spot and shoving you hard toward the porch, yelling for you to Run!

You stumbled up the steps, heart jackhammering, the world turning into sound and chaos behind you. You crossed the threshold, barely turning the knob with your sweat slicked hands, and were halfway through the door when you felt something rushing past you in a big, furry blur—

Samson.

He shot around your legs with a burst of movement, all muscle and fury, teeth bared as he tore toward the sound of Joel’s voice, toward the chaos.

“No, Samson!” you cried, reaching too late.

The dog vanished into the fray just as the door slammed behind you, Joel still outside. You could hear the crack of his revolver now that he’d reached the porch steps, but there was no time to dwell. He told you to hide, to get into one of the rooms, to lock it behind you.

And so you did– you turned and ran, nearly tripping as you flew through the house, ducking into the first bedroom and throwing the lock shut behind you. Your breath came too fast, too thin, lungs barely working as you collapsed to the floor and backed up, feet sliding across the floor until your spine hit the old radiator.

You sat against it gasping. Hands fumbling, you reached for the knife in your pocket, flipping it open with a trembling thumb. You stared at the blade, its cold, familiar edge waiting for the threats that screamed outside the house.

Your heart slammed into your ribs like it was trying to punch its way out. You stayed locked in that room, pressed to cold iron at your back, while Joel fought outside. While Samson tore across the dirt, brave and loyal and so, so stupid.

And you—what were you? You felt like a child hiding beneath the covers, a coward with a blade she barely knew how to hold. You told yourself you’d be ready, that you’d be strong when it mattered. But now that it was here, you were trembling alone, praying as if that alone might be enough.

You sat there with the knife clutched in your fist, pressed so tight your fingers had gone numb. The room felt like it was shrinking, the edges blurring, and the only thing keeping you grounded the rhythmic pound of your own heartbeat slamming against your ribs. The radiator dug into your spine, but you didn’t move. Your mind wouldn’t let you.

And after a while of only being able to hear your own blood roaring in your ears, you realized the chaos outside had gone quiet.

No more shouting. No more gunfire. Just a hollow, buzzing silence. Your ears strained, clinging to any sound, but all you could hear was the rasp of your own breath and the thud of your pulse in your neck.

Maybe it was over. Maybe Joel had driven them off. Maybe he’d already be climbing the porch steps, bloody but alive, Samson at his side, ready to take you into his arms and tell you it was done.

Please, you thought. Please let it be done.

Then came the sound of shattering glass.

You flinched hard, knife jerking in your grip, nearly falling from your grasp, but you kept it tight. Somewhere outside the door, a window had broken, the sickening crunch of splinters and shards spraying across wood. You could hear footsteps, but— no, not quite footsteps. A scraping sort of noise, a slapping of feet, wet and off-rhythm, stumbling too fast, like something wearing a human body but not quite knowing how to use it. You got up, slowly crawling to the door, and pressed your ear to the wood.

You could hear the ragged breaths, those waterlogged lungs breathing in the air of the house. It was a low, starved, inhuman rattling of breath.

Your blood froze.

No. No, no, no, no—

But then, there was more. A padding of movement suddenly on the glass, the infected screaming at the sound of it, and a snarl matched it, loud enough to travel through the door and shake the walls of your heart. And you knew. Knew who it was. Samson’s bark echoed through the house, sharp and feral. He was after it. That sweet, dumb, brave boy had gone after the infected. You heard his claws scraping against the floor, the snarl in his throat, the heavy thump of his body throwing itself toward the thing that dared to trespass into your home.

Samson’s voice, if a dog could even have one, went raw and ragged, erupting into a series of snarls and screams so violent they didn’t even sound like him anymore. And as you pressed your ear harder to the wooden door, the sound of him rattled around your skull like a loose train over rusted tracks. You felt it in your bones, could hear the wet thud of bodies hitting wood, the skitter of claws trying to find purchase on the floor.

But worse than that, worse than a dog fighting for its life, fighting for your life is that high, shrill, gut-wrenching cry that cuts clean through the noise and leaves silence in its wake. It shattered you—froze your lungs mid breath.

And suddenly, when your lungs filled again, it wasn't with air, but with cold, burning dry ice fury. You realized you didn’t care that you could die, that if you opened the door, there was a strong possibility of a nightmare on the other side.

You ripped the door open, slamming it on its hinges. The creature turned unnaturally fast, all instinct and no humanity. As soon as it saw you it lunged, and its body collided with yours so fast it knocked the air from your chest. It was heavier than it looked, wiry and wrong, all muscle and hungry hungry hungry. Its hands clawed at your shoulders, jaws snapping inches from your face, bloodied teeth gnashing as it screamed that shrill, inhuman sound right into your skin.

You hit the wood floor hard, but the pain didn’t matter. All you could feel was that earth-shattering vehemence—the kind that made your blood churn and your vision blur. A scorching ice storm tore through your veins, wild and merciless, for your dog, for your home, for this sacred little life you had carved from the dirt with blood and sweat and aching hope. Anger for Joel, who had fought tooth and bone to keep you safe. And as the infected’s face loomed closer, snarling, breath rank with rot and death, all you could think of was him. Joel. Your Joel. The man who thought he was no good, who still stood between you and the fire, who was out there now, doing just that. You hoped he was still breathing. You prayed. And as you prayed for his life, you screamed and sobbed and thrashed beneath the weight of that thing, your hands searching with desperation. One found its jaw and shoved, just enough to shift its balance, just enough to move. The other rose like instinct, like fury given form, and drove your blade up through its mouth, straight into the soft ruin of its brain.

It collapsed on top of you all at once, heavy and lifeless, and still your sobs came wracking, splintering through your ribs, aching deep in your chest. You shoved it off with trembling arms, gasping as you scrambled backward, until your spine met the cold, comforting iron of the radiator once again. You pressed against it like it could hold you steady, like it could anchor you to something that still felt like home.

By the time your breathing began to steady, your body came alive with reality. You ached in places you hadn’t even felt the impact. Your skin prickled with heat and cold in turns, a clammy sheen sticking to your neck and chest. A buzzing sensation crept through your limbs, like your nerves were trying to fire all at once. Just the adrenaline wearing off, the shock. 

But as you waited there and the silence thickened, your heart began to beat harder again, not with panic now, but with fear. Real fear. The kind that settled into your bones, the kind that felt like knowing. Where was Joel?

As if your prayers were suddenly answered, you heard the front door open, accompanied by low and steady footsteps padding through the front room. But then, that instinctual part of you that was responsible for keeping you alive shot a flare of panic through you. You clutched the blade tighter, heart thudding like a war drum in your throat. What if they had found you? What if they’d killed Joel and they were coming to finish you off now?

The footsteps were slow and uneven, floorboards creaking under their weight as they got closer. There was no voice, no words, just the echo of boots and the soft drag of an undeniable limp.

You saw the shadow looming closer to the doorway before his familiar, big, rough hand pushed the door wider and stepped through. He was looking down at the body on the floor, the blood that was pooling around it, before looking up at you.

Joel.

His shoulders filled the frame, blood smeared all over him as his face was drawn pale and utterly familiar. He held his hand against his side, cuts all down his face and neck from the fight. For one fleeting breath, your soul unclenched. He was alive.

But then he stepped forward, and your breath caught like a fishhook in your chest. Your spine went stiff.

“Stop,” you gasped, “Don’t— just stay back, don’t come any closer.”

Your hands came up between you like a barrier, shaking but firm, with eyes wide and glassy. His boots halted on the threshold, and for a moment, he looked like he’d been shot. Your pulse skyrocketed again, fear icing your veins and blood rushing to your ears. You couldn’t tell if the light headedness was from being forced to the ground in the attack or the panic that thrummed through you now.

“What—?” he began, stepping forward again, both of his hands reaching, open and supplicating.

“Joel!” you shrieked, scrambling and keeping your hands up, one with the knife still clutched tightly, “I said stay back!”

He stopped cold, breathing hard, and for a moment, something flickered behind his eyes, something more painful than all the cuts and bruises and wounds on his body. You wondered, then, if he remembered the way your voice echoed the same way against the walls when you demanded for him to let you go all those months ago.

How that felt like such a far, far away dream now.

Your chest heaved, skin feeling lit on fire, feeling like it was screaming, wanting to peel away from the inside. The adrenaline was fading, and what was left behind felt like flames in your blood.

“What happened?” he asked, void of softness and gentleness now. 

You didn't answer. 

Instead, you reached for your shirt, bloody fingers pulling at the collar, and shifted it aside.

His eyes dropped, and all the color drained from his face as he exhaled every ounce of air left in his lungs, “Oh, Christ.”

It was as if his entire demeanor crumbled in front of you. He remained standing, but his face fell into an awful, splintered, painful look of grief, so pure and immediate. Like the pain was so sharp it gutted the breath from him.

You watched, frozen, as he sank to his knees in front of you, looking at the angry, blistering red bite on your shoulder.

“Baby…” he breathed, voice cracking on the word. It nearly shattered you then and there.

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke, lips trembling as tears blurred your vision. You looked at him, at this man who had lost so much, survived despite it all, and fought so hard to feel again, now sat in front of you unraveling.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, a useless whisper, “Is Samson…?”

He closed his eyes, answering only in the way his jaw tightened, his head dropping forward with a silent sigh.

You let out a strangled sob, knees curling into your chest as it hit you all at once. The dog, the bite, the way Joel picked his head up and looked at you like he couldn’t bear to breathe without you.

He began to crawl forward, reaching—

“No!” you cried out, jerking back so violently your shoulder throbbed with pain against the radiator behind you.

“Please,” he said, breath stopping in his lungs, “Don’t do this.”

“Stay back Joel,” you warned again, voice stern and barely holding together, “I mean it.”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

He shook his head as if trying to wake from a nightmare, eyes locked on you with that same desperate ache that once made you fall for him,

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, voice small and broken. 

“I don’t care.”

He pushed forward again, steady and unstoppable, like he’d decided if this was it, he’d meet it holding you.

You shoved at his chest as he got close enough, dropping your knife with a clattering to the floor, “No! Joel, stop! I said no—I don’t want to hurt you!”

But he was stronger, always has been. And now his arms wrapped around you, holding you like he’d try to keep you tethered to him, to the world.

You still shoved at his chest fruitlessly, sobbing as he said, “Stop fighting me, please, baby, just—just let me hold you.”

He didn’t flinch against your weak punches, he didn’t move, just held onto you tighter, soothing you with soft whispers, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

You were shaking, every part of you trembling like your bones wanted to come apart when finally your hands stopped fighting him. Like whatever had sunk its teeth into you was burrowing into the deepest parts. But Joel’s arms never loosened, if anything, they held tighter, his hands splayed across your spine, touch heavy and grounding.

“Please,” you whispered, though you didn’t know what you’re asking for anymore. For him to go. For him to stay. For this to not be real.

But Joel just pressed his lips to your temple, to your hair, to the damp skin at your hairline. Again and again and again. His breath stuttered against your scalp as he kissed you like a prayer, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, “It’s okay. I ain’t gon’ leave you.”

You let out another sob, quieter this time. Less wild, the panic still there, coiled tight in your chest, but it dulled beneath the weight of him, his body anchoring yours, his voice soft and sacred.

Your hands gripped the front of his shirt now, no longer pushing, just holding, clutching fabric like a lifeline as your head sank against his chest. His scent wrapped around you, that firesmoke burn, the smell of sun kissed leather and something undeniably him. The most familiar thing in the world.

You cried into him, hiccuping as his hands slid up your back, one cradling your head, the other splayed wide over your spine. He didn’t tell you to stop, to breathe. He just held you, steady and unshaken, as your whole world caved in.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, barely more than a whisper.

You lifted your eyes to his as your sobs slowly began to fade, your breath still stuck in your throat. His hand came to your face, cupping you so gently, so softly you almost started to cry again. Your hand came up in return, fingers red with blood, cupping his face back.

“I’m s–”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “‘Nough of that, please,” he whispered, hazel eyes pained and aged, “This ain’t your fault, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time. I should’ve…I could’ve…”

It was turn to cut him off, but this time you leaned up, kissing his lips so, so gently. 

You pulled away just to meet his eyes again, and they glistened, but no tears fell from them. 

“I love you.” you whispered.

His mouth pulled together in another tight frown, chin wobbling, his hand petting your hair over and over like he was trying to soothe the both of you.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he whispered to you, kissing you back. His mouth was shaking, breathing uneven as his lips molded to yours.

He eventually lifted you off the ground, carrying you with the intent to make your way to the bedroom. But you stopped him suddenly as you came into the main room, your hand finding his chest.

“Will you…” you looked over at the chair, old and worn by the empty hearth, “just one more time.” you whispered.

His hands tightened around you, and he nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

He set you down, not before making sure the moth-eaten blanket was down so your knees were comfortable. He began to bring over the firewood, pushing it into the hearth and getting it lit. The warmth was welcome against your clammy skin, your blood beginning to heat and make your skin rise in goosebumps.

When the fire was lit, he moved to sit behind you, and called to you.

“Come here.” His voice commands. Though it’s…soft. Not cruel, not mean.

Not anymore. 

It hasn’t been in a long time.

You move without hesitation, the old floorboards warm beneath your skin as you settle in front of him. The fire in front of you reminds you of everything that’s come before this. The first day, when every snap of the burning wood made you flinch, uncertain and raw. Of each quiet meal shared in the hush of survival, each pot of water boiled for a bath, a kindness, a ritual.

It glows now, steady and golden, casting both of you in ribbons of amber and shadow despite the afternoon sun still reaching through the windows. And for a moment, it feels like time has folded in on itself, like you're still there at the beginning, and somehow at the end all at once.

Joe’s old armchair groans when he shifts, knees spread, a hand already reaching. His fingers are warm and gentle when they gather your hair, undoing your braid. The brush is missing bristles after all this time, its wood worn soft. 

He doesn’t speak. Just parts your hair, gently combing through it in slow strokes, smoothing it back from your damp temples as if this were just another morning, not the end of anything.

With each stroke, your body melts more and more. When the brush catches slightly on a knot near the base of your skull, to the side of your neck where your skin throbs and screams, you flinch slightly. Your breath hitches, the pain searing through you. Slowly, he pulls the knot free, keeping your locks away from your shoulder, and you exhale, your eyes locked on the flames.

When he finishes, you don’t move right away. Just sit with him in the hush, the fire casting flickers of gold across your faces. Then, quietly, you turn toward him, not yet reaching, though every part of you aches to. 

“Joel,” you say, soft as breath.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are fixed on the fire, like he’s been staring into it for years.

Then he blinks and looks at you with silent reverence.

“You promised me,” you murmur, voice tight with everything you’re afraid to say. “You promised that if—”

“I know.” His voice breaks like a snapped branch. Just those two words, and already it sounds like the weight of them might crush him.

That’s when your hands move. Shaking, you cup his face, thumbs brushing over his thick beard, the roughness of his face. His eyes shut hard, lines deepening across his face as if he’s trying to hold something back. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer until you’re leaning into him, flushed against his chest.

You lean in, resting your forehead to his, and for a beat, neither of you speak. There’s just breathing—yours fast and shallow, his slow and unsteady.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” he whispers, “so much I could’ve shown you. I should’ve taken you away from here when we had the chance, taken you far—”

You kiss his lips gently, only brushing against him to silence his anguish, “Stop,” you whisper, “Everything you’ve done, everything we’ve done…it’s been…I never thought I’d have a life like this Joel.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling you into him completely, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. After a moment, his hands wrap around you, and he lifts you into his arms.

You curl into him automatically, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you. Your cheek presses against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you breathe him in. Sweat, firewood, the faint scent of your soap still lingering in his shirt from the last time he washed it. The smell of home.

He carries you to the bedroom upstairs and lays you down like something sacred, like setting you down too fast might shatter you. The covers rustle around you as he tucks them in tight, one hand smoothing over your arms, your chest, as if he could keep everything from unraveling if he just holds you close enough.

You’re trembling now—harder. Your skin burns, sweat trickling down your temples despite the way your teeth chatter.

He slides in beside you, wrapping his arms around your shaking body, cocooning you in the warmth of him. The way your body interlocks with his, chest to chest, belly to belly, your arms around his waist and his around your shoulders, your head between his jaw and shoulder. It couldn’t be coincidence, could it? You were meant for this. To be here, with him. To be held by him. Like your bodies had always known how to find each other, like they'd been waiting their whole lives to remember.

And for a few minutes, there’s nothing but silence. His heartbeat thuds steady and strong where your palm rests against it, your breath stuttering in your chest.

But then the dizziness starts.

The edges of the room blur. The floor tilts. You shut your eyes tight, trying to force it away, but it doesn’t stop.

Joel feels it and he shifts, hand sliding to your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “Hey. Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You try to speak but your tongue is heavy and throat thick. “I feel…” you breathe, voice shaking as you shake your head, “something’s happening.”

Your eyes flutter open, vision swimming, but he's right there, face close, eyes wide and scared.

“I can feel it,” you whisper. 

Joel swallows hard. You can see it in his throat the way his jaw clenches, his hand flexing against your back like he’s bracing for impact.

“You have to,” you say, voice breaking. “Joel, you promised.”

“I–I…” he says, the words stuck in his throat.

“I can’t be one of them. I won’t. I won’t hurt you.” You try to keep your voice steady, but it fractures, your lip wobbling as tears rise fast. “Please.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares at you, his face lined with pain, his mouth pulled tight like he’s holding in a scream.

“I always wondered,” you whisper, “how much of the person is still in there. In those first moments. When they’re still… runners. The way they sound, Joel…when they’re screaming and crying while tearing into someone. Do you think it’s the real them in there? Watching it all?”

Joel shakes his head slowly, his eyes steady on you, “I don’t know,”

“If I turn… if I see myself hurting you… if I know it’s happening and I can’t stop it—” Your voice cracks and you cover your mouth as a sob punches out of you. “Don’t make me live through that, Joel. Please.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, warm and silent, soaking into the pillow beneath your face. You don’t even feel them anymore. Your whole body is pulsing with heat, the fever blooming beneath your skin like wildfire.

Joel doesn’t speak right away. He just pulls you into him like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together—his arms crushing around you, chest to chest, heart to heart. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, breathing you in like he’s trying to commit it all to memory.

“I won’t let nothin’ happen to you, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, shaking, lost. “I promise. I promise.” It sounds more like a prayer than a vow. Like he’s begging God for more time, even though you both know it’s run out.

Your body shakes in his arms, but slowly, the violence of your cries dull. His warmth seeps into you again, grounding you for just a few more moments. Just enough to open your eyes and look at him, your lashes heavy, breath shallow.

Your voice is barely more than a whisper when you say it for the second time.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I don’t say it enough. I didn’t tell you how you saved me—how much of my life has been because of you. And I want you to know... even after everything, even now—I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Joel.”

His throat works, his eyes shining. He nods, just once. Like that’s the most sacred thing he’s ever been told.

“And I’m yours,” he says in return.

You both fall quiet again.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the rhythm of Joel’s hand on your back. The warmth of his chest against yours. His mouth brushing your forehead, your hairline, the corner of your eye. He kisses you like he’s trying to chase the sickness from your skin, as if he could just hold onto you hard enough, it won’t take you.

Your breath stutters. The heat becomes unbearable—coiling in your stomach, your spine, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. Your fingers twitch, and at first you barely register it. Just a flicker, a reflex.

But Joel goes still.

You feel the shift in him. His breath catches, his hand falters.

Another twitch. This one stronger as your arm jerks, your leg following. Your muscles pull in ways you’re not asking them to.

No. No, not yet.

You force your eyes open. The room spins and blurs around the edges, but Joel’s face is there, close and stricken. Your vision swims, but you find him. You always do.

“Joel…” you whisper. It comes out garbled, slurred, like your mouth doesn’t quite belong to you anymore. You can’t stop shaking. Your hand fists in his shirt like an anchor, like maybe he can keep you here if you just hold tight enough.

His voice breaks as he leans in, as his hands cradle your face. “I’m here. I’m here, baby. I love you. I love you, I love you—”

Your limbs jerk violently. Your jaw tightens until your teeth grind. Your head lolls forward, then back. A low groan builds in your throat—not yours, not really, but it comes from you all the same.

Still, you feel him. Hands on your face, his lips at your temple.

“I love you,” he’s whispering, again and again, panicked now, broken. “I love you, I love you—”

You try to find him again. Just one more time. Your fingers claw weakly at his shirt, but you can’t see his face anymore. Can’t see anything through the blur and fire and blood pounding in your skull. There’s only heat, only screaming inside your veins.

You don’t hear the whisper of metal against cotton, the shift of weight as he reaches for his knife.

You’re somewhere else in your mind, through the fire and the heat. Lost in the noise, the tearing of your own mind. In the last fragments of what made you you. Like sinking below the surface of a lake in winter—frozen on top, black and endless underneath. Your mind is a room with all the windows shattered, wind howling through the broken panes. You're still there, somewhere in the wreckage, but your body is a distant thing, just meat and memory.

But you can hear him, from somewhere above the frozen ice in your mind. Joel’s voice moves back through the static like warm water through it, slow and thick, muffled at the edges but still his. Still him. It trembles, low and wrecked, but it reaches you, finding some last corner of your mind not yet taken. 

“You’re okay. You’re so good. So good, you hear me?”

You think you try to nod. Maybe you do.

“I love you,” he says, as if it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to speak it aloud. 

“I got you. I got you.”

You want to tell him it’s okay. That you’re not scared anymore. That he made this life feel like something real. That even if it was short, even if it ends here, it was still worth it. Because it was him.

But you can’t. Your lips won’t move.

And his voice starts to drift, the edges blurring like it’s being pulled back into that darkness, that lake. 

Then, with a quick pressure to the back of your skull, there was nothing.

No darkness.

No light or sound or warmth.

Nothing.

As if someone pulled the cord to the stars.

taglist: @orcasoul, @ilovetoomanymen, @niceforcum, @glaszdoll, @therewastherewas, @axionn, @aleariixx, @izzy698, @shivispunk @demonsasss, @pedropascalsbbg, @urlivingdeadgirl, @televangrl, @mani-pedro, @erska777, @samarav, @levlli, @harriedandharassed, @tomie-it-girl, @streamermattsgf,@uravitsy, @lostinthestreamofconsciousness, @umadirectioner, @quistals, @cinnxmxngxrl, @ithinkimaslutforharry

[lizardbrainlabs]

sketched out all the human partners!!!

[gwuncan-exhibit]

Hi there everyone, I have some very special news that I’d like to share for all of you…my AleTyler story is finally complete! It’s now available to read on both Wattpad and AO3! 🥳✨🏳️‍🌈

I was going to save this announcement for when I came up with a good title for this tale, but unfortunately, I haven’t really been able to find one that seems like the right fit, so I’ve decided to just go ahead and make this post regardless. The title will come soon though, I think it’s just going to end up being something that will simply show up when it does. 🍃

And also, @whereislyn was the one that created the gorgeous artwork that you’re seeing here above! This is the cover for my story and it really captures the true spirit of what I wanted this tale to be like, beautiful job done by them! 💟💫

But yeah, I hope that you all like this little love story I have made for these two kings! It was so much fun to write and I also hope that it’s a little bit as much fun for you reading it as it was for me making it. Enjoy!!! 🫶🏼💞

[orcelito]

Also I got my essay exam back today. Full points!!! Which was a surprise bc my 4th essay was definitely lower quality than the other three (bc I rushed it), but still good enough to get full points!!!!

Makes me wonder what that other one I spied being a 1 was like 🤔🤔🤔 bro was NOT good at writing I guess.

[j-esbian]

love being told that the tenuous grasp i thought i had on the social landscape is, once again, completely wrong

[velarisdusk]

Something Precious

Azriel x Reader

word count: 2.1k content: [ nun crazy just reader having mega insecure thoughts lol ] summary: Azriel has always been steady, unwavering—but the way you look at him makes something shift. Small moments, fleeting words, a tension neither of you acknowledge… until it’s impossible for him to ignore. author's note: IM BACK BABEYY!!!!! this ones a bit short but i thought it'd be a good one to help get myself writing again. i really like how it turned out, just a nice, sweet lil fic nothin crazy :) also not beta'd bc i just needed to get something out NEOW. hope this is to your liking anon thank u for the req!! <3 ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its golden glow casting shifting patterns across the walls of the House of Wind. The night outside was crisp and quiet, Velaris resting under a blanket of stars, but here, in this small cocoon of warmth and firelight, everything felt still. 

Azriel lay stretched out on the couch, wings spilling over the cushions in an easy sprawl. His shadows had retreated for the night, content to flicker lazily at the edges of the room, leaving nothing between you but firelight and the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. 

You lay draped across his chest, your weight a comfortable, grounding thing. His heartbeat thudded beneath your cheek, slow and sure, and the warmth of his skin seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt. One of his hands rested at the small of your back, tracing lazy circles under your sweater, while the other curled lightly around the nape of your neck, fingertips brushing idly over your skin. 

You sighed, nuzzling deeper against him, letting the scent of cedar and night-chilled wind wrap around you like a second blanket. Your fingers trailed absentmindedly over his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, and when you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, your heart did that ridiculous little stutter it always did. 

Because Azriel was looking at you like that again—like you were something precious. Something worth holding onto. 

The firelight flickered in his hazel eyes, turning them molten, but there was something softer underneath. Something quiet and steady, tucked between the affection in his gaze and the slight curve of his mouth. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. 

You exhaled, barely above a whisper, as if afraid you might shatter the fragile silence. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.”

It wasn’t meant to be a confession. Just a passing thought, one that had been lingering in the back of your mind since the moment you started whatever this was—since the moment you realized someone like him could want someone like you. 

But Azriel stilled beneath you. It was subtle, just a flicker of tension in his fingertips, a pause in the slow drag of his hand against your back. Gone in an instant. 

You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been laying on his chest, if you hadn’t felt the way his heartbeat faltered for just a second before steadying again. You didn’t call attention to it, just as Az hadn’t. Hadn’t asked what you meant. 

Instead, he shifted slightly, adjusting his wings so they wrapped around you both, pulling you deeper into the warmth of his body. His fingers resumed their slow, absentminded tracing, his thumb sweeping over the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver. 

“Where else would I be?” he murmured. 

You huffed a soft laugh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. Anywhere. Everywhere. Someone like you doesn’t end up with someone like me.

But you didn’t say that. Just let yourself sink into his warmth, let yourself savor the way his arms tightened around you, as if holding you closer would make you understand. 

Because Azriel didn’t know—not yet. But he was starting to notice. 

And he didn’t like it. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dinner at the River House was always an event. Not a formal one by any means—the kind where the table was too small for all the elbows knocking together where laughter wove itself between the clinking of glasses and the scrape of silverware. Where the air smelled of roasted lamb and rosemary, of spiced wine and honeyed bread, warmth curling through the candlelit room like an embrace.

Nesta and Cassian had somehow gotten into a debate over who was worse at flirting—Rhysand or Azriel—which had quickly turned into a full-blown conversation about all their past entanglements. 

“You’re all fools,” Amren said simply, swirling the deep red in her glass. “None of you were half as charming as you thought you were.”

Cassian scoffed. “I was charming.”

Nesta didn’t even look up as she speared a piece of meat. “Debatable.”

Across the table, Mor snickered. “He was charming, in the way a golden retriever puppy is charming.”

Azriel smirked into his wine glass. Cassian pointed at him accusingly. “You don’t get to laugh. You spent centuries avoiding love like the Mother herself would smite you for it.”

“That’s because he’s got high standards,” Mor shot back. “Honestly, I’m just surprised Az’s even dating.”

Feyre hummed, shifting Nyx higher against her shoulder as he dozed, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. “Dating? I’m surprised he’s managed to keep someone around long enough to–”

“Feyre.” His voice was soft, but the weight behind it was enough to cut her off. His expression was still easy, his lips curling at the edges, but there was something there—something firm, something protective. 

Your stomach twisted. 

The words weren’t meant to hurt. You knew that. They were lighthearted, Feyre smiling at her brother-in-law, the way siblings poked fun without malice. And Azriel had cut her off before she could finish—before she could say something that might have struck deeper.

But it was already unraveling in your head.

High standards. 

Avoiding love.

Managed to keep someone around long enough.

Because is that all this is? A fling? Something temporary? Another short-lived thing in a string of them? 

Your grip tightened subtly around your glass, the air suddenly too warm, your pulse thrumming a little too fast. And before you could stop yourself, before you could sit with the spiraling thoughts for even a second longer, you laughed. Too loud. Too sharp. A sound that cut through the warmth of the room rather than settling into it. 

“Yeah, just wait until he realizes how much of a pain I am.”

Silence, just for a beat. 

Azriel’s head snapped toward you, sharp enough that you felt it before you saw it—the weight of his gaze landing on you, the furrow in his brows, the shift in the air between you. But you didn’t look. Couldn’t. 

Rhysand chuckled, breaking the brief pause, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. You’re practically a saint for dealing with him.”

Cassian smirked, lifting his glass. “Agreed.”

Laughter rippled through the table again, and just like that, the moment passed—folded itself into the fabric of the conversation, buried beneath the easy back and forth, the scraping of plates, the pouring of wine. 

Azriel let it go. Again. 

But it lingered.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Azriel eventually pushed past that uneasy feeling. It wasn’t a big deal—not really. He figured you probably hadn’t even meant anything by it. But something about it rubbed him the wrong way, settled uneasily in his chest, and he couldn’t explain why. 

But then it happened again. 

And again. 

Little things, small enough that they would have slipped through the cracks if he hadn’t been paying attention. The way you waved off his compliments, dodging them with a laugh like they were jokes rather than truths. The way your smile sometimes faltered, like you’d caught yourself enjoying the moment a little too much. The way your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve when he touched you, like you were steadying yourself. 

And then there was the way you looked at him—that was what unsettled him the most. 

Because he was used to being looked at in a thousand different ways—calculating, cautious, reverent, fearful. People looked at him and saw a legend, a warning, a weapon. He’d spent a lifetime standing on the outskirts of things, watching them unfold from the shadows, knowing that no matter how close he got, he would always be separate.

But you looked at him like he was something untouchable. 

Like you didn’t quite believe he was real. 

Like you were waiting for the moment he’d come to his senses and walk away. 

And Azriel—who had spent years mastering the art of patience, of knowing when to hold back—found himself growing more and more frustrated. 

Not at you, gods, never at you. 

But at the way you’d convinced yourself that you were less. 

That he was something more. 

It all came to a head one evening in the training ring. 

You weren’t training, just sitting on one of the benches, legs tucked beneath you, book resting open in your lap. You liked being here with him, and he liked having you here, even if neither of you’d ever said it out loud. He could feel your eyes on him as he moved through his drills, the steady weight of your attention like a tether pulling him back to earth. 

When he finally finished, muscles burning, wings flexing as he rolled his shoulders, he walked over to you. You grinned up at him, eyes warm despite the sharp winter air, and handed him a cup of water without a word.

Az took a long drink before murmuring, “You staring at me again?”

You scoffed, though the way your mouth twitched told him you were fighting a smile. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smirked, resting a hand on the bench’s backrest beside you, bracing himself as he leaned down. “Too late.”

You made a face, but the slight pink creeping up your neck gave you away. He kissed you softly, just a brush of lips, tasting warmth and wind and something undeniably you.

And then you said it.

“I still don’t know what you see in me.”

You said it casually. Offhanded. Like it wasn’t a confession. Like it wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve said.

Azriel  went still.

The words settled like a stone in his chest, heavy and suffocating. And suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks clicked into place—the deflected compliments, the hesitations, the way you looked at him like you were waiting for him to wake up and realize you weren't enough.

The frustration that had been simmering in the back of his mind finally snapped.

His voice was quiet, but firm. “Don’t do that.”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. “Do what?”

“That.” He straightened, looking down at you, jaw tight. “Talk about yourself like that.”

You shifted, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in his tone. “Az, I was just—”

“I mean it.” His wings flared slightly, a flicker of restrained emotion. “You say things like that all the time. Like you don’t think you belong here. Like I’m some…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Some gift the Mother decided to bestow on you.”

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t finished.

“You don’t think I notice, but I do,” he said, voice softer now, rough around the edges. “I can see it in the way you dodge compliments, the way you downplay yourself like you’re the lucky one—as if I’m not the one who should be grateful every damn day that you want to be with me.”

You swallowed hard, looking away. “That’s not—”

“Look at me.”

You did.

And when your eyes met, something inside Az ached.

Because you really didn’t see it.

Didn’t see what he saw every time he looked at you—the quiet strength, the unwavering kindness, the way you fit so effortlessly into the parts of him that had always felt empty.

Didn’t see how, before you, he had spent centuries standing on the outside looking in, wondering if he would ever have anything or anyone just for himself.

Didn’t see how you were already everything.

Azriel exhaled, slow and steady, forcing himself to find the words. “You are not some… temporary thing I decided to entertain myself with.” He took your hand, curling your fingers between his own. “You’re not lucky to have me.” He squeezed, firm but gentle. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You looked like you wanted to argue, to tell him he had it backwards, but there was something raw in his expression—something that made you hesitate.

Az lifted your joined hands and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the back of yours, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “Stop acting like you’re less than.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unsaid.

Finally, you exhaled shakily and leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like I am.”

Az closed his eyes, letting himself breathe you in. And then he whispered, “Then let me remind you.”

And he would.

As many times as it took.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you please do a part two of the Sebastian fluff where he lets his thoughts get the best of him and gets anxious that reader now sees him as a monster because of what they read on his document so he prepares extra good items and plans to give them heavy discounts and even some free but reader barges in like

"MANTIS SHRIMP??? PUNCH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW"

And after a bit of reassuring(possibly some punching too bc reader is too starry-eyed for him to say no to em) Seb realizes he trully never had anything to worry about and just, generally grows fonder of reader?

Ps. Adore your writing, keep up the awesome work!!

"God, why did I let them take it? Stupid, stupid, stupid.."

Sebastian couldn't stop beating himself up, even though he knew he shouldn't care about the opinion of any human sent by Urbanshade--especially one of the "expendable" class.

Yet because it was you, specifically--who was currently in possession of his document--he began to wonder what you'd think of him once you found out the truth:

That he was nothing but a horrible monster. Plain and simple.

If not the knowledge that he was a hideous chimera of several sea creatures' DNA...then surely the revelation that he caused the lockdown of the Blacksite would ultimately make you resent him.

He released all those creatures, who stopped at nothing to prevent you from reaching the crystal and had you running, fighting, or hiding for your life.

He was responsible for all the injuries you've sustained while crawling into his shop, desperately needing a medkit and a place to rest.

He would understand if you'd never want to visit him again after what they documented about him..but the image of your furious expression and overthinking the words you'd possibly say to him left him feeling incredibly anxious.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself gathering more supplies. Medkits, code breakers, and every light source he had currently in the shop, trying to market down whatever he could. He was even willing to let you take batteries for free...which was something he'd never normally do.

Would it be enough to make up for everything horrific you discovered about him and the terrors he indirectly put you through? Absolutely not.

Was he willing to try it anyways just for the small chance that you'd keep visiting him? Maybe.

No other human has shown him a single ounce of kindness or gratitude for his services. Nobody except you, of course, and he refused to lose that.

-thump, thump-

"Shit.." He froze, hearing movement in the vent duct, hands trembling for his light to shine brighter. Part of him wishes he could stay in the dark, as he didn't wanna see your face and whatever hurt expression it could possibly hold.

But he knew it'd be rude if you actually needed to buy something, so he forced himself to look as your familiar figure crawled out of the small opening. You seemed out of breath, like you were just running from something, and stood up to dust the dirt off your pants.

"Sebastian..I need to know something, and you need to be 100% honest with me."

The moment you pulled out his document, the shopkeeper could feel his heart sink.

"Wh..What did you want to know?" He asked, already bracing himself for the worst.

You sounded dead serious, and he was convinced you were finally going to let him have it.

You were going to force him to explain himself and his actions, and tell him what a monster he truly was. Literally and metaphoric-

"Its it true that you have mantis shrimp DNA????"

Silence.

Of all the possible outbursts he expected from you, that certainly didn't cross his mind.

Sebastian just stared down at you, utterly dumbfounded. He blinked several times, unsure if he was truly seeing the wide smile and starry-eyed look on your face.

He had been waiting for a deep scowl, eyes full of anger and betrayal and sadness that he wasn't the "friend" he claimed himself to be when you first visited his shop.

Yet now? He saw nothing but pure delight in your expression.

"Um..yes. But of alllll the things you read about me, that shocked you the most?" He was still treading carefully.

"Well, it sucks that you were an innocent guy who got thrown into a shitty situation." You gestured to him, frowning a little. "And I'm sorry you never saw justice, but...it's just SO cool that you're part mantis shrimp!" A grin returned to your face. "They've fascinated me for years! I used to watch videos of them all the time. Did you know the velocity of just one of their punches is equal to a .22 caliber bullet-?"

"Stop." He put a hand up, huffing. "At least some part of you must resent me. I mean...helloooooo, did you skip over the bit where I'M the reason those monsters are after you?! There's no way you could've ignored that..unless your brain turned off the moment you read "mantis shrimp"."

"I read everything, Sebastian." You huffed back. "Look, if I ever had to go through what you did..I think I'd wanna rebel, too. And as much as those monsters scare me, they've probably endured the same experiments as you. They probably felt just as trapped and afraid. You must see at least a few of them as your friends, right?"

"Eyefestation and the PAInter are the only ones I consider "acquaintances"." He answered after a long pause, shoulders slumped. "The anglers are primitive, but they recognize me as the one who freed them, so they don't bother me or my shop. The only creature that tends to be an issue is-"

-thump-

-thump-

Tensing, you looked over your shoulder to see a Wall Dweller emerge from the vent behind you, its mouth split open and drooling with hunger, standing on two legs.

"-that." Sebastian glared at the creature; and before it could run away, he blocked the entrance with his tail fin. "Oh no you don't." He swooped over to grab ahold of its head with his third hand, causing it to shriek and kick its legs as he held it up high. "You seriously need to stop eating my customers when they're trying to BUY SOMETHING!!"

The Dweller just growled at him, to which he ignored it and glanced down at you. "What should I do with this thing?"

"Punch it!" You grinned, your fists balled up in front of you as you hopped up and down. "I wanna see how fast you could throw one!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pleeeeaaase?"

"..ugh, if it gets that stupid puppy-eyed look off your face, fine." He looked back at the Dweller, grinning widely as he cracked his knuckles. "You wanna eat something so bad? Try this."

"....grahh-?"

In a blinding flash, his fist went through the creature's skull, effectively turning its head into dust. Then he dropped the whole body onto the ground with a grimance. "Eugh..never done that before.."

Then he looked down at you again, seeing your smile brighten. "Hope that made you happy."

"It did, that was amazing!" You laughed, kneeling down to rip off a chunk of the Dweller's flesh. He eyed you strangely, his expression changing to a look of horror as you shoved a piece in your mouth.

"What the f...why would you eat that?!"

"It's okay! I've had this stuff before." You swallowed, feeling rejuvenated already.

"B....Before?! What you're eating is clay and acid-"

"Actually, it's fresh meat. Reminds me of poultry, almost. I found a document somewhere saying that it has regenerative properties." You explained to Sebastian, whose eyes only widened the more you talked. "I didn't believe it at first until I saw the Angler kill one. I was hungry and...eating it healed my electrical burn somehow."

".......why was that not in its actual document?" He muttered.

You shrugged, ripping out another piece and offering it to him. "Care for a bite?"

"I'll..pass. But thanks." Lowering his body closer to you, he frowned. "Are you absolutely sure that-?"

"I'm sure."

"..you didn't even know what I was going to-"

"You were worried about my reaction to your file. I could tell from the discount signs and how you were scared to even look at me."

"............."

"But I promise it doesn't change anything, okay? We're still friends, Sebastian, and I'll still swing by to do business with you." You reassured him, smiling as you patted the back of his hand, before noticing the bandage on his third arm seemed bloody. "Um..when's the last time you changed that?"

"...oh this? Erm..it's fine." He attempted to hide it behind his back. "Nothing you should be concerned abou-"

"Too late. It's my concern now. Let me repay you for saving my tail."

He had no time to protest, as you were already on your feet and running for the medkit that was on the table. You weren't worried about getting to the next zone right now.

Not that Sebastian planned on kicking you out anytime soon.

No.

Now that he was able to confide in you, he was genuinely beginning to enjoy your company--especially as you asked him to rest his arm across your lap. From there, your gentle hands went to work changing the bandage out for a fresh one, using an alcohol spray to keep the wounds from getting infected.

He hissed and cursed a few times at the stinging pain, but not once did he try to get you to stop.

Suddenly, it all began to hit him in this exact moment.

You were willingly playing nurse to a giant sea monster that has killed a man and was responsible for the terrifying things you had to witness down here.

He couldn't understand..but at the same time he felt relieved that all along he had nothing to worry about.

"Th-That's fine..thank you.."

Hearing a sniffle, you glanced up as Sebastian hastily took his arm away, "standing" back up and turning away from you. You just smiled and patted his tail comfortingly, not saying a word as you waited for him to collect himself.

For once, that snarky and sarcastic fish you've come to know was gone, and he was letting his walls down, finally realizing he could trust you.

Eventually he fell silent, and you wondered what to do now. You bought everything you wanted to earlier, so you didn't wanna overstay your welcome-

"Do you mind staying for a little bit longer?"

The question surprised you, but you smiled and nodded. "Sure. As long as you don't mind, shrimpy."

There was a pause, and he slowly looked back at you, pouting. "Big talk coming from someone as tiny as you, friend." He playfully sneered.

You just laughed and shook your head, glad to see him in better spirits.

Thanks to that scrambler on his back, you didn't have to worry about HQ getting on your ass about continuing the mission or threatening detonation.

You could definitely stay awhile and ramble about more mantis shrimp facts to Sebastian...if he was willing to hear them, of course.

[simplyreveries]

I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!

what about a reader who’s unknowingly flirting with the twst wonderland cast (specifically savanclaw, octanaville and diasomnia) because of culture differences and species differences?

e.g petting their ears, giving them gifts, smiling with teeth (bc for moray eels that’s how they mate 👀)

OR fem reader who has her period and some of the twst students can smell it I LITERALLY HAD A NIGHTMARE ABOUT THIS 😭😭😭😭

OMLL I APPRECIATE ITTT!!! sorry for the wait!!! i chose some from each dorm bc of my character limit btw!!

azul ashengrotto

despite how much azul continues to do his best to learn about life on land… relationships are certainly difficult for him to understand sometimes considering how long he has spent his life in the sea and though there are many similarities between merpeople… there are still some differences. once azul is rather close to you he does become unintentionally— clingy with you. (when you two officially get together that's another story) but he has a habit of wanting to lean close to you or have a hand on you in some way, like on the small of your back when showing you something in the mostro lounge.

so needless to say, he is in love with any sort of touch from you he takes that as some sort of hope and sign that you reciprocate how he feels haha. jade and floyd tease him ALL the time about it especially when he was struggling to keep his cool-headed composure after you once gave him a hug after he did something to help you once.

like I've said azul really doesn't think about it or even try to be this way around you he just does aljdfajdkhf. he’ll feel like a smitten fool as he sits in the vip lounge as he's doing papers and just think about how you playfully linked your arm around his to bring him somewhere. small things like that are actually quite big to him when it comes down to the differences.

jade leech

he's aware you probably don't know that you're unknowingly flirting with him, but he finds it amusing and plays along with you, nevertheless. he thinks it's cute that you don't know and all the more enticing, you’ll find him chuckling, trying to hide his grin with his gloved hand “oh my, I didn't know you liked me that much fufu” he’d say. you can't help but feel confused as to what he finds so interesting… like you literally just yawned.

it'll take him a while to actually tell you what it means since he finds the obliviousness to be quite cute. you only put two and two together when he tells floyd about what you did right in front of him and the two laugh about it. now you've got floyd teasing u about it..

like azul he is a little more affectionate just in a different more. in a less obvious fashion, though there definitely have been a few occasions where he likes to bring your hand to his lips and see your reaction, he finds it so amusing. he always has his teethy grin plastered on his face.

leona kingscholar

he hates the way he can always tell when you're wearing cologne or perfume and he hates that he likes it as well, he may or may not be a bit addicted to your scent. he literally can tell if you're near just because he knows the damn fragrance you use.

if you two are particuarly close... like him falling asleep around you and such. if you happen to pet his head and his ears, he immediately shoots you this look then mumbles something before being too tired to do anything about it or give you some retort. he just lets it happen... he does enjoy it anyway. slowly he kinda doesnt realize how clingy he can get with you because of it. he becomes a little needy and wanting more attention from you. he cant help it.... i mean you basically just showed him that you're fine with it anyways.

leona seems to be someone who can get pretty possessive, unintentionally too over you. kind of territorial, like if you're someone he has eyes for then he doesn't expect others to really get in the way of that.

malleus draonica

malleus is not only a fae but a pretty sheltered one too, I’d think he’d take almost anything from you as a sign of you being completely infatuated with him as he is with you. you could offer split your ice cream or invite him out somewhere, show any sort of interest in him as he talks about gargoyles as he’s doing single club activities. the one time you asked curiously and wanted to touch his horns, he’d be searching for the loveliest jewel to bestow you for your wedding day.

speaking of jewels… he gifts to you a lot especially after you give him anything first (it could be a cool rock you found) and he’d be so smitten and glad to reciprocate that by giving you earrings, rings, necklaces etc. and when you accept them even though you're not exactly fully understanding why he takes it even more as a sign of you accepting his advances.

after taking any of your little acts of being somewhat kind to him and he’s already so deeply into you, lilia would certainly be someone who hears just all about it. i think he would only feel happy for malleus, as it appears he must’ve found the right one. he is just supportive of malleus and is simply overjoyed to know he has some little human that makes him so happy.

lilia vanrouge

he has lived long enough and in different places to understands human courting's and more so than someone like malleus. he knows how different it is, trust me he is fully aware, but he thinks it's amusing. lilia pretends to take it the wrong way and watch you get all confused, when he's just being playful.

just cant help that he finds it so adorable when you unknowingly show him affections as a fae would in his culture. even just being slightly affectionate with him is enough to have him giggling and warning you to be careful to what fae you do that to. they do tend to take very kindly towards any affections and gifts!

lilia will straight up tell you though too, you could gift him and give him something neat you found or made, and he'd look up at you with a stupid grin like "kfufu... i accept your love, dear" NO???. he still holds onto anything from you with the utmost joy.

[starkeymeow]

plot ── after you undergo a procedure to erase rafe from your memory, rafe, devastated by the realization, decides to do the same, only to find himself fighting to hold onto the love you shared, proving that some connections can never truly be forgotten.

content ── another fucking mini series bc i cant stop, rafes perspective, memory loss, emotional distress & heartbreak obvi, dysfunctional relationships, existential themes

authors note ── sorry guys ive been so busy w my new life that i have NOT touched tumblr in a good while. plus this semester is more demanding in terms of my workload ugh so im never writing anym its so lame

main masterlist | next

rafe stares at the card, his fingers gripping the edges so tightly the paper starts to bend. his breath is slow, shallow, like his body is forgetting how to function properly. the words blur together, but it doesn’t matter. he’s already memorized them.

he lifts his gaze to his father. ward stands stiff, arms crossed, staring down at his shoes like he’s the one who’s been blindsided. like he’s the one who just had his entire world gutted out of him in a single fucking sentence.

there’s guilt in the way he exhales through his nose, in the way his jaw slides ever so slightly, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“this is real?” his voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud will make it more true.

ward hesitates, then nods.

rafe lets out a short, breathless laugh, his chest rising sharply before sinking under the weight of it all. he shakes his head, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the card again, like maybe this time the words will rearrange themselves into something less impossible.

“so, what?” he scoffs, wetness pricking at his eyes. “they just . . . deleted me? like a fucking file on a computer?”

ward sighs. long, slow, through his nose. he knew this would be hard to explain.

“how many?” rafe asks. how many memories are gone now?

his father doesn’t answer right away. his jaw shifts, gaze dropping to the floor like he doesn’t want to say it. or maybe he’s just trying to soften the blow of something that can’t be softened.

when he finally speaks, his voice is careful. deliberate. “all of ‘em, bud.”

rafe scoffs again, but it’s weaker this time, like his body is struggling to keep up with his disbelief. he smiles, but it’s the kind that only comes when someone is trying not to fall apart.

“no . . . no. she didn’t. she wouldn’t do that.” he shakes his head again, faster this time. “that’s not even a fucking thing— i mean, erasing someone from your mind? since when did we have the tech for that bullshit? that didn’t happen.”

he throws the card onto the table like it burns to hold it any longer. gets up so fast his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. his chest is rising and falling too quickly, hands threading behind his head as he paces across the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, his fingers digging into his scalp.

ward doesn’t stop him. he just watches, his own grief settling deep in his expression. and maybe it’s not the same kind of grief. maybe it’s not the gut-wrenching, all-consuming, ‘i’ve lost the love of my life kind’, but it’s still there.

because he’s seen lucuna inc. before, out near the edge of the island, where no one really looks unless they’re desperate enough to. he’s seen it and he’s hoped no one he loves would ever consider walking through its doors.

but you did. a girl who once sat at his dinner table, who used to laugh with his family, who was supposed to be his daughter-in-law one day.

was rafe really that bad? bad enough to make you want to erase him?

rafe stops pacing so suddenly it’s like something clicks into place inside him. he turns, slipping out of the kitchen without another word. his father calls after him, but he doesn’t listen. his hands move on their own, grabbing his keys from the hook by the front door, pushing outside, stepping into the thick outer banks air like he’s coming up for air after drowning.

he doesn’t know where he’s going.

apparently, he can’t go to you.

but he’ll do something.

a/n: just the short little prologue so def let me know if ud like to be tagged for this one!

[81pastrys]

hey there, can you write something where dad!lando is like messing a lot with lila? maybe she is relly tired and lando doesn't stop messing with her but in like a sweet and teasing way? so when lila is laying down with her mom due to her tiredness, lando goes and starts to bother her which leads to reader getting a bit mad with lando and lila to start getting angry and frustrated? maybe then he fixes it by doing whatever lila asks him too and being a complete dad girl? thanksss

Inconvenient Timing

Summary— Lila usually clings to Lando and when she doesn’t he teases her but she gets mad at him for it.

Warnings— annoyed toddler ; annoyed wife ; annoying Lando

A/N—I rewrote this bc the first one was bad imo so enjoy!

Dad Lando List

Lando got home late from a race weekend, well for Lila at least. It was past dinner but before bedtime and she was exhausted.

She was playing with her toys quietly in her playroom when Lando came in and tried tickling her, making her tea party setup get ruined, by her shaky hands as he did so. “Daddy! Stop, my tea cups!” She whined. Lando giggled, not realizing Lila was mad at him now.

Her mum was cleaning up the kitchen from dinner and she went to her leg, clinging like her life depended on it. Lila huffed a breath without explanation and Lando came in the kitchen with them.

Lando kneeled down and poked Lila’s tummy teasingly and she turned away. He kept poking her and she started whining at him. Her usual giggle no where to be found. “Lan, leave her alone, she’s tired.” Her mum said. Lando left her alone for the time being.

Lila had been told she had to take a bath. Her mum running the water to a lukewarm state and Lila playing with the bubbles and her water toys. Lando came in to check on them and playfully splashed water and bubbles. Lila had yelled at him again. “No! No water in my hair!” Her mum grabbed Lando’s hand and ushered him out.

“I don’t wash her hair tonight, so she’s adamant it doesn’t get wet.” She explained. Lando gave her a quick kiss and she finished bathing the little girl. She dried her off and brought her to her room to get dressed.

It was a usual movie night for the girls and Lando went along with it while they picked a princess movie of some kind to watch. Lila was cuddled into her mums side while she watched the movie. Lando tried to make Lila laugh again with no success.

“Lando, leave her alone!” Her mum said again. “I feel like I’m parenting you more than her.” Lando laughed at the statement and left Lila alone for the night. Maybe she’ll be herself tomorrow when she isn’t tired.

Sure enough the next day she was fine, giggling when Lando would poke her side or tickle her. “I’m sorry for annoying you yesterday sweetheart.” Lando said when they were all calmed down.

“It’s okay daddy.” Lila said. They were playing in her playroom, the tea set undisturbed this time. Lila had put on a princess dress, seeing as they weren’t going anywhere.

“How can I make it up to you?” He joked. A big smile on his face. Lila thought before answering. She always wanted to try on one of his big helmets. “You want to wear one of my race helmets?” He asked.

She nodded and he motioned for her to follow him. He brought her to his streaming room where he had all his previous helmets. She picked his most recent testing helmet and he took it off the shelf.

“It’s heavy sweetheart, so you might want to sit down.” She listened, sitting on the couch. Her mum walked in and silently watched as Lando put the heavy helmet on her head and she giggled. He opened the visor and she looked at him, he could tell she was smiling really big at him.

“Let go daddy.” She said. Lando was hesitant, the helmet was nearly half her weight. He took his hand off and saw her head sway to the opposite of the couch and caught her. She giggled profusely as her mum had a mini heart attack.

He took the helmet off and she was super giggly still. “Yeah?” He asked, smiling from the contagious smile she had on.

“Your turn daddy!” He put the helmet on with the visor up and made faces at her through it. She reached her hand and closed the glass. Giggles erupting loudly as they played around with the helmet.

Giggly girl 🤭

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv @itznotsophia

[catbolt]

— PRETTY

[SOUNDTRACK] Pretty - The Weeknd || ▶︎

Sylus doesn't take breakups lying down. Well... maybe lying on top of you.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angst, smut, rough sex, ex-boyfriend!Sylus, cheating (with him) (on Zayne eek), dubcon sorta, choking, Evol, mentions of blood, glasses sylus bc it's soooo hot

[A/N] my debut fic for LADS (have not written for genuinely years so forgive any rustiness, first time doing any smut also, so i was frankly a bit light with it.) More angst than smut tbh as that is my comfort zone hehe. 100% inspired by "pretty" by the weeknd from my sylus playlist

plz reblog and share or comment if you want! Feel free to leave any thoughts or feedback as this is my first time writing in a while :)

[WC] 5.1k

songfic 1/?

Sylus’ call comes unexpectedly. As his calls always did, but especially this time, considering the last time they talked she had cursed him out and damn near trashed his house, saying she was done, telling him to delete her number. He had sat on the couch with an impassive stare, arms crossed, legs splayed leisurely, completely silent. This had just enraged her even further, and she had thrown a pillow at him, desperate for some kind of reaction. He had caught it and set it down next to him calmly, continuing to refuse to give her even a morsel of proof he cared.

Whatever the two of them had had, it was over. She thought she had made that extremely clear. So her eyebrows furrow in confusion and annoyance when his name comes up on her phone screen. Sylus wouldn’t be the type to beg for her back, so what could he possibly be calling her for? Especially when he knew she was going on an out of town mission?

Especially when he knew Zayne was on this mission with her?

Against her better judgment, she accepts the call and leans back in her chair in her hotel room, mouth drawing into an irritated grimace. “What.”

The line crackles with his dark, familiar laughter. “Hello to you too.” “Talk,” she spits.

“I’m on a flight,” he says. “To where you are. I’ll be landing in an hour. Let’s see each other.”

“I don’t think so,” she retorts immediately, seething  at his audacity-- how he could possibly be calling her right now as if what had happened last week was nothing. 

“Ah. Let me rephrase. That wasn’t a question,” he says sternly. “I will be seeing you when I land. Consider this a courtesy heads-up.”

“You don’t know where I am,” she responds. “I am not seeing you. It’s late and I have work tomorrow.” “Don’t piss me off.” He snarls. “I don’t like being underestimated. I obviously know exactly where you are.”

She grits her teeth, realizing she should have anticipated that, but quickly regains her composure. She’s used to the back and forth with him. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to see me.” “Of course not,” he says coldly. “I’m here on business. I just happen to have a free night.” His voice softens. “And I’d like to spend it with you.”

Her hands curl into fists. “Don’t act like I didn’t tell you to your face to never contact me again. What the hell are you doing?”

Sylus doesn’t respond for a moment, and then the silence is broken with his chuckle. “You didn’t block me. So it seems you weren’t as adamant about that as you acted.”

Her cheeks redden with shame. He’s obviously right, she didn’t block him-- something had stopped her, even though she knew she should have. In the back of her mind, she had maybe fantasized about him calling her desperately, apologizing, begging for her back, and her crushing his hopes coldly like he had done to her so many times before.

“It doesn’t matter. You know I’m with Zayne now,” she says matter-of-factly. “You have no right to see me. I’m with somebody else.”

“I said don’t piss me off,” he bites, the simmer of irritation beginning to seep into his voice. It gives her a shiver of satisfaction knowing that she’s able to get under his skin even just a little. She leans into the receiver. “In fact, I was just on my way to his place now. It was a long day... we definitely both need to rest up together.”

The line falls quiet, and then Sylus finally replies, voice icy and measured. “You can’t possibly think I’m buying that, are you? Please, princess. I told you I’ll be there in an hour. Doll yourself up for me. I’ll take you out.”

The line drops. She scoffs, shaking her head. She’s pissed that he saw through her lie about Zayne-- he’s still working late, and there’s no way she’ll be seeing him tonight. She wonders what gave it away. Was it that he’s got men spying on them, or was it that her voice betrayed a hint of halfheartedness when she lied?

Her heart thuds, and her mind snaps back to the situation at hand. One hour. She sits still in the seat, completely unsure of her next move. Deep down she knows whether she likes it or not, Sylus will be on her doorstep right when he said he would. It’d be fruitless to attempt to escape him when he has eyes everywhere. So her plan... should be to fend him off. 

Her resolve was always weak when it came to that, but she tries to steel herself, taking deep breaths, recounting all the times he had ignored her, pushed her aside, forgotten about her. She tries to channel that resentment into a cold hard shell around her. She won’t be weak again. Not now. Not when she’s found someone good and kind who’s shown her that she’s worth time and effort. She won’t “doll herself up” for him. It’s her turn to show she doesn’t care.

The hour ticks by in a second, and there’s a steady knock on her door. Her heart sinks-- she had hoped that somehow his plans would have been foiled by some unexpected flight delay, but he was right on time as always. She sits still on the corner of her bed, unmoving. 

“Don’t make me pick the lock,” he chides softly. His voice is muffled through the wood, but the gleam of amusement shines through. She buries her face in her palms for a moment, and then slowly walks up to open the door just a crack. 

He pushes it fully open with a strong hand, smirk playing on his lips already as he looks down at her. “Still in your uniform,” he chides. “You want to wear that?”

“You are not taking me out.” She responds coldly, turning to walk over and sit at the coffee table again, not meeting his gaze. She needs to maintain distance. 

“If you’d rather stay here, we could make that work.” Sylus shuts the door quietly behind him and then leans his back against it, posture casual in a way that sends a spike of annoyance through her. This is why they broke up in the first place-- he was always so motherfucking casual about everything, even her, face betraying not a sliver of his true feelings. 

“What do you even want from me?” She snaps, eyes glued to the coffee table. Anything to avoid looking at him. “I told you I’m with someone else. I’m not interested in restarting anything with you.”

“When did I say anything about that?” He chuckles, clearing the room in a few swift strides and sitting on the loveseat opposite her. He’s wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants-- even his glasses, which he usually doesn’t. His hair is mussed up a bit, and she notices light bags under his eyes that give her pause. Something’s definitely up. She doesn’t know what, but doesn’t want to ask. She can’t invite more conversation if her goal is to get him out of this room. 

“I just want to take you out,” he murmurs, head now resting in his hand. “Is that a crime?” “Yes, when I’m spoken for by another man, it is.” She glares at him. “What about me being with someone else do you not understand?” “Does he make you feel pretty?” Sylus drawls, red eyes flickering with a hint of contempt. Her breath catches slightly, not anticipating the question. “What--”

“Does he?” Sylus pushes, leaning forward in his seat. “Does he make you feel beautiful?” “I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“No.” he cuts her off. “He doesn’t.” 

She’s stunned into silence. He leans back again, chuckling and pushing up his glasses, a motion that unfortunately sends a familiar fire coursing down her body, through her chest to her abdomen. “You didn’t fight me when I came in. You didn’t yell, or tell me to leave. That tells me all I need to know, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she sneers back. 

Suddenly Sylus’ hand is gripping her chin hard, forcing her head to meet his eyes. He’s closer than she had realized, his eyes staring deep into her own. “He can’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus rumbles, his thumb tracing her jaw, expression an inscrutable mask. 

In a moment, she finds herself sprawled out on the hotel bed before she can think. His Evol-- he can throw her around how he pleases, she reminds herself, mind flashing with memories she’s tried to forget of all the compromising positions her body’s been twisted into at his whim. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest as he looks down at her. She feels the heat of his gaze like two laser pointers as they examine her, lingering on every part of her. It's as if she’s under a scientist’s microscope. His gaze is unfeeling, but still somehow red-hot, and she can’t help the way her chest heaves up and down, feeling so observed.

He takes note of her body’s involuntary reaction. “He can’t make you feel like this by just looking at you, can he doll?”

“Fuck you,” she barks, face flushed with shame as she backs up on the bed, increasing the distance between the two. He smirks. “You’d like to?”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that what you’re here for? Sex?”

“No,” he muses, sitting down at the corner of the bed, looking at her. “Though I’m not opposed. I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Her breath is coming out ragged. She can’t hide her anger much longer. “How are you acting like nothing happened? We--I-- I don’t love you! I don’t want you! What about that is so hard for you to understand?”

“Liar,” he hums in a sing-song tone, brow quirking as he meets your harsh stare cooly. “I don’t understand it because it’s a lie, sweetie. If I touched you right now your body would tell me the truth. But I already know it.” His face is smug. She wants to slap him.

“Just-- just because I might still be attracted to you doesn’t mean I would ever do anything with you again, Sylus. I have morals,” she spits.

In a red flash, he’s on top of her, a finger pressed into the center of her chest, other hand braced on the headboard. Her body convulses involuntarily in shock of his sudden proximity as well as the feeling of his skin-- even just his fingertip-- pressed against her.

He grins at her reaction. “That’s my girl.” 

“Get the fuck off me,” she hisses up at him. He lowers himself so his lips touch her earlobe, so his chest is pressed against hers. “No,” he whispers simply.

At this distance, she can see even more strikingly the weariness in his features. His skin is rough. His eyes are tired. There’s a small pimple on his cheek, a hint at the fact he must have been skipping his skincare routine that he’s always been so adamant about staying on top of.

For a moment she relishes in the thought that his undone-ness is because of her. Her instincts get the better of her, and she ensnares a fist in his sweater, pulling him down even lower, tilting her head to whisper in his ear, now--

“You look like shit. Are you sad about me?”

He reels back in surprise, eyes clouding for the first time with something other than smugness, brows momentarily twitching, betraying his facade. His hand wraps around her throat, holding her into the pillow, the touch gentle but forceful. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds her steady. His mask is on before she can double back.

“Can’t a man have an off day?” he chides her. “Maybe I haven’t slept so well. I was just on a long flight. Sue me.”

“Doesn’t look like it was just a day,” she responds instantly. “Looks like an off month. Are you finally regretting being a dick?”

He sneers, hand twitching around her throat, but he remains gentle. “I’m not a dick.”

“You are a huge fucking dick,” she spits back. He leans back off her, rising into a kneeling position, smirking down at her, releasing his hand from her neck It’s then she realizes she’s been holding her breath even though he hadn’t been choking her.

“Then why are you still lying here under me? If I’m such a dick?” 

“You’re just gonna use your Evol to put me back. It’s no use fighting you,” she retorts, but inwardly she knows she could have at least tried to struggle, shame rising in her stomach. 

“I’m not buying that, sweetheart.” He absentmindedly hooks a finger in the top of her uniform and pops the top button open with one hand. Her face flushes involuntarily at the gesture. “W-what are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it’ll take you to shove me off. If you really do hate me so much as you say.” He murmurs, finger sliding down to pop open another button. 

Her body freezes, her breath stilting into uneven inhales and exhales. It’s as if Sylus’ Evol is pinning her down, restraining her movement, but he isn’t-- he’s barely restraining her, only his finger on her body now, wrapping in the cleft of her shirt and undoing yet another button. Yet she can’t find the strength to move, eyes hazing over with the familiar lust she’s always had for him, and something further-- adoration, as she watches his face concentrated on her body. Even in this disheveled state he radiates, makes her heart swell against her will, beat hard and insistently like it’s pressing up against her ribs. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down slowly to kiss at her jaw, lips warm and soft. She chokes back a sigh, clenching her teeth at his touch but still inexplicably unable to move. “You know you want this.” She doesn’t respond, grappling with herself, memories of Zayne rearing, his soft and measured touches, in contrast to Sylus’ raw aggression. Finally, hearing Zayne’s voice in her head, she snaps herself out of her paralysis, hand coming up to push Sylus back, palm flat against his chest. “W-wait.”

He stops, eyes searching her face silently. “I--I--” she stammers, eyes wide, not able to get any words out. 

“Shh,” he murmurs, tracing a thumb across her lips. “I won’t make you ssay it.” He focuses on her, and then she feels heat flood her senses, a key sign he’s using his Evol again, in the other way. Her vision darkens, and she knows here, in this quiet black place he’s taking her, she can’t hide from him. It’s a place where she can only be honest. She feels her back arch as the feelings burst out of her-- I need it, I need you, make me yours, I miss you-- she feels a pang of relief that he’s removed the burden from her of saying it, of forcing her to betray herself, betray Zayne, out loud. But the shame eats away at her, corrosive like acid, as she looks into Sylus’ eyes, watching them glimmer as they decipher her hidden thoughts. 

Sylus focuses, attuned to her mind and body, feeling the words of her consciousness rush in as if uttered directly into his ears, proving what he already knew-- that he still has her wrapped around his finger. “Let me have you,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around yet another button.

Her resolve crumbles with her deepest desires surfaced by his Evol. He makes work quickly of the rest of the buttons, tearing open her shirt, exposing her bra. He growls at the sight,  eyes narrowing. 

“You want this... don’t you?”

Her response is choked in her throat, but manages to slip out despite her better judgment. “Yes,” she moans, and that’s all he needs to hear. His mouth meets her collarbone, sucking attentively. “Good,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m not fond of sharing, you know.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she mutters, her body’s reaction to him involuntary (or so she convinces herself.) “I’m still not... your girlfriend, or anything like that. I don’t even like you.”

“Who said anything about you being my girlfriend?” He mutters, mouth working over her neck now. He smiles into her skin. “Ah. Do you think I came here to get you to be my girlfriend again?”

“No.” She snaps, blushing furiously, her hands landing on his arms that are braced on top of the mattress as he leans over her. “I didn’t say that. I’m just reiterating what should already be beyond clear to you.” “I’ll tell you what’s clear to me,” he murmurs, pulling back for a second, his deep blood-red eyes boring into hers. “What’s clear is... this Zayne guy doesn’t seem to be able to handle this beautiful gift he’s been given, and it seems like this gift herself knows she isn’t being cared for properly. Enjoyed properly.” He hooks a finger into her bra strap. “Or else it wouldn’t have taken her only five minutes to crumble.”

“I’m not going back to you,” she spits out. 

“You never left,” he says softly, a half smile rising on his chapped lips. 

Suddenly she’s being flipped onto her back, her face smothered in the pillow below her, the sensation of a cold hand gripping the back of her neck, fingers encircling it with practiced ease. His weight presses her down, pins her deep into the blankets. With his other hand he deftly unlatches her bra from the back, and then tugs off her pants, leaving her exposed with just her underwear on. She whimpers, feeling the air smooth over her hot skin. 

“He doesn’t do this for you, does he?” Sylus drawls, an arm snaking under her hips to pull her upward on her knees, his other hand still pressing her head and neck into the pillow. Her cheeks burn at this new position, knowing how vulnerable and bare she is. She stays silent, a flicker of anger mixing with desire. 

He roughly yanks down her panties, and before long she feels a calloused thumb between her wet folds. She bites into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar warmth of pleasure surges over her. She curses herself internally for letting herself become so pliant, so weak in his hands.

“Seems like I’ve got my answer,” he mutters, thumb pressing against her clit. She bites back a groan, teeth impaling her bottom lip. She can hear his usually stoic voice growing thicker and deeper with his own building arousal, a sound which only makes her feel weaker.

“Now sweetheart, I don’t have much time.” He bends down by her ear, leaning over her, hot breath sending a shiver down her body. “I’d love to take care of you slowly, bit by bit, but I wasn’t joking when I said I was here on business. I have some pressing matters to take care of that need my attention, after this... matter right here.” He slaps her ass, hard. She yelps, drawing a rough chuckle from his throat.

“I only have time for one round, unfortunately, so I’m going to ask for your input.” He purrs into her ear. “Don’t say anything else-- just be good, and answer my question. I don’t have time for your backtalk.” The flat of his hand smooths over the spot he slapped, sending bolts of heat through her abdomen. 

“Fingers, my mouth... or all of me inside you. Choose.” 

She tastes the tang of blood from where she’d bitten her lip earlier as she opens her mouth to speak, voice hoarse. She whispers something unintelligible into the pillow. 

“Speak up, love,” he murmurs, gently easing up his hold on the back of her neck. 

“All of you...” she mutters, embarrassment making her cringe, face pressed into the side of her pillow. 

Suddenly Sylus spots her bleeding lip, and his brows furrow for a moment. His hands scoop her up so that she’s positioned up off the pillow, on her knees, his chest to her back and arms securely around her waist. He uses one hand to tilt her chin up and to the side. “You’re bleeding, honey. Bit your lip?”

“What does it look like,” she responds gruffly, still not wanting to give him the pleasure of agreeable answers. His thumb skates across her bottom lip, dabbling in the blood there. She winces. “Were you trying to be quiet?” he murmurs, examining his thumb that’s now flecked with her blood. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, leaning down to kiss her softly, the metallic acrid tang of blood mixing between both their tongues. “Don’t do that,” he whispers softly into her lips. “I don’t want you to be quiet. You know that’s not what I like.” 

The moment is more intimate than the previous ones they’ve shared tonight, and for a moment she softens a bit, her heart giving an uncomfortable fluttery lurch at his kiss, at his gently murmured words. But the moment is gone quickly, and his hand finds the back of her neck again, fingers pressing into her skin. “Remind me of your choice?” He says through clenched teeth. 

“All.. all of you...” she says through a soft gasp. His face is so close to hers that all she can see is the slope of his jaw and a burning eye that’s trained on her bottom lip. 

He nods curtly, and then lays her back into the mattress, her face finding the pillow again, her back arching as he nudges her knees further apart, his own legs coming between hers. As she hears the sound of his belt buckle unfastening and his low, deep breaths, she feels the shame and regret already churning in her stomach as she lies there, spread and prostrate, waiting.

“Don’t think about him,” Sylus says darkly, as if he’s reading her mind. She feels his large, muscular hands grip her waist, as if to steady her mind, to bring her back to earth, back to this moment. “He’s not here right now. Think about me.”

She stifles a moan as his fingers drift between her legs again, spreading her wide open. Her throat feels tight, and her entire body is covered in goosebumps. She trembles in anticipation, unable to deny the feeling. 

“He won’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus snarls, his hand returning to her hips, digging into the flesh. His voice is angry this time, and then her eyes blow wide as he sheaths himself completely inside her in one sharp thrust. A strangled sound tears itself from her throat, a sound she hasn’t made in a long time. He stays there, back hunching over her, his arms shaking, his knuckles white as his fingers press bruises into the skin of her waist and hips. 

He starts, his pace brutal, and she can immediately detect something in the way he thrusts, in the way his hands are so rough as they move up to her breasts, gripping her from behind. Rage. His hips snap against her, sending nearly painful daggers of pleasure through her belly. She gasps each time he pistons in and out of her, unable to see him behind her, face still pressed into the pillow. “He can’t make you feel beautiful like this..” Sylus spits between grunts as he buries himself deep, again, again, again...

“Sylus,” she chokes out, eyes hazy with pleasure, the world around her vignetting, falling dramatically out of focus. “I want to see you-- let me turn over--” she babbles. 

He pulls out with a harsh grunt, and then flips her over onto her back at her request. She takes him in fully now, eyes raking over him, torso bare and sweater discarded on the nearby couch, his pants at his knees, his face contorted in a mess of lust and fury, glasses slipping lower and lower on his nose. It might be the most upset she’s ever seen him look, even more upset than when they’d broken up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says harshly, gripping her hips again and aligning himself with her dripping entrance. 

“Like what--ah!” She hisses as he enters her, cutting the conversation short. He resumes his unrelenting pace, coming down to his elbows, inches of space between them as he ruts into her.

“Like you’re fucking examining me--” he sneers between thrusts. She protests, her hands finding his shoulders as she’s pulled deeper and deeper into pleasure. “I’m not examining-- hah... I’m just looking at y-” 

His hand clamps over her mouth. “Don’t talk,” he snarls. Her eyes widen. Something’s snapped in him, his demeanor different, whatever cold exterior he’d managed to build cracking undeniably now, revealing the twisted feelings layered underneath. His muscles ripple with unrestrained emotions, and sweat beads on his brow as he snaps his hips into her. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hear that I look like shit. I don’t want to hear you ask me why I’m angry as if it’s some fucking surprise to you.” With each thrust it’s somehow more intense, the friction and heat between them growing exponentially. Her hands find his hips as he pistons into her, scrambling for purchase on flesh that’s now slick with sweat. “Of course I’m fucking angry,” he hisses. They’re face to face, inches apart. “I’m angry that-- you’re gone-- I can’t--” he lets out a strained noise that sounds almost like he’s in pain, his abs clenching as he holds himself back. “He can’t make you feel like this... he can’t...” 

His hand is still clamped over her mouth, and she breathes through her nose, the restriction of air making her heart speed up with adrenaline. He fucks her deep, and it takes more of a toll on him than she knows it should. The way he’s sweating, the way his face is still twisted with anger and anguish and desire, the way his free hand grips her waist possessively as he ruts into her-- it’s not the physical exertion making him act like this. He’s genuinely upset in a way that he’s never let her see before. “Sylus,” she pants, her orgasm building deep in her core, like a coil of fire. As if the noise triggers his memory that his hand is still over her mouth, he removes it suddenly, holding her waist instead. He looks away briefly, eyes finding where their bodies connect instead, eyes black with lust as he thrusts into her. She can see the way he’s starting to go quiet, the way his rhythm is staggering. She knows he’s close too. 

“Do you still love me?” He blurts out, still not meeting her eyes. 

She doesn’t expect the question, and she doesn’t know how to respond. She evaluates a thousand possible answers at once, her brain overloaded with pleasure and confusion. 

His head falls, weak, as he continues rutting into her. “P-please...” he says, his voice breaking. 

She’s stunned. Almost as a reflex, she sits up a bit, gaze lacing with a newfound concern. “Sy...?”

“Say it,” he groans, his pace becoming more erratic, the unpredictability of it driving new spikes of pleasure through her. “Say you--”

“I love you,” she whispers softly, before she can stop herself. “I love you, Sylus.”

His body hunches over as he comes, as if on command at her words, and her own orgasm follows quickly, her hands seizing the sheets for a moment in a brutal grip before latching on his waist again. She gasps, holding him close, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as she feels his warmth fill her, feels his body jerk with exertion and pleasure. Her hands find his face, cupping his jaw as he weakly thrusts himself through the aftershocks, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself upright over her. 

The moment flickers with a liminal quality, and she feels like she’s trapped in limbo, some hellish purgatory of confused emotions. She’s said those words she can’t take back now, and now the two of them are floating in the dead space, less than lovers, a lot more than friends. He’s weak in her arms now, completely undone, whatever mask he once wore in pieces, ground to dust under the weight of her confession. He lies there atop her for a minute that feels like an hour, as she strokes his hair, confused by her own tenderness but unable to hold it back. And then he tears himself away from her. He’s buttoning his pants, pulling on his sweater, wiping a wrist across his brow and readjusting his glasses. It’s as if they hadn’t done what they just did, like they’re strangers again. She lies there almost in shock still, attempting to cut through the foggy haze of afterglow and form more coherent thoughts.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, his voice still betraying some of the turmoil in him. It’s softer than he usually sounds, and more uncertain. 

At his words, she snaps out of it. “Wait,” she blurts. “We-- we need to talk about this. You can’t just go after that!”

“I have to.” He says quickly, organizing his messy hair in the mirror. “Don’t have time.”

“Don’t have the time?!” She says incredulously. “You can’t treat this like some one night stand!”

“I never said that,” he mutters, looking at her. His eyes drift down her body, to her entrance, staring at the evidence of their encounter. She flushes, clamping her legs shut. Sylus clears his throat. “I never said it was,” he repeats. “I... I’ll call you. We can talk later.”

“When later?” she says hoarsely.

“When I can,” he replies, tone smoother now, regaining his usual�� impassioned quality. She notices, and it pisses her off. “You can’t just do what you always do,” she snaps. “You can’t just run away again and act cold. Like this doesn’t matter.”

He pauses in the doorway, and exhales a small sigh. “It matters,” he says quietly. 

And then he’s gone.

[heartyluv]

wait wait wait hear me out Caleb with a dad bod

just like a tiny one yknow but he starts getting insecure about it and shit and thinks that reader won’t find him attractive anymore while she finds it so cute and hot asf and she just wants him to fuck her brains out

note: omg this is absolutely everything…i could see myself doing a full fic on this one day if you’d like, anon! now, i didn’t write this to be freaky bc i don’t think that kind of reaction would suit a situation like this, but if i did a full one, the sex would for sureeee get like that. regardless, its short and quick, but i hope you like this. 😚

warning: mentions of weight gain, caleb doesn’t like his body

i feel like when you notice, it’s because he starts wearing shirts all the time. like you could never get caleb to put a shirt on if you wanted him to when you first started dating—and you loved it. you’re in love with that man and his body, so of course you always wanted to see it.

i’m picturing you and caleb as a couple who loves food. going out to eat, finding new restaurants, cooking new meals—like that’s your thing. but maybe down the line, he gets so busy with work that he ends up skipping the gym more often and with the eating habits he has with you, he puts on a few pounds. maybe his abs aren’t as defined as they used to be.

so he wants to hide it from you. and it was subtle at first—starting with just a tank top all the time. then he went full blown t-shirts, wanted to be behind you when you had sex or on top so you had to focus on his face and nothing else.

when you started realizing what he was doing, especially when he would ask for and do things he never has—like if you could turn around when he wanted to change or leaving the room entirely to do so—your heart brokeeee.

now, let me set the scene of confrontation: he comes home from work, takes a shower, and throws on another too-big t-shirt. you ask him to come to the bedroom when he’s done and he can see the determination in your eyes. it’s worrying and scaring the shit out of him.

“take your shirt off.” your tone is straight. not aggressive, but serious.

caleb would freeze. ready to run. “w-why…do you—”

“caleb,” you cut him off. “take.it.off.”

he legitimately thinks that this will be the end of you two. that you’ll see him and want to leave. but he’ll listen and will slowly pull his shirt off, but he holds it in front of his body.

“why are you doing that, baby?” you frown. the mindset and intention to be stern would be overridden by sadness when you see how vulnerable he looks.

“let me see you. i miss seeing you.” he can barely keep his eyes on you, continuously looking at the floor in silence.

“you don’t want to see me like this,” he’d retort with embarrassment. “i’m not the same. you won’t like it. i can’t do that to you.”

you won’t have this. won’t have him talking about himself like that. not the love of your life.

so you walk up to him and look into his eyes that are clearly watering as you pull his shirt away from his grasp. you then hold his arms down in place so he doesn’t try to keep himself hidden from you any longer.

when you look down to see his now softer stomach, all you do is fall in love with him all over again. not a single part of you thought to judge or criticize him. the fact that he even thought you’d want to, hurt you to your core.

“caleb…you look absolutely fuckable,” you nearly whisper. it makes him snort out a surprise laugh. you’re not lying and by the exasperation in your voice, he might just believe you.

“you’re the same man who taught me to love myself just as much as you love me. you taught me what it means to lean on you when i’m unsure.” you’d bend down to kiss his stomach. they’re featherlight, but full of meaning as you pepper them along his soft skin.

“you’re also the only man on this planet earth who i’ll ever love and whatever you think negatively about your body, know that i will never agree.” you’ll stand to kiss his nose and his lip will tremble. he can’t believe he’s this lucky. “let me show you how perfect you are, yeah?”

he starts to whimper, exhaling in relief when you press more kisses to his neck and jaw. “i’ve missed riding your cock, babe. missed seeing every inch of you. will you let me?”

and he’d mumble a gentle yes because oh…he misses it too.

of course he wouldn’t automatically just believe your words, but with how ravenous you become when you have just a little bit of him back, he knows that doubting your love for him because of something so unimportant, is a mistake he’ll never make again.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - PART SIX

Summary: “Y/N goes to a self defense class filled with unexpected confrontations, confessions, and an undeniably beneficial deal…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3.8k

Warnings: sexual tensioooonnn, and a tiny bit of angst

A/N: Heeyyy…. How y’all doing….

I got tagged bc someone was trying to look for this series and it made me realize I had this chapter sitting in my drafts and I just kind of missed writing on here so here y’all go🫶

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Y/N stood at the front doors of the gym, her breath fogging the window as she watched the people inside.

She felt like a proper creep staring into the building like this, but her social anxiety was getting the best of her. It was a form of stalling, and Y/N was aware that she it was a bit ridiculous, but she stayed put nonetheless. So far, she could only make out the receptionist and a couple of janitors.

"Who are we watching?"

A shriek fell from Y/N's lips as she jumped in shock at the sudden whispering voice in her right ear. She turned around and slapped Harry on his arm as soon as she saw the smug grin on his face. He had his hands behind his back, feigning innocence as he cackled at her misery.

"You prick!" She tried to sound mad, but the chuckle in her voice betrayed her. Her heart was beating faster and the hairs on her arms were still standing up, but she'd felt the calmest she had all day. Harry was good at that; making her comfortable.

He only laughed, holding open the door for her. Still squinting at him, she walked through the door and entered the gym. Scanning her membership card, she passed through the little gates and made her way to the room where their lessons always took place.

"Why were you lurking outside?" Harry asked playfully, shutting the door behind him while Y/N puts down her bag. She grabbed her water bottle and turned around.

"I wasn't lurking." She corrected him. "I was just checking if you were inside already."

He only let out a skeptical hum, walking over to the box and plugging his phone into the aux. Immediately, a great song came on, and Y/N smiles as the melody sounded through the speakers in the room.

"How do you always have this perfect music mix ready?" She smiled, strolling toward where he was standing. "Do you have a playlist or something?"

She hadn't expected him to even answer that question. But when he shrugged, she realized it wasn't just an empty theory meant as a joke; it was true.

"Can I see it?" She pleaded, and Harry rolled his eyes. "Please?"

That was enough to have the phone handed over to her, unlocked and ready to see what kind of playlist he had found.

Only, she came across a self-made playlist. It had all the songs Y/N had ever mentioned, and other ones she enjoyed, all neatly packed into one list. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the title of the playlist: an angel wings emoji.

Y/N swore she felt her heart malfunctioning as she scrolled through the list, every last one of them being one she liked. Most of these, she hadn't even mentioned. How did he know she liked them so much?

It took her great strength keeping the tears in her eyes from flowing over as she stared at Harry's cellphone screen. Handing the phone back to him, Y/N mustered a light, grateful smile. His lips quirked up in return, but when his eyes grazed over her hand as he took back the device, his entire face expression fell. Y/N frowned, glancing down at her hand.

A blush painted her cheeks as she observed her bruised hand. Her knuckles hadn't yet healed from punching Oscar in the face, and her wrist was still marked from his painfully tight grip. It would have been a lie to say that her right hand didn't still hurt like hell and had become a constant reminder of what had happened Friday night, but she hadn't wanted to think about it too much anymore. Instead, Y/N had been trying to focus on the temporary bliss that Harry had graced her with.

But the look on Harry's face told her that she wouldn't be able to escape the topic of Oscar anytime soon.

"How much does it hurt?" Harry's voice was soft, and the tinge of sadness that accompanied it caused a quick lie to fall from Y/N's lips.

"It doesn't."

Harry frowned. "Don't lie to me. I know these kinds of bruises, they fucking hurt."

Y/N let out a breath, shrugging her shoulders. Mindlessly, she went to pull her hand back, but was stopped by Harry's hands wrapping themselves around hers. Stroking her knuckles with his fingers, he looked up at her.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable," Harry started, and Y/N's heart rose to her throat. "but if that asshole— if he did something to you without your consent, I need to know."

"Why?" Y/N scanned his eyes; they were filled with a simmering rage that echoed in the hidden growl behind his otherwise stoic tone.

"Because I'll fucking kill him, that's why." He said it like it was an obvious thing, as if she should have seen this reaction coming. But she hadn't, and her eyes widened at his words, though she couldn't deny she had the slight urge to smile at his protectiveness. It felt nice, people caring about her feelings.

Silence filled the room as Harry waited on Y/N's answer. She could see on his face that he was hoping she'd say no, that she'd tell him not to worry because he never touched her like that. But Oscar had touched her like that, and threatened her afterwards, and it was fucking humiliating. Y/N's heart ached as she felt the bitterness spread across her mouth, but she couldn't get the words past her lips. The lingering fear of trouble, a possible escalation, stopping her from telling Harry the full truth. Instead, she opted for something different.

"Where would you hide the body?" She joked, hoping it would distract Harry from noticing she couldn't answer his question truthfully. Nerves swirled when Harry's brows lowered, and before Y/N knew it, he turned around and began walking towards the door.

"Harry!" She called out, hurrying after him. He wasn't listening to her at all, proudly marching over to the exit of the gym. "Where the hell are you going?!"

Y/N only caught his hands when he was outside, at the parking lot. She let out a quiet gasp upon seeing the look on his face. The anger on his face was downright scary. He breathed out through his nose, looking to his left; any other way than into her eyes.

"I told you I'm going to fucking kill him." He said— or rather growled as he frowned into the distance. Y/N clenched her jaw, desperately trying to catch Harry's eyes. With a sigh, she grabbed his chin and spun it towards her so he was forced to look at her. The second Harry's eyes took in hers, that fiery rage of his melted into sorrow.

"Harry—"

"He hurt you." He interrupted Y/N, and she was quite sure she felt her heart cracked at the words. He looked so devastated... for her.

"I know." Y/N breathed. "But I need you to let it go."

His mouth fell open. "What? No! I'm not going to let him get away with—"

"I meant for now." She was quick to put a stop to his rant. Harry still looked confused. "Technically, I work for him, Harry. Besides, he's way more important at the firm. I need to figure out the best way to deal with this without ruining my own career in the process."

Harry's gaze travelled to the ground, the corners of his mouth tilted downwards. After mulling over her answer for a second or two, he reluctantly began to nod. It didn't take long before his green eyes found hers again, filled with more calm and certainty this time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to jeopardize anything. It's just—" He sighed, defeated. "He's an asshole, and I would just like to physically remind him of that all the way to the nearest hospital."

Y/N couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her mouth at Harry's vague and aggressive muttering. She hummed in agreement, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the gym again. She kept her eyes on him as she walked backwards.

"Maybe if you teach me that left hook I've been trying to perfect, we can give him that reminder together." She said, and her belly fluttered when she saw a smile slowly appear on Harry's face.

"Yeah?" He asked, letting her guide him back inside. She nodded.

"Call it team building." Y/N shrugged as she pushed the door open, not noticing how Harry's eyes lit up at her joke. There seemed to be no one inside anymore, the last staff probably gathering their things at the lockers. Still, Harry swept a quick glance of his surroundings before grabbing Y/N's waist and turning her around. Not expecting the sudden turn, she stumbled into him, hand on his chest to keep herself from falling over. She peered up at him like a deer in headlights. He thought it was adorable.

"We're a team, then?" Harry gave her a little nod that nearly sent her knees near buckling. Y/N swallowed—hoping it wasn't too obvious—and smiled awkwardly at him.

"Uh— I mean, I guess— I was just—"

Harry could only smirk at her, tongue running over his teeth. "I like the sound of it."

The nerves settled in her stomach and arose again all at once. He looked so good in this light and his jawline seemed even more prominent than it did before. Y/N could've sworn he was shaped by the hands of a divine extraterrestrial being; it would be the only logical explanation for his face.

The distant sound of footsteps snapped Y/N out of her analysis of Harry's impossibly handsome face, and she felt as red as a tomato as she writhed out of his grip and hurried over to hide in their training room as the rest of the staff said goodnight to their boss. She heard his casual response, and when the front door closed, he came stalking into the room.

"You're nervous around me." He stated, not even looking at her as he said it. Y/N frowned, head whipping towards him.

"What?" She scrambled to find cohesive words but Harry already began talking to her again.

"Is it because of what happened last week?" He asked, squinting his eyes at her. He had been quite anxious about what happened on Friday. He could imagine how much it must've afffected her, and he didn't want to do anything that might make her feel uneasy. He liked her— scratch that, he thought she was an angel sent to earth. But he wouldn't want to pursue her if that was not what she needed, especially regarding the circumstances.

"I'm not nervous—"

"You are, I can tell." He argued, gesturing towards her. "Listen, if I made you uncomfortable in any way—"

Y/N frowned. "You didn't! I swear, you didn't. I just—"

Harry raised his brow, signaling her to go on. She let out a heavy sigh.

"I was worried they'd see." Y/N confessed, anxiety lodged up her throat as the words reluctantly leave her mouth. She didn't want to offend Harry, and by the way his face expression didn't change one bit, she couldn't tell if she did or not.

"Who? My employees?" He tried to clarify. When she nodded, a hum fell from his lips. "Why?"

"Because it's unprofessional! I don't want them to think I'm like... a slut."

Harry couldn't fight the corner of his mouth tugging up ever so slightly at the way she whispered the last word. Though, the genuine look of distress on her face made him get back to business as quickly as possible.

"First of all, you're not a slut. Second of all, I don't think my employees care enough about my love life to be invested in who I'm sharing a bed with."

Not only the allusion to sex, but the insinuation that Y/N was a part of Harry's love life caused her ears to burn. She was quick to look down, and when in a curious moment she glanced up, Harry's head was tilted.

"There's something else you're not telling me." He said with a determination that had Y/N stomach twist. How could he read her so well? Or was she just being that obvious?

"W— what do you mean?" She stuttered, any hope of coming across nonchalant ruined by her nervousness. She scratched the back of her head, taking a step back. Harry took a step forward.

"Something else is holding you back, and it has nothing to do with other people's opinions. I just can't figure out what it is."

Y/N's heart was racing so hard by now, she felt like it was going to fall right of her chest. How did he make nausea feel so good? "Harry..."

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

Her eyes widened, the question catching her completely off guard. "Uhm, I—"

"Answer the question, angel. Do you?" Harry repeated, building even more proximity between them as he took some steps forward. Y/N took a deep breath, summoning all the courage she had to look him in the eye without appearing like a deer in headlights. She wasn't sure if she was succeeding.

"Yes."

He hummed, eyes flicking down to her lips, before staring back at her again. "Okay, do you want me to kiss you?"

A deep sigh. "Yes."

Y/N swallowed at the grin that spread across Harry's face. It was hard to steady her breathing with him looking at her like that. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth again.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

The question felt like a car crash.

Too flustered to actually speak, Y/N lowered her gaze away from Harry's observing eyes as she nodded timidly. The soft touch of his fingers under her chin had her weak in the knees, and when he nudged Y/N's head up, the expectant look on his face was demanding enough to verbalize her answer.

"Y—yes." She responded, and the twinkle in his eyes told her what he wasn't saying out loud. Good girl.

Bending over even more, Harry brought his face nearer and nearer to Y/N's, his eyes softly closing for a second when he was close enough to take in her scent. It was as if she was floating a cloud; that's what being near to Harry felt like.

"Then what's holding you back?"

The whispered question made her take a physical step back. Harry didn't look offended, only curious as he awaited an answer from Y/N. She crossed her arms.

"It's stupid..." She scoffed. "and embarrassing."

"Is this about what you told me yesterday? About not being 'experienced' as you put it." Harry asked, and took it as a yes when she didn't immediately respond. "Angel, you know that doesn't matter to me. Like, at all."

She sighed. "It's just— the experiences that I've had—with the exception of yesterday of course—haven't really been great, and I don't want to like... disappoint or something."

"So now, I— I tend to backtrack when things get too intimate." She confessed, crossing her arms. Her ears were burning from the vulnerability of her words and the proximity to Harry. He still hadn't stepped away. "It just doesn't feel comfortable for me."

She looked at Harry, who looked like he was thinking it over for a bit. It almost felt intrusive, the way he stared at her, as if she was a capturing painting in a museum. She could tell he was trying to make sense of it— of her. She just hoped he'd interpret her the right way.

"You felt comfortable yesterday, right?" He asked.

"I think I did." Y/N answered, and by the way Harry's face pulled she immediately regretted the answer. "I mean, I just wanted... it— you... really bad so I wasn't really focused on anything else."

That made Harry smile. He was allowed to, Y/N thought, he did a good job with those fingers of his. "Well then, what's the problem?"

"I just... I know the pressure is probably going to get the best of me. It's gonna make me close up and screw up." She half-smiled, but her heart broke. This was it, she was basically rejecting Harry and now he was going to back of like the gentleman he was, and Y/N would have to spend the rest of her life fantasizing about what he could've felt like.

"What pressure?" He wondered. Y/N shrugged.

"I think... the pressure of 'dating' or 'hooking up' I guess. Labels freak me out. Feels like so many expectations hang from them." She tried to articulate how her body had failed her romantic life for years now, hoping there was some part of Harry that would understand her. But he was quite silent, and with each second that passed, Y/N's faith in that sunk further and further down. Until Harry finally spoke.

"Then we won't date."

"What?" Y/N blinked, this answer being the last one she expected. Harry only shrugged.

"You don't want the expectations? Then we won't date. Won't give anyone anything to talk about either."

She frowned; that confused her. "So... you want to go back to how it was before?"

Y/N's impending stomach ache was miraculously lifted when Harry shook his head. "No... I was thinking, I could— assist you."

She tilted her head. "Assist me?"

Harry's mouth quirked up slightly as he hummed. "Find out what you like or don't like, explore a little bit. Y'know... take some of that pressure off."

With her eyes wide and lips slightly parted, there were one too many things flying through Y/N's head. So many, in fact, that the only comprehensible response was one word and one word only.

"Oh."

Harry sniffed a laugh and out his hands behind his back. "We don't have to of course, if you don't feel comfortable—"

"No! I do." She said quickly, a bit more desperate than to her own liking. "I mean— I feel comfortable."

Y/N's skin felt like it was on fire when Harry reached for her face and tilted her chin upwards with his fingers. She looked at him expectantly as he analyzed her face again. He was looking for traces of doubt, but Y/N thought he best be looking forever because there wasn't any on her part. She'd been attracted to Harry since the day that they met. And he was right, the knowledge that there would be no prying eyes suddenly incited a certain... craving in her.

"Okay, let's do that." Y/N said, her tone a bit more confident this time. She could tell he was equal parts surprised as amused by it.

"Yeah? You gonna let me help you out?" He was teasing her, his fingers spreading a little bit, almost as if his hand was going to wrap around her neck. A sensitive ache started growing in Y/N's lower stomach. She was in a for a rollercoaster and she liked it.

"Technically, you're already helping me." She just had to point it out. Her awkward laugh caused Harry to let out a genuine one, and her belly swirled at the sight of his tongue grazing his teeth.

"I am, aren't I?" He said, a bit softer. His eyes radiated it too, the fondness he seemed to hold for her. She had no idea why, she felt like she was the human embodiment of a baby deer that was figuring out how to walk. Somewhat endearing, yes, but mostly awkward and after a while, annoying. For some reason, the light in which Harry saw Y/N didn't paint her that way. Lucky her, she guessed.

"You're sure about this?" He asked again, and Y/N felt the need to roll her eyes. She didn't feel like she could be much clearer.

"Yes." She answered hurriedly. Harry quirked up a brow and caught Y/N off guard when his hand suddenly did wrap itself around her neck. She looked up at the man in front of her, heat pooling between her legs.

"Still sure?" He asked. When she hummed, his hand trailed down her body. Y/N felt her body tense up as his finger traced down her stomach and stopped right at the waistline of her leggings. Maintaining eye contact, Harry hooked two of his fingers into the legging, pushing it down just an inch.

Y/N felt the fabric of her panties getting wet with each second that his fingers were touching her skin. She was downright throbbing down there, which made her feel a little bit hazy because she hadn't felt that for someone in— ever, she thought.

"And now?" Harry asked, his fingers dipping into her leggings and lowering down towards her underwear. Y/N shut her eyes, nodding aggressively. She figured a non-verbal answer probably was inadmissible on his part, and decided to speak up.

"Yes." The word came out as a gasp for air, which it basically was, because as soon as his hands disappeared in those leggings it knocked the wind out of her.

But then he was gone.

Suddenly, Harry slipped his hand out of her legging and by the time Y/N opened her eyes he had already taken a step back. It was almost as if she dreamed it, with the ache between her legs and his devilish smirk being the only proof of what just occurred.

Y/N just stared at him, confusion—give or take a profanity—written all over her face. She saw the pride he took in it— her wanting him. If only he knew how attracted she was to him, his ego would never recover.

"Let's start working on that left hook, yeah?"

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east@mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove@bitchidontpost @lomlolivia @harringtonhundreds @fruit-harry

[crepezinhos]

hey, so i did reath BOTH of those before i requested these hehe they were really good omggg (highkey fulfilled my desires….)

idk.. im just REALLY craving a yanderer scara bc i jst love the way u write him,, when u write one ill be super happy like biting the edge of the desk happy, so pleek PLEASE keep this in the back of ur mind i beg of

Number 1 Fan

(REQUEST #14) POV: After the failed dinner with your family, things in your life started to suddenly feel eerier than usual. Scaramouche felt extremely awkward to talk to and even your secret lifestyle seems to have changed with the arrival of a new premium viewer called ‘Balladeer’.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a NSFW Yandere work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: Sex work, masturbation, dirty talk, threats and lots of insults

— Stalker!Yandere!Scaramouche x SexWorker!Reader

— AU is: Modern

— Reading of previous part is advised

Makeup? Ready.

Toys? Ready.

Lingerie? Ready.

Ok, here we go.

Another day, another livestream.

Three, two, one, and...

Click

The little camera at the top of your computer brightened in red, signaling it was turned on. Then you breathed in and out as you begun to wait for viewers to join before you could start today's performance. Since most of your watchers were already aware of the time you start your livestreams, quickly, the viewer numbers popped from 0 to 17, to 39, and so on...

You like to wait until you reached 100 at minimum before beginning to say ‘Hi’ to them, and 500 to begin the actual performance. Thankfully, reaching 100 viewers was a matter of seconds now.

"Good night, sweeties!" You cutely spoke to your computer’s screen, welcoming all of them warmly as you watched many messages in the chat begin to pop up.

Iloveasianhotties334: You look hot

garrykafka0275: Show your boobs

11037kuwata: Can I request something?

As always, the messages made you feel a bit disgusted and disappointed at humanity, but you held back your aggressiveness and just kept smiling at them.

“‘Can I request something?' Not yet! I'm still going to wait a few minutes..." You answered to ‘11037kuwata' while drinking a quick sip of coffee from the cup you left laying by your computer.

kittylover123456: Beautiful 😻

theballadeer6: Hi

11037kuwata: When are we starting?

lolisonmydee: r u cosplaying

"I'm not cosplaying, but you can pretend I am!" You answered with honesty while winking at him, ignoring the other comments above that last question.

You didn't even realize you had already reached 323 viewers while reading those initial messages.

"Oh, wow! We reached 300 viewers in less than 2 minutes!" You clapped your palms together gently, trying to act excited but cute at the same time.

Men absolutely love women who act cute. No matter what's their type, if they act cute, they'll love it.

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Hello, my queen! 😍

lolisonmydee: You should cosplay tho

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Looking absolutely gorgeous tonight 🤤

The orange username caught your eye.

Ah, yes... 'I love Y/N's lives’… Probably the only man in the chat that restores your faith in the men using this site. You don’t know how he looks behind the computer screen, but he’s unrealistically kind and considerate to you.

"Oh, hello there! Thank you for the compliments!" You waved at the screen, trying to communicate with him. "Also, what characters would you recommend me to cosplay as... 'Lolis on my dee'?" You answered to the guy's message, struggling a little bit with his username, although you'd probably never cosplay in your lives anyway.

11037kuwata: Mikan Tsumiki

(👑) ilovey/nslives: l'd say Jessica Rabbit

theballadeer6: You don't need to cosplay

theballadeer6: You look beautiful like this

lolisonmydee: Kana from Dragon Maid or any lolis

Since you didn't get any of references rather than Jessica Rabbit, the only message that caught your eye were from this 'Balladeer' guy.

"You think this is enough, Balladeer?" You jokingly leaned upwards and squeezed your boobs together in a teasing way, cackling in your own afterwards since you didn’t take yourself seriously.

theballadeer6: Absolutely

user38291646: Do that again but with a dildo between them

"Thank you! I'll even start earlier because of that!" You winked at the screen and got up with your laptop in hands, placing it down in the floor.

You then walked back to your table and grabbed some materials on top of it before going back and kneeling down at the floor, angling the screen of your computer to read what happened in the chat meanwhile. Some emoji particles were already beginning to pop in the corner of the screen, meaning that people were interacting.

theballadeer6: You're welcome

cr7thegoat: put that dildo in that beautiful pussy of yours

(👑) ilovey/nslives: So kind!!

vladmirputin2028: сними свою одежду

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Am I late?

"Nope! Not at all, Mr. Daddy!" You shrugged your shoulders while beginning to undo the hooks of your bra and let it slowly slide away from your body.

You got very lucky this time because that move was executed perfect, which made the grin your face grow a few inches. To see if you’d really been successful, you decided to take another peek at the chat in the corner of your screen, wanting to see everyone’s reaction.

doinggodswork: Repent for your sins. ✝️✝️✝️✝️

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Woooohooooo! 😍

user10297373: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

user38291646: Get fully naked already

lolisonmydee: dayum

Aside from the annoying unrequested preacher, you smiled at the other compliments you received. At the same time they made you a bit happy, deep down it still made you feel dirty to be doing this kind of work.

“‘Repent for your sins’? Sins? What sins?” You joked with the preacher, trying to gain your chat’s support to get him out of the live. “If anything, the only one sinning here is you. What is God’s messenger himself doing in this site? Watching this kind of livestream? How sinful of you…” You crossed your arms together, watching how the chat immediately turned aggressive towards him.

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Yeah!!!

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Shame on you! 🍅🍅🍅

theballadeer6: gtfo no one cares about god

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Just ignore them baby

You didn’t even know if you could call these guys that watch you human beings or living puppets. They quite literally do whatever you tell them to do as long as they get to see you naked. But at the same time you don’t have a lot of power over them either. If you ever decide you won’t be streaming anymore, none of them would ever keep supporting you. They are your providers, not yourself.

“Thank you, sweeties… I think I’ll give you guys an extra for helping me out.” You launched closer to your computer, wanting to get rid of the annoyance in the chat already.

doinggodswork: CORINTHIANS 12:21: I am afraid that when I come again my God will humble me before you, and I will be grieved over many who have sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual sin and debauchery in which they have indulged.

doinggodswork: CORINTHIANS 12:21: I am afraid that when I come again my God will humble me before you, and I will be grieved over many who have sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual sin and debauchery in which they have indulged.

doinggodswork: CORINTHIANS 12:21: I am afraid that when I come again my God will humble me before you, and I will be grieved over many who have sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual sin and debauchery in which they have indulged.

theballadeer6: sthu bro

doinggodswork: CORINTHIANS 12:21: I am afraid that when I come again my God will humble me before you, and I will be grieved over many who have sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual sin and debauchery in which they have indulged.

And… banned!

Now this guy won’t ever disrupt your lives ever again unless you choose to pity him.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, sweeties!” You scratched the back of your neck, trying to act cute again to regain their interest in you and today’s show.

(👑) ilovey/nslives: So annoying…

theballadeer6: hope he dies

user38291646: Start

This unnamed user was also a bit annoying with his impatience and rudeness, but at least you’d rather read that than some religious guy spilling nonsense just to degrade you.

“Ok.. Shall we..?” You crawled backwards towards your spot, positioning your whole body in front of the camera again while opening your arms, trying to invite and embrace all men in the chat indirectly.

You couldn’t read the chat anymore, though, meaning you’d have to guess that the chat was ready for your show.

“Alright then!” You said after a few seconds in silence, just watching new messages from new people pop in the chat faster and faster the more nudity you showed to them.

You stood up, slowly taking off your panties in a way that would certainly brick up some men if they were not hard already. Then you looked at the side and grabbed the dildo sitting in the floor, positioning it under you.

“Time to breed this pussy again…” You talked dirty to yourself, trying to replicate what they probably would want to say to you since they weren’t there in your room to do it right to your face.

And with the assistance of your hand opening your labia, you finally slid the dildo inside you, the plastic fitting around your tightness easily.

You were quick to start hopping on it since you were used to the feeling of fucking dick-like objects inside you. Both your hands were holding you back from the floor behind you so you could expose yourself erotically the most you could while being comfortable.

“Oh, it feels so good…” You moaned to yourself while pretending you were sitting the best dick in your life.

But unfortunately, your role-play was shortly cut by a sudden notification coming from your computer that you immediately recognized. The donation notification.

“User ‘@mrdaddy900030’ donated 25$!”

The artificial voice spoke out and paused for a moment, the same way you did.

“Baby, it would be a crime for you to do this like that… wasting the beautiful view we could have of your ass… I’d like to request you to turn around.”

The artificial voice spoke again, and you giggled at the message.

“Thank you for the 25 dollars, Daddy! Your wish is my command!” You smiled to the camera excitedly, using both your hands to do the peace sign before abruptly turning around, not wanting to make those precious 25 dollars feel like a waste in the slightest.

The rules of your donations were simple:

5 dollars to set your vibrator to a medium strength for 3 minutes, 10 dollars to set it the highest strength for 3 minutes too to influence the buyers to keep buying that asset over and over, 15 or above to send you a message along a vibrator command, 25 dollars to make you do something such as changing a position, taking off a layer of clothing or the camera angle and 50 dollars to command you to do whatever they wish to see you do.

Yes, you might be a little greedy with your prices and conditions, but it works. Don’t fix what’s not broken.

You were quick to unpause your hopping, beginning to moan in a high pitch to make yourself sound as good as possible to them. You also chose to singularly move your ass and legs instead of your full body, making it the most attractive thing of the screen they could see. You were also occasionally grinding on the dildo and swaying your hips to make it extra seductive, perfectly recreating the reverse cowgirl position.

And that’s how you’d continue acting for the next minutes until you either orgasmed or someone donated enough for you change your position under their command.

.

It’s hilarious, really.

She has no idea.

I can’t really blame her, I chose an unrecognizable name on purpose so she’ll never know one of her work colleagues is watching these special livestreams of hers, and that’s funny.

But now there is nothing she can do about it. I already know enough. I know how you look naked, how you moan, how you talk dirty, how your pussy stretches at the presence of a cock inside it, even if it’s not mine.

You l should be glad I don’t feel like using this little secret of yours for my advantage. Really glad.

The only advantage I’ll take from this is actually sitting back and watch these lives as much as I desire to. In fact, I can even command her to do whatever I want if I give her some money. How greedy of you, Y/N… I thought you were the kindest woman in the world but deep down you’re a leech for porn addicts… I don’t know whether I should or should not feel glad that I’m not your victim. But I won’t interfere much anyway. The less I interact with her, the less she is aware of met presence in this chat.

So that’s exactly what I do. I slowly leaned back against my chair, stretching my arms in the way and relaxing them on chair’s arms right after, eyes never leaving the screen.

You look so beautiful tonight, Y/N… If only that stupid McDonalds didn’t force us to wear those stupid hair caps so I could see this mesmerizing hair of yours every night… At least I’m glad I get to see it when you most work on it…

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Mamma Mia! 😍

user38291646: 💦💦💦

harbinger2: Hottie 🔥🔥🔥🔥

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Keep doing that for us! 🥰

funnyjokesguy: You’re as hot as fire!!

funnyjokesguy: Get it?

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Waaaaa~~ I feel blessed!!!

vladmirputin2028: Я эякулирую

Oh. My. Goodness.

Who the fuck is this guy and why the fuck does he talk like he’s a 16 year-old anime chick? Does he not realize he sounds cringe as fuck?

This must be the mother fucker who keeps stalking Y/N’s Instagram DMs. He can’t be genuinely serious with the way he types… This must be a cute facade he puts on so that Y/N can build trust with him… Too bad he’s horrible at it… and that he won’t ever beat my relationship with her.

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Shitttt I want to cum on you so bad

(👑) ilovey/nslives: If you keep riding it like that I’m gonna cum too soon!!! 😩😩

cr7thegoat: what happens if I donate you 100 dollars?

cr7thegoat: do you do this irl too?

(👑) ladyguujiyae: How late am I gentlemen?

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Later than me as expected 😎

winnerslovewinning: use your fingersssss

This guy surely knows how to ruin a party…

You know what? Sometimes bullying is the only way to fix people.

theballadeer6: bro

theballadeer6: can u sthu

theballadeer6: who tf types like that in the big 2025

(👑) ilovey/nslives: ?

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Oop-

theballadeer6: “L-Later than me as expected! Heh, these fake fans…” 🤓🤓🤓

(👑) ilovey/nslives: ???

(👑) ilovey/nslives: What’s wrong with the way I type? I’m just being kind to Y/N…

theballadeer6: everything???

(👑) ilovey/nslives: What’s everything? 😂

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Who even are you?

theballadeer6: just listen to yourself and you’ll know exactly what im talking about 💀

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Okay, tourist…

Tourist? Me?

Oh, this guy also zero notion of who I am, right?

If I’m a tourist, than he’s a random cockroach.

theballadeer6: tourist?

theballadeer6: u calling me a tourist?

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Yeah

(👑) ilovey/nslives: What’s wrong? Did I annoy you? 🥺

Annoy me? This loser really thinks he is annoying me by typing like this? The only thing he’s annoying is his mother who has to force herself to accept her middle-aged son living in her basement all day because he can’t fucking afford to live alone.

theballadeer6: no

theballadeer6: u r the annoying everyone here

theballadeer6: u r ruining a mood

harbinger2: I gotta agree I can’t beat my meat properly here

cr7thegoat: yup

(👑) ladyguujiyae: One man against the world…

Yeah, this guy is almost done for. Because, as always, I’m right.

(👑) ilovey/nslives: I really wish I would care about what you guys have to say

(👑) ilovey/nslives: But then I remembered that Y/N would rather choose a premium fan like me over 5 of you randoms that can’t afford to pay 20 dollars monthly 🤷‍♀️

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Fake fans 😂

theballadeer6: fake fan?

theballadeer6: u calling me a fake fan?

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Begone, tourists!

theballadeer6: im y/n’s number 1 fan buddy

garrykafka0275: You. Look beautiful..

angelofdawn: Can y’all sthu

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Of course I’m calling you a fake fan

(👑) ilovey/nslives: After all, you ARE one 🫵😂

theballadeer6: who do u think u are? 💀

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Y/N’s ACTUAL number 1 fan, duh

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Cuz if you really were all that, why don’t you have premium, hmmmm?

theballadeer6: that ain’t any of your business

(👑) ilovey/nslives: So you really are a tourist 🫵😂

theballadeer6: shut the fuck up

theballadeer6: u know nothing about me

(👑) ilovey/nslives: I surely know you are a tourist

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Can you two kids stop?

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Clock it!

theballadeer6: oh yeah?

theballadeer6: u really think you are all that?

theballadeer6: lemme show you smth really fun

(👑) ilovey/nslives: T-O-U-R-I-S-T

(👑) ladyguujiyae: And he went off…

lolisonmydee: finally bruh

lolisonmydee: y’all annoying asf

(👑) mrdaddy900030: This generation…

.

Jesus, vibrators really lost their charm to you, haven’t they? Thank God you were forced to turn backwards because this would be extra boring if you’d have to force yourself to express a pleasure you weren’t feeling. At least, in the position you were, all you had to do was open your mouth to occasionally moan or talk dirty to yourself, then you could just zone out.

Maybe this demotivation is affecting your performance… All donations your computer alerted you about yet were about were all the cheaper ones of 5 to 10 dollars. Maybe you should really just start overacting if that’ll get new people to buy your products or to convince your consumers like Mr. Daddy to buy more things aga—

“(Ding, ding, ding!) User ‘theballadeer6’ has become a premium viewer of the channel!”

Your head abruptly turned to the computer as soon as you heard those dings. When you saw the colorful announcement popping up in the screen and shining with multiple particles, especially crown emojis, your eyes shone in happiness.

“Aaaah! Thank you so much, Balladeer!” You said while turning around to make cute gestures such as putting your palms together and slightly clapping your fingers repeatedly. “I hope you have a lot of fun with my premium content and that you stay tuned for more!” You purposefully made your voice sound cuter than usual while saying that.

After all, you have to make good impressions to keep these men paying you monthly. But the show couldn’t stop, so you spun around your spot again and faced the same white wall you previously were. You breathed in and out. You only have about an hour left to perform… You can do it.

(👑) theballadeer6: AM I A FAKE FAN NOW HUH????

(👑) theballadeer6: WHERE R U

(👑) theballadeer6: FUCKING PUSSY

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Oh lord here we go…

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Oh wow you did the bare minimum…

winnerslovewinning: Men ☕️

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Real

(👑) ladyguujiyae: I feel like a female bull watching two male bulls fighting for me rn

(👑) theballadeer6: BARE MINIMUM?

(👑) theballadeer6: YOU’RE THE ONE DOING THE BARE MINIMUM

(👑) theballadeer6: R U FUCKING MENTAL??

lolisonmydee: y’all should just kys

winnerslovewinning: They should kiss

justalittleponyboy: I can’t believe I’m forcing myself to come here rn but

justalittleponyboy: For fuck’s sake just take it to DMs

justalittleponyboy: We all just want to watch some porn

justalittleponyboy: So like

justalittleponyboy: SHUTTTTTTT UPPPPPPP

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Lmao

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Do you think this is all I have?

(👑) ilovey/nslives: If only I could send screenshots of my DMs with Y/N here…

(👑) ilovey/nslives: It’s safe to say we’re dating at this point

(👑) ilovey/nslives: And that’s because I’m not counting all the money I’ve spent

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Wowwwww you spent 20 dollars on her!!! I’ve probably spent more than 500 bucks on her 😂

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Then you’re technically not the biggest spender. I am.

(👑) theballadeer6: STFU

(👑) theballadeer6: NO ONE CALLED YOU HERE OLD FUCKING HAG

garrykafka0275: These. kids…

justalittleponyboy: Y’all are just taking advantage of Y/N

justalittleponyboy: She will mute the both of you in the end.

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Ownnnnn… Look at him! He’s hurt! 🥺

(👑) theballadeer6: IM NOT HURT YOU FUCKING STUPID

(👑) theballadeer6: IM JUST TELLING YOU THE FUCKING TRUTH

(👑) theballadeer6: Y/N DOESN’T LIKE YOU

(👑) theballadeer6: U R NOTHING COMPARED TO ME

(👑) theballadeer6: NOTHING

(👑) theballadeer6: NONE OF Y’ALL ARE “REAL FANS”

justalittleponyboy: 🙄

(👑) ilovey/nslives: If Y/N ever starts doing these service irl you know who to thank

(👑) theballadeer6: SHE WOULD NEVER DO IRL SERVICES

winnerslovewinning: Have y’all ever stopped to think that maybe Y/N isn’t even straight in the first place

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Yeah no Y/N isn’t for the women…

(👑) ladyguujiyae: But I am

winnerslovewinning: Oh?

winnerslovewinning: DMs?

(👑) ladyguujiyae: After this live 😉

lolisonmydee: Get out of here yuritards

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Says the lolicon

winnerslovewinning: Shut up male

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Maybe she would start it because some people ACTUALLY give her all the money she wants for it unlike some people…

(👑) theballadeer6: OHHHHHHH YOU REALLY THINK YOURE ALL THAT JUST BECAUSE OF SOME BUCKS

(👑) theballadeer6: DO YOU THINK SHE’D EVER LAY DOWN WITH A DISGUSTING 40 YEAR OLD CHRONICALLY ONLINE CREEP LIKE YOU?

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Oh wow

(👑) theballadeer6: EVEN IF SHE DID START DOING IRL SERVICES I’D BE TEN TIMES AHEAD OF U IN THE LINE

(👑) theballadeer6: FUCKING LOSER

(👑) theballadeer6: IF MONEY MATTERS TO U THIS MUCH THEN THAT’S HOW WE WILL FUCKING PLAY

.

Scaramouche, fuming and grunting in pure stress, closed the chat tab to not get annoyed anymore and went directly to the “Donate” button in your screen, almost breaking his mouse when he clicked it. He was so mad with this guy that not even the view of you could calm him down. So mad he was barely holding himself from either destroying his own computer or beat himself up.

.

Meanwhile, you still bounced up and down on the dildo with a bored face, trying to calculate how much you’ve gained yet tonight to distract yourself from the shallowness of your performance. You believe you’ve gotten three 5-dollar donations and 2 10-dollar donations, which eventually add up to 35 dollars. Adding this up with the singular donations of 25 dollars from of your premium viewers, you get 60 dollars in total.

Damn. For an unpopular streamer that didn’t even get to cum once yet, you’d done quite some bucks… You know what? It’s not better not to think so positively about it, or else you might jinx—

“User ‘@theballadeer6’ donated 200$!”

Huh?

Two… hundred?

No, you must be hearing things.

You looked backwards immediately, meeting the decorated pop-up that alarmed the donation telling you what exactly you heard. Two-hundred dollars. A number two and two perfect zeroes sided to each other with no comma in between. Even if you were witnessing it, you still didn’t want to believe your own eyes. So you blinked once, then twice, then another time, but the number wouldn’t lose any of its zeroes.

“Two… Two hundred?! Oh, my God! Thank you so much, Balladeer! This really means a lot to—!”

“THERE YOU FUCKING GO YOU FUCKING WORM. IS THIS ENOUGH FOR YOU?! NOW DO YOU SEE WHO IS THE REAL FAN BETWEEN US OR DO YOU WANT MORE FUCKING PROOF?! BECAUSE I CAN GIVE YOU MORE. I KNOW Y/N’s NAME, HER FULL NAME, WHO HER PARENTS ARE, WHO HER SISTER IS, WHERE SHE WORKS, HER HOME ADDRESS AND EVEN THE NAME OF HER FUCKING CAT.”

…

…

…

…

…

What..?

Your smile died, not understanding at all what the message meant. You looked to the chat, meeting many caps-locked messages from the Balladeer guy and from other people too.

(👑) ladyguujiyae: What the fuck

(👑) ilovey/nslives: Ew?

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Y/N, I think you should end the stream.

winnerslovewinning: Men 🤦‍♀️

(👑) theballadeer6: IS THIS ENOUGH FOR YOU? DO YOU SEE THE TRUTH NOW?

Was this guy… talking to you?

“I…” You tried answering him but you just simply couldn’t form any phrase that made sense.

Your right hand reached your mouse and started scrolling up, meeting much more caps-locked texts that gave you better context of that message. It was a fight, one they’ve done while you weren’t looking. How naive of you. Your heart slowly twisted in disgust and fear for your life, your throat trying to push something out of it… vomit.

What is this? Who is this guy? Why is he doing this? Is his message true? Does he know who you are? Is this that Instagram stalker that always finds a way to contact you over and over again? Has he made this much progress?

You didn’t know how you looked to the people seeing you, but you knew it wasn’t pretty. You knew you were giving an ugly image of yourself almost panicking like that.

justalittleponyboy: Yeah Y/N just ban these weirdos from your chat

This guy was smart. He was thinking the same thing as you. Your “biggest fan” apparently was a victim of this Balladeer guy’s rage, meaning it’d only be fair to ban the Balladeer and perhaps mute your “biggest fan” to make sure this isn’t brought up to the stream anymore.

But should you really ban this guy? He just gave you 200 dollars, and this was his first stream of you. He’s creepy, he’s one of the most bizarre men you’ve ever seen yet, but reading the fight that happened in your absence, all he seemed to be was to be a bit too possessive of you.

Remember how he praised you in the beginning of the livestream? He wasn’t rude or aggressive to you, only them. Was he really a stalker? Specifically the one in your Instagram? Or just a really dedicated fan? In the chat he seemed to still be trying to convince your “biggest fan” that the title belongs to him instead while indirectly apologizing to you. Maybe… it isn’t worth to lose those monthly 20 dollars… Not when you need that money so much.

Your life isn’t cheap. Even if you can handle your conditions the way they are, you still desire more money. You want to have a comfortable life after retirement and you want to especially show your family you aren’t little. You aren’t worthless despite this second job of yours. You want them to have zero false pity for you.

So… you won’t ban him. If he suddenly becomes a less prominent spender, then you’ll definitely ban him, but if he keeps spending this much money on you… you can’t ban him. The sacrifice might be worth it.

But, you don’t even want to be naked anymore. You want to stop. You want to put on your favorite pijamas, lock your doors and windows and go to sleep. So, you quickly messed with the moderation tools in your chat and muted them both. Your “biggest fan” was muted for an hour while the Balladeer was muted for a day.

“I-I’m sorry, guys… I don’t feel comfortable continuing today’s livestream.” You quickly stated, too embarrassed to face the camera, before abruptly pulling up another tab to stream to the viewers, your ‘pause tab’.

It was a picture with a big pink-aesthetic text saying “Be right back!” with another cute and sexy picture of you in the back of it to entertain the viewers while they waited. You pulled up this screen before closing the live so you could read the last comforting messages from your normal audience while you dressed your underwear again.

(👑) ladyguujiyae: Rest well :(

lolisonmydee: bruhhh don’t let them affect you

(👑) mrdaddy900030: Stay safe Y/N

justalittleponyboy: they’re just random douchebags Y/N ignore them

harbinger2: 👋👋👋

“Thank you, guys.” You quietly spoke, trying to hold back the shake of your mouth and voice.

And finally, you clicked the red “End Livestream” button, and your viewers ceased.

.

FUCK!!!!!

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!

This guy..! THIS GUY!!!

What have I done?! What the fuck was I thinking?! I fucked it up! No, no, HE fucked me up! He orchestrated me to do this! He baited me to rage to a screen and make myself look bad to Y/N!

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid..!” I slapped my own face over and over as I repeated those degrading words to myself.

It’s been a while since I’ve last freaked out like this and I’m surprised this triggered me to react like this. But I just can’t handle it. My Y/N working in this industry… having this kind of men following her… It’s too much. I fucking hate it. I hate it bad.

So much that my anger finally boiled up enough for me to scream. It was once and brutal, letting most of it out. It also forced my hands to move up to my head and grab my locks as if I wanted to rip them off, and I almost did. The pain of pulling my own scalp this hard made me scream harder, but it was the only way I could get rid of this itching anger without harming my materials.

I need to know Y/N’s relationship with this man. I can’t let him too close to her at all. He’s a danger to me and her and he knows it.

I’ll show him what a real fan truly is.

Taglist: @shy-ent @the-stinky-winky @bigmantiddys @goofy-ego @sasuri123 @gaboplaydespacito @thegriffinbird @alatusorrow @luminieee @toobytub @wandereryumee

Anon, I know you probably weren’t expecting a part 2 of another fic for your request but… unfortunately my Scaramouche battery is seriously running out right now and I took advantage of the fact that you said the original fic did please you a lot, so I hope this serves you too! Sorry for not making a whole new original prompt! 🙏

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

[inchidentally]

had to take a break, make a supercut and write out a whole Thing with gifs bc be who you aaaaaaare for your priiiide Barcelona press conference

kicking off strong with Lando's kitten smile at hearing "our winner Oscar Piastri"

DEODORANT GATE

also I need it be known that the official F1TV transcript having to include this is a win for homosexuals

Oscar's soft bedroom voice "no, I use my own" while they smile at each other like that jESUSSS

the way Oscar lowers his voice and pulls away from the mic bc it's THEIR little weird convo

and the switching back and forth between his voice for Lando and his voice for the press

Lando's possessive arm around Oscar's seat bc Charles is there looking pretty and needy and omegas in heat are so possessive damnnnn

Lando writhing around and jamming his hand between his legs after Oscar offers for him to get a better sniff oh it's BAD for him

no fr I cannot quite believe we got Lando at his most wriggly and saucy this race culminating in him noticing a change in Oscar's scent, saying that Oscar smelled like HIM, that Lando's scent is naturally feminine, and Oscar replying that it's chocolate FLAVORED and then they both get gaspy and giggly and poor Charles wishes he could be in the stewards office than have to witness Lando telling Oscar he's ovulating

Lando not knowing if they were three abreast at one point and needs Oscar to help! bc of course Oscar remembers, Oscar has That Kind of Brain <3

oh no, mic was turned too loud and icked Lando -__-

OSCAR didn't give him a slip stream !! naughty Oscar !! "I did in the second half" no !! bit late by then !!

Lando will say he didn't lose the race! Oscar drove so well both days! stop trying to make them fight when they're scenting each other!

both of them being cheeky with Charles over going to the stewards

man with world's deepest voice didn't get the memo and Lando kitten giggles with Charles

(making this edit cracked me up here bc Charles just POOF disappears)

them bandying the Max question back and forth like a ball of yarn or kicker toy

g o d do you ever just realize you can set rpf entirely aside and the reality remains that Lando makes a cutie pie little face when he's being naughty precisely bc he knows Oscar finds him adorable and loves when he's naughty - like he watches Lando's face knowing what's coming and Lando's face goes :3 and it makes them both SO happy like what the fuck is that about

THAT SOFT LITTLE VOICE FOR LANDO AGAIN "teammates with you is so fun!"

Oscar's face going through EVery permutation of expression trying to get this out

Lando still trying to pin it on Oscar and Oscar's joyous giggle over it

Lando making Oscar budge up so they can sit more centralized for the cameras asfkgasjlfg "move over a little bit" and Oscar obeys immediately

Lando overjoyed that Oscar gets the most vague question to answer like oh thank god

while I appreciated the mental health question I think there was a tiny bit of it coming out of left field for a post race press conference rather than a media day question and they both smile a little bc it's a BIG question for little Lando

but thankfully he has the prettiest thinking face ever <3

HAPPY PRIDE FROM THE RACE WHERE LANDOSCAR WERE SUPPOSED TO CRASH OUT IN EVERY SENSE BUT INSTEAD FLEW TO AND FROM BARCELONA TOGETHER AND SPENT THE WHOLE WEEKEND DOING WHATEVER THIS WAS

[syrecjh]

hihiii!! i wanna say that i like your writing style! it's interesting to read hehe :3

i was just wondering, would you be open to writing a katsuki x afab!reader comfort work where the reader gets really bad cramps while on their period and ends up fainting bc of it? lwk projecting my problems onto reader bc it's not fun and having something comforting to read would be cool

if the req isn't something you'd like to write about, then it's okay! tbh anything works for me :P

thank youuu!! :D

──.✦🥀♡ In the Ache, He Arrives

˚🎀༘⋆ || katsuki bakugo x AFAB! reader, pure fluff

You knew it was coming. The ache had started like it always did—low and stubborn at your spine, curling inward and tightening like a storm winding itself up beneath your skin. The kind of pain that warned you: This one’s going to be bad. But you'd been pushing through it, teeth gritted, shoulders squared, pretending you could out-stubborn your own body.

It always came like this—hard and heavy, unforgiving. Your period never whispered; it roared. Some days were bearable. Today was not. Today, the cramps twisted through you like something trying to carve its way out, merciless and sharp. Your vision swam, pulse thudding in your ears like distant thunder. You didn’t even remember collapsing—you only remembered the moment before it: the cold edge of the sink against your palm, the way your breath caught halfway through a plea for it to just stop.

Then darkness. Then warmth.

You came to slowly, blinking against the light. Something firm and steady was holding you, heat radiating from it like a fireplace. Your cheek was pressed against fabric—rough, familiar, and smelling faintly of sweat and smoke and safety.

Bakugo.

“Hey.” His voice was low, rough with worry, but steady. A grounding kind of sound. “You back with me?”

You nodded—or tried to. Even that small motion felt like too much.

“Should’ve told me,” he murmured, tucking the blanket closer around you. His hand hovered for a second before brushing a knuckle down the side of your face. “I would’ve come sooner.”

You realized then: you were on the couch in the common room, a heating pad tucked under your lower back, a cool cloth on your forehead. There was tea—steaming softly on the table nearby. You hadn’t made it.

He had.

“I thought I could handle it,” you managed, voice fragile.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, gently adjusting the heating pad so it pressed closer to your stomach, “I thought you had more damn sense than to push through something like this alone.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue—and honestly, you didn’t want to. Not when his hand settled over yours, warm and careful. Not when his thumb brushed slow circles across your skin like a silent apology for not catching you faster.

Katsuki Bakugo, with his explosive temper and hard shell, had a way of softening only for you. A way of becoming quiet in the face of your pain, of trying to fix what he couldn't punch away.

He shifted beside you, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “Next time, you call me. Got it?”

You gave the smallest nod. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since you hit the floor.

For a while, he just sat there, holding you through the tremors that still rolled through your body. Whispered curses under his breath at your uterus. Muttered something about tracking your cycle for you so this wouldn’t happen again. And when your breathing finally evened out, when the pain dulled just enough that you could close your eyes, you felt his lips press against your temple, barely there.

“I got you,” he whispered. “Always.”

But he wasn’t done.

Later, when he was sure you wouldn’t pass out again, he shifted you gently onto the cushions with every ounce of care he usually reserved for detonating high-risk traps. “Stay. Don’t move unless you’re about to hurl,” he grunted, before disappearing into the kitchen.

You barely had the energy to lift your head, but when he came back, there was a fresh mug in his hand—steam curling in soft spirals, warm cinnamon and ginger drifting through the air.

You blinked. “You... made tea?”

“Tch. Searched it up. Some herbal crap. Said it helps with cramps.” He set it down on the table, avoiding your eyes. “Put honey in it too, ‘cause you like it sweet, right?”

Your chest hurt a little—but not from pain this time.

“Bakugo...”

He turned away like he was suddenly very interested in fluffing your blanket. “Don’t make it a big deal,” he muttered. “Just drink it while it’s hot. I’m not makin’ another cup.”

You smiled, small and soft. “You Googled it?”

“Shut up.” His ears were red.

You sipped. It tasted like comfort. Like cinnamon warmth and ginger spice and the sharp sting of being cared for in a language you never had to ask him to learn.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond—just draped another blanket over you and settled in beside you again, arms crossed, watching over you like a storm waiting to shield rather than strike.

And you knew, in that quiet little corner of the world you’d carved together, that this was love. Not loud. Not perfect. But steady. Fierce.

The kind that brings you tea when your body betrays you.

The kind that catches you when the sky folds inward.

The kind that stays.

------------------------🌼

Here’s your request—hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!

I honestly had so much fun bringing this to life. Thank you for trusting me with your idea, it made my heart happy to write it for you. Can’t wait to hear what you think!

Sending you lots of love and cozy vibes—xoxo 💜