#...so i know the feeling and i want to help others feel even a LITTLE bit alive. you deserve it...

[wosospacegirl]

Mallorca- Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia ruins your couple's vacation by inviting the girls to tag along with you. You decide to make her pay for it.

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: (+18) a little bit of smut, suggestive; fingering (r giving)

A/n: because I'm a whore

..

You were going on a vacation to Mallorca with Alexia.

She had promised she would take care of everything: the hotel, the flights, the yacht, everything. 

She told you not to worry about a single thing. So you absolutely didn't. 

You just made sure to stay pretty, to pack the smallest bikini you had, to pack the strap, the lube, and the handcuffs into your bag.

Alexia had grinned while watching you pack. She came from behind, biting your earlobe and promising she would worship you every day of the vacation.

That she would put you in so many positions you wouldn't even remember all of them.

She said she would eat you out on the private beach she had booked.

That she would finger you in the middle of the ocean, have your mouth wrapped around her strap on the sun deck of the yacht.

You trusted Alexia deeply. So you thought she would keep her word.

Your face fell flat the second you arrived at the airport with her and saw not only Patri and Ona, but Jana and Bruna there too, suitcases in their hands and bright smiles on their faces.

You couldn't help but feel confused by the coincidence. 

They were travelling too? To Mallorca? Wow. Small world, right?

You were hesitant as you greeted the girls, but you did your best to be nice. They were, after all, your and Alexia's friends.

"I'm so excited!" Jana said as the little group made their way toward the flight. "It's been so long since I had a vacation."

Alexia's hand was on your back, but she was weirdly quiet. Too quiet.

"Oh yeah," you said, watching Alexia out of the corner of your eye. "You guys totally deserve this vacation. The season was really hard."

"Definitely," Patri said, smiling at you, the sound of her suitcase wheels somehow managing to irritate you. "I can't remember the last time we had a vacation with all of us together!"

You stopped in your tracks. Alexia bumped into you, her hand catching your waist so you wouldn't fall.

"Ay, amor," she said grumpily. "Qué fue?" [Love, what's wrong?]

"What do you mean… 'all of us together', Patri?" you asked in a very calm voice, very deliberate.

"Umm…" Patri looked at Alexia, then back at you.

"Us? Like me, you, Alexia, and the girls? We were so happy when Alexia called and asked us to tag along, it's hard only seeing each other at training…we need some quality time together as a team"

Quality time together as a team?!

Your world shattered right in front of you. 

You always thought people were being dramatic when they said they saw red when they were angry.

But you were definitely seeing red now, maybe because the capillaries in your eyes were expanding as your heart started hammering against your chest.

You felt your nails digging into your skin as you turned to Alexia.

"I think I'll go to the bathroom before we board," you said, not looking at anyone as you left your suitcase behind and walked off. You didn't even know where the bathroom was, you just…walked.

You just knew you needed to be alone, or else you would scream at Alexia in the middle of a crowded airport, and you didn't want to make a scene.

Alexia clearly didn't realise that you wanted to be alone for her own well-being, because she followed you like a puppy.

"Amor…espera, por favor," she said, walking after you. [love, wait, please]

If it were you, you would be out of breath by now, but because Alexia was annoyingly fit, her breathing and tone were perfectly normal.

She also caught up faster than you would have liked, her hand wrapping around your wrist as she pulled you into some corner of the airport.

You were alone now, but it felt like the room was crowded because the air was thick.

It was hard to breathe, like your lungs were collapsing. You often felt that when you held your anger in. It hurt your chest.

So you decided to snap, finally.

"What is your problem?" you asked, furious.

Alexia didn't even try to defend herself. Guilt was scattered all over her face as she leaned her back against the wall, her hands were still holding your wrists.

You didn't like being restrained (not like that), so you tried to set yourself free, but she didn't budge.

"You said it was an us vacation. As in, you and me, not you and your teammatmes."

"Lo siento…" she said, pouting in a way that made you want to bite her lips off (not romantically). [I'm sorry]

"I asked Patri for a cool hotel to stay in, and she asked why, and I told her we wanted to go on a vacation," she explained, as you kept trying to set yourself free.

"Then she said she and the girls were also planning a vacation there, and she looked so excited, and I didn't have the heart to tell her not to join us."

You didn't bother to answer Alexia.

In the end, you walked back to where the girls were still standing, waiting for you and Alexia to return. If they noticed anything weird between the two of you, they didn't say a word.

The flight was annoying.

Nothing bad happened.

There wasn't a crying infant. No kid was kicking your seat, and the food was actually good. But you were still so mad that you couldn't see anything good about it.

Alexia kept quiet–she was smart when she wanted to be.

She did, however, try to keep her hand on your thigh for most of the flight.

Every time she did, you would take it off and place it back in her own lap without saying a word. Without giving her any sort of attention.

When you got to Mallorca, you were still silent.

You only spoke to the other girls, asking Jana how she was doing, asking Bruna how her season in London was.

You didn't even bother to grab your suitcase or any of the other bags.

Alexia walked behind you like a camel, slower than everyone else, because she was carrying all the weight, but you didn't care.

Alexia had ruined your vacation, and you were going to make her pay for it.

Day One.

You arrived at the hotel. And of course, there were problems with Jana and Bruna's room.

In the end, Jana had to share the room with you and Alexia for the night while the staff sorted it out.

The lights were already off. Alexia was lying on the left side of the bed, and you were on the right.

You made sure to build a pillow wall between you (to Alexia's disappointment) to create some distance. 

At one point, Alexia tried to sneak a hand onto your waist, but again, you gave it a little snap, and she retreated to her side of the bed with a quiet whine only you could hear.

Jana was curled up on the loveseat on the other side of the room, wrapped in a duvet.

Even in the dark, you could see the guilt written all over her face.

"I am so, so sorry," she said, her voice slightly muffled by her pillow. "I told the staff I could sleep in the lobby, but they said they couldn't allow it."

"It's okay, Jana, don't worry about it," you said, closing your eyes, trying to forget this whole trip was happening.

You should have listened to your sister. You should have gone on a family vacation. At least then, you wouldn't have created so many sexual expectations that were clearly not going to happen.

Now that it was night and you couldn't distract yourself anymore, you realised you weren't just annoyed.

You were sexually deprived.

You hadn't had sex with Alexia in two fucking weeks because of her stupid football calendar.

You had had to make do with your hand most nights, and it absolutely wasn't the same.

Now you were stuck on an island with Alexia and her teammates, and one of them was literally sleeping in your room.

You were just a girl with needs!! It was only fair that you felt this way.

The room was silent for a while, and you thought you might finally be able to sleep.

You even prayed that you would have a sex dream… Maybe then, you would get to experience some kind of sexual activity on this supposed vacation.

But apparently, Jana was not done making her point.

"But really," Jana continued, "I'm very sorry. If I knew the bugs in my room's mattress would mean I would be intruding on your and Alexia's privacy, I would have just slept there."

"With the bugs?" you asked, a bit grossed out by the idea.

"Yes," Jana replied seriously, as if she were ready to make that sacrifice. "I'm so, so–"

"Jana," Alexia said sternly, "shut up, please."

You felt yourself getting wet at Alexia's tone.

You liked it when she was stern. You liked it a lot. Although, of course, you weren't going to say it.

Day 2

You were at the hotel's pool.

Alexia was lying on the sun chair beside you.

She looked so incredibly delicious in her orange bikini that you wanted to put your mouth on every inch of her body.

You wanted a taste of her, and by the way she was looking at you, she wanted it too.

You watched as Bruna, Ona, Jana, and Patri played some kind of pool game; they were splashing water around and laughing like little kids.

That was when you felt Alexia's hand slide onto your waist.

In one swift motion, she pulled you into her chair, your was back pressing against her chest as she peppered your neck with light kisses.

It was intimate but not scandalous.

"Estás tan guapa," Alexia murmured in a low voice. "Muy, muy guapa." [You look so pretty/very, very pretty]

You hummed, tilting your neck to the left to give her more space. You felt her grinning against your skin.

"Fui una idiota por invitar a las chicas," she added. "Lo siento por eso." [I was an idiot for inviting the girls/I'm sorry for that]

You wanted Alexia so much.

There was nothing you wanted more than to grab her hand, drag her back to your shared hotel room (thankfully, the staff had fixed Jana's room situation that morning), and finally get Alexia all to yourself.

But no.

You couldn't get her off that easily.

As if Alexia were just an annoying little bug on your neck, you stood up suddenly, pulling her hands off your body. And, without a word, you threw yourself into the pool, completely ignoring her.

Alexia stayed behind in the sun chair, looking confused, but you didn't care.

You swam straight toward the girls.

"Are you guys playing Marco Polo?" you asked, wiping water from your cheeks. "I wanna play too."

..

You all decided to go out and eat at one of those restaurants on the beach. 

You and Alexia got ready without saying a word. Well, Alexia tried to talk to you. You just weren't the one responding.

You were putting blush on when Alexia apologised for the ninth time that day.

"I'm sorry, bebé," she practically whined, which was a great contrast to the way she looked.

She was wearing a long, white dress, and her hair was in a bun. She looked deliciously mature.

"I'm not talking to you," you said, not even glancing at her reflection in the mirror as you continued to do your makeup.

"But it's our vacation," Alexia said. "You can't be mad at me forever."

"Not forever," you replied, putting on some red lipstick. "I'll be mad for the number of days I find necessary."

Alexia went quiet again, and you continued to get ready.

You put on your earrings, then your necklaces.

You were too preoccupied checking if your dress matched your silver accessories to realise Alexia had once again pressed herself to your back.

"Me gusta cuando te pones así, tan brava," Alexia whispered, her lips brushing soft kisses along your jaw. "Me pone tan mojada." [I like when you get mad/It makes me wet]

She took your hand and slipped it under her dress.

Your breath hitched when you felt the warmth of her inner thighs, and then she lifted your hand even higher, until you were cupping her cunt.

Her bare, very wet and very warm cunt.

"Te quiero tanto ahora, amor," Alexia said, pushing your hand further inside until your fingers were inside of her. [I want you so much right now, love]

You slid one finger in, then another.

You wanted to pull away (no, not really), but you couldn't take your eyes away from the mirror; you couldn't look away from the way Alexia's face was filled with pleasure behind you, as if she needed this.

Maybe she wasn't the only one who was sexually frustrated out of the two of you.

You started moving your fingers deeper each time, reading her expression to know what she needed.

If the frown between her brows tightened, then you would slow down, but if her mouth fell open, you would push in deeper.

You angled your fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside her that made her hips stutter, that made her sound a little less dominant, a little more dumb, a little more helpless.

"Por favor…" she murmured, her lips brushing the back of your neck. "Lo necesito…" [Please/I need it]

"I'll get you to the edge," you promised her, "but you're not gonna cum. Not tonight."

"No," Alexia shook her head as you pushed your fingers harder. "No, por favor…"

"Shhh," you whispered. "Enjoy it, baby."

Whenever you felt Alexia contract around you, you'd pull your fingers away, taking them to your mouth.

You would lick them clean, tasting her sweetness, then you would slide them right back inside her.

You edged her more times than you could count. You even felt a little sorry for her.

When her makeup was a complete mess on her face, and when tears began falling from her eyes, you finally decided to put a (partial) end to her misery :)

You pulled your fingers away completely without a warning. Alexia whined, but you didn't put them back this time.

You let Alexia lean against your back. Her thighs were still shaking.

You turned around and kissed her face, her cheeks, her jaw, her lips.

"Later," you promised. "We'll go to dinner, you'll behave, then we'll come back to this hotel and you're gonna fuck me with the strap until I drench the sheets, okay?" You took her jaw into your hands, making eyes contact with her.

"Yo–amor!" she breathed, eyes fluttering closed. "I need to cum."

"And then I'm gonna fuck you so good I'll have you squirting all over me. How does that sound?" 

Alexia looked at you with those soft hazel eyes.

"Sounds great, mi vida," She said, sounding a little dizzy. "Anything you want."

..

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13 , @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics

A/n: 😝😝😝😝😝😝

[dollyfiles]

pulling off fwb!rafe’s condom during sex

cw: smut, fuck buddies dynamic, p in v, first protected then unprotected sex, creampie, praise, explicit language

“rafe—” you gasped, the back of your head thudding against the pillow as he drove into you, hard and fast, the bed creaking beneath you with every sharp thrust. your hands gripped his shoulders like you were holding on for dear life, nails dragging down his back, a broken moan falling from your lips. “fuck—don’t stop—”

he didn’t. couldn’t. not with the way you were clinging to him like you needed him inside you just to breathe. sweat slicked skin, hair sticking to his forehead, jaw clenched as he tried to keep control, but it was slipping. you made it impossible.

being friends with benefits with rafe cameron meant wild and relentless sex. morning, day, and night. and even when you felt like it couldn’t get any better, there always was this little five percent missing to make it absolutely perfect.

it was this damn rubber that was wrapped tightly around his thick shaft, always keeping that little percentage hidden inside, and waking your curiosity like nothing else.

it was a mutual decision when you both started this little arrangement, of course it was, at least you thought so. rafe on the other hand would’ve loved to just toss that little annoying thing out the window at any given chance.

not that he didn’t care. oh he cared. more than anyone else, that’s why he decided to agree in the first place. just for you and your comfort. and of course you didn’t know that once you guys started hooking up, he went and didn’t dare touch another woman.

not because you two were something exclusive, no. he simply didn’t want to. you were already giving him everything he needed, even if things were just casual. so now, with rafe hitting something deep inside you, you couldn’t help but want more.

you were totally soaked, clenching around him, but your expression said it still wasn’t enough. his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider. the slap of skin echoed through the room, mingling with your breathy moans and the rough rasp of his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

that’s when you stilled beneath him, your thighs tightening around his hips to stop his movements. “pull out.” you demanded and rafe froze mid-thrust, blinking down at you, chest rising fast. “what?” his voice cracked with confusion, panic flickering in his eyes.

“just—” your voice was ragged, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. you were panting, shaking, like your body was on fire. “just do it.” rafe couldn’t help but feel his heart stutter as he pulled back, chest heaving in disappointment. “did i—?”

“no,” you breathed, shaking your head, your hair clinging to your damp forehead. your hand slid between you, fingers curling around the base of his cock. he hissed through his teeth, nearly losing it right then and there. “it’s just—” you looked up at him, eyes blazing. “i want more.”

leaning up, you kissed him hard, tongue brushing his lip before whispering into his mouth, “i want you raw, rafe.” for a long moment rafe didn’t move, he was too stunned, until you started rolling the condom off his cock yourself.

it was slow and deliberate, watching his face the whole time. your fingers were slick, trembling just a little, but your touch was confident, and god if that didn’t undo him. the thin rubber slid off inch by inch, and you tossed it somewhere into the room, reaching for him again like you were starving.

“come on,” you whispered, voice wrecked and dripping with want. “please let me feel you.” and then, without hesitation, he grabbed your hips, dragging you down the bed, and slammed back into you with a raw, guttural groan. you both swore at the same time, almost relieved.

the difference was immediate. no barrier. no distance. your bare cunt hit him like a punch to the gut. it was even wetter and tighter and so much more. you cried out beneath him, hands flying to his back, holding onto him like a vice.

you could feel every single vein of his cock, every time his tip nudged your cervix without any protection. you were soaking him, wrapping around him, dragging him in. “jesus—” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. “you feel—fuck—you feel unreal.”

you wrapped your legs higher around him, clawing at his back, pulling him deeper, rougher, harder. “don’t stop,” you begged, your voice cracking. “don’t you fucking stop.”

his rhythm turned brutal, desperate, the kind of pace where none of you cared if the neighbors heard. you met every thrust with a needy whimper, the whole bed shaking as your fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him in for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth.

he slammed into you again and again, chasing that sweet spot, chasing your moans, like he’d die if he couldn’t get more. you were already falling apart under him, body arching, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto.

“i can’t—i’m gonna—” your voice broke off in a gasp, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry. “cum for me,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping faster. “fuck, baby, cum on me.”

and you did. your whole body locked around him like you were pulling him down with you, your poor cunt clenching around him hard that it triggered his own release, hot and overwhelming. he buried himself in you with a rough groan, the feeling of his hot seed inside you making you moan out as your orgasm rolled over you.

both of you collapsed at the same time, panting, completely wrecked, skin slick and sticky with sweat. your legs stayed locked around him, his face buried in your neck, both of you shaking from the aftershocks.

“that,” you whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak, “was so much better.” rafe laughed, breathless and fucked out, brushing a kiss over your chest. “you think we’re done?”

you just smirked, still catching your breath but fingers already sliding slowly down his stomach, teasing his cock again. “i fucking hope not.”

tags: @inbred-eater @dearapril @isasweetie @rafessecret @littlelamy @bradshawed @cherrygirlfriend @trusweethrt @inspiredangel @et6rnalsun @bluemerakis @nemesyaaa @rafekisser @deansbeer @ditzyrafe @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lacyydollette @drewsephrry @angvl3tears @rotapathetic @raahosh

[vio1315]

I want to share my white noise solution in case anyone falls into the same niche as me.

I've always liked having a fan/white noise to sleep to in order to block out other sounds, but lately have found my white noise machine has a secret frequency that I can hear sometimes that might be causing me some brain fog issues???

So to remedy this I thought getting something that makes noise with water might be a good idea. But all the indoor ones are really quiet, and it's hard to tell from online listings if people are just putting a mic up close or etc.

(Note, my solution is more about muffling than being loud enough to fully override)

So here's my set up:

I got a tabletop fountain that is meant to simulate rain. While I don't necessarily recommend this one, it's what I have and so what everything I say is going to be based around: [Amazon link]

The 'calming cloud by mindsight'

The first thing to know is that yes! These things are way too quiet. Out of the box, the sound of it was easily overwhelmed by someone in the other room using an electric toothbrush.

So basically I got heavy duty aluminum foil (if you're sensitive to sound I recommend using some kind of hearing protection for this because it genuinely hurt so much) and used a bowl to get the foil in a circular shape. You want the excess to come upwards to block out the sides, because it Will have considerable splash from this. Use a toothpick to put some holes in it, you don't need that many.

Do not use any splash pad, stick that foil right in there and set up the sides to fit inside. For the gaps, I just took a piece of foil and taped it to the top to further block the water from splashing out.

This is considerably louder! Not as loud as a fan, but it's enough to keep sounds from inside my house from driving me insane. Note that the pitch of the water is a little high. You would need a different kind of material to get it lower, probably harder to work with etc. I have tried glass and it is not very loud.

The sound is surprisingly repetitive for something physical like this, so some troublesome holes I blocked off if they were a little too incessant. Holding onto the splash pad is good for this so you can silence any you don't like.

You will need to refill the water as it will evaporate over time. You may even wish to clean the foil eventually or replace it. The one I have will automatically shut off after 3 hours also.

If you use this, please do not put chemicals into the water. I'm not that positive, but this stuff might be something you end up inhaling, so I really feel it's best to just clean it sometimes

Also, yes it is ugly. I find that putting a lampshade over it doesn't impact the sound much.

A lot of cons which is why it's a niche, but the pro is that it does indeed help with the brain fog thing I was experiencing! So maybe someone else could benefit too.

“if you’re sensitive to sounds when sleeping, just use earplugs!” i cannot stress enough that the sensory feeling of having my ears fully blocked AND now being able to hear my own heartbeat and breathing and every other sound that’s happening inside my own body is a million times worse than whatever ambient noise may be keeping me awake

[delilahsturniolo]

— 𝜗ৎ chihiro . . . c.s

in which . . . you and chris argue again, but tonight is different. you both break the confusing and frustrating tension between each other in another way

warnings . . . smut, makeup sex, (but they apologize after) unprotected sex, fingering, arguing, fluff at end, dirty talk, degradation, spanking, slight choking and hair pulling, slight orgasm denial

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

HIT ME HARD AND SOFT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #3

you and chris have been together for two years, but recently it feels like all you do is argue. tonight, the tension reaches its breaking point over something seemingly trivial. "i can't believe you, chris!" you exclaim, throwing your hands up in frustration. "do i have to do everything around here?" chris rolls his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "oh please, get a grip and stop complaining all the time!”

"at least i try to keep this relationship afloat," you snap back, crossing your arms defensively. "well, maybe if you weren't so controlling all the time, i would actually want to help!" chris retorts, taking a step towards you.

"me, controlling?" you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "you're the one who always has to have the last word!" the argument continues to escalate, both of you hurling insults back and forth until you're standing inches apart, chests heaving with anger.

suddenly, chris grabs your waist and pulls you flush against him. "you know what your problem is?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. "you're always trying to be in charge."

"and you're not?" you shoot back, struggling against his grip even as your body betrays you, arousal pooling between your legs.

"stop, just stop it," chris speaks sternly, clearly done arguing before you can respond, he spins you around and bends you over the couch, your hands grasping the edge for balance. with one swift motion, he rips off your shorts and panties, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

"chris, what are you-" you start to protest, but your words are cut off by the sound of a stinging slap against your ass.

"calm down," chris orders, his voice rough with desire. "you've done enough talking for one night." he continues to spank you, alternating between each cheek until your skin is red and tender. you moan softly, your hips bucking back to meet each strike.

"you like that, don't you?" chris taunts, his fingers trailing over your heated flesh. "you act all high and mighty, but deep down you're just a little slut who needs to be put in her place."

"please," you beg, your voice breathy and desperate. "i need more..." chris chuckles darkly, his fingers dipping into your dripping wet heat. "so greedy," he murmurs, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly. "but you haven't earned it yet."

he withdraws his fingers and you whimper at the loss, your hips chasing after him. but he's not done tormenting you yet. he grabs your hair and pulls you up, his other hand wrapping around your throat. "look at you," he says mockingly, his eyes raking over your exposed body. "so pathetic and needy. maybe next time you'll think twice before trying to catch an attitude with me."

he releases you and you slump back onto the couch, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes. but then you hear the sound of a zipper and your heart leaps in anticipation. chris thrusts into you without warning, his thick cock filling you to the brim. you cry out in pleasure, your walls clenching around him greedily.

"fuck, you're tight," chris grunts, his hips snapping against yours. "such a good little slut, taking my cock like that." he sets a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly. your moans echo through the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. you can feel yourself climbing higher and higher, your orgasm just out of reach.

"please," you gasp, your nails digging into the couch cushions. "i need to cum..."

"not yet," chris denies you, his grip on your hips tightening. "you'll cum when i say you can." he continues to fuck you, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. just when you think you can't take it anymore, he reaches around and pinches your clit, sending you hurtling over the edge.

you scream his name as you cum, your pussy spasming around him. chris follows soon after, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you with his hot seed. for a moment, the only sound is the harsh panting of your mingled breaths. then chris pulls out of you and you collapse onto the couch, your legs trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

"i'm sorry," chris says softly, pulling you into his arms. "i shouldn't have lost control like that...i shouldn’t have gotten so angry..it wasn’t fair of me to not listen and understand your side..”

"no," you say quickly, shaking your head. "i wanted it... needed it. we both did, i should have listened to you too." chris nods, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "we need to work on our communication though. fighting shouldn't be our foreplay." he jokes. you laugh softly, nestling into his embrace. "agreed. from now on, we talk things out like adults... before the clothes come off."

"deal," chris says, leaning in to kiss you softly. and with that, you fall asleep in each other's arms, ready to face whatever challenges come your way... together.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: bro i hate this so much but i didn’t have time to rewrite it

[celestiaras]

perhaps mira x gn reader hurt/comfort where mira gets injured during a battle and the reader helps patch them up?? 😼

ft. mira, rumi, zoey (separate) x gn! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ patching them up after a battle┊0.8k words

contains: blood & injuries, rumi has demon powers

➤ author's note: it’s a little short so i did all the girls^^

━━━ .°˖✧ mira!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ your proud and hot-headed girlfriend has always had difficulty admitting her weak areas or that she’s hurt, both physically and emotionally. she has a tendency to hide her injuries for as long as she possibly can before eventually giving up because the pain becomes more than she can handle, usually after the other girls have left the two of you to have some alone time and her walls collapse after slowly crumbling for the past hour. 

“come on, mira, let me help you clean up your wound.”

“what wound? i’m perfectly fine—” her sentence was cut off by a hissing sound coming from her mouth as a sudden stabbing shot up her leg, her eyes looking down at the gash in her ankle that was gushing red with every step. her nose scrunched up in discontent before letting out a sigh and relenting to your demand. 

if it was anyone else, you probably would have teased and said something like “i told you so,” but you wouldn’t dare when it comes to mira, only motioning her to sit down on a nearby chair and kneeling down to properly patch her up. you didn’t want to sound like you were gloating. 

“it’s fine,” she started, “it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

╰₊✧ she tries her best to stay stone-faced as you disinfect her wound, not flinching or whining, but she can’t help but furrow her brows and grimace, maybe allow a single tear to stream down her face as she fights through the pain. be sure not to baby her after it, don’t kiss her and say anything like “see? that wasn’t so bad” with a patterned bandage on top, she prefers to wrap it up quickly and act like it never happened, but she will kiss you as thanks for taking care of her.

━━━ .°˖✧ rumi!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ similar to mira, rumi will try her best to hide her injuries from you, but it’s for very different reasons. due to being half-demon, she heals faster than the average human, and doesn’t quite feel the pain as intensely as she should. she just chalks it up to having a higher than average pain tolerance, it’s why she isn’t bothered by things like paper cuts or scraped knees, but she can’t always hide it from one as observant as you.

“are you okay? that looks like it would really hurt,” you asked.

“what are you talking about?” her eyes followed yours, trailing down her torso to find blood soaking through her white tee. “oh, um…” she sheepishly chuckled, “i guess i haven’t noticed yet since the adrenaline still hasn’t worn off…”

“do you need me to help?”

“no! no, you don’t need to. i can handle it myself— you should get some rest!” that was all she said before darting back to her room, slamming the door behind you and leaving you confused. 

╰₊✧ as she sits on the edge of her bed, wrapping gauze around the wound, she can’t help the guilt striking through her heart that hurts even more than the damage does. she hates hiding away this part of her, this part of her that was so confusing yet important to understand, but she doesn’t know if you would understand. she dreads the looks the girls would give her, especially the look you would give her if you found out. all she can do is continue to hide away this secret and hope that she’ll eventually find a solution. 

━━━ .°˖✧ zoey!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ once the battle is over, her knees immediately buckle to the ground, and she shouts out in pain in a cartoonish fashion. she’s been injured by these demons plenty of times before, it’s expected and comes with the job, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. it likely came from a place of carelessness, throwing her daggers at her enemies with so much focus on her attacks that she forgot to watch her defense. 

“ooohhh my gooodddd!” she cries out, clutching her wrist in agony, “that stupid demon— does it look broken to you?” she turned her head to show you her injury, tilting her head in concern for you to examine it. 

“well, it doesn’t look broken, but it might be sprained…”

“oh no! how am i going to do the choreography for our next dance practice?!”

“don’t worry about it! let’s just put some ice on it for now, and i’ll go look for the first aid kit, okay?

“okay…”

╰₊✧ while the swelling and redness go down with the cold compress, she can’t help but rethink her behavior, mulling over how ‘overdramatic’ she was being over a sprained wrist. she doesn’t want you to think she’s too much over minor things or dread how she would act if something bigger had happened, so remember to assure her that you don’t think she’s too much and that you think it’s one of her biggest charm points, it will mean a lot to her.

[gizmotemusic]

IDs: Twitter thread by @CraftyCatDad which reads "Cis ppl get dysphoria all the time. It's when a woman cries and wears hats for a month bc the cute pixie cut went wrong and made her look masculine.

When a man takes off a shirt like it's on fire bc it hung in a way that made it look like he had breasts.

"It's the tremendous number of men who ask our shop to make their hips smaller, their shoulders broader. Men who break their legs to be taller. Women who hate their big hands or small chests and keep those laser facial hair removal places in business.

"Dysphoria is the Bad Feeling, but cis ppl get gender euphoria as well! When you see a dude put on a suit that makes him feel exactly the right kind of masculine, or a woman with a dress that makes her exclaim "oh, I'm so PRETTY!" It's a little bit of magic.

"Working w clothes shows you that how others see their gender matters to everyone, even if that's a desire to NOT be gender boxed, or to express themselves against gender roles. We're communicative apes, & "how do I see myself" is one of the most important things we have to say.

"This isn't saying “oh, everyone's a little bit trans", but thinking dysphoria is wholly a trans experience others trans ppl. It's a human experience, they just have it more bc it's not as easy as an unflattering shirt or bad haircut.

"And it's worse for kids. So much worse bc they don't have perspective. Think of the worst haircut or outfit you ever had to wear to school and how it felt. Shit, I bet it STILL hurts. Now make that every day. For years. Of course so many of them want to give up.

"What causes or alleviates it isn't going to be the same for trans ppl any more than cis. For every cis dude I get who hates his hips, I get one asking to cut the pants tight bc "can't waste this dumptruck."

"I do what I can to help at work w angled seams and draping and optical tricks and style lines. I do what I can here, trying to secure EVERY SINGLE HUMAN the right to bodily autonomy and the safety and freedom for the gender expression that works for them.

"No one can truly know anyone else's experience, but there are feelings we all know a version of, and it's how we empathize. Joy. Disappointment. Hope. Anxiety. And yes, gender dysphoria." End ID.

[chelseeebe]

take me (home)

18+. mdni. smut. violent descriptions. older!eddie x reader zombie apocalypse au. no use of y/n!

🎧home - daughter.

the world had gone to shit. the undead roamed the earth and the people were evil. can you learn to trust again? can you teach a grumpy, greying man to trust someone again?

an: hiiiii!!!! i am so sorry for my absence and honestly i have nothing to say about it other than i am lazy. i really got into the latest season of tlou and thus got inspired to write some zombie au with eddie wherein he’s a little older and a lot grumpier. i really want to make this a series but i know what i’m like so can’t promise anything

♱

robin is going to die. 

in the middle of some forest in wyoming, all alone. 

you’ve tried. and tried. again and again. every pharmacy picked clean for miles. 

no antibiotics, not even a damn clean bandage you can wrap around her ankle. 

“just go!” she screeches, collapsing on the snow-covered ground, “fucking leave me— please,” her voice begging now, desperate for you to just listen. 

“i’m not fuckin’ leaving you here robin, i won’t fucking do it,” peering seriously through the trees for some shelter, just some relief from the cold. 

she’s paler than usual, the infection now reaching her bloodstream. you’d hoped it wouldn’t get this far, that something would come along before you were made to decide between dragging her further through the state or to hunker down until she passed. 

robin’s eyes slide from your worried face to somewhere behind, causing you to turn with haste, bow drawn at whatever it was. 

a girl. 

two girls. 

with a shotgun pointed at your face. 

they look clean, well fed and strong. 

nothing like your grime covered body, littered with scratches and wind burn. 

“stop right there!” pointing your arrow at the round-faced girl, “don’t come any closer or i’ll put one right between her eyes,” mostly a threat to the gun wielding woman next to her. 

she doesn’t look scared, which figures. you wouldn’t believe you either. but her hands remain up, a gesture of peace and goodwill. 

“i’m chrissy, this is nancy,” nodding to the other lady, “we want to help you, and your friend,” they stay put, a solid ten yards between you. 

nobody wants to help anybody anymore. that wasn’t how the world worked now. not without some ulterior motive. 

you scoff, keep the bowstring pulled taut, “i don’t believe you,” narrowing your eyes. 

you could do it right now. take her out. 

and then what? 

that shotgun was dead-set on your forehead, you’d be gone before you could entertain reaching for another arrow. 

“she’s not bit?” the other girl asks, one eye squinted behind the barrel. 

you look at her, a scrawny girl with an angry face. she’s small but she clearly knows her way around a gun. 

“n-no. she tripped— some miles back, cut her ankle, we’re clean,” spitting your words. 

she hums, sharing a look with the girl in front. 

“nance, lower the gun,” ordering her companion who complies easily, “we have medicine.. and food and water,” her foot creeps forward, leaves crunching underneath her leather boot. “she looks sick,” averting her gaze to robin’s pale face, “let us help you.”

you want so badly to believe her, more than anything in this world. 

what if they weren’t lying? 

was it even worth the risk?

“you can keep the arrow on me— if it helps,” nodding gently, “but we have to go now, before they come,” glancing around the bare trees, it was only a matter of time. 

your bottom lip trembles, unsure of whether the cool feeling sliding down your face were tears or snow drops. 

it’s the only chance you have of getting robin help. 

fuck fuck fucking fuck. 

fingers trembling as you drop the bow, running to get robin from the cold, damp floor as the two girls join you by her side, her arms slung around their shoulders. 

the winter is bitter here, cutting your skin and stinging your lips. it’s why robin is so sick, with no relief from the weather and a severe lack of food, her body had succumb to the infection. 

“okay,” nancy orders, “keep that bow up, take out anything you see and we’ll carry her,” hoisting your only friend from the ground, “our camp is straight ahead, through that clearing there.” 

you do as instructed, sending silent prayers to whomever would listen that this wasn’t some sick ambush. that robin would be okay. 

please please please be okay. 

stumbling through branches and bushes, heaving laboured breaths as the hard wind sets in, whipping at your clothes. 

it’s surreal. 

a gigantic metal wall, almost knocking the rest of the air from your lungs. you wouldn’t make it out of there if things went south. 

“steve!” nancy hollers, waving her arm around the thick fog, “open the gate! we have wounded!” 

the metal creaks as a gap appears before your face, people rushing to the entrance— to robin. 

she’s gone before you can protest, into the arms of a surly stranger. 

everything’s happening too quickly. whizzing around your head like flies. one minute you’re in the scathing winter and the next placed in front of a screaming fire. 

it’s dizzying. 

robin’s not here. 

you should go. try and find her, get her away from these people and their gawping eyes. 

but you’re so warm. 

and dry. 

and your shoulders feel light for the first time in months. 

it’s hard not to let the fatigue take over, you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t. 

yet your eyes blink shut, and your limbs relax into the tattered couch and suddenly everything is dark. 

-

you awaken in the same room you were rushed into, with no recollection of the last hour.. hours? the sun had gone down, nothing but darkness from outside the windows.

your ratty jacket no longer hanging from your shoulders but a woven blanket placed carefully over your body instead. 

did you take it off? 

did someone undress you? 

your lungs gasp for air, sitting upright as you attempt to come to grips with everything. 

“hey hey—,” a familiar voice echoes. finding her round cheeks and soft eyes, a little reassurance even now. “you’re okay.. you’re safe,” speaking gently, for your understanding. 

“rob.. where’s robin?” sticking by the crackling fire despite your urges to bolt. 

she smiles, surely a good sign, “robin’s okay,” nodding, “she’s in the nurses station, she’s on an iv. a little worse for wear, but she’ll be okay.”

your head lols back, breathing out. that’s all that mattered. robin was alive. 

“you slept for some time,” her soft chuckle ringing through the room, “you hungry? or you can shower first? it’s your choice.”

it just all seems too good to be true. the catch is coming, no doubt. 

you nod anyway, if you were going to die; at least it was out of the storm. 

chrissy, guides you through the halls, shooing away the nosy citizens. all wanting to get a good look at the new girl. 

“they’re not all bad,” she laughs, walking straight past the line of people, “some soup i think,” an order thrown at the long haired man behind the counter, “and some bread, quickly if you can,” your eyes catch her wink, her authority was not understated here. 

people respected her and her orders, that was obvious enough with nancy. 

she ushers you over to a mostly empty table, gesturing for someone to bring water, a lanky boy with shaggy hair jumps at it, a jug in hand as you sit. 

something felt.. off. it’s as if they had never seen someone like you before. 

“how ‘bout we give her some space, hmm?” chrissy hums, shooing the crowd onwards. gratefully, they do disperse, leaving you to eat, “please excuse us, we haven’t seen new people in.. forever,” she chuckles, “i’m just gonna check with eddie about where you’ll be staying, no one’ll bother you here and then we can get you settled in, okay?”

her tone is oddly settling, calming your nerves as you tuck in, leaving you to the now empty canteen to plead your case. 

she’d known it wouldn’t be easy, especially with eddie the way he is at the moment, but you and robin deserved a chance at this. 

eddie huffs, pulling his chair closer to the oak desk, “it’s more mouths to feed— we can barely keep these people fed.. how’re we gonna help two more?”

she’s trying to fight your corner, you were more than capable and robin seemed pretty crafty. chrissy had asked her about the hand-sewn makeshift holster as they were taking her to the nurse.  the group could use that, utilise your skills for good. for the betterment of hawkins. 

“alright,” bowing her head, trying her hand at a new tactic, “d’you remember when hop found you?” blinking slowly, “all skin and bone. that nasty cut on your lip.. what’d he do for you? what if he hadn’t have helped you? hmm?” cocking her head to the side. 

this angle was fool proof, eddie owed his life to hopper and he knew that better than anyone. 

he sighs again and she knows she’s won. meeting her twinkling eye with a scowl she knows isn’t serious. “fine,” exhausted from the conversation alone, “but they help out, go huntin’.. whatever it takes to earn their keep.” 

chrissy grins, she’d won the war. “she knows her way around a bow and arrow, give it a few days and i’ll send her out with nancy,” her eyes don’t mistake is worry, hand poised on the door, “this is good, eddie.. stop worrying.” 

eddie begrudgingly follows her out of the room, shooing the growing crowd from your table. the sudden lack of eyes on you cause you to look up, meeting his heavy gaze immediately. 

“you bit?” straight to the point. wasting zero time in getting to the gritty stuff. 

your head shakes, pushing the empty bowl away from you, “not bit.” 

he huffs, lips pressed tight together. he’s older than the rest of them, creases by his eyes and a slight greyish hint to his head of curls. nobody still alive today had had it easy, that was for certain. but eddie looks as if he hadn’t had it easy before the world turned to shit. 

a mean, stoic presence that was necessary for survival nowadays. but theres a softness there too, hidden underneath his exterior. you see it flash across his face when you clutch your side, bruised and aching from the long winter you’d faced. 

there’s a scar that starts on his chin, right through to his top lip. is it wrong to think it makes him look better? 

it’s definitely unholy. 

“everyone pulls their weight ‘round here,” laying down the rules, harshly pulling you from your adolescent fantasies. “and everyone answers to me, understood?” driving his seniority home, making sure you really got it. 

your head nods on its own again, “understood.” 

he wants to say something else, you can tell by his lips pursing but he doesn’t, slinking off back to the small room he came from. 

you shouldn’t have come here. 

it all felt like a mistake. 

you certainly shouldn’t have let the older man in charge of this hell hole creep into your mind the way he so suddenly had. 

-

chrissy puts you up in one of the empty houses, a little away from everyone else while you adjust to living with people other than robin. 

she gets to stay in the large, main building. a makeshift ward that housed their sick and needy. you don’t envy her, surrounded by coughing and spluttering, strangers poking and prodding at her wound. 

though at least her leg was now less hideously purple and terrifying, her wit and snappy attitude had come back in droves. 

she sits now, legs dangling off the bed, “i just don’t understand why i can’t help in the kitchen or something?” her tone full of disgust, “you’re the one that can shoot, not me.”

“d’you only wanna work in the kitchen because vickie works in the kitchen? because last i checked, you can’t cook for shit either,” bursting into giggles. 

“shut the fuck up, that’s not true, i mean— it’s not the only reason anyway,” rolling her eyes in jest. 

it was nice, calming even, to joke like this again. to be able to. everything had been so serious for so long, it was kinda hard to remember that at the end of all this, you were just girls. girls with crushes and nonsensical fantasies. girls that liked to gossip and giggle.

you try not to think too much about it, for the sadness weighs too heavy. the knowing that your previous life was non-existent now.

“alright,” chrissy announces, striding into the room, breaking the tender moment in half, “you’re good to go,” throwing a thumbs up at robin. “i spoke to will and he said the infection’s all cleared up, just rest up for a couple more days and you should be back to normal.” 

robin looks almost startled, the reality had hit her that this wasn’t just a fly-by visit and was in fact your new home. leaving the ward meant integrating properly, something neither of you had done in years. 

you’re certain you can figure it out together, well it was that or you could sneak out in the middle of the night. you’d follow robin wherever. 

the older lady smiles softly, “i trust you two’ll be okay together,” her eyes glide over to the window, where eddie looks sheepishly through the window at her, “i’ve gotta go, come find me in a little bit and i’ll get you some new clothes,” rushing off without another word. 

you watch after her, watch how her smile grows ten times bigger, how his hand met her elbow to guide her away from your prying eyes. 

“d’you think they’re together?” blurting out what was supposed to be an inside thought. 

“duh,” like it were obvious, “you saw the way she smiled at him.. why?”

you scoff, grabbing the pile of robin’s discarded clothes, “no reason.” 

her eyes narrow, you’d spent far too much time together for her to not pick up on your transparent feelings. 

“do you have a crush on him?” giggling like a schoolgirl, “he’s old!” 

“he’s not that old,” offering your hand for her to take, “besides, i don’t have a crush on him— i’m a grown woman, rob.” 

“mmhmm,” limping her way out of the room, quieting the conversation before the snooping residents of hawkins could hear. 

it’s not as if it’s a serious fantasy of yours, more likely just the result of five years with extremely limited contact with the opposite sex. 

give it a week and you’d be over it, for sure. 

-

weeks do in fact fly by. 

assimilating into the town, slowly becoming a part of their community even if you’re wary and unwilling. 

it’s not that the people here aren’t nice, it’s just a lot to handle. 

eating at a set time— hell, eating regularly at all had been a shock to your system. the constant pang of hunger had been replaced by a feeling of fullness. your body fuelled by food and not sheer anger. 

and sleeping, in a warm bed, all night. 

the softness of it all had turned you into a new woman. no longer peering over your shoulder for the first sign of danger, now looking forward to playing board games with vickie and robin. 

you can’t help but wonder if perhaps it’d be a mistake. to soften up and embrace this life fully. every other group had fallen, this one was no exception to that rule.

it doesn’t matter today. because today you were going out.

you’d been itching to get your hands on your bow again, after all, spending two years with it glued to your side, your hands felt empty without it. 

the only thing stopping you, seemed to be eddie. 

waiting at the armoury for nancy who is supposed to be hunting with him, but had asked you to step up in her place. it was a muttered excuse about being tired though you’re sure she could see how antsy you were getting. 

eddie doesn’t even turn to give you the turn of day, shovelling a spare magazine into his jacket pocket instead. 

you clear your throat, decidedly the best way to get his attention without startling him, “hey uh— nancy asked me to cover her shift.. she said she’d spoken to chrissy?” unwaveringly nervous under his gaze, “i-i’m more than ready, if you’re worried.”

eddie turns, giving you a once over before scowling. he blinks, as silent and stoic as he’d ever been. you assume he’s trying not to freak out over the sudden change 

“can i trust you to save my life out there?” cut-throat. straight to the point. 

“yup.”

he wavers, contemplating your answer before nodding, “alright. then let’s go,” swinging the shotgun over his shoulder and marching off towards the gates before you can even think to grab your bow. 

it’s the first you’ve been out of the gates in weeks, but you’re not even slightly nervous. 

in fact, you’re excited. as much as hawkins and it’s people were a welcome relief, it also felt a tad bit suffocating. 

the forest smells exactly as you’d imagined it, crisp and earthy, with no signs of rotting flesh anywhere. 

you scamper along behind eddie, appreciating every step that lead you further away from hawkins. 

“so.. where are you originally from?” scanning the tree line for any signs of the undead. it was a mile or so to the traps by the river and eddie hadn’t said a word. 

he huffs in response to your question, irritates by your mere presence. “indiana. you?” obviously not interested in conversation. 

“well,” dragging your feet behind him, “i was born in missouri but i was in boston for college when this all happened,” shrugging, like he cared. 

he doesn’t honour that with a response, keeping his mouth closed and his eyes on the trees. 

“how’d you get to wyoming?” daring another question. 

this does it. 

he snaps, turning around to glare daggers at you, “y’know me and nancy don’t usually talk.” 

you pause, humming softly, “well, i’m not nancy.” 

“you sure aren’t.”

the audacity. 

his nonsensical issue with you was becoming too much. 

“i didn’t ask you to bring us here,” dropping your bow before you let the arrow fly right through his eye, “so you can stop acting like i’m some burden— because i’ll leave, you don’t even have to ask,” scoffing loudly, hoping you’d finally gotten through to him. 

he goes to speak, a rebuttal to your home truths but you cut him off before he has the chance. 

lifting the bow in a blink, your eyes move rapidly, finding the movement in the bush before it reaches eddie and takes a bite out of his shoulder. 

“eddie, duck,” drawing the arrow back and firing without much thought over his left shoulder, sticking the groaning infected in the forehead. 

if he wasn’t already before, eddie’s stunned into silence, taking heaving breaths as he finds the body on the floor and then meets your eye. 

“i didn’t know you could shoot like that.” 

no thank you, no appreciation, nothing. 

maybe he just wasn’t capable. 

“well, someone had to do it,” catching your own breath after a trickle of excitement, “robin’s about as straight as a circle,” his eyes flicker, narrowing slightly, “her aim i mean,” coughing through your blunder. 

eddie hums, coming to lean against the large oak behind him, “right.. so.. she’s not into vickie then?” 

your eyes widen, wondering if you had just guaranteed your exile from the town with a comical fumbling of words. 

“no— i-i mean i don’t know, how would i know?”

oh my god. 

he smiles for what must be the first time in his life, “relax, you’re good, she’s good.. y’know, that’s all good here,” swigging from his bottle. 

oh. 

maybe you’d actually done some good here, putting in a good word for robin with her friend could have zero negative consequences, could it? 

unless vickie was violently homophobic, you suppose. 

“is vickie.. good too?” pushing the boundaries for the sake of your love-sick best friend. 

eddie chuckles, he actually laughs, you weren’t sure if his body was even capable of something so human. 

“she is, she.. wanted me to let robin know but i guess you can do that for me,” his attitude far more relaxed than it had been the entire time you’d been here. 

who knew that all it took to crack eddie was to almost put an arrow through his eye?

you nod, accepting your newfound duty, “i’ll put in a good word,” sharing a smile, albeit short and likely forced, it made your heart swell. 

he looks away almost immediately, like it’s a struggle for him to get the words out, as if he was allergic to being nice to you, “there’s a.. a thing tonight, for hops birthday,” avoiding your eye at all costs, “you don’t have to come, but you and robin are welcome,” standing from his perch. 

the nerves, or more likely excitement bubble over, “oh.. okay, y-yeah we’ll be there,” a failed attempt at playing it cool. 

it was the first real indication that you were welcome to stay, robin needn’t have worried, not with vickie on her side. you on the other hand, had been slow to warm up. 

which was understandable after years of scampering around the country with robin, protecting not only yours, but her life too. the people in hawkins had got comfortable, well adjusted to their lifestyle, they had no idea what remained outside of the walls. 

well, maybe except for eddie. 

“shall we carry on?” he asks now, gesturing deeper into the woods. straight back to business, seemingly unaffected by his brief moment of kindness. 

you nod anyway, following him through the trail with an embarrassingly excitable thumping in your chest. 

-

the music plays on, an old folk record from a band you’ve never heard of, accompanied by people dancing around. 

it reminds you of old, a sweet, reminiscent feeling of college and the not knowing where a night will take you. 

people laugh and talk and sing, though you find it easier to stick to the sidelines. still not so comfortable with these people to let your guard down completely. 

evidentially robin didn’t feel the same, chattering away into vickie’s ear while simultaneously hanging from steve’s shoulder. she belonged here, that was clear. 

you were just hoping that eventually, you did too. 

before you can convince yourself to leave for the comfort of your own house, eddie joins you at the bar. sidling up to the empty spot without a word. 

when will this not be so awkward? 

he sighs, a bid to get your attention, “y’having a nice night?” resting against the bar, the sterile stench of the home-brewed moonshine wafts both from his glass and his pores. 

“yeah! thank you for inviting us,” your eyes are on robin, and vickie, twirling around the room to the folk beat blaring behind. “it’s nice to feel normal again,” your heart aches a little, not out of jealousy but pride. 

proud of your best friend, proud that she was herself again. she’d found a home in hawkins, and for that, you were proud. 

eddie nods, following the pair too, “yeah.. i ‘ppreciate you coming,” his words come out easier now, warmer, more sincere. 

the conversation stills, but it’s not so tense anymore. 

when you finally conjure up something to say, eddie speaks first. knocking the words from your tongue. 

“everybody in this room is looking at you,” he mumbles, keeping his gaze set on the crowded dance floor. 

your cheeks burn in immediate response, was he drunk? trying to embarrass you? whatever it was, it wasn’t right. 

“i don’t.. i don’t think so,” shying away. 

eddie’s lips curl upward— definitely drunk if he were smiling at you again. “you don’t think so?”

“nuhuh.”

“i mean, i don’t blame ‘em,” he blurts, the slur in his voice only becoming clearer. “i would if i could bring myself to look at you,” swirling the liquor in his cup, a pitiful attempt at playing cool. 

he’s trying to get into your head. it was so transparent that he had picked up on your juvenile crush and decided to exploit that. 

“wha.. what are you doing?” completely exasperated. 

eddie shakes his head, a strand of his hair coming free from his lazy bun to frame his face, “‘m sorry, i’ll see you around,” pushing himself from the bar, striding off before you can muster up enough courage to call him back. 

the air turns cold, abruptly snapping you from your haze and back into the room. 

-

“no, i have to go,” you announce, getting up from your spot on vickie’s couch. you’d spent the evening with both her and robin watching movies, actual movies on an old vhs the town seemed to share. 

“d’you want me to walk you back?” robin looks up, the begging look in her eye only obvious to you. 

you hum, contemplating whether pissing her off was worth it or not, “i should be alright, wouldn’t want to trouble you,” wiggling your brows. 

it was honest, you hadn’t seen her so happy in years. 

“thank you for having me, really,” heading to the door, “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do,” staring straight into your best friends eyes. 

the evening air sends a chill down your spine, you wonder if wyoming ever gets warm because it certainly didn’t feel like it was capable of getting the sun. 

a five minute trundle from vickie’s house to yours, that was all it was supposed to be. 

but you find your feet wandering. 

eddie’s words hadn’t left your brain since saturday night. what did he mean? 

the darkness conceals his body at first, the outline of his figure only made obvious as you near. 

the lowly strumming of his guitar is carried by wind, so you wait. watching his fingers pluck the strings, playing a tune you don’t recognise. 

he’s blissfully unaware until the wood creaks from under your feet, his head shooting up to catch who or what was watching him. 

“christ, you scared me,” eddie exclaims, banging his palm against the body of his guitar, “what’re you doing out at this time?” 

you don’t speak. not yet. stood at the bottom of porch with a pounding heart and sweaty palms. 

he sighs, knowing precisely what you were doing here. 

“what did you mean?” a simple question, with a tricky answer. 

he leans his guitar against the railing, staring straight down at the splintering wood, “i was drunk,” he states flatly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “i can’t even remember what i was saying,” he’s stoic, back to being the asshole who had questioned you your first day. 

you can’t believe a word he says, a pathetic cop out. 

“i don’t believe you,” stepping up to him, “you weren’t that drunk.. i-i know you weren’t.”

crack. 

a branch snaps from somewhere behind you, the wind picking up and bringing a nasty chill with it. your jacket stupidly hanging on the wall behind your front door. 

eddie stands up tall, but intimidating he is not. 

“okay, what d’you think i meant? hm?” 

there hadn’t really been enough time to consider. you know what you’d have liked him to mean but that wasn’t necessarily the truth. 

“i don’t..” losing courage by the second, “i don’t know.”

blink.

your back knocks the brittle wooden fence, not hard or out of anger. his hands gripping firmly onto your hips eddie no longer a distance away but mere inches. 

“do you know now?” 

you nod, watching his tongue peek from his mouth, teeth grazing his lip, taking every inch of willpower not to smash his lips against yours. 

a whirring, churning feeling settles in your stomach. a hunger different to the one you had felt for so long. 

lust. 

insatiable desire that is only ever quelled one way. 

“too much?”

“n-no,” struggling to catch both your breath and any sane thought that was left in your head. 

“not here,” he growls, fingers curling around your hand whisking your trembling body through the door, into his house. nobody came here. this was eddie’s territory and they respected that. 

a house in the far corner that overlooked the tiny town. a watcher, guardian, whatever he wanted to call himself. 

it isn’t that much different from yours, or vickie’s for that matter. they’d settled in what was a standard suburb before all of this, cookie cutter houses for cookie cutter folks you figure. 

before you can even form an opinion on his decor, his hands find your hips again, twirling your body, taking instant control over the situation. 

you’re not even certain that this wasn’t some alcohol-induced dream. you’ll awaken any minute now with an uncomfortable feeling and no longer possess the ability to look him in the eye. 

the way your arms snake around his neck feels mechanical, a habit you’d had for years even. 

eddie blinks, knocking his forehead against yours, “can i?” his age showing through his gentle words. 

“please.” 

closing the space to crash his mouth to yours, his body knocking into yours in a hopeless attempt at clawing his way closer. 

the tension snaps at long last, lighting the ignition that awakens you. you can’t get enough, can’t get any closer, not with your chest pressed flat against his, hips grinding mindlessly for any hint of relief. 

it’s been so long since you’ve felt another touch like this. so long since you’d even entertained the idea of having this again. and now, within a matter of weeks, eddie had forced his way into your mind, his tatty leather jacket and gruff voice were now imbedded within your veins forever. 

eddie hums, trying to pull back but your lips are unrelenting, not willing to let him work his way out with misspoken words. 

“not.. not here,” he gasps, walking your bodies down the creaking hallway. 

his hands don’t stop, roaming everywhere they can reach, slipping underneath your shirt and back down into the backs of your jeans. grabbing and caressing your flesh, utterly encapsulated by exploring every inch of you. 

your lips part again as you reach his bedroom, dark and awfully minimalist. reminiscent of a typical bedroom you’d find yourself in on a saturday night once upon a time. 

his grip doesn’t let you dwell on it too long, pulling you right back in with a kiss. 

“wai- wait,” you rush, keeping a steady grip on his shoulders, “i thought you and chrissy..” reluctant to finish when his lips find your neck, his stubble grazing your skin with every movement. 

eddie cackles, vibrating against your jaw line, “you thought.. what?” forcing you to finish your sentence. 

you grumble, partly due to his talented mouth and the other for the hole you’d dug yourself into. “..together?” shifting your thoughts to your question though it’s useless when his teeth come out to play. 

“no,” answering definitively, “not together, just friends.. from before,” his fingers skim your waist, bringing the hem of your shirt up with his hand. 

your throat hums, a sort of half-moan, half-grunt, “oh.. i-i uh—,” losing your train of thought as his palm finds your bra, groping and grabbing over the thick material. 

“huh?” he teases, drawing circles around the now erect nub with his thumb. 

every slight touch makes your skin burn and your nerves work overtime to keep up and you aren’t even undressed yet. 

“fuck, i don’t know— please just touch me,” sliding your hands underneath the collar of his jacket, itching to get it off. 

eddie groans, letting go of your body to get his jacket off himself, his arms thick and tattooed. a shock to you, seeing as they were hardly seen from beneath the scuffed thing. 

there’s so much about him that you’re begging to find out about, other than his name and the fact that he was a phenomenal kisser, you knew nothing at all. 

your shirt is next, his fingernails scratching your hips as it’s lifted over your head, landing on the floor as quick as it was pulled off. 

there’s no time to feel insecure, as you’re sent tumbling backwards, landing on the soft mattress with eddie not far behind. 

“you’re beautiful,” he mutters, if it were any quieter you wouldn’t have heard it. 

it doesn’t take long for your cheeks to burn, the heat rising from your stomach to your chest immediately. 

he moves down, dragging his fingers along every curve on the way, until he’s knelt on the floor between your legs. touch like this feels so foreign, nobody had spent this much time and care on you even before the world went to shit. 

he’s gentle, something you’d thought he was incapable of, tugging at your jeans until they rest at your ankles. 

the air is cold but eddie keeps you warm anyway, his palms leaving burns in their wake. 

a thousand and one thoughts rumble through your brain at once; what if you couldn’t handle it? what if he was repulsed by you? god knows that shaving your legs in the apocalypse was useless.

perfume and moisturiser were a thing of the past, you don’t even half resemble the wild girl from college anymore.

“it’s been a long time,” a fair warning, you could already feel the damp sensation rubbing between your thighs, there’s no saying how much you can take. 

eddie grunts, his deep, rumbling chuckle making another appearance, “d’you think i care?” his fingers keep your knees wide open. 

he doesn’t get it. 

so you give him a hint. a really, very obvious one. 

fingers curling around his wrist, “i mean.. before this started long,” keeping your grip tight around him. 

cocking his head to the side, he smiles, tongue washing over his parched lips, “yeah, i heard ya. i don’t care,” breaking away from your hold to spread your legs further, trailing his finger tips down your skin until he reaches your clothed cunt.

skirting over your clit with a solitary finger, his gaze transfixed to your face, drinking up every single contortion, every curse and moan. 

his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, teasing them down your thighs until the cool air hits your cunt, send shivers down your spine. 

“shit,” he mutters mostly under his breath, “i’ve barely touched ya,” as if you weren’t already ashamed of how needy you’d already become. 

“i told you..” barely a squeak, your cheeks burning in sheer shame for the pool between your legs. 

eddie just tuts, refusing to repeat himself again. he just wants to hold you into the mattress until you’re begging for relief, shaking against his tongue. 

but that’s a little much for the first time he gets to even touch you. 

so he doesn’t. 

instead, pulling you by your legs to the end of the bed, his grip on your thighs would surely leave markings in his wake. clutching on as if his life depended on it. 

he stands, the tent in his jeans made increasingly obvious as he moves on top of your body. it’s both foreign and completely familiar all at once, like you and eddie have danced this dance a thousand times before. 

you haven’t, of course. 

you’d barely seen him smile before tonight. let alone this. 

he scuffles with his jeans, keeping one hand wrapped tight around your thigh, keeping you open for him. not once letting his eyes flicker, resulting in an awkward fumble to get his jeans off. 

it’s an impossible feat not to stare open-mouthed as his cock springs out of his boxers, already leaking and far bigger than you could’ve ever expected. 

there’s a semblance to the first time you were ever in this position, a little intimidated while hungrily anticipating what was to come after. 

you just hope you don’t scare him away. 

“didn’t nobody teach you it’s rude to stare,” he bites, but the sarcasm is thick, dripping off of his tongue. 

as if you were being scolded, your eyes fly upwards, bottom lip trembling, begging for a rebuttal but nothing materialises. 

eddie takes full advantage of your flustered state, pressing down to kiss your puffy lips, grinding his hips tenderly against your own. 

his fingers slide down from your hip to fist his cock, teasingly slapping the glistening tip against your clit. 

agonisingly slow, drawing out every last second before everything would change forever. 

okay, you’re being dramatic. 

his cock harshly pulls you from the battle inside your head, nudging against your hole, gently knocking his forehead against yours. 

a quiet, muted, “please,” is all you can muster, soft thighs keeping him as close as the space allowed. 

with that, he slides inside, encased by the soaking wet warmth of your cunt. eddie’s lips part, grunting as his balls meet your pussy. 

everything feels electrified, as if the universe had always meant for this to happen. your two bodies meeting was destined to happen thousands of years ago. 

“fuckfuckfuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, beads of sweat melding together on your shared foreheads. 

you need him closer somehow, deeper. until you can feel his cock in your throat and a buzzing in your head. 

eddie presses his lips to yours in a haste, muttering rushed expletives into your open mouth. 

you break away from his lips to moan aloud, throwing your head back against the pillow to allow him into your neck, which does with a grateful murmur. 

“y’sound just as sweet as i thought,” he pants against your skin, sucking away but only lightly, not enough to leave any evidence of his presence. 

your mouth is uncontrollable, pleasure overcoming your entire body, every stroke evokes ripples through your nerves. 

“f-fuck eddie.. feels so good,” slurring your words, rolling your eyes to match. the closeness is inescapable, balls slapping against your thighs, his tongue rough against your neck and jaw. 

cumming before all this was a rarity, but now it felt as if anything less would be downright impossible. your stomach flips already, tightening and turning with every pump of his hips, every time he brushes against your clit. 

eddie groans, long and melodically, moving faster as he coaxes your orgasm from you. 

“mhm, tha’s it sweetheart.. let me feel you,” pulling his face from your neck to watch your face full of bliss, ecstasy overcoming your features as the waves crash over, figuratively and literally. 

your chest heaves, moving rapidly, “oh my god,” gasping when the wetness reaches your thighs, your release gushing, coating his pubes, his cock and his sheets. 

“shit darlin’,” speaking softly yet with sheer amazement, “‘m gonna cum.. you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum,” pressing his wetted lips to your cheek, breathing in your scent. 

“please..” you huff, digging your fingertips into his back, “cum for me,” whispering now, plump lips grazing his ear, your words punctuated by his increasingly feeble thrusts. 

the noises are guttural, coming from somewhere within. you’re too exhausted to truly care but can feel him pull out regardless, his cum spurting over your thighs, painting a perfect picture. 

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he pants, leaving a solitary kiss on your forehead, gazing down to admire the mess you’d made. 

you’d like to say that that was only because it had been so long, but deep down you know that you’d only be lying to yourself. 

“y’gotta get up,” he nudges, “gotta change these sheets baby girl,” speaking into your skin, though it does nothing but lull you further into your slumber. 

“mmm,” shaking your head, “i wanna sleep,” nestling in to the blanket, hoping he’d leave you be. 

“nuh uh,” eddie sighs, his arms coming to scoop you from the bed, carrying your tired body bridal style to his couch, “i’ll be quick,” setting you down to get to work. 

-

you had somewhat, maybe foolishly, expected warm arms to wake you up, reality crept in and the harsh chill encased you instead. 

paper crinkles underneath your arm, left haphazardly on his now-empty pillow. 

‘gone on patrol. help yourself - e’ 

wow. 

a gentleman. 

you weren’t really expecting flowers or breakfast in bed but then you weren’t expecting to wake up in his house alone either. 

it’s cold in here, you suppose he spends more time away from it than he does in it, which makes sense as to why he doesn’t heat it but christ. 

you had to somehow sneak out of here and back into your own house without a soul seeing. at least robin would more than likely still be with vickie, just leaving the rest of this cursed town to avoid. 

this wasn’t how you’d pictured this going at all. 

he couldn’t even force himself to see you out? to make sure you got home okay after making you literally tremble beneath him? your release still all over his sheets. 

you almost feel nauseous about how easily you had let him in, how utterly delusional you must have been to ever believe that this was even slightly serious. 

getting yourself dressed quickly, too fast to let your self do something you’d regret. 

maybe he was scared. he’d run off to protect himself..

no— he didn’t deserve your pity, not when a goodbye was too much for him to give you. 

you refuse to dwell too much on your surroundings, trying to ignore the slight insights into who eddie was as a person. his guitar, the paintings, the books. everything that made him more human, not the machine you saw pacing the walls. 

it’s quiet outside, still too early for the majority of the town to be up and pacing. you could slip right on by without anyone caring too much about where you were the previous night. 

joyce wags her fingers as you pass by, sat on the porch with will, both completely oblivious as to where you were coming from. 

robin isn’t home either; your house just as quiet as eddie’s had been. 

you mustn’t dwell. 

it was over. 

a short lived fantasy that had sent your delusions running wild. this was the end of the world, there were no happy endings anymore, at least not with grouchy middle aged men. 

-

you don’t see him for the rest of the day. 

he’s not at lunch. or dinner. or even wandering around like he usually was. 

robin can tell somethings wrong, roping steve and jonathan in to try and draw it out of you, or to cheer you up. 

it didn’t matter, neither were working. 

“we sing too y’know,” steve beams, standing at the other side of the table, his elbow almost knocking jonathan clean over. 

there’s a loud protest from the boy, but the noises turn to static when you see him. 

the leather jacket. 

disappearing from the doorway the second your eyes leave jonathan, a blur that you weren’t even certain you’d actually seen. 

how long had he been stood there? watching you, like a coward. 

steve blurs before your eyes, unwarranted tears well up, forcing you from the table and out into the frosty evening air.

eddie’s no where to be found, not even a glimpse of his hair. it’s just you, the snow, and a desire to get as far away from this wretched place as possible.

[ghouljams]

Okay… I hope this isn’t weird but I really do love cannibal kinks and the symbolism of giving oneself to the other for them to live but also… I like it when they’re deranged as hell.

I remember you talking about Ghost and how he’d definitely survive the apocalypse by going to cannibalism when food runs out and you’re so, so right.

I want to say he doesn't even wait for food to run out but that would be a lie, the man is utilitarian to his core. He stockpiles dry food, canned goods, he butchers the cow and deer he buys from farmers outside the city, stores them in his deep freeze (the one with its own generator). He has meat for months, rations for years, and yet as soon as shit hits the fan his shitty apartment in the city doesn't cut it the way he thought it would. There are too many people, too much noise, too much chaos. Not the sort he relishes in, the kind that crashes into buildings like a wave, attempting to shake their foundations like the horns of Jericho. It's a chaos he knows, the kind that always follows political upheaval, the kind that makes leaving the city feel less risky than sticking around.

So he packs what he can into his car, and to be fair he can pack quite a bit in there, and he gets the fuck out of the city. Takes the back roads, avoids highways and the city center. He pats himself on the back for getting something suited to rough terrain, remembers Soap complaining that he was bringing the military home with him. He finds a cabin out in the middle of the woods, remembers seeing a listing for it on some bnb website while the internet was still up, and hopes no one else had the same idea.

He avoids opening the freezer he managed to stuff in the back seat, digs a cup into a sack of beans, eats them just barely cooked while he checks the ropes on the generator strapped to the top of his car. He chews on jerky while he drives, tries to remember the farms in the area, reasons over whether or not he could nab a cow even just for the milk. Considers setting rabbit traps, nearly grabs a duck from a pond he drives past for the eggs, thinks better of it when he has the poor creature by the neck and isn't sure where he's supposed to put it in his crammed car.

All this to say he's fucking exhausted by the time he reaches the dark little cabin. Somehow all that sleep deprived insanity reaches a peak spotting your little sedan sitting between the trees, the flutter of someone peeking through the curtains... he hardly waits to unload his own vehicle before breaking the door down to see what a suddenly merciful God has granted him. Toys, he thinks to himself as you spit and kick and scream for someone to help, knew I forgot something.

The skin around his eye is starting to darken by the time he gets dinner on the table. Most of the fight went out of you at the promise of food, and you'd even been kind enough to help him get the freezer inside once he'd gotten the generator running. He'd have to get some of the trees around the place limbed up so the solar can keep it running, but he'll worry about that tomorrow.

"What's this," You sniff at the meat sitting nicely charred on your plate.

"Don't remember 'is name." Ghost smiles, the scars around his lips tugging the skin twisted. You grimace and push the plate away, your lip starting to wobble for a second time. "Eat," He tell you, "or it'll be you next."

You give him a long searching look, likely trying to see if he's serious. You must not like what you find, because you drag the plate close and start to pick at the meat. You do your best to hide the gag that nearly slips past your lips, choking down distinctly inhuman meat. Oh well, Ghost thinks, be easier to get you to eat it later.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

I decided to give y’all this short and nasty! The other idea I want to explore and drop separately for ya’ll! Here’s something smutty and delicious 😋

The cicadas outside whispered against the heat-soaked night, their song soft through the open window. The moon hung low and wide like a watching eye, bathing the little bedroom in silver. Curtains swayed. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and an old train groaned over a distant track.

But in here, the world had stilled.

Smoke needed her pussy. Preferably from behind and until he was satisfied. Even after he cums he can’t stop. He just loves the deepness. The way her pussy flutters around him.

She was on all fours at the edge of the bed, her spine dipped low, hips tilted up, all that brown skin glowing like bronze beneath moonlight. Her breath came slow and steady, little sighs pressed into the pillow as if she knew what was coming. Smoke stood behind her, bare and hungry, one hand splayed on the small of her back, the other stroking down the curve of her ass, watching how her skin trembled under his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice husky with reverence and want, “You always know what I need before I do.”

She looked back at him, eyes heavy with love and lust, her mouth parted like she might whisper something. But she didn’t. She just watched him. Trusted him.

Smoke stepped forward, his body flush against hers, the thick head of him nudging between her slick folds. He teased her first, gliding slow against her entrance, letting her feel the weight of what was about to happen.

“Please, daddy.” she whispered. It was the softest thing, but it lit something wild in him.

“Where you want me?”

“Deep, daddy…”

“You wanna feel it in you gut, baby girl?”

“Please…”

“Beg while I slid in this wet pussy.”

“Pleasssseeee—”

He pushed in. Slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch. She gasped, her spine arching, head dropping forward, pressed hair styled in pin curls falling around her shoulders like a veil.

“Goddamn, you always feel like this?” he grunted, sinking deeper, gripping her hip like he might come undone from just the feel of her wrapped around him. “Tight…warm…made for me.”

She whimpered, pushing back against him as he began to move. His thrusts were deep and languid at first, savoring every moment. His hand slid from her back to her hip, then between her thighs, finding her center and rubbing gentle circles on her clit that made her cry out.

“You like it like this?” he asked, voice rasping against the back of her neck, “Me behind you, watching you take all this dick?”

She could only moan.

He bent low, chest to her back now, lips brushing the shell of her ear, “You’re mine when I’m like this,” he whispered, “Ain’t nobody ever gon’ love you like this. Ain’t nobody ever gon’ see you like I do.”

He kept his rhythm steady, deep strokes that dragged slow and hit something so perfect inside her she felt her legs tremble. His breath grew heavy against her neck, his hands tightening possessively. When her body began to quake, he reached around to cup her breast, squeezing it, whispering filth and love all in the same breath.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he groaned, “Give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy clutch on me.”

She cried out, her whole body bowing as the waves of pleasure washed through her. Her thighs trembled, her mouth open in a silent scream. Smoke gritted his teeth, trying to hold on, but the way she clenched around him all wet and pulsing sent him over the edge. He slammed in deep one last time, burying himself with a groan like it broke something loose in him.

For a long moment, there was only breath. Her body limp under his, his chest rising and falling against her back.

Then he kissed her spine, soft. Once. Twice.

“You good?” he whispered.

She nodded sleepily, still glowing.

He helped her turn over, pulled her into his arms, held her close.

And under the weight of the night and the slow spin of the fan overhead, Smoke whispered into her hair, “Ain’t no place I’d rather be than right here. Buried in you.”

_____________

She knew the way his hands moved. Real slow, certain, patient. He touched her like softly, like a man who had done wrong in the world but came home to her to be forgiven.

Her knees pressed into the mattress, the sheets cool beneath her thighs, but her body burned. She felt him behind her, all heat, all hunger, all heart. When his fingers slid along the curve of her ass and dipped between her folds, she moaned. Not from surprise. From relief. From recognition. He always knew where to touch.

He teased her first. Just the tip, thick and heavy, running through the slickness he drew from her so easily. Her hips shifted back, greedy now, her body aching for more.

“Please,” she whispered, not out of weakness, but need. Out of how safe she felt in the giving.

And then he entered her. Deep. Slow. Like he wanted her to feel every inch of what belonged to her.

Her lips parted around a gasp because he filled her in ways that made her question her name, her bones, her very soul. Every time, it felt like the first time. A little stretch, a little burn, and then that sweet slide that made her toes curl and her heart pound.

“You feel like heaven,” he grunted behind her. His voice was thick, his chest brushing her back now, his hand sliding around to toy with the tip of her breast. She moaned.

Arched.

His words soaked into her skin, branding her.

You’re mine…Ain’t nobody ever gon’ love you like this.

And she believed it. Because it wasn’t just how he moved inside her, it was how he looked at her. Like she was the answer to something he’d been trying to solve since birth. When her orgasm came, it wasn’t just pleasure, it was complete surrender. Her body pulsed around him, and she cried out his name, her voice raw with truth. He followed, groaning her name into her skin, flooding her with everything he had.

And when it was over, when he helped her turn over and tucked her into his arms, whispering sweet nothings and nuzzling her hair, she knew one thing for certain.

It wasn’t the stroke that wrecked her.

It was the way he saw her.

____________

After Smoke blew her back out real good, She stood by the stove, stirring tea with honey, her silk robe barely tied. Smoke watched her from the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, silent. The curls of her hair were messy, a little frizzed from the steam. Her brown skin glistened under the low light of the lamp.

He thought he was done. He really did. But looking at her, looking all good and freshly fucked the way she is, he couldn’t help himself.

“I know you watching me,” she said softly without turning, “You just gon’ stand there and stare like that?”

Smoke didn’t deny it. He stepped forward, slow, “Can’t help it. I’m memorizin’.”

She finally turned, her eyes catching his. They were soft. Sure.

“Mmm. Sound like you tryna say somethin’ sweet so I let you in my bed again.”

“Bed ain’t where I wanna be,” Smoke paused, “Least not right away.”

“Oh really? Then where you wanna be?”

“Right behind you, baby.”

She turns, watching him closely now.

“You talk a big game.”

Smoke stepped closer, lips at her ear, “I play bigger.”

voice soft, she says, “Come show me, then.”

He’s silent. She can feel him looking. Then the mattress dips behind her. His hands grip her hips like he owns every curve.

And he did.

He took the mug from her hands, set it aside. Pulled her close, pressed her against the counter, and kissed her. Nice and slow at first, then deeper. He picked her up without a word, carried her to the bedroom, and laid her across the sheets like something precious.

She doesn’t say anything—just climbs onto the bed, slow, face forward, that robe rising up over her thighs as she lowers to her hands and knees. And when she arched her back, something inside him snapped.

Something primal.

“You already wet, ain’t you?”

“Mmmhmm…”

Smoke thumbed over her folds, groaning.

“Damn. Drippin’ for me.”

She spoke breathy, “I been thinkin’ about you all day.”

“Yeah? Thinkin’ what?”

“You been away too long, daddy. You know how this pussy get when you ain’t here to feed her and drink from her. Thinkin’ how good daddy feels inside me. How full I get. How deep daddy go.”

Smoke groaned, “Say it again.”

She moans as he glides the head of his dick against her entrance.

“You hear that shit? Fuck…”

“I’m so wet…”

“Leaking, baby…”

“Get in your pussy…”

His hands gripped her hips with, fingers spreading across that beautiful brown skin. He was already throbbing, slick with her heat, the scent of her flooding his senses. Smoke entered her slow. Deep. Until their bodies were flush and her breath shuddered out of her. His voice cracked a little as he pushes in slow.

“Fuck, yes—just like that. Take it… take all this dick, girl.”

She cries out, grabbing the sheets. He rocks into her, deep and steady. Her body slaps back against his, the sound slick and sinful.

“Fuck… you so thick. I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You always take me. You was made for this dick.”

She choked on a gasp.

“Deeper…”

“You greedy tonight, huh?” Smoke grunts as he drives in deeper, “Talkin’ all sweet and soft just to get me to fuck the soul outta you.”

She smiling through the moans, “It’s workin’, ain’t it?”

Smoke laughed low, dark, “Smart mouth.”

He leans forward, one hand sliding between her legs, rubbing slow.

Smoke:

“Feel that? That lil’ spot right there?”

“Y-yes! Baby—right there—”

“That’s mine pussy.”

“It’s yours… all of me is.”

Smoke growled against her neck, “You gon’ come for me?”

“I’m close—keep goin’, please—”

“I got you, baby. You know I do.”

She came undone. Smoke continued pumping her from behind. Filling that slick heat with his thick dick.

“Damn,” he breathed, “You take me like you need it.”

“You love fucking me like this…”

She moaned something soft and sweet, pressing back against him, that little body clenching around him like it didn’t want to let go. He moved slow at first. Long strokes. His eyes glued to the way her ass bounced, the way her back curved like poetry.

“You know what this pussy do to me?” he groaned, “You know what it is to me?”

She reached back blindly, her fingers brushing his thigh. “It’s yours.”

His eyes rolled. He gripped her harder and gave her what she asked for. His pace deepened, his voice turned gravelly with desire.

He bent forward, lips on her ear, “I ever tell you how fuckin’ beautiful you are like this? Bent over, taking all of me?”

She cried out when he reached around to stroke her clit, his fingers slick, skilled, relentless.

She came in a wave of sound and shaking, her body squeezing him tight. He groaned loud, almost pained, and spilled into her with a final thrust that rattled the headboard.

She collapsed onto the bed, breathless, glowing. He followed, pulling her onto her side, chest to her back, wrapping her in warmth.

“You alright, baby?” he murmured.

She hummed a yes, barely conscious, smile playing on her lips.

He kissed the back of her neck. “You wore me out.”

She giggled.

“Gon’ have me out here weak. Begging,” he whispered. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

She turned in his arms, their legs tangled now. Her fingers traced his jaw, “I do.”

He kissed her then. Slow. Sweet.

And outside, the cicadas still sang. But inside this little room, nothing moved except two hearts beating in rhythm.

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari rubbed her eyes with a soft sniffle and took a breath. Hawks words and presences had helped her calm down. Sure the pain still lingered, but it didn't hurt as much. "I... I wanna keep going. No, I need to keep going." She chirped softly after a moment. "I can't just stop now. Not yet." She informed and turned back to look over more hero logs for her father.

Training logs showing his improvement, journals that dated before Kari's birth, interviews, news reports, and so on. Eventually Kari stopped on a journal entry dated a few weeks after Kari's birth.

"August 5, I brought Kari home for the first time. She's gained a bit of weight which is good. She's such an active little girl. Kitearo was immediately so protective despite how he acted before. I guess seeing how small she was and having processed what happened helped him a lot. Therapy has been a huge help for all of them. Shade us still sneaking top shelf books when I'm not looking, last time I saw her reading Moby Dick to Kari and immediately stepped in. We made an agreement that if she didn't read these to Kari then I'd allow her to read certain top shelf books with supervision. She's enjoying spending time with Kari, reading her books while she's is in Shade's lap. Boom and Beats always love to play with Kari, running around happily with toys and including Kati in their games. Flo shows Kari a ton of different plants, mainly flowers. Fino likes to have Kari ride on his back while in a random animal form. I feel like these kids will super close when they're older. Sure they'll get into arguments and maybe even fights, but thats life. I'm just happy it looks like things are gonna be alright. Still waiting for Boom and Beats to get their quirks, I'm not sure what they'll be since Mikomi's quirk is so different. She never explained why, but I have a rough understanding. Either way, I've made up my mind and I'll help with hero work in some other way, but I'll be retiring as a pro hero before Kari's first birthday. I can't risk it right now, there is too much at stake. I'll keep doing my best for them. - Lynx Himura."

Kari gave a soft smile then went to type in her mother's hero name and began looking through the hero logs there. Eventually she came across an interview, roughly around the same time as Lynx, though it was off by a few days.

"Hello, thank you for meeting with us, Angelic."

"Of course, I'm glad I could make it work. Been super busy and all." Mikomi laughed. Her eyes, while a different color, were roughly the same shape as Kari's. Though Kari's were a bit more pointed and Mikomi's slightly more rounded. But it was easy to see the resemblance.

"Yea, you've been very busy it seems. Your already the number six hero and you're still pretty young. Any insight as to why you're working do hard?"

"Ah, going for that question already. Fair enough. Well, it's kinda has to do with my quirk being so easy to... adapt to different situations so I can help out in many areas. So I'm able to be noticed more often and so on. That and I just like helping. It feels right to me. Don't get me wrong the money is nice too but I'm not wanting for anything. I'm actually only using what I need and saving the rest for future emergencies or plans."

"You planning on starting a family?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll never let that information slip. I'm aiming high after all. If I have kids and I'm in the top three, their lives could be in danger so I'm keeping stuff like that close to my chest." Mikomi looked to the camera and smiled knowingly almost, in Kari's direction. Kari shivered a bit.

"Thats fair," the reporter hummed off camera and Mikomi looked back at the reported. "Now, about your quirk--"

"Sorry but I'm not divulging information about my quirk either." Mikomi was quick to interrupt. "I know it is different and rather weird but I'd like to keep that to myself as well."

"Ah, I see. Well, what about your relationship with Redone?"

"Oh, I--" Mikomi blushed a bit with a grin. "Well, it's a long story but after moving back from America, I had to go cuz of my mom's job, we reconnected in highschool and haven't really been apart since. He's really sweet and caring. We've been together for a while actually."

"Can we plan on a hero wedding anytime soon?"

"Ya know, I watched his interview last week and I tried asking him when he came by with the sweet buns. He just laughed and told me he'd propose when the time is right. I'm not sure when but I'm sure everyone will be made aware eventually." Mikomi chuckled softly. The interview went on, more questions, some dodged some answered. But all in all Kari got a good feel for Mikomi's personality. Kind but firm, not willing to take bullshit but not rude either. Stands her ground and proud of it.

Kari smiled and went on to find some missions, training logs, and a family tree. Kari widened her eyes. There she was with her siblings, her mother, her father, even her grandparents. There was Maica, Core, Core's father. Her whole family.

Looks like Lynx had two younger brothers one of which was deceased while the other was still alive but no where in Japan and no contact information listed and he looked to be estranged. Lynx's parents were listed too though his father passed away the same year as one if his brothers while Lynx's mother passed two years before Kari was born. Kari frowned, concluding an accident happened that took Lynx's father and brother. She shook it off and opened up a journal from her mother, taking a breath.

"I'm simply writing this so it is on record in case something happens to me and one of my children develops my quirk-" Kari perked up a bit. "I don't know if it'll come to that but dad said it's better safe than sorry. He probably knows something since we share a quirk and all. Thats besides the point. I plan on having this under heavy lock and key until I die or if one of my children requests it or whatever. I'm not the best with formal stuff but I'll try my best. Either way, I am Mikomi Himura. Mother to Kitearo Himura, wife to Lynx Himura. My quirk is called All of the Above. It is a highly adaptive quirk, able to integrate any other quirk upon seeing it, though it takes time. My DNA is very unstable for lack of a better way of putting it. My son's quirk is vastly different to mine. Well, it's going to be, he hasn't developed it yet but I already know. Sir Nighteye's quirk has been super helpful in calming the nerves of a new mother. For the most part at least, but I'm keeping that close to my chest for now."

Kari shivered a bit, having a feeling she knew what Mikomi was referring to but kept reading.

"As for the specifics of my quirk, I'm able to use a quirk I've copied with in a certain length of time after seeing it, depending on the type. A week or two for emmiter quirks, two to three weeks for transformation and accumulation quirks, and four weeks for mutation quirks. I don't just copy the quirk, but a snap shot of the person as well for lack of a better way of putting it. It can be refreshed if I see that person again but yea. Ugh this is more difficult to explain than I thought. Uh, the reason there is a snap shot is because I can call on it to help learn quirks more effectively, they take over my body and I learn through muscle memory. The quirks I have copied as well as the snap shots of the people will be passed on to which ever of my children inherits my quirk but those quirks will be locked until certain things are met, I'm not sure how that all works. Dad hasn't explained it and I haven't figured it out. It's weird to explain and better to show but I don't plan on dying so ill be able to show my kid when the time comes. Regardless, this is just a precaution and I don't plan on needing it. With that I'm closing this journal."

Kari blinked, moving to look through more journal entries. Some where around the time she was pregnant with her siblings. Then another caught Kari's eye.

"It's July 20th today. I'm feeling pretty weak from this pregnancy. Little Kari is really sapping me, but that's fine. I've had six kids before her so I'll be okay. But I'm not gonna lie this one has been rougher than all the others so I'm a bit worried. My due date isn't for another two month so it's fine."

"July 25th, something isn't right. I asked Lynx to take me to the hospital to have a check up. I might need emergency surgery. Kari might be born sooner than expected."

After that journal entry Kari found an obituary for her mother. "Number 3 hero dies for unspecified reasons." It lists the funeral date as well as other information.

Kari sighed softly, going over to Hawks and clinging to him, shaking and crying in weak sobs. She just needed a moment to process it all. "I... I know it's not my fault... but a part... A part if me still... still hurts." Kari hiccuped, nuzzling into Hawks' leg, just letting it all out. "I wanna know her. Who would she have been? What would be going on right now if she were alive? Why did she have to die cuz of me? It's not fair." The child cried, trying to hold back a bit but still needing to let out some emotions before continuing, if she even wanted to.

Hawks stood beside Kari the whole time, his usual laid-back expression softened into something quiet and pained. He didn’t say much while she clicked through the files—he didn’t need to. His hand gripped hers back just enough to remind her he was there, grounding her, steady and real in a space full of shadows from the past.

When Kari tried to lighten the mood at the end, Hawks crouched down a little to her level and gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His expression didn’t shift into pity—it never did. Instead, it was the expression of someone who understood, who had lived through too many ghosts of his own.

“Two pounds, huh?” he murmured with a gentle smile. “And now look at you. Tough enough to face all this head-on, brave enough to want answers even when you knew they’d hurt. That kind of strength? That’s rare, Kari. That’s hero stuff.”

He let the words settle before continuing, his thumb brushing over her knuckles where their hands were still locked together.

“Your dad loved you. All of you. You can feel it in every word he wrote—even when things were falling apart, his thoughts were on keeping you safe. That’s not something a lot of kids get to grow up knowing. But you? You’ve got that. You’ve got him with you every time you use your quirk, every time you snort like he did.” Hawks grinned a little at that, trying to lift her spirit without pushing her too fast.

He then stood and offered his other hand to steady her.

“We can look for more when you’re ready—your mom’s records, maybe some old hero logs. But we don’t have to do it all today. There’s no rush. What matters is you have this now. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

He gave her hand a soft squeeze, his wings flexing slightly behind him.

“You wanna keep going? Or you want a break, maybe get something warm to drink, clear your head?” he asked gently, letting her take the lead again. “Whatever you choose, I’m here, little bird.”

[rainrot4me]

creeps fav cuddling positions, GO!

(btw love your writing, keep it up :3)

✦ . jeff the killer

Full-Body Lockdown.

Jeff will not admit he likes cuddling at first. But the minute you fall asleep against him? He’s hooked.

He wraps himself around you like a heat-seeking snake—arm over your waist, legs tangled, chin resting in your hair. You are not moving until morning.

“Try’n leave and I’ll gut you. …Not really. Shut up. Go back to sleep.”

He gets possessive at night. Sleeps like you’re the last warm thing in a cold world. You wake up to his hand on your hip, his breath hot against your neck, and a grumbly, clingy tone that makes him sound more wolf than man.

✦ . ticci toby

Face-Nuzzle Swallow.

Toby loves being close enough to feel your breath. He sleeps with his head buried in your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, and your hoodie half-pulled over him like a blanket.

It’s grounding for him—your heartbeat, the way your fingers run through his hair.

“Y’r like a weighted blanket. Better, even.”

He twitches in his sleep sometimes, and you’re the only thing that helps keep him from spiraling. If you whisper to him? He melts. He won’t ever admit it, but he needs this.

✦ . eyeless jack

Back-of-the-Skull Protection.

Jack likes spooning. Him being the big spoon. Always.

One arm slung over your waist, chest pressed to your back, legs wrapped up in yours. His mask might still be on if he’s trying to keep some distance, but even then, he holds you like a shield.

“You sleep better this way. I know.”

He’ll rub soothing circles into your stomach with his thumb, hum low in his throat, and kiss the back of your neck if he’s feeling bold. You’re safest in his arms, and he’ll make damn sure you know it.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Lap Pillow/Guard Dog.

Tim likes to watch you sleep first. You’re laid across his chest or curled into his lap, and he’ll just run his hand over your back or through your hair while he stares at the ceiling.

He’s quiet, heavy-limbed, and warm—like a furnace.

“You trust me like this? …Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The minute you so much as shiver, he pulls the blanket tighter and tucks you in deeper against his body. He sleeps with one hand under your shirt, just resting on your back or side—soothing, steady, protective.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Chest-to-Chest Devotion.

Brian likes to hold you face-to-face, foreheads touching, arms wrapped around your shoulders. This way, he can feel your breath on his lips and tilt his head to kiss you at any moment.

It’s intimate. Reverent. His.

“I’ll always be right here when you wake up.”

Sometimes, you wake to him already watching you, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He doesn’t say much, but the look in his eyes says everything.

✦ . kate the chaser

Knife Behind the Back.

Kate always keeps one hand on a weapon—but the other? It’s gently wrapped around your waist. She’ll pull you flush against her chest in bed, keeping your face tucked under her chin.

“No one gets to you but me. Sleep.”

She doesn’t snore. She purrs, practically. A low hum of contentment that only happens with you. If you fall asleep on her shoulder, she’ll stroke your hair until you go still, then hold you all night like you’re the only good thing she has left.

✦ . ben drowned

Tangled Controller Cord.

Ben will literally pass out on top of you mid-game. One leg slung over your hips, head pillowed on your stomach, arms wrapped around your waist like you’re his favorite plushie.

“You’re the best place to crash. Just sayin’.”

He snores lightly (it’s kind of adorable), and if you try to wiggle away, he’ll groan and latch onto you like a barnacle. It’s chaotic, but he’s touch-starved and cuddly when he trusts you. Good luck escaping.

✦ . clockwork

Over-the-Shoulder Pillow Queen.

Clockwork cuddles you like royalty—your head on her chest, arm draped around your back, her hand lazily stroking your shoulder. She always wants you on her, in some form.

“You look good right there. Stay a little longer.”

She’s not the little spoon often, but if she is? You better praise her. Run your fingers over her scars, kiss her collarbone, tell her she’s safe. She pretends to brush it off. She never means it.

✦ . laughing jack

Entangled Limbs & Chaos.

LJ sleeps like a feral dog that’s found a warm bed. One leg over your hip, arms tangled around you, his nose buried in your hair.

“You smell like sugar. I like it.”

He hums lullabies into your skin and kisses every exposed part he can reach. It’s a whole experience. He doesn’t just cuddle—he devours the moment like it’s the last joy in the world.

✦ . slenderman

Stillness Incarnate.

Slender doesn’t sleep, but he lets you curl up against him. Sometimes sits cross-legged and lets you nap against his thigh, one tendril gently coiled around your body like a lifeline.

You feel his presence settle around you, weightless but warm.

There’s something ancient and safe about it. You never have nightmares when he’s near. His silence is the softest lullaby.

꩜ .ᐟ

[cheftsunoda]

HIII omg i love your work!! you lwk made me an alex albon stan (i alr love lily, she’s so iconic) with the wag x 3 fic.

i was wondering if you could please write a poly!fic but with isack hadjar and oscar piastri? i know it’s a weird pairing but they’re two of my faves. it’s ok if not!! 💗💗

mentor or more? — op81 + ih6

smau + blurbs

oscar piastri x reader x isack hadjar

they were the couple no one saw coming. yn—loud, radiant, effortlessly magnetic. a globally adored model with a laugh that turned heads and a presence that owned every room she walked into. and then there was oscar—quiet, sharp, always a little awkward in interviews but impossibly endearing. somehow, the two of them just worked. they were happy. solid. untouchable. until the new season arrived—and with it, isack hadjar. fresh faced and full of ambition, isack comes looking for guidance, and oscar—ever the reluctant mentor—takes him under his wing. it is harmless. friendly. until isack discovers feelings for oscar and then lays eyes on yn and finds himself completely undone.

there’s only one problem— they only just belong to each other…right?

fc : isabelle mathers

(a/n) : omg hiiii. glad i could help bc everyone needs to be an alex albon stan. thank you for the love and i am sorry this took so long- i am behind on requests and i had to be real creative with this pairing- but i do not mind!! i like to be challenged. hope u love!! loveuuu

—

yourusername

france📍

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, hattiepiastri and 5,010,553 others.

yourusername : paris + cannes w my man before the season begins 💋

tagged : oscarpiastri

—

view 187,090 other comments.

charles_leclerc : the city of love looks great on you both! (pls stop making the rest of us look bad)

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

olliebearman : when i grow up i want to be just like oscar.

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri : only 4 years older than you mate.

↳ olliebearman : still old.

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

georgerussell63 : give us a travel vlog or we riot

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

↳ yourusername : was oscars mukbang with french pastries i sent not enough???

liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri and carmenmmundt

↳ georgerussell63 : the audience has spoken and they want MORE.

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

hattiepiastri : you are sooooo hot and then there is oscar.

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri : can't even argue. she is stunning.

liked by yourusername and hattiepiastri

↳ yoursername : my hattie 🥹 my oscy 🥹

liked by oscarpiastri and yourusername

lando : that is the face of a man who knows he is winning in life 😏

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

nicolepiastri : since oscar is about to go into full race mode and ignore me...weekly pilates where we gossip about him?

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

↳ yourusername : weekly pilates AND i will get him to call you at least once a week.

liked by nicolepiastri and oscarpiastri

↳ nicolepiastri : my god, i love you. i always wanted a daughter in law who keeps my son in line and wants to be my best friend 😘

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

↳ hattiepiastri : one thing oscar did right

liked by yourusername, nicolepiastri and oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri : yet again, surprisingly not insulted. it's true.

↳ username000 : god yn's relationship with oscar's family is the cutest.

↳ username0 : did you see the video from the race where nicole hugged yn before she hugged oscar???

↳ oscarpiastri : i tend to lack importance with my family when yn is around.

liked by yourusername, hattiepiastri, username0 and nicolepiastri

—

The first Monaco morning after the off-season always hits different. The windows are cracked open, letting in the early sun and the sounds of the port—distant engines humming, boats clinking in the water, birds that clearly didn’t get the memo about your need to sleep in. But you don’t mind. Not when you’re wrapped up in his bed, limbs tangled with Oscar’s, skin still warm from sleep. He’s curled around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go—one arm under your head, the other draped lazily across your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip under the blanket.

"You awake?" he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep.

"Mmm. Kind of." You stretch against him, pressing a sleepy kiss to the underside of his jaw. "We should stay here forever."

Oscar laughs, low and soft. "Tempting. Very tempting. But I did promise I’d meet up with a new rookie today. Isack. Doing some training together—get him settled in, you know."

You blink up at him, amused. "Oscar Piastri willingly doing social interaction? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a grin. "I can be social. When absolutely necessary."

"Right. You just happen to prefer doing it in gym clothes and under the guise of cardio."

"Exactly."

You trace little circles on his chest with your finger, pretending not to notice how he shivers slightly at your touch. "Isack… that’s the...French one? Racing Bulls? Almost ran someone over with a scooter?"

Oscar chuckles. "Yep. That’s him. Kid’s fast though. And a bit chaotic, but in a good way. I think he’ll be fun to have around."

You hum in response, already picturing Oscar trying to wrangle a hyper rookie while also trying to pretend he’s not as soft as he actually is.

"What about you?" he asks, shifting so your faces are closer, nose brushing your cheek. "What’s on your Monaco agenda today?"

You grin. "Brunch with some of the girls. Carmen, Lily, maybe Kika. Haven’t seen them in ages. And we’re probably doing a little shopping after—someone said new collections dropped in that tiny boutique on Rue Grimaldi."

Oscar groans dramatically. "So I’ll come home to you with ten new bags and an ‘oops’ face."

"Exactly. Consider it my version of training for the season."

He leans in and kisses you—slow and sleepy and so full of affection it makes your chest ache. “Just don’t fall in love with a handbag while I’m out bonding with the rookie.”

You smile against his lips. “Could never love something more than you.”

“Good. That's what I like to hear.”

You giggle and pull the covers tighter around both of you for just a few more minutes of quiet before the season chaos begins.

—

You sip your oat milk latte as you walk down Rue Grimaldi, arms linked with Carmen and Lily, the three of you gliding past boutique windows like you own the place. Your sunglasses are oversized, your sneakers are overpriced, and the breeze smells like sea salt and money. Monaco in pre-season is the calm before the storm, and you’re soaking up every second of it.

“I’m just saying,” Carmen starts, pointing at a display window, “if you wear that to the paddock, Alex is going to crash into the pit wall.”

Lily snorts beside you. “He is going to crash anyway, but sure. Let’s blame the dress.”

You laugh, taking another sip of your coffee. “You two are menaces.”

“And yet,” Carmen says sweetly, “you are friends with us.”

You chuckle and the three of you walk into the boutique. Inside, the boutique smells like fresh leather and delicate perfume. You let your fingers skim over silk dresses and tweed jackets, the kind of pieces that look like they belong in a Vogue editorial—not an F1 paddock. But Carmen’s already in the back holding up shoes that could kill a man, and Lily’s trying on sunglasses in the mirror like she’s about to walk a red carpet.

You snap a few mirror selfies, mostly for yourself, but you know Instagram will get them later. The three of you float from rack to rack, gossiping, laughing, indulging. It feels easy. Familiar. Normal in the way your life never used to be, and yet somehow is now. There’s brunch after, on a little terrace tucked away from the main street. You order fruit and flaky croissants and something bubbly. Lily tells a story that has Carmen spitting orange juice, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in sunlight and friendship. You’re happy. Settled. Loved. What you don’t know—what you can’t know—is that across the city, your boyfriend is meeting someone who’s about to turn all of that upside down.

—

third person pov

Oscar had almost forgotten how loud training facilities could be when rookies were involved. He spotted Isack immediately—chatting animatedly with one of the trainers, all restless energy and too big ambition packed into a very fast, young driver.

“Piastri!” Isack called the second he noticed him, practically jogging over. “Hey, man. Thanks for doing this.”

Oscar raised a brow, amused. “Didn’t know I had a choice.”

Isack laughed, and Oscar noted the nervous edge to it. The kid was eager—not in a bad way. Just... hungry. The kind of energy Oscar remembered having himself not too long ago.

“Seriously, I appreciate it,” Isack continued. “It’s been... a bit overwhelming. Everyone’s either too busy or too intimidating.”

Oscar handed him a water bottle. “You’ll get used to it. The key is pretending like you belong until you actually do.”

“Fake it till you make it?”

“Exactly. And don’t crash. That helps too.”

Isack laughed again, this time looser. “Noted.”

They began the session with light drills, a bit of cardio, some quick coordination work. Isack was fast, sharp, and relentlessly chatty, peppering Oscar with questions about car setups, simulator quirks, and pre-race routines. Eventually, during a break, Oscar leaned back against a bench and took a sip of water.

“So,” Isack said, stretching his arms behind his head. “You live in Monaco with your girlfriend, right?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”

Isack gave him a look that was half curiosity, half admiration. “She’s the model, right? YN?”

Oscar smirked. “That’s her.”

Isack let out a low whistle, eyes wide. “Damn. She’s... she’s amazing.”

Oscar chuckled, not unkindly. “Yeah. She is.”

And that was it—just a comment. Harmless. But something flickered behind Isack’s eyes. Something curious. Something that hadn’t quite formed yet, but would. And Oscar—cool, composed, always two steps ahead—missed it completely.

—

your pov (2nd)

By the time you get back to the apartment, the sun has dipped low enough that the buildings outside are tinted pink and gold, and your heels are in your hand because you gave up on the idea of suffering five minutes ago. You open the door with your hip, already smiling.

“Oscar?” you call out, voice echoing softly down the hallway.

“In the kitchen!” comes the reply, muffled, cheerful, followed by the sound of cabinets opening and closing in that way he insists is not chaotic.

You kick off your shoes fully, drop your bags in the entryway, and pad in barefoot, finding him exactly as expected-in a McLaren hoodie, socks half off his feet, hair slightly messy from wherever he flopped earlier. He’s standing in front of the fridge like he’s forgotten why he opened it. He turns when he sees you, face brightening instantly.

“There’s my favorite person.”

“You say that,” you grin, walking over to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “but you haven’t even asked about my day yet.”

“I’m just assuming it was amazing because you were in it,” he says, smug, before wrapping his arms lazily around your waist. “Was it?”

You hum, leaning into his touch. “Carmen and Lily are a terrible influence. I bought a pair of shoes that might require their own seat on the flight to Australia.”

He laughs, pulling back slightly to look at you. “How much damage did you do?”

“Enough to boost the economy.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Sounds necessary,” you shoot back.

You move over to sit on the couch as he grabs two glasses of water, joining you a moment later and kicking his legs up beside you like he hasn’t trained all afternoon. You take one look at him and raise an eyebrow.

“You look like someone who ran five miles and answered rookie questions for three hours straight.”

Oscar groans. “Pretty much. He is quite special.”

Your interest immediately piques. “Oh?”

He nods, passing you the glass. “Kid’s fast. Like… Max-level fast. And talks more than Lando after too many Monsters. But he’s cool. I think he’s nervous, but in a charming, I have no filter way.”

You take a sip, smirking. “You made a new friend.”

Oscar frowns dramatically. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

He nudges your knee with his. “He asked about you, by the way.”

You glance over, surprised. “Me?”

Oscar shrugs, casual. “Yeah. Just asked if you were the model. I said yeah, that’s her. He looked kind of stunned.”

You laugh softly. “Well, that’s flattering.”

Oscar grins, leaning back. “Yeah, enjoy it now. Wait until he sees you in person. He might short circuit.”

You roll your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I’m just preparing myself for the moment my girlfriend becomes a rookie’s emotional support fantasy.”

You chuckle, eyes fluttering shut. “If he’s anything like you were your rookie year, he’ll be too busy trying not to throw up before races to flirt with anyone.”

Oscar hums thoughtfully. “Fair point.”

You both fall into a quiet, comfortable silence after that. Outside, Monaco glows. Inside, it’s just the two of you—legs tangled, matching heartbeats, the season creeping closer by the minute. And somewhere in the distance, fate takes one small step forward.

—

several weeks later...aus gp...rewriting history bc in my mind osc won his home race (im delulu)

yourusername

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yourusername : oscar doubted me when i told him that i bought new heels bc the universe said he was gonna win his home race if i bought them...he made fun of me...but he won and i looked great in the heels. never underestimate the power of a good shoe. also i love australia.

tagged : nicolepiastri, oscarpiastri and lando

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oscarpiastri : okay fine. i’ll never question the shoe gods again.

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↳ yourusername : mhm mhm that's what i thought piastri.

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↳ oscarpiastri : how about i buy you 5 new pairs to make up for it?

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↳ yourusername : deal.

nicolepiastri : australia LOVES you. i missed you so much, my pretty girl.

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↳ yourusername : love you moreeee

lando : can you tell the shoe gods that lando needs help too?

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↳ yourusername : shoe gods say no...unless you buy me a pair.

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↳ lando : ...what size are you?

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franciscagomes : goddess. kiss me.

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↳ yourusername : on my way!!

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hattiepiastri : the way that oscar literally did nothing to deserve your level of beauty is insane. so fun to see you sista:)

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↳ yourusername : love you to the moon and back hattieeeee

isackhadjar : it is insane how beautiful you are in person. so nice to meet you, yn!

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↳ yourusername : haha thank youuu. it was nice to finally meet the man who has been stealing my bf from me;)

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—

third person pov

The hospitality suite buzzed with the usual pre-session tension, engineers huddled over screens, press staff darting between schedules. Outside, the sun was bright but not yet cruel, and the paddock was alive with noise—fans cheering just beyond the fences, radio chatter filling the air, tires squealing softly as cars rolled out of garages. Oscar and Isack were tucked away on a low couch in a shaded corner near the back, both of them in their race suits, helmets resting on the floor like sleeping animals. They had been hanging out a lot lately. More than Oscar probably realized. Training sessions, video games back at the hotel, quiet dinners when everyone else scattered after briefings. It had started as a mentor-rookie thing. Now, it was something else—something easier. Something closer. And yet, for the past few days, Isack had felt… off. He couldn’t quite name it. Not out loud.

Oscar nudged him with a water bottle. “You look like you’re buffering.”

Isack blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve just been staring at the garage for like two minutes,” Oscar said, smiling faintly. “You okay?”

“Oh—yeah. Just zoned out.”

He wasn’t lying, not really. He had zoned out, mostly because Oscar was leaning back against the wall, hair still slightly messy from his helmet fitting, eyes bright and full of that quiet determination Isack was beginning to know all too well. And that was the problem. Because lately, when Oscar smiled at him like that, Isack felt his chest tighten. Not in the normal, adrenaline fueled way. In the oh shit I’m not supposed to think that way.

Desperate to shake it off, he cleared his throat. “Where’s YN? Looking forward to meeting her.”

Oscar glanced up from the schedule in his hand. “Pilates class with my mum,” he said, voice casual. “Something about grounding her nervous system before the season starts.”

Isack blinked. “With your mum?”

Oscar laughed. “Yeah, they’re close. She loves YN more than me, I think. You’ll see her tomorrow. She’s coming with mum and my sisters.”

“Oh.” Isack looked away quickly, a little too quickly. “Cool. That’s… cool.”

Oscar reached down to grab his gloves, then looked over again, brow furrowed slightly. “You sure you’re good?”

Isack nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just hungry, probably.”

Oscar didn’t push. Just stood and offered a hand to pull him up, his grip firm, warm, grounding. The kind of touch that made Isack’s heart stutter a little too sharply in his chest. He let go as fast as he could without it looking weird. Oscar slung his towel over his shoulder and started toward the garage, talking about the car setup, something about corner exit speeds and throttle response. Isack heard every word—and none of them.

His brain was stuck on one thing- YN. And Oscar. And them.

He’d barely met her, had only seen her on Oscar’s phone screen. But she was magnetic—gorgeous, smart, somehow both intimidating and welcoming all at once. And now she was in Pilates with Oscar’s mum, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They weren’t just dating. They were entwined. And he liked them both. Not just liked—he felt something. The kind of something that made his chest ache and his thoughts scatter. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Oscar turned back, grinning, the sun hitting his cheek just right. “Come on, rookie. Try not to crash into the wall this time.”

Isack forced a laugh and jogged to catch up. “No promises.”

But as they disappeared down the paddock tunnel together, something in his chest twisted—equal parts awe and confusion, affection and panic. Because suddenly, it wasn’t just a crush. It was two.

—

2nd pov

You arrive with the sun at your back and Oscar’s sisters clinging to both arms, talking a mile a minute about anything that comes to their minds. Nicole walks ahead with purpose, sunglasses on, carrying a huge cardboard cutout of Oscar's face, her protective energy leading the way through the paddock like she’s still half in mum mode, half in PR mode. You love being here—at the first race, in Oscar’s home country, surrounded by the buzz of something about to begin. The nerves haven’t hit yet, not properly. For now, there’s just warmth and momentum. You adjust your sunglasses and exhale, soft and content. And then you see him. Isack.

He’s standing just outside the McLaren garage next to Oscar, shorter frame half casual in his suit, towel slung over one shoulder. He looks distracted at first—until Oscar nudges him and the two of them begin walking toward you. You’ve seen photos. Heard stories. Watched him ramble his way through press duties with a charm that’s either accidental or scarily calculated. But in person, he’s different. Softer. Quieter in the face. There’s something curious in the way he looks at the world. In the way he looks at you.

Oscar grins and slides a hand around your waist without even thinking. “YN, this is Isack. Rookie. Bit of a menace. You’ll like him.”

You step forward slightly and offer him a smile, already amused by the boyish hesitation flickering behind his eyes.

“Nice to finally meet you, Isack,” you say, your voice warmer than you intend. “Oscar’s told me a lot.”

He stares for half a second too long before blinking out of it. “Only the good stuff, I hope?”

You drop your sunglasses just enough to meet his eyes. They’re brighter than you expected—like he hasn’t quite learned how to hide what he’s feeling.

You smile, slow and honest. “The very good stuff.”

Oscar gives your hip a gentle squeeze, grounding you. And still—still—you feel Isack’s gaze lingering.

It’s not creepy. Not even bold. It’s quiet, observant, almost reverent in a way you’re not used to. You’ve been around drivers for years—used to cockiness, confidence, bravado. Isack is none of that. Or maybe he is, just not with you. And that unsettles you more than it should. Oscar’s joking again—something about Isack being a fanboy—and you laugh, leaning into him, chin on his shoulder for a second. But you feel it. That tension in the air. That something.

And when you glance back toward Isack, you catch him looking again. Like he’s trying to memorize the moment. Like he knows he shouldn't be thinking what he’s thinking. And, god, part of you is thinking it too. Just for a second. You shake it off. Smile wider. Turn back to the girls and let Oscar lead you toward the garage. But the impression lingers. Like the heat of someone else’s stare clinging to your skin.

—

You’re wandering. Oscar’s still caught in media debriefs, and you’re killing time before dinner, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, sneakers scuffing along the pavement as the sun starts to dip behind the paddock buildings. The air smells like rubber and champagne residue, like adrenaline that hasn’t quite settled. And then you hear it—footsteps behind you, a shuffle, a clearing throat. You glance back. It’s him. Isack.

He’s changed out of his suit, hair still damp from the shower, black t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, backpack half-zipped over one side. He looks surprised to see you—but not in a bad way. Just caught off guard.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t think I’d bump into you.”

You smile, casually slowing your pace so he can fall into step beside you. “Oscar’s still stuck with media. I’m avoiding fluorescent lighting until absolutely necessary.”

He laughs softly, glancing sideways. “You look different out here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Out here?”

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish. “I mean—not in the paddock. Less cameras. More… real?”

“Is that your polite way of saying I looked intimidating earlier?”

“No,” he says quickly, then grins. “Okay—yeah. A little. You walked in like you owned the place.”

“I walk like that everywhere,” you tease.

And he looks at you again—really looks. Like he's searching for something beneath the joke. There’s a pause, too long to be friendly, too quiet to be normal.

“Isack,” you say, breaking the silence, “are you always this intense with people you’ve known for two days?”

He flushes, just slightly. “Not usually.”

You don’t know what possesses you to say it, but you do—soft, playful, and just a little dangerous.

“Must be something in the air, then.”

Another pause. Another look. And then—

“I think you’re kind of incredible,” he says, quiet, like it’s a secret he didn’t mean to tell out loud.

You stop walking. Just for a beat. Not because you’re shocked—but because of how genuine it sounds. Like he doesn’t even want anything from you. Like he’s just saying it.

You meet his eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he replies, steady now. Bolder.

The tension curls between you like a wire pulled taut. And somewhere deep in your chest, you feel the twist of it, the ache of curiosity you’re trying hard to ignore. But it’s there. And it’s growing.

You break the moment with a smile—cool, composed, the way you’ve trained yourself to be. “You’re trouble, Hadjar.”

He shrugs, smirking faintly. “Only on weekends.”

You walk away before either of you can say anything else. But you feel him behind you. Still watching. Still wondering. And the worst part? You are too.

—

You’ve been flying for two hours, and Oscar is asleep. Not just half-asleep, either—fully knocked out, mouth slightly open, arms crossed like he’s trying to convince himself he didn’t lose consciousness mid-movie. You glance over your shoulder from your seat, already biting back a grin. The in flight light above him glows soft against the corner of his jaw, casting him in a kind of peaceful shadow. You’ll tease him about this later. You always do.

Isack chuckles from the seat across the aisle. “Out cold?”

You nod. “He made it exactly 27 minutes into Heat before he gave up. Record breaking, honestly.”

You turn back around, letting your head fall gently against the plush leather of the seat. Your legs are tucked beneath you, one of Oscar’s hoodies drowning your frame, headphones still tangled in your lap even though your playlist ended twenty minutes ago. Across from you, Isack shifts. Not fidgety—just restless in the way of buzzing with energy and nowhere to put it. He has one AirPod in, but you’re pretty sure he hasn’t played anything for a while either. He’s been stealing glances at you ever since Oscar fell asleep. And you haven’t stopped noticing.

It’s not weird. Not really. You’ve spent the past month getting closer. Training days. Dinners. Stolen jokes in the paddock while Oscar gave interviews. You three have become a unit—something unspoken and unlabelled. Something tight-knit. But it’s also not not weird. Because sometimes, Isack looks at you like he’s trying to commit you to memory. And other times, you catch yourself looking back. Right now is one of those times.

“You ever get tired of traveling?” he asks suddenly, voice low.

You blink yourself out of the haze. “Of planes or of never really being anywhere?”

“Both,” he says, eyes soft but serious.

You think about it. “Sometimes. It feels like living in between places, you know? Like you’re always packing a suitcase, but never fully unpacking one.”

Isack nods slowly. “Exactly.”

You shift a little in your seat, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “But then… there are moments like this. Where it’s quiet. Where everything slows down.”

He’s looking at you again. Like you’re saying something important even if you’re not.

“You make the in between feel kind of… okay,” he says quietly.

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s the kind of thing you should laugh off. The kind of thing that should sound like a compliment and nothing more. But it lands heavier than that. Like he meant it more than you were supposed to hear. You glance back toward Oscar. Still asleep. Still peaceful.

And then—“You’ve gotten close to him lately,” you murmur, eyes on Isack now.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. “Yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow, inviting more. You’re not sure why.

“He’s... calm,” Isack says. “In a way that makes you want to be better. Not louder. Just… better.”

You nod, understanding in your chest like a pulse. “Yeah. He does that.”

Silence settles again. But this time it’s not awkward. It’s charged. And when you meet his eyes again, something shifts. There’s something fragile and curious hanging between the two of you, held together by the sound of the engines and the soft rhythm of Oscar’s breathing. Not quite guilt. Not quite tension. Something else. Something like possibility. You’re the one who breaks the stare first, heart hammering a little too loud in your chest. You tug your hoodie sleeve over your fingers and look down at your hands.

“We’re landing in about an hour,” you say.

Isack doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything right away. And then—

“Okay,” he says. But it’s not just an answer. It’s full of things unspoken.

Things that won’t stay quiet for much longer.

—

yourusername

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yourusername : spain just got an oscar piastri masterclass

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username000 : everyone say thank you, oscar. and also… hello, isack?

oscarpiastri : the pre-race kisses from someone as beautiful as you really tends to help

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↳ lando : kissing is banned from the garage. oscar cannot win anymore.

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↳ lando : did you even talk to the shoe gods after i bought you those manolos???

↳ yourusername : you won monaco, did you not?

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↳ lando : good point. ok. proceed. not in front of me tho.

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nicolepiastri : my favorite chaos. my babies

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isackhadjar : photo credits for the boat pics??

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↳ yourusername : oh yes my b. isack is now my professional photographer everyone ;)

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—

Oscar’s still flushed from the podium. Gold champagne dried into his collarbones, hair messy from the cap, medal still in his backpack. You barely made it through the hotel room door before he had his hands on you. Before he kissed you like the win still hadn’t fully hit him — like he needed you to ground it. To feel it. To come down from it. His mouth is on your neck now, slow and warm. His hands memorizing your waist like he hasn’t touched you a thousand times before. Your shirt is somewhere on the floor. His is tugged up and bunched under your palms, and the laugh that leaves his mouth when you whisper something smug. You pull him down on top of you, tangled in the hotel sheets, everything a blur of skin and warmth and wanting. It’s not rushed. It’s crackling. That kind of need that comes after months of tension and three back-to-back podiums and one long plane ride where you didn’t touch once. Oscar kisses you like he’s starving. You’re about to slip your hands into his waistband when the door opens. Not knocked. Not warned. Just… opened. You don’t register it at first. You think it’s room service. Or housekeeping. Or maybe your head’s just too foggy to care. But Oscar freezes. You glance over your shoulder. Isack.

He’s standing in the doorway, a bottle of champagne in one hand, wide-eyed, stunned, and completely silent. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something—anything—but he doesn’t. He just stares. At Oscar’s hand on your hip. At your lips, kiss-bruised and parted. At the space between your bodies — charged, half-naked, completely unbothered. You should panic. But you don’t. You just stare back. And something about the way he doesn’t look away — something in the way he’s still there, not leaving — twists deep in your stomach. Oscar looks at you, then at Isack, then back at you again. Waiting. Reading. Wanting. You reach down slowly, tracing your fingers up Oscar’s chest, your gaze still locked on the boy in the doorway.

“Are you just going to stand there,” you ask softly, voice like velvet, “or are you going to come in?”

Isack doesn’t move. Not at first. But then— He does. One step inside. Then another. The door doesn’t close. Oscar’s hand finds your thigh again. Yours slides to the waistband of his sweatpants. Isack lingers at the edge of the room, like if he breathes too loud he’ll wake up from something. You sit up slightly, hair falling down your back, pulse hammering behind your ribs.

“You don’t have to,” you say gently. “But if you want to…”

Isack’s eyes flick from your mouth to your hands to Oscar, who is watching him now with a look that borders on something between challenge and invitation.

“I—” he starts.

Then stops.

You tilt your head. “You trust us, don’t you?”

His breath catches. “Yeah.”

Oscar nods once, his voice calm but electric. “Then come here.”

And just like that, the space between you vanishes. Not hesitation. Not shame. Just three people— buzzing with want, burning with something unspoken, and no longer pretending it isn’t there.

—

The first light of dawn slips through the curtains, casting gentle gold stripes across the room. You stir awake to the steady rhythm of two sets of breathing—Oscar’s arm draped protectively around you, and Isack lying just a little apart, eyes closed but peaceful. The quiet morning feels like a warm, soft blanket after the intensity of last night. Careful not to wake Oscar, you slip out of his embrace and move toward Isack. His eyes open the moment you settle beside him.

“Morning,” you whisper.

He blinks, shyly smiling. “Morning, YN.”

For a long moment, you both sit in silence, the comfort of each other’s presence filling the space. Then he speaks, voice low and sincere.

“I wasn’t sure how to say it last night,” Isack admits, eyes searching yours with nervous honesty. “But... I think I’ve been feeling this way for a while. About you.”

Your chest tightens with warmth.

“It’s not just the moment, or the surprise of last night,” he continues steadily. “It’s you. The way you laugh, the way you care. I’ve admired you from afar, but being here... like this... it feels right.”

You reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Isack... that means more than you know.”

He swallows and smiles, the kind of smile that lights up his whole face. “I was scared I’d mess it up, or that it was just a fantasy. But now... I want to see where this goes. With you. With Oscar too.”

Your heart swells at his honesty. This isn’t just a fleeting moment—it’s real. Messy, complicated, but beautiful. Oscar stirs then, rubbing his eyes, his gaze falling on you both. His smile is soft and knowing. “Morning, loves.”

You lean back between them, feeling the steady warmth of two people who fit perfectly with you.

“Good morning,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around them both. “Let’s figure this out together.”

Oscar stretches and grins. “So… I take it last night wasn’t just about the champagne and celebration?”

Isack chuckles nervously. “Definitely not.”

You smile, warmth spreading inside you. “We all surprised each other, didn’t we?”

Oscar’s gaze turns gentle but serious. “I want to be sure this is what we all want. It’s new for me, but I’m willing to try if you both are.”

Isack reaches out, taking Oscar’s hand. “I’m in. I don’t want to lose what we started.”

You squeeze both their hands. “Me too. I think this could be something really special.”

Oscar leans in, forehead resting against yours. “We’ll take it one day at a time. No rush, no pressure. Just us.”

You close your eyes, breathing in the moment and the quiet promise of something real and new. “One day at a time sounds perfect.”

Isack’s smile brightens. “This might just be the best race I’ve ever been part of.”

The three of you laugh softly, a laughter full of hope and tenderness. Together, in the soft morning light, you begin writing the first chapter of your story.

—

It wasn’t planned—none of this ever really was. But somehow, that made it better. Oscar had mentioned it offhand, leaning over the kitchen counter that morning with his hair still wet from the shower. “There’s this island off the coast. McLaren used it once for a shoot. Barely anyone knows about it. We could go.”

You’d looked at Isack, who was already perking up. “A secret island?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “You’re joking.”

Oscar grinned. “Completely serious. Private beach. No media. Just us.”

And just like that, you were packing sunscreen and a couple of towels, grabbing whatever food you could find and piling into a small rented boat. The sea was glassy and blue, the sun already high, and Isack leaned against you the whole ride, humming softly to the playlist Oscar had thrown on.

The moment your feet hit the sand, it felt like another world. The island was wild and quiet—nothing but dunes, stone, and open sky. Oscar dropped the bags onto the beach with a satisfied sigh.

“Told you it was real,” he said, casting you both a smug look.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. You win.”

Isack was already barefoot, running up the slope toward the ruins like a kid. “This place looks like something out of a dream,” he called over his shoulder.

You spent the day tangled up in each other. Exploring barefoot along the cliffs, your hand in Oscar’s while Isack lagged behind, taking photos of the way your fingers fit so easily together. He caught up to you eventually, sliding his arm around your waist as you both leaned into Oscar’s side, three shadows falling across the rocks in the warm afternoon light. At one point, you all ended up lying on a blanket that Oscar had miraculously remembered to bring. Isack was curled against your side, his head on your stomach, while Oscar laid beside you, feeding you grapes.

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him, laughing as he popped another one into your mouth.

He grinned. “Say that again after I feed you strawberries later.”

Isack groaned. “God, I’m third wheeling the softest couple.”

You looked down at him with a teasing smile. “You’re literally cuddling us, Isack."

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, grinning up at you, “that doesn’t mean I’m not dramatic.”

When the sun began to dip low, painting the sea in orange and gold, you all swam in the shallows—laughing, shouting, splashing each other until your cheeks ached. Oscar launched Isack into the water at least three times- you tried to help him retaliate, only to be swept up in the chaos, soaked and breathless. By the time the sky faded into pink, the three of you were wrapped in oversized towels, perched against the old stone wall of the villa ruins. Your legs tangled with theirs. Oscar’s fingers laced through yours. Isack nestled on Oscar’s lap, absently drawing circles on your knee.

“This is the happiest I’ve been in a really long time,” Isack said quietly, his voice almost lost to the wind.

You glanced at him, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Me too.”

Oscar rested his chin on your shoulder. “I wish we could freeze this moment.”

You smiled. “Who says we can’t come back?”

Isack tilted his head, giving you a sleepy, sun-warmed smile. “Yeah... we should make it our spot.”

“Our island,” Oscar added.

“Ours,” you echoed.

And in that soft hush of a Spanish sunset, with the waves below and the warmth of their bodies around you, you felt something settle—something whole and terrifying and beautiful. Whatever this was, it was real. And it was yours.

—

oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri : my girlfriend and i found a boyfriend:)

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[batsandbirdbrains]

I want a fic where, when Dick first comes to live with Bruce, it’s Alfred he’s closest to. Alfred speaks fluent French and that makes Dick feel so much safer talking to him. Dick knows English, but he’s not as confident speaking it as he is with French.

Alfred let’s Dick help him with cooking, shows Dick how to set a table when there’s more than one fork or spoon, and they sit together every afternoon and drink tea together while talking about their day.

Dick helps Alfred with little chores around the manor, like dusting the shelves, and fluffing the couch pillows in the lounge, and putting the dishes away. Dick likes feeling helpful, and Alfred is happy to have a little helper. He also shows Dick how to make his bed so the sheets are perfectly crisp, and Dick looks so proud of himself every morning when he shows Alfred how well he made his bed.

But then one day after Dick has started going to Gotham Academy, Alfred picks Dick up from school, and Dick climbs into the car trying so hard not to cry. He’s sniffly and his eyes are red and he lasts all of ten seconds before he bursts into tears and tells Alfred through gasping breaths that some kids in his class were being mean to him. They were making fun of his slight accent and how he’s started using some British terms (like bin and rubbish, things that Alfred says) and how he lives with a billionaire who probably doesn’t even love him and how he should’ve fallen with his parents.

And Alfred sees red. He parks the car, takes Dick’s hand, and marches right into the school. He’s going to get to the bottom of this. Now.

Because Dick may as well be his grandson now, and no one messes with his grandson and gets away with it.

Dick switches classrooms the very next day (the other teacher is nicer anyway, and the one Dick did have before had let all of the bullying slide). The principal at Gotham Academy was horrified to hear about what had been happening to Dick while at school, because it comes out during the meeting with him that the bullying had been going on since the start of the school year and his teacher never did anything about it. Dick hadn’t told anyone because he didn’t know what to do about it.

Then a few years later after Dick has joined the team with Aqualad, Kid Flash, Superboy, and the others, it comes out that a few of them have been giving Dick a hard time as Robin because he wasn’t allowed to share his secret identity. It gets to the point that Dick comes home to the Batcave one evening and he’s so upset because they tried to take his mask off.

Alfred comforts him until Bruce comes and can take over for him. Then Alfred puts on a domino mask of his own and zetas to Mount Justice. He has several shithead teenagers to rip into and intimidate the hell out of. Because now they’ve fucked with his grandson, and they’re about to find out what happens when you truly piss off Agent A.

Idk I want Alfred being a protective dad/grandpa to Dick, someone pls send fic recs if you have any lol

[norcigs]

TOOTHBRUSH

synop: lando brushes your teeth for you

warnings: none just cavity preventing fluff and intimacy

📺: 0.6k words

you're sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter, legs dangling, his hoodie swallowing you nearly whole.

It’s too late, or maybe too early. your eyelids are heavy, breath warm with sleep. you’re not quite fully awake but not yet dreaming either. the world is a little blurred around the edges, how a watercolor painting might be as it dries. your head lolls lazily to the side as you watch him move.

lando stands in front of you, hair tossed from sleep, shirtless, jaw dotted with gritty stubble. he hums softly to himself as he picks up the toothpaste tube and twists the cap with one hand.

you should be doing this yourself.

you know that.

but your limbs feel too heavy. and tonight, brushing your teeth felt like the kind of impossible task only love could conquer.

he gets it, doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t tease. just quietly takes your toothbrush, squeezes a careful line of toothpaste across the bristles, and tilts your chin up with his fingers like you’re something delicate.

“open,” he says gently, and you do.

the toothbrush slides between your lips, and it’s such a strange thing, to be this close– this cared for, that you let your eyes flutter shut.

he moves carefully, no rush, no judgment. just slow, small circles the way your dentist always said to do. his other hand rests under your jaw, cradling it. you lean into his touch without really meaning to, your legs brushing his hips, your knees parting so he can stand between them.

this is what intimacy really is, you think. not kisses in the rain or public displays of affection. 

it’s this.

a toothbrush at four in the morning.

his thumb brushing your cheekbone. the safe sound of his breath matching yours.

“you okay?” he asks softly, pulling back just enough to let you spit.

you nod, then rinse. “yeah, just tired.”

he chuckles, wiping your mouth with a warm towel before you can even reach for it. “you always get extra soft when you're sleepy, like a tired fawn.”

you smile lazily, blinking up at him with awe in your eyes. “you’re good at this”

“at brushing your teeth?” he asks, smiling, gentle and listening.

“at… you know” you wave a hand vaguely between you both. “taking care of me.” you finish, with a voice that sounds like you might cry if he weren't here. 

his face softens. he leans in, brushing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back enough to look you in the eyes again. there's something deeper in them now– a kind of quiet pride. not because he has to do these things for you, but because he wants to. because loving you, entirely, looks like this.

“i like doing it,” he says. “makes me feel close to you. like I’m helping you breathe easier.” his voice is threaded with the embers of a love burning brightly inside you both.  

you reach for him, arms resting around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest. he hugs you back, his hand settling at the back of your head, fingers gently weaving into your hair.

“you make things feel manageable,” you murmur against him. “even the small stuff.”

“that’s the stuff that matters,” he says. “the small stuff builds the big stuff.” 

you smile lightly against his warm skin.

there’s no pressure to move. no ticking clock. just you and him, wrapped up in a kind of love that feels older than either of you– honest, slow-burning, and infinite.

[rotapathetic]

✧ ྅ ˚ . ᯇ * reader beating TWITCH STREAMER!RAFE in mario kart : .

❝clip that❞ : bold text is stream chat! 💬

“alright, she’s in the other room, so we’re going to get started in a second. is your mic working?” rafe told the viewers, then asked you.

there was a moment of pause before your voice sounded, “i think so? you can hear me, right?” it was your first time using equipment like this and rafe helped just a second ago but you think you pressed something on accident.

user: no user: yeah!! we can user: give her a second guys she’s new to this user: my bet’s on her winning

“yeah, you’re good. now, just saying. . you know i really like you, but i don’t lose in kart.” rafe said, adjusting his headset, leaning back in the chair.

“yeah, alright. i’ve only played a few times so if i’m not great, don’t say anything.” you watched as rafe picked the map and speed.

user: you just drive car user: just joined can i get a recap

“uh, just got the new switch so we’re playing mario kart. my girl is in the other room but you can hear her mic. we didn’t start yet, though. alright, pick your character.”

you went for toad, the cute little guy, then randomly picked a kart and parasail. it didn’t matter to you the abilities, you just liked how they looked.

rafe picked baby mario then took a second to choose his kart.

user: why is he reading user: alright wrap it up user: wait is she here?

rafe finally picked his kart, responding to chat. “yeah she is, do you want to say hi, baby?”

“hi,” you said through your mic. rafe chuckled. “yeah, there’s your hi. okay, i’m starting it.”

the races went by, rafe more stunned by each round as you continued climbing up the score board. when the last race finished with you in first, you were shocked to silence at your own skills. rafe was silent, staring at his screen, hand poised over his mouth.

user: clip that user: thought you don’t lose 🙏 user: that’s so funny user: by your own girlfriend is crazy work

“i got inked that last round. .” rafe tried to defend himself.

user: just stop bro

“wait, i feel bad,” you giggled out. “do you want to go again?”

rafe shook his head, exiting to the menu screen. “nah, ’m proud of you. that was a good game. fun.”

“what is your chat saying? i hope they’re being encouraging.”

user: hahaha L user donated $5: here you go buddy feel better user: i can’t wait to watch this again in your vod user: and she doesn’t even have much experience

“m hm, yep. i mean, we can go again. not for like redemption, but just to play again.” rafe responded to your previous question. you nodded off camera, “yeah, let’s go again. winning feels good, i’ve never won before.”

user: buddy this hurts to watch user: that’s a devious line

“i have no problem muting chat,” rafe muttered, starting up another round.

user: oh so we get punished because you lost

[skzdominate]

Imagine surprising Han by coming to the skz concert and how he would react!! 🤭🤭🤭🤭💕💕💕💕💕

A/N: I honestly am so tired and unmotivated but I promised a post here so here I go. follow my other blog @parkjihoonswifey for weak hero content :D

p.s this is like less than 1k words💔

p.p.s look at my fine ass husband ahhh

The crowd was deafening. Lightsticks glowed like stars across the stadium, synchronized with the beat of the next opening track, "Hold My Hand". Fans chanted, screamed, cried—waves of love crashing over the stage.

Backstage, Jisung’s heart pounded in time with the music. He was used to it by now—the adrenaline, the anticipation, the thrill—but tonight, he couldn’t shake a feeling. A buzzing in his chest that wasn’t just the concert high. Something else.

“Han, you good?” Changbin asked, handing him a towel.

“Yeah. Just... feel weirdly nervous.”

“You’re always nervous suddenly right before a songs about to start,” Seungmin said with a knowing smirk. “You’re not slick.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and laughed. But it wasn’t that. Not really.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You’d never seen anything like this. Thousands of fans chanting in unison, energy thick in the air, the floor vibrating under your shoes. You had your hoodie up, lowkey as possible—Bang Chan had helped sneak you in through the back earlier.

And now, here you were, dead center in the crowd, lightstick in hand, about to watch Jisung live for the very first time.

He didn’t know you were here. You’d told him you couldn’t come. Told him you had school. Told him you were cheering from home. Lied through your teeth so you could fly out and plan this with Chan. And now…

The lights dropped.

Jisung’s solo was starting.

He jogged onto stage, mic in hand, smile wide and full of fire, hair slightly damp from earlier sets. The crowd exploded. You swore your heart stopped.

You screamed louder than you ever had in your life.

And for a moment—just a moment—his eyes scanned the crowd.

You were sure he wouldn’t spot you. But then his head tilted, Brows furrowed, Squinted.

Double take.

And then, in the middle of his verse, his voice faltered. Barely a fraction of a beat, but enough to notice if you really knew him. His lips parted slightly, eyes wide.

You waved your lightstick harder.

His jaw dropped. He almost missed his next line.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

After the show, Jisung practically sprinted offstage, towel around his neck, still half in disbelief.

Chan met him by the hallway.

“Where is sh—?”

“She’s waiting in your dressing room,” Chan grinned. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Jisung didn’t even reply—he bolted.

You were sitting on the couch, chewing on your bottom lip when the door flew open.

Jisung barreled in like a kid on Christmas morning.

“YOU’RE HERE?!”

You stood just in time for him to scoop you up in the tightest, giddiest hug of your life. His arms wrapped around your waist, spinning you a little off your feet. You laughed into his shoulder.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“More like wanted to kill me,” He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glossy with shock and adoration. “You said you couldn’t come!”

“I lied.”

“Do it again.”

“Huh?”

“Lie again. Surprise me every day. Forever.”

You laughed, and he kissed your forehead, still holding you like you’d disappear.

“I missed you,” he said, nose brushing yours. “And now you’re here. Like here here.”

“I wouldn’t miss your concert for the world, Jisung.”

“You’re insane. But you’re my insane.”

He leaned in and kissed you—soft and smiling—and whispered, “Best. Surprise. Ever.”

“You’re insane. But you’re my insane.”

His mouth pressed to yours again, more grounded this time. Less surprise, more hunger. The kind of kiss that made your knees buckle a little, that made you fist the back of his concert jacket like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I missed you,” he whispered, hands roaming under the hem of your hoodie, fingertips skimming the skin of your lower back. “You don’t even know how bad.”

“I have a guess,” you murmured against his lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You slid your hands beneath his shirt, palm pressed flat to his sweat-warmed stomach. “Pretty sure someone left me a bunch of dirty voice notes the other night.” He chuckled lowly, about to lean in for another kiss.

"We're still on a schedule, and at a concert. Get dressed and come out." Chan shouted from the other side of the door. You sighed heavily as he pulled away from your body.

"Sorry, baby. Tonight?" He asked, eyes full of hope.

"Of course," you sneak in one more kiss before opening the door to return to the concert. only difference is, this time, you watched the love of your life front and center.

A/N: First skz post on here lmk what you think! ik it was really short but it's kind rushed sorry honey💔